One day, when alone with his mother, Kenneth suddenly asked her ‘if she thought Flora was really the mother of the boy?’ ‘Foolish boy,’ answered she, ‘do you think I have lived all these years and not know a maid from a wife? No, no; Flora is no more his mother than I am. And, son Kenneth, I wish to give you some advice: don’t you go and fall in love with Flora—you might as well fall in love with the moon or the stars. Don’t you see she is some great lady, perhaps a princess, although now obliged to live in concealment. I expect little MacGabhar is her brother, and heir to some great lord. What we must do is to treat her with respect and kindness, and perhaps some day, if she gets her rights, you may be her servant, if she will accept your services. Though she never told me who she was, she showed me a very handsome sword and a beautiful scarlet velvet mantle trimmed with fur, which she said belonged to the boy’s father, and she was keeping them to prove his birth some day.’
This sensible, though unpalatable, advice fell like lead upon Kenneth’s heart, but still, thought he, ‘it will be something to be even her servant. I shall at least see her, and hear her voice.’
Matters went on thus at the cottage for some time, until one day Kenneth came home hastily with the news that the Lord of Castle Donain, the chief of that part of the country, was come on a grand hunting expedition to the neighbourhood, and would probably call at the cottage, as he had done on former occasions. For themselves Kenneth had no fear, for although they did not belong to the chief’s clan, he knew of their living on his estate, and had never offered any objection. It was only on Flora’s account that he had hastened with the news. She, poor girl, seemed dreadfully agitated, and said, ‘that Lord Castle Donain was one of the last men she wished to know of her whereabouts,’ and suggested that she and MacGabhar should again take refuge in the cave until the danger was past; but, alas, it was too late. Already some of the foremost clansmen were in sight. In another minute the chief himself appeared, calling out to Kenneth to come as their guide, as he knew the ground so well. Kenneth hurried out, closing the door of the cottage after him. This, Lord Castle Donain noticed, as also the uneasiness of the young man’s manner. ‘How now, Kenneth,’ he exclaimed, eyeing him suspiciously, ‘what have you in hiding there? where is your mother? and why do you not ask me in to take a drink of milk as you used to do?’ Kenneth confusedly muttered something about his mother not being well, and offered to fetch some milk for his lordship. The chief was now convinced that there was a secret, and determined to find it out. He entered the cottage without ceremony, exclaiming angrily, ‘What is the meaning of this, old dame? Do you not know you are only living on my estate on sufferance, and if you don’t render me proper respect as your chief, I will soon pack you and your son off again.’ Then perceiving Flora, and being struck with her exceeding loveliness, he involuntarily altered his tone, and continued in a more gentle voice, ‘Ah! I now see the cause; you have a stranger with you. Who is she, Kenneth?’
Now this was a very puzzling question for poor Kenneth to answer, as he did not know himself, and being fearful of saying anything that might injure Flora. However, he answered as boldly as he could that she was his wife. ‘Your wife, Kenneth?’ said the Chief, ‘impossible, where did you get her from? I am sure she does not belong to this part of the country, or I should have noticed her before; however, I must claim the privileges of a chief, and give her a salute.’ But when he approached Flora, she waved him off with conscious dignity, saying ‘he must excuse her, as it was not the custom in her country to kiss strangers.’ Her voice and manner, so different to what he expected from one in her seeming position, more than ever convinced the chief there was a mystery in the case, and when in answer to his inquiries she told him her name was Flora, he exclaimed, ‘Kenneth, I am sure you are deceiving me, she is not your wife; her voice, her manner, and, above all, her name, convince me that she is of high birth, and most probably of some hostile clan, consequently she must return with me to Castle Donain until I fathom the mystery surrounding her, and you may think yourself lucky that I do not order you to be strung up on the nearest tree for a traitor.’
This speech threw them all into the greatest consternation. In vain Flora pleaded to be left alone with her husband and child; in vain the widow and Kenneth asserted their innocence of wishing harm to the chief; he remained inexorable. To Castle Donain she must and should go. The widow, in the extremity of her grief, caught up the child, to whom she was greatly attached, and exclaimed, ‘Oh! little MacGabhar, what will become of you?’
On hearing this, Lord Castle Donain started as if an adder had stung him, and with agitated voice cried out, “MacGabhar! whence got he that name, for it is a fatal one to my family. Hundreds of years ago it was prophesied that—
“The son of the goat shall triumphantly bear The mountain in flame; and the horns of the deer— From forest of Loyne to the hill of Ben-Croshen— From mountain to vale, and from ocean to ocean.”
So, little blue-eyed MacGabhar, you must come with me too, for I am sure you are a prize worth having.’
Again poor Flora pleaded hard to be allowed to remain in her humble home; urging, what a disgrace it would be for him to tear her and her child away from her husband and home; but all vain. The chief refused to believe the story of her being the wife of Kenneth, and insisted in no very measured terms on her at once accompanying him to the Castle of Islandonain.
Finding all her appeals and supplications of no avail, Flora began to grow desperate. Drawing the child to her, she faced the chief with a look as haughty as his own, and producing a small, richly ornamented dirk, which she had concealed about her dress, vowed she would rather kill herself and the boy, too, than that they should be taken prisoners.