d his anticipating
it by sending in his resignation.

"That, if anything," said Fergus, "will make this Calvinistic colonel
blush for his injustice."

But it was not long before some part at least of the mystery was made
plain. Fergus took advantage of Edward's natural anger at his unworthy
treatment, to reveal to him that a great rising was about to take place
in the Highlands in favour of King James, and to urge him to cast in his
lot with the clans. Flora, on the contrary, urged him to be careful and
cautious, lest he should involve others to whom he owed everything, in a
common danger with himself.

Edward, whose fancy (if not whose heart) had gradually been turning more
and more toward the beautiful and patriotic Flora, appeared less
interested in rebellion than in obtaining her brother's good-will and
bespeaking his influence with his sister.

"Out upon you," cried Fergus, with pretended ill-humour, "can you think
of nothing but ladies at such a time? Besides, why come to me in such a
matter? Flora is up the glen. Go and ask herself. And Cupid go with you!
But do not forget that my lovely sister, like her loving brother, is apt
to have a pretty strong will of her own!"

Edward's heart beat as he went up the rocky hillside to find Flora. She
received and listened to him with kindness, but steadily refused to
grant him the least encouragement. All her thoughts, her hopes, her life
itself, were set on the success of this one bold stroke for a crown.
Till the rightful King was on his throne, she could not think of
anything else. Love and marriage were not for such as Flora Mac-Ivor.
Edward, in spite of the manifest good-will of the chief, had to be
content with such cold comfort as he could extract from Flora's promise
that she would remember him in her prayers!

Next morning Edward was awakened to the familiar sound of Daft Davie
Gellatley's voice singing below his window. For a moment he thought
himself back at Tully-Veolan. Davie was declaring loudly that

"_My heart's in the Highland, my heart is not here._"

Then, immediately changing to a less sentimental strain, he added with a
contemptuous accent:

"_There's nocht in the Highlands but syboes and leeks,_
_And lang-leggit callants gaun wanting the breeks;_
_Wanting the breeks, and without hose or shoon,_
_But we'll a' win the breeks when King Jamie comes hame._"

Edward, eager to know what had brought the Br