"Faith!" said Mehitabel, "I do believe this is the right man. He has the grip of it better than any I ever listened to. If he so kiss the gift, what would he not do to the giver?"
"Tell me," said Wat, looking eagerly and tremulously at her, "what said she when she gave you the token?—in what garb was she attired?—was her countenance sad?—were they that went with her kind?"
"Truly and truly this is right love, and no make-believe," said the girl, clapping her hands; "never did I credit the disease before, but ever laughed at them that came acourting with their breaking hearts and their silly, sighing ardors. But this fellow means it, every word. He has well learned his lover's hornbook. For he asks so many questions, and has them all tumbling over one another like pigs turned out of a clover pasture."
Wat made a little movement of impatience.
"I pray you be merciful, haste and tell me—for I have come far and suffered much!"
The pathetic ring in his voice moved the wayward daughter of Captain Smith of the Sea Unicorn.
"I will tell you," she answered, more seriously, "but in my own way. It was, I think, this lass of yours that sat here in the house-place and talked with me but four-and-twenty hours agone. She looked not in ill health but pale and anxious, with dark rings about her eyes. Those that were about her were kind enough, but watched her closely day and night—for that was the order of their master. But I am sure that the Lowland woman who was with her would, in an evil case, prove a friend to your love."
"And whither have they taken her?" asked Wat, anxiously.
Mehitabel Smith looked carefully every way before she attempted to answer.
"The name of the place I cannot tell at present. It is an island, remote and lonely, in the country of the Hebridean Small Isles; but I heard my father say that it bore somewhere near where the Long Island hangs his tail down into the ocean."