the Macleods were not very friendly in the old time. But we can claim
something too about the escape of Prince Charlie, Mrs. Ross. After Flora
Macdonald had got him safe from Harris to Skye, she handed him over to
the sons of Macleod of Raasay, and it was owing to them that he got to
the mainland. You will find many people up there to this day who believe
that if Macleod of Macleod had gone out in '45, Prince Charlie would
never have had to flee at all. But I think the Macleods had done enough
for the Stuarts; and it was but little thanks they ever got in return,
so far as I could ever hear. Do you know, Mrs. Ross, my mother wears
mourning every 3d of September, and will eat nothing from morning till
night. It is the anniversary of the battle of Worcester; and then the
Macleods were so smashed up that for a long time the other clans
relieved them from military service."

"You are not much of a Jacobite, Sir Keith," said Mrs. Ross, smiling.

"Only when I hear a Jacobite song sung," said he. "Then who can fail to
be a Jacobite?"

He had become quite friendly with this amiable lady. If he had been
afraid that his voice, in these delicate southern ears, must sound like
the first guttral drone of Donald's Pipes at Castle Dare, he had
speedily lost that fear. The manly, sun-browned face and clear-glancing
eyes were full of animation; he was oppressed no longer by the
solemnity of the servants; so long as he talked to her he was quite
confident; he had made friends with this friendly woman. But he had not
as yet dared to address the pale girl who sat on his right, and who
seemed so fragile and beautiful and distant in manner.

"After all," said he to Mrs. Ross, "there were no more Highlanders