Audrey

"It is Darden's Audrey," said the storekeeper.

Truelove shrank a little, and her eyes darkened. "Why should she come

here? I never knew her. It is true that we may not think evil, but--but"-MacLean moved restlessly. "I have seen the girl but twice," he said. "Once

she was alone, once--It is my friend of whom I think. I know what they

say, but, by St. Kattan! I hold him a gentleman too high of mind, too

noble--There was a tale I used to hear when I was a boy. A long, long time

ago a girl lived in the shadow of the tower of Duart, and the chief looked

down from his walls and saw her. Afterwards they walked together by the

shore and through the glens, and he cried her health when he drank in his

hall, sitting amongst his tacksmen.

Then what the men whispered the women

spoke aloud; and so, more quickly than the tarie is borne, word went to a

man of the MacDonalds who loved the Duart maiden. Not like a lover to his

tryst did he come. In the handle of his dirk the rich stones sparkled as

they rose and fell with the rise and fall of the maiden's white bosom. She

prayed to die in his arms; for it was not Duart that she loved, but him.

She died, and they snooded her hair and buried her. Duart went overseas;

the man of the MacDonalds killed himself. It was all wrought with threads

of gossamer,--idle fancy, shrugs, smiles, whispers, slurring speech,--and

it was long ago. But there is yet gossamer to be had for the gathering; it

gleams on every hand these summer mornings."

By now Darden's Audrey had left the boat and was close upon them. MacLean

arose, and Truelove hastily pushed aside her wheel. "Is thee seeking

shelter from the storm?" she asked tremulously, and with her cheeks as

pink as a seashell. "Will thee sit here with us? The storm will not break

yet awhile."

Audrey heeded her not, her eyes being for MacLean. She had been

running,--running more swiftly than for a thousand May Day guineas. Even

now, though her breath came short, every line of her slender figure was

tense, and she was ready to be off like an arrow. "You are Mr. Haward's

friend?" she cried. "I have heard him say that you were so--call you a

brave gentleman"-MacLean's dark face flushed. "Yes, we are friends,--I thank God for it.

What have you to do with that, my lass?"