The Duke rose, leaving his book on the grass, and placing his hand kindly on the maiden's shoulder, said: 'Come, Maggie, this may not be so bad as it seems! We shall see what we can do. Dry your eyes, child. Angus can't go away from my yacht without my consent, and I shall take care that he shall not go away. Take comfort from that. We shall see what can be done.'
'Oh, but my father iss fery obstinate, Your Grace, fery! And he wants me to marry another man that I cannot bear to look at.—But I am troubling Your Grace.'
The Duke's sympathy had wonderfully dispelled Maggie's awe.
'Well, well,' said the kindly nobleman, 'pick up your letter. If the piper won't listen to reason, we must see what can be done without him. But your father is a sensible man, and will no doubt listen to reason. Good-bye! Remember there must be no more crying. And you don't think it will be hard to bring Angus to reason? Well, well, we shall see. But remember, not another tear all the way home!'
Encouraged by the words of the great Highland Chief, Maggie courtesied low again, and sped homeward, with a burden lifted from her heart.
Angus MacTavish astonished the village watchmaker and jeweller by walking into his shop towards gloaming one evening, shutting the door carefully behind him, and even turning the key in the lock when he had satisfied himself there was no one present except the big-browed, hump-backed little watchmaker behind his glass cases.
'And iss it yourself, Angus MacTavish?'
'O ay, it iss me.' Angus was examining, with a deep flush on his face, the case of ornaments in front of him.
'And what iss it that I can pe dooing for ye, Angus, the nicht?'
'Oh, it wass only a'—Angus coughed—'it wass a ring—a gold ring that I wad be wanting ye to shew me mirofer.'