"I will not be very clever, it seems, Hamish," said Margaret.
But I had admiration for Helen, for she came back, laughing very softly. "Now we shall prove your charm, Mistress Margaret," said she; "for truly M'sieu Hugh did not require it, but Bryde—he is cold and hard like his own hills with me."
And that very night it was as though old Betty's havers were potent spells, for Bryde was the fair-haired laddie with the Laird of Scaurdale always, and as the evening wore on he grew a little flushed with wine, so that all his silence left him, and he was very shyly bold and very gallant; but Margaret was stately and proud like her mother, and smiled but little. And Hugh gloomed and laughed by turns, and had an air of patronage to his cousin that was hurtful for me to be seeing in him.
Hugh and Margaret were stopping at Scaurdale, but when the moon was well up Bryde was for the road. At that there was an outcry, for he was the soul of the place. The Laird of Scaurdale would have hindered his going, and Helen made much ado, but his horse was brought, and we came to the door to be seeing him off.
There was a brave moon, and the hillside very plain, and the noise of the burn rumbling—a fine night to be out.
"I could be riding home too," said Margaret.
Bryde slipped his boot from the stirrup.
"Jump," said he, "and in two hours you'll be home, if Hamish and Hugh will be allowing it."
I think she would have liked to go, for I saw the flash in her eyes, and her quick smile, but then—
"No," said she; "it is a little cold here," and turned to go in.