calvers. And, indeed, it was at the fair that first
I saw the mettle in the boy, although his eyes had always dancing
devils in them. There was much drink in these days, and the mainland
dealers had not the head for it that the boys from the glens had. The
young boys would be holding saddle beasts from the early morning and
making the easy money. Aweel, on this fair day, Margaret the maid, the
sister of Hugh, had craked and craked to be seeing the beasts and the
ferlies, and her mother, the Lady, and her father, the Laird, were sore
against it.

"I will be with Bryde, my cousin," said she; "and who will meddle me."
(I was clean forgotten.)

"He is not a real cousin, Margaret," said the mother.

"He is a fine lad; you will go, my lass," said the Laird, for blood was
more to him than a stroke left-handed across a shield, and that day she
rode with Hugh and me--Margaret, the Flower of Nourn. Tall she was and
limber like a lance, her eyes like blue forget-me-nots that grow by the
burn mhor, fearless and daring, with long black lashes. Her brown hair
curled at her white neck, and her white chin was strong like a man's,
but very soft and beautiful; her lips red, and her teeth like pearls.

She was silent for the most part on the road that day, though whiles
she would be quizzing her brother about the lassies in the college
town, for he had two years of the College at St Andrews. He was the
great hand with the lassies by all accounts, Hugh, and many's the time
his mother would be havering about them, but that man, my uncle, would
wink as though he would be amused.

But when we passed McKelvie's Inn and saw old McKelvie there, stout and
hearty, but very white about the head, and had a salutation from Ronald
McKinnon thrang with the dealers, and Mirren not far off still
sonsy--when we passed there I saw that Margaret was all trembling; and
when we saw Bryde, tall and swarthy, coming to us, I saw the smiling in
her eyes and her face aglow.

"What was that, my dear lass?" said I, looking at her.

"That would be my heart leaping," said she, with a laugh and a blush.

And Bryde lifted her from her little horse, and her hands were never
tired to be touching him. She was all tremulous with laughter and
eager-eyed, and the red was flaming in her cheeks, and she would be
ordering Bryde like a queen, but pleadingly withal.

"You will stable my little horse," said she, and when Bryde, smiling
down at her, took the bridle