id I, "and that will be doing him a
kindness.

"Maybe he will not be for me to be meeting him, Hamish?"

"There's aye that, Margaret, but I would be risking it."

CHAPTER XXXI.

BRYDE AND MARGARET.

I think truly there was not much sleep for Margaret, even as she said,
for did not I hear her moving, and I would be thinking of her turning
and twisting fornent the image-glass.

And I will tell you where the place is that they met, Bryde and
Margaret, on the hill where the cairn stands and no man knows who would
be the builders. For the lass walked easy and slow to the Hill of the
Fort, as we will be calling it, and then turned to the ridge that runs
to the right hand, for that way one can be seeing all the valley. And
she sat by the foot of the cairn. I am thinking that the far-seeing
blue eyes of Bryde would be watching every rise and hollow, or why else
would he have made the cairn, for that is not just the nearest road to
the Big House.

To her he came there and stood before her, and she rose to be meeting
him, but had no words of greeting. It is like she would be rehearsing
in her mind how this meeting should go, but for all that she rose, and
her hands clasped and pressed themselves hard at her heart, and she
turned herself a little away from him, only her eyes holding his.

"Br--Bryde," was the word that came softly between her lips like a
whisper.

But the man took two strides and was at her side, his hands not yet
touching her, and there came a trembling on the lass.

"If you cannot be loving me and keeping me for ever," said she, "do not
be touching me, for if you will be touching me I am lost," and there
was a dignity in her bearing, although her lips were quivering.

"I am not fit to be touching you, for I have no right folk," said he.

"Do you think it is heeding _that_ I will be, if it is me and no other
that has your heart?"

"But that has aye been yours, little lass, from the beginning, for
there is sunshine and gladness where you are."

"Then," she cried, "then, my darling, I will not can wait any longer,"
and he held her close and looked down into her eyes. There was a place
of flat rocks a little way off, and he carried her there, and a white
swirl of mist hung around them, and the wind blowing it away, and the
sun licking up the trailing white wreaths.

"We are on the high ground," he cried; "look, my dear, the sea below
us, and the woods and the heather, the sun and the mi