“No,” he said, with a careless look where it lay as peaceful as in a cradle rocked by a mother’s foot.
“It’s the oe of Peggie Mhor,” she said.
“So,” said he; “poor dear!” and he turned and looked out again at the snow.
We were, in spite of our dead Glencoe man’s assurance, in as wicked a piece of country as well might be. No snow had fallen since we left Tombreck, and from that dolorous ruin almost to our present retreat was the patent track of our march.
“I’m here, and I’m making a fair show at an easy mind,” said M’I ver; “but I’ve been in cheerier circumstances ere now.”
“So have I, for that part of it,” said Betty with spirit, half humorously, half in an obvious punctilio.
“Mistress,” said he, sitting up gravely, “I beg your pardon. Do you wonder if I’m not in a mood for saying dainty things? Our state’s precarious (it’s needless to delude ourselves otherwise), and our friend Sandy and his bloody gang may be at a javelin’s throw from us as we sit here. I wish—”
He saw the girl’s face betray her natural alarm, and amended his words almost too quickly for the sake of the illusion.
“Tuts, tuts!” he cried. “I forgot the wood was searched before, and here I’m putting a dismal black face on a drab business. We might be a thousand times worse. I might be a clay-cold corp with my last week’s wage unspent in my sporran, as it happens to be, and here I’m to the fore with four or five MacDonalds to my credit If I’ve lost my mercantile office as mine-manager (curse your trades and callings!) my sword is left me; you have equal fortune, Elrigmore; and you, Mistress Brown, have them you love spared to you.”
Again the girl blushed most fiercely. “Thank God! Thank God!” she cried in a stifled ecstasy, “and O! but I’m grateful.” And anew she fondled the little bye-blow as it lay with its sunny hair on the soldier’s plaid.