Westerleigh, London's reigning toast."

Aileen clapped her hands in approving glee.

"And did you ever tell her?"

"A score of times. Faith, 'twas my rule to propose every second time I saw
her and once in between."

"And she----?"

"Laughed at me; played shill-I-shall-I with my devotion; vowed she would
not marry me till I had been killed in the wars to prove I was a hero;
smiled on me one minute and scorned me the next."

"And you love her still?"

"The sun rises in 'Toinette's eyes; when she frowns the day is vile."

"Despite her whims and arrogances?"

"Sure for me my queen can do no wrong. 'Tis her right to laugh and mock at
me so only she enjoy it."

Aileen stole one shy, quick, furtive look at me. It seemed to question
whether her lover was such a pattern of meek obedience.

"And you never falter? There iss no other woman for you?"

"Saving your presence, there is no other woman in the world?"

Her eyes glistened.

"Kneel down, sir," she commanded.

Tony dropped to a knee. She touched him lightly on the shoulder with his
sword.

"In love's name I dub you worthy knight. Be bold, be loyal, be fortunate.
Arise, Sir Anthony Creagh, knight of the order of Cupid!"

We three had wandered away together into an alcove, else, 'tis almost
needless to say, our daffing had not been so free. Now Malcolm joined us
with a paper in his hand. He spoke to me, smiling yet troubled too.

"More labours, O my Theseus! More Minotaurs to slay! More labyrinths to
thread!"

"And what may be these labours now?" I asked.

"Captain Donald Roy sends for you. He reports unusual activity among the
clan militia and the redcoats on Skye. A brig landed men and officers
there yesterday. And what for will they be coming?"

"I think the reason is very plain, Major Macleod," said Tony blithely.

"I'm jalousing (suspecting) so mysel'. They will be for the taking of a
wheen puir callants (lads) that are jinking (hiding) in the hill birken
(scrub). But here iss the point that must be learned: do they ken that the
Prince iss on the islands?"

Creagh sprang to his feet from the chair in which he had been lazying.
"The devil's in it! Why should Montagu go? Why not I?"

"Because you can't talk the Gaelic, Creagh. You're barred," I told him
triumphantly.

"Would you be sending our guest on such an errand of danger, Malcolm?"
asked Aileen in a low voice.

"Not I, but Fegs! I will never say the word to hinder if he volunteers.
'