“Ye gave me a bitter moment, Peggy, when I found ye had missed us.”
“’Twas the mist!” she cried. “I dropped my whip and turned back for it—then the mist thickened; ah, my dear, ye canna ken how lonesome I felt alone in the wild hills.”
She trembled; her overwrought control leaving her at sight of him; he led her to the table and drew her down beside him; he was more relieved at sight of her safe in Kilchurn than he would have cared to put into words, and it was with a sigh of relief that she looked at him; she had had disturbing visions of the wild Macdonalds meeting the hated Breadalbane.
She sank on a little stool beside him while he eat his supper, with her green eyes, very soft now, on his face.
He was a man of a remarkable appearance; of a very elegant build and upright carriage, though barely of the middle height; his face was thin and hollow in the cheeks, his lower jaw projecting gave him a sinister expression; his nose, a high aquiline, his eyes large, light gray and very restless; his thick brown hair of a blond so pale that it appeared gray.
There was an air of great delicacy and dignity about him; he smiled continually, but taken without the smile the face was hard and cruel.
When he looked at his wife, however, it entirely softened and his unpleasant eyes flashed into a passion that redeemed them as she caught his free hand and laid it against her cheek.
“’Tis the last time I lose sight of ye when we cross the Hielands, Peggy,” he said. “Did ye meet any?”
“Yea,” she answered under her breath; “a Macdonald o’ Glencoe.”
The Earl turned in his chair with a flash of steel and gold.