too," said Bryde, and his eyes were soft. The
horses were walking side by side, snapping a little playfully, for they
were loving the night.

"Mon coeur," whispered the lass, and her voice was low and her face
half-shamed, but very brave. "We would have so great a son," said she,
and hung her head low after one long look at the man. At the jerk on
the rein, the horses stopped.

"You are the bravest lass I will ever meet," said Bryde, and there was
a fire of admiration in his eyes, and a ring in his voice. Her hands
groped out to his blindly, and she swayed to him.

"It is heaven to be here," said she, and pressed her face against his
breast, her eyes wide and dark, and her face half hidden. "Dear,"--her
whole body quivered at the word,--"there is not any word a man can say
will be telling how much I am loving the bravery of you for that word.
It is in me to hold you here against my heart for the bravery of it."

"Take me," she whispered--"see, I am ready," and she opened her arms
wide and held her face upwards. Her eyes were fast shut and the long
lashes dark on her cheek. There came a look of infinite tenderness on
the fierce swarthy face of Bryde McBride.

"And afterwards, my brave lass?"

"Ah, then, I could not let you go. Jesu aid me . . . you are mine from
the beginning; it is not right that you love that other. Be kind to
me, Bryde, let me whisper--je t'adore, always I love you--thus," she
cried, and kissed him wildly in a kind of madness. "I think," said
she, "when I am standing with Hugh to be married, I think I will run to
you," and then--

"Take me home now," all brokenly she spoke, "my brave night is
finished."

CHAPTER XXXIII.

HOW JOHN McCOOK HEARS OF THE PLOY AT THE CLATES.

There is a fate that stalks in the hills and plays with the lives of
the folk in the valleys. "You will stop with your mother,"--these were
the words that Helen gave her serving-man, John McCook, that night she
rode with Bryde, and McCook stayed for a little in his mother's house,
and then, being young and of good spirit, he made his way to the inn to
be seeing his friends. And he sat with them in McKelvie's place above
the quay, and now and then when Robin would be bringing drink into a
room a little apart, he would be hearing gusts of laughter, and whiles
the snatches of words.

And McCook was wanting to know who would be in the room, to be telling
his news when he reached Scaurdale, and he moved his s