killed in the cause of the Stuarts than used to be killed every year or
two merely out of the quarrels of the clans among themselves. All about
where I live there is scarcely a rock, or a loch, or an island that has
not its story. And I think," added he, with a becoming modesty, "that
the Macleods were by far the most treacherous and savage and
bloodthirsty of the whole lot of them."

And now the fair stranger beside him addressed him for the first time;
and as she did so, she turned her eyes towards him--clear, large eyes
that rather startled one when the heavy lids were lifted, so full of
expression were they.

"I suppose," said she, with a certain demure smile, "you have no wild
deeds done there now?"

"Oh, we have become quite peaceable folks now," said he, laughing. "Our
spirit is quite broken. The wild boars are all away from the islands
now, even from Muick; we have only the sheep. And the Mackenzies, and
the Macleans, and the Macleods--they are all sheep now."

Was it not quite obvious? How could any one associate with this
bright-faced young man the fierce traditions of hate and malice and
revenge, that makes the seas and islands of the north still more
terrible in their loneliness? Those were the days of strong wills and
strong passions, and of an easy disregard of individual life when the
gratification of some set desire was near. What had this Macleod to do
with such scorching fires of hate and of love? He was playing with a
silver fork and half a dozen strawberries: Miss White's surmise was
perfectly natural and correct.