"You may ask the wind why it is from the east or the west, but it won't tell you. You're not the wind's master."
"If you think I will let this man take you away from me, you are thinking a foolish thing."
"And you saying a foolisher."
"Ay?"
"Ay, sure. What could you do, Ian Mhic Ian? At the worst, you could do no more than kill James Achanna. What then? I too would die. You can not separate us. I would not marry you, now, though you were the last man in the world and I the last woman."
"You're a fool, Katreen Macarthur. Your father has promised you to me, and I tell you this: if you love Achanna you'll save his life only by letting him go away from here. I promise you he will not be here long."
"Ay, you promise me; but you will not say that thing to James Achanna's face. You are a coward."
With a muttered oath the man turned on his heel.
"Let him beware o' me, and you, too, Katreen-mo-nighean-donn. I swear it by my mother's grave and by St. Martin's Cross that you will be mine by hook or by crook."
The girl smiled scornfully. Slowly she lifted a milk-pail.