w--and that I was right I know, although Margaret would never be
telling me what it was that Bryde said that night; and the halflin I
would not be asking, but I would be telling the lass about the three
feet of blue steel in the lad's gizzard, and at that she would laugh at
me.

"I will be giving him a golden guinea for every foot o' blue steel,"
said she, "and when I will have Bryde back he will be giving him the
double of it, for telling me these good words," and I believe the daft
lassie did just that.

But Belle would be fit for nothing but sitting and mourning. "Oh, why
did I leave my own folk and the tents and the horses, the laughter o'
the little ones, and the winding roads, to be left desolate on this
weary moor--desolate, desolate, and mourning like the Israelitish
women--the father is not, and now is the son gone from me."

And when Margaret would have comforted her, "Are not you of the same
folk, maiden?" she cried, turning her eyes bright and hard and dry on
the lass, "the same cruel proud breed"; and then again, "He was a good
son--there never was woman blessed with such a son, kind and brave and
loving, the very beasts would come to his whistle."

"But this will not be the finish," said I; "the dogs are not howling,"
and at that old Betty brisked herself.

"Yess, yess, the dogs will not be greeting Belle, woman, and that is a
sure sign," said she, wonderfully cheered. "Bryde will be coming back
a great man, and bringing old Betty a silk dress and good whisky--yess."

"Where is Fowey, Hamish?" said Margaret.

"On the coast of England, a place the smugglers frequent," said I.

"Bryde will be with the smuggling laads," cried Betty, clapping her
hands. "Is he not the brisk lad, and he will be bringing the whisky
sure--maybe it will be brandy moreover."

And we left them a little cheered that day, and Margaret still looked
happy with her thoughts.

It was in October, the fair day, that Mistress Helen came to visit
Margaret, and Hugh had carried her the news of Bryde's going.

"Your cousin has gone to his tall ships," said she to Margaret, "the
tall ships and the black cannon and the cutlasses, you remember, ma
belle."

"Bryde has gone away truly," said Margaret, and then the two retired to
their confidences. But the next day it was that Margaret told me of
the meeting by the ford.

"I am hating that woman, Hamish," said she, "with her bravery and her
beauty, and her charms that will be work