It was nightfall as he spoke thus. Little he knew that at the same
moment Hugh Munro was sitting beneath the dark shadows of the alder
trees, which grew under the window of the little chamber where May
MacLeod was weeping bitterly over the sad fate from which she could see
no way of escape. As she sat thus the soft cry of the cushat fell upon
her ears. Intently she listened for a few moments, and when it was
repeated stepped to the window and opened it cautiously, leaning forth
upon the sill. Again the sound stole from among the foliage, and May
peered down into the gloom, but nothing met her gaze save the shadows of
the waving branches upon the tower wall.

"It is his signal," she whispered to herself as the sound was repeated
once more. "Ah me! I fear he will get himself into danger on account of
these visits, and yet I cannot--I cannot bid him stay away."

She muffled herself in a dark plaid, moved towards the door, opened it
cautiously, and listening with dread, timidly ventured down to meet her
lover.

"I must and will beg him to-night to stay away in future" continued she,
as she tripped cautiously down the narrow winding stair--"and yet to
stay away? Ah me, it is to leave me to my misery; but it must be done,
unkind as it may be, otherwise he will assuredly be captured and slain,
for I fear Macrae suspects our meetings are not confined to the day and
my father's presence."

After stealing through many dark passages, corridors, and staircases, in
out-of-the-way nooks, she emerged into the open air, through a neglected
postern shadowed by a large alder, opposite the spot from which the
sound proceeded.

Again she gazed into the shadow, and there leaning against a tree
growing on the edge of the crag she saw a tall slender figure. Well she
knew the outlines of that form, and fondly her heart throbbed at the
sound of the voice which now addressed her.

"Dearest," said the young Munro in a low tone, "I thought thou wouldst
never come. I have been standing here like a statue against the trunk of
this tree for the last half-hour watching for one blink of light from
thy casement. But it seems thou preferrest darkness. Ah May, dear May,
cease to indulge in gloomy forebodings."

"Would that I could, Hugh," she answered sadly. "What thoughts but
gloomy ones can fill my mind when I am ever thinking of the danger you
incur by coming here so often, and thinking too of the woeful fate to
which we are both destined."