"If to-day you found yourself in that loved land, if this parched grass were brown heather, if it stretched down to a tarn yonder, if that gray cloud that hath all the seeming of a crag were crag indeed, and eagles plied between the tarn and it,"-- he touched her hand that lay idle now upon her knee,--"if you came like Deirdre lightly through the heather, and found me lying here, and found more red than should be in the tartan of the MacLeans, what would you do, Truelove?
What would you cry out, Truelove?
How heavy would be thy heart, Truelove ?" Truelove sat in silence, with her eyes upon the sky above the dream crags.
"How heavy would grow thy heart, Truelove, Truelove ?" whispered the Highlander.
Up the winding water, to the sedges and reeds below the little yard, glided the boy Ephraim in his boat.

The Quakeress started, and the color flamed into her gentle face.

She took up the distaff that she had dropped, and fell to work again.

"Thee must not speak to me so, Angus MacLean," she said.

"I trust that my heart is not hard.