"Who said that I would?" she cried, as if stung. "You knew better than that! Who said that I would?"
"He did; and that you would go with him that night, if he asked you. And you did, Ishbel! It was very cruel, but——" Rory paused then, and suddenly spoke in Gaelic, as if it all came back to him. "But I am beginning to think that I was cruel, too. Was I?"
He waited, watching her.
Ishbel nodded gently. She also spoke in Gaelic, as if they had parted only yesterday.
"Yes, you were cruel, Rory, and you were very hasty. It is true that I was a foolish lass, but you might have given me another chance. I believed in my grandmother's stories. I wanted to see the good folk." She looked away, and sadness and disillusion crept over her face. "But I do not believe in them any more, not any more."
"Poor little Ishbel. Poor wee lassie!"
It could not be five years. It could not! They had only parted yesterday!
"But it does not matter," Ishbel said, rousing, "and now perhaps you will call and see my grandmother? Are you on your way to Uig?"
He did not answer that.
"Ishbel," he said, "I was very cruel, and I was just as angry as a man could be, and for five years I have been mad and sore; but deep down, deep down, I never forgot you. I hated him, but I loved you. I will come and see your grandmother; but—first—first, will you give me a kiss, Ishbel, for the sake of the old days?"