oul still kept up the feud with as
great fierceness as though it had been sworn but yesterday.

Towards the beginning of the present century, however, a strange thing
happened. A young officer of French dragoons came to reside for a time in
Glen Coila. His name was Le Roi. Though of Scotch extraction, he had never
been before to our country. Now hospitality is part and parcel of the
religion of Scotland; it is not surprising, therefore, that this young son
of the sword should have been received with open arms at Coila, nor that,
dashing, handsome, and brave himself, he should have fallen in love with
the winsome daughter of the then chief of the M'Crimmans. When he sought
to make her his bride explanations were necessary. It was no uncommon
thing in those days for good Scotch families to permit themselves to be
allied with France; but there must be rank on both sides. Had a
thunderbolt burst in Castle Coila then it could have caused no greater
commotion than did the fact when it came to light that Le Roi was a direct
descendant of the chief of the Raes. Alas! for the young lovers now. Le
Roi in silence and sorrow ate his last meal at Castle Coila. Hospitality
had never been shown more liberally than it was that night, but ere the
break of day Le Roi had gone--never to return to the glen _in propria
persona_. Whether or not an aged harper who visited the castle a month
thereafter was Le Roi in disguise may never be known; but this, at least,
is fact--that same night the chief's daughter was spirited away and seen
no more in Coila.

There was talk, however, of a marriage having been solemnized by
torchlight, in the little Catholic chapel at the foot of the glen, but of
this we will hear more anon, for thereby hangs a tale.

In course of time Coila presented the sad spectacle of a house without a
head. Who should now be heir? The Scottish will of former chiefs notified
that in event of such an occurrence the estates should pass 'to the
nearest heirs whatever.'

But was there no heir of direct descent? For a time it seemed there would
be or really was. To wit, a son of Le Roi, the officer who had wedded into
the house of M'Crimman.

Now our family was brother-family to the M'Crimmans. M'Crimmans we were
ourselves, and Celtic to the last drop of blood in our veins.

Our claim to the estate was but feebly disputed by the French Rae's son.
His father and mother had years ago crossed the bourne from which no
traveller eve