e mother, finding her way with the readiness of long familiarity about
the house, got ease for her grief, whatever it was, in the duties thus
suddenly thrust upon her: she spoke but seldom, and she never asked--in
that she was true Gael--any more particulars about ourselves than
Stewart had volunteered. And when we had been served with our simple
viands, she sat composedly before us with her hands in her lap, and her
eyes turned on us with an appearance of sedate scrutiny no whit the less
perplexing because we knew her orbs were but fair clean window-panes
shuttered and hasped within.

"You will excuse my dull welcome," she said, with a wan smile, speaking
a very pleasant accent of North Country Gaelic, that turned upon the
palate like a sweet "A week or two ago you would have found a very
cheerful house, not a widow's sorrow, and, if my eyes were useless, my
man (_beannachd leis!_) had a lover's eyes, and these were the eyes for
himself and me."

"Was he at Inverlochy?" I asked softly; "was he out with Montrose?"

"He died a week come Thursday," said the woman. "They're telling me of
wars--weary on them and God's pity on the widow women they make, and
the mothers they must leave lonely--but such a thing is sorrow that the
world, from France to the Isles, might be in flames and I would still
be thinking on my man that's yonder in the cold clods of the yard....
Stretch your hands; it's your welcome, gentlemen."

"I have one or two other friends out-bye there in the byre," put in
Stewart, who found the vigilance of the youths in the bed gave no
opportunity for smuggling provand to the others of our party.

The woman's face flamed up a little and took on the least of a look of
alarm that Stewart--who was very cunning and quick in some matters--set
about removing at once with some of those convenient lies that he seemed
never out of the want of.

"Some of our lads," said he, with a duck of apology at M'Iver and myself
for taking liberties with the reputation of our friends. "They're very
well where they are among the bracken, if they had but the bite and sup,
and if it's your will I could take them that."

"Could they not be coming in and sitting by the fire?" asked the woman,
set at rest by Stewart's story; but he told her he would never think
of filling her room with a rabble of plain men, and in a little he was
taking out the viands for our friends in the byre.

The woman sat anew upon her stool and her hands on