lone heart--dearest come."

The moment the song ceased the fair form of May MacLeod appeared at the
casement overhead, she waved a fond farewell to her mountain minstrel
and closed the window; but the light deprived of her fair face had no
charm for him--he gazed once more at the pane through which it beamed
like a solitary star, amid the masses of foliage, and was turning away
when he found a heavy hand laid on his shoulder.

"Stay," exclaimed the intruder in a deep stern voice, whose tone the
young chief knew but too well. "Thou hast a small reckoning to discharge
ere thou go, my good boy. I am Macrae."

"And I," answered the other, "am Hugh Munro, what seek'st thou from me?"

"That thou shalt soon know, thou skulking hill cat," answered Macrae
throwing his unbuckled sword belt and scabbard on the ground and
advancing with extended weapon.

"Indeed! then beware of the wild cat's spring," Munro promptly replied,
giving a sudden bound which placed him inside the guard of his
antagonist, whose waist he instantly encircled within his sinewy arms
with the design of hurling him over the crag on which they stood. The
struggle was momentary. Munro, struck to the heart with Macrae's dagger,
fell with May's loved name on his lips, while Macrae, staggering over
the height in the act of falling, so wounded himself by his own weapon
as to render his future life one of helpless manhood and bitter mental
regret.

MacLeod was soon after slain in one of the many quarrels of the time,
while his daughter May, the sorrowing heiress of the broad lands of
Cadboll, lived on for fifty years one long unrelieved day of suffering.

Fifty years! Alas for the mourner--spring succeeded winter, and summer
spring, but no change of season lightened May MacLeod's burden! Fifty
years! year by year passing away only brought changes to those who lived
under her gentle sway, and among the dependents of her home; youth
passed into age, young men and maidens filled the places of the valued
attendants of her girlhood; but the Lady--solitary--still a mourner, in
her feudal tower grew old and bent, thin and wan, and still in her heart
the love of her youth bloomed fresh for her betrothed.

And then disease laid hold of her limbs--paralyzed--unable to move, she
would fain have died, but the spell of Cadboll was on her--death could
not enter within its walls.

Sickness and pain, care and grief, disappointment, trust betrayed,
treachery and all the ills