"You cannot," said Mary, calmly. "I have entrusted you with my secret—you cannot break faith."
Käthchen looked disconcerted for a second.
"It is quite monstrous, Mamie, that you should expose yourself to such a risk. Is it because you are so anxious Mr. Ross should not take away a lot of the people to Canada—and you want them to declare openly that they are on good terms with you? At all events, you shall not be there alone. I will go with you."
"It is quite needless, Käthchen!"
"I don't care about that," said Kate Glendinning; and then she added, vindictively: "and when I get hold of that Mr. Pettigrew, I will give him a bit of my mind! The man of peace—always sighing and praying that people should live together in ahmity—and here he goes and lends his church to these professional mischief-makers. Wait till I get hold of Mr. Pettigrew!"
CHAPTER VII.
"KAIN TO THE KING THE MORN!"
The night was dark and yet clear; the sea still; not a whisper stirred in the birch-woods nor along the shores; the small red points of fire, that told of the distant village, burned steadily. And here, down near the edge of the water, were Coinneach and Calum-a-bhata, hidden under the shadow of the projecting rocks.
"Oh, yes, Calum," the elder sailor was saying in his native tongue—and he spoke in something of an undertone—"maybe we will get a few sea-trout this night; and a good basket of sea-trout is a fine thing to take away with us to Heimra; and who has a better right to the sea-trout than our master? Perhaps you do not know what in other days they used to call Kain; for you are a young man, and not hearing of many things; but I will tell you now. It was in the days when there were very good relations between the people and the proprietors—"
"When the birds sang in Gaelic, Coinneach!" said Calum.