"Where my chief goes, I will go; where my chief lives, I will live; and where my chief is buried, God grant I may be buried also, with all my family!"
He sat down, covered his face with his hands, and wept and sobbed.
One voice rose from all present:
"We'll go, Macruadh! We'll go! Our chief is our home!"
The chief's heart swelled with mingled gladness and grief, but he answered quietly,
"Then you must at once begin your preparations; we ought not to be in a hurry at the last."
An immediate stir, movement, bustle, followed. There was much talking, and many sunny faces, over which kept sweeping the clouds of sorrow.
The next morning the chief went to the New House, and desired to see Mr. Palmer. He was shown into what the new laird called his study. Mr. Palmer's first thought was that he had come to call him to account for firing at him. He neither spoke nor advanced a step to meet him. The chief stood still some yards from him, and said as pleasantly as he could,—
"You are surprised to see me, Mr. Palmer!"
"I am."