She spoke again, suddenly:
“I would rather go alone—I can find my way—I have been here before.”
A great color came into Macdonald’s face; he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her round so that she faced him.
“Why do you so loathe my company?” he demanded. “I am a prince.”
She breathed a little heavily to feel him holding her—but her face was unmoved.
“I have a friendship for you and all the Macdonalds,” she said.
“Well, prove it,” he answered eagerly.
“Let go of me,” she said a little unsteadily. “I have broken bread—and drunk with ye.” She shook her head, tossing the damp red curls off her white forehead and her lips trembled a little.
“Let go of me,” she repeated.
He looked at her steadily and smiled: “The witches of the mountains have brought us together, Helen Fraser—I shall find you again—and as a pledge—ye shall kiss me.”