CHAPTER XXXI.
BRYDE AND MARGARET.
I think truly there was not much sleep for Margaret, even as she said, for did not I hear her moving, and I would be thinking of her turning and twisting fornent the image-glass.
And I will tell you where the place is that they met, Bryde and Margaret, on the hill where the cairn stands and no man knows who would be the builders. For the lass walked easy and slow to the Hill of the Fort, as we will be calling it, and then turned to the ridge that runs to the right hand, for that way one can be seeing all the valley. And she sat by the foot of the cairn. I am thinking that the far-seeing blue eyes of Bryde would be watching every rise and hollow, or why else would he have made the cairn, for that is not just the nearest road to the Big House.
To her he came there and stood before her, and she rose to be meeting him, but had no words of greeting. It is like she would be rehearsing in her mind how this meeting should go, but for all that she rose, and her hands clasped and pressed themselves hard at her heart, and she turned herself a little away from him, only her eyes holding his.
"Br—Bryde," was the word that came softly between her lips like a whisper.
But the man took two strides and was at her side, his hands not yet touching her, and there came a trembling on the lass.
"If you cannot be loving me and keeping me for ever," said she, "do not be touching me, for if you will be touching me I am lost," and there was a dignity in her bearing, although her lips were quivering.
"I am not fit to be touching you, for I have no right folk," said he.
"Do you think it is heeding that I will be, if it is me and no other that has your heart?"