"Ye see," said he, and mounted, then bending over his saddle, "Ye see, my dear, I was loving your hand all that time," and the clatter of his horse's feet on the cobbles brought me to my senses.
"Pup," said I.
"But, Hamish," whispered the lass, "I am wanting him."
"For what now?"
"I am wanting him to keep," said she, and put her head against my arm—the brave lass.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE RIDERS ON THE MOOR.
I would be seeing very little of Bryde for many a day after that, for there was aye work to be doing at his hill farm, and hard work will be bringing sound sleep.
But Hugh was become the great gallant, with old Tam rubbing his stirrups with sand from the sand-brae, that and wet divots, till the irons shone like silver.
"Hoch-a-soch," he would say, "the young Laird is ta'en wi' the weemen. I will be at the polishing o' his horse's shoes next, and it iss the fine smells he will be haffin' on his claes—fine smells for the leddies, yess."