such small and womanish
articles as pins and needles, tape and thread, and place it before his
customer. She made her choice, and the storekeeper brought a great book,
and entered against the head of the house of Taberer so many pounds of
tobacco; then, as the maiden turned to depart, heaved a sigh so piteous
and profound that no tender saint in gray could do less than pause, half
turn her head, and lift two compassionate eyes.

"Mistress Truelove, I have read the good book that you gave me, and I
cannot deny that I am much beholden to you," and her debtor sighed like a
furnace.

The girl's quiet face flushed to the pink of a seashell, and her eyes grew
eager.

"Then does thee not see the error of thy ways, Angus MacLean? If it should
be given me to pluck thee as a brand from the burning! Thee will not again
brag of war and revenge, nor sing vain and ruthless songs, nor use dice or
cards, nor will thee swear any more?"

The voice was persuasion's own. "May I be set overtide on the Lady's Rock,
or spare a false Campbell when I meet him, or throw up my cap for the
damned Hogan Mogan that sits in Jamie's place, if I am not entirely
convert!" cried the neophyte. "Oh, the devil! what have I said? Mistress
Truelove--Truelove"--

But Truelove was gone,--not in anger or in haste, for that would have been
unseemly, but quietly and steadily, with no looking back. The storekeeper,
leaping over a keg of nails that stood in the way, made for the door, and
together with Haward, who was already there, watched her go. The path to
the landing and the boat was short; she had taken her seat, and the boy
had bent to the oars, while the unlucky Scot was yet alternately calling
out protestations of amendment and muttering maledictions upon his
unguarded tongue. The canoe slipped from the rosy, unshadowed water into
the darkness beneath the overhanging trees, reached the mouth of the
creek, and in a moment disappeared from sight.

CHAPTER VI

MASTER AND MAN

The two men, left alone, turned each toward the interior of the store, and
their eyes met. Alike in gray eyes and in dark blue there was laughter.
"Kittle folk, the Quakers," said the storekeeper, with a shrug, and went
to put away his case of pins and needles. Haward, going to the end of the
store, found a row of dusty bottles, and breaking the neck of one with a
report like that of a pistol set the Madeira to his lips, and therewith
quenched his thirst. The wine cellar