The plaintive melody rose and fell like the waves on the shore; and Rita would curl herself like a panther in the sun, and murmur with pleasure, and call for more. Then, perhaps, Margaret would sing that lovely ballad of Hogg's, which begins,
| "Far down by yon hills of the heather sae green, |
| And down by the corrie that sings to the sea, |
| The bonnie young Flora sat sighing her lane, |
| The dew on her plaid and the tear in her e'e. |
| "She looked on a boat with the breezes that swung |
| Afar on the wave, like a bird on the main, |
| And aye as it lessened, she sighed and she sung, |
| 'Fareweel to the lad I shall ne'er see again!'" |
But Rita had no patience with Flora McDonald.
"Why did she not go with him?" she asked, when Margaret, after the song was over, told the brave story of Prince Charlie's escape after Culloden, and of how the noble girl, at the risk of her own life, led the prince, disguised as her waiting-woman, through many weary ways, till they reached the seashore where the vessel was waiting to take him to France.
"He could not speak!" said Margaret. "He just took her hand, and stood looking at her; but she could hardly see him for her tears. Then he took off his cap, and stooped down and kissed her twice on the forehead; and so he went. But after he was in the boat, he turned again, and said to her:
"'After all that has happened, I still hope, madam, we shall meet in St. James's yet!' But of course they never did."
"But why did she not go with him?" demanded Rita. "She had spirit, it appears. Why did she let him go without her?"
Margaret gazed at her wide-eyed.
"He was going into exile," she said. "She had done all she could, she had saved his life; there was nothing more to be done."
"But—that she should leave him! Did she not love him? was he faithless?"