s at the Laird, for there
was a double twist to the thrust, and so it was that Bryde took up his
life among us again, after his wandering to the sea. But he would be
better for the wandering, having made himself a milled man in the hard
school of the world.

You will be thinking of him on the farm on the moor, with that great
red man his father and the brother Hamish that came so late, and Belle,
that silent woman, watching with dark soft eyes. Margaret, the Flower
of Nourn, was there often and none to gainsay her, for Bryde did not
long keep his love a secret, but bearded the Laird, and won, for all
that the old man opened the business with a great sternness.

"You will be over sib to the lass," says he at the first go-off, "but
her mother will be telling me she will have set her heart on you, and,
Bryde McBride," said he, at the finish of it, "as you do to the lass,
so may God deal wi' you."

And in all that time, although he would be in every house mostly, and
Hugh and he often thrang at the talking, and on the hill together and
among the crops, in all that time till the wedding of Hugh, never did I
hear that Helen Stockdale had speech with Bryde McBride. But I was to
have word of it.

CHAPTER XXXII.

BRYDE AND HELEN.

And this is how the matter fell out. There will be to this day a love
of stravaging among the young men, and maybe in the old ones as well,
and I kent that Bryde would whiles be ceilidhing, and often he and Dan,
his father, would be at McKinnon's, where Angus would be trying his
hand at the farming, and it was the fine sight to be seeing old McGilp
on the hill with Angus, and thrang at the working of sheep.

I am minding once that I was seeing them and Angus working a young
collie bitch, Flora, he would be calling her, and she would not be
working any too well, and that would be angering McGilp. There was a
steep knowe where they were and a wheen sheep on it, and the bitch
would not be understanding how to gather, and at the last of it McGilp
gave a great roar out of him.

"Lay aloft, ye bitch," he roared in exasperation, "lay aloft, damn ye,"
and at that great sea voice Flora made off and left them, and I am not
wondering at it, for surely never was a dog so ordered; but Robin
McKinnon was telling me that when he was at the ploughing and McGilp
walking with him step for step, the smuggler would be crying to the
horses, and them turning in at the head-rig--

"Luff," he would cry,