of the blood of the MacLeods."

This was Kirsty's own clan. And indeed I have since discovered that
the original legend on which her story was founded belongs to the
island of Rasay, from which she came.

"But why was he angry with the gentleman?" asked Allister.

"Because he liked her company better than he loved herself," said
Kirsty. "At least that was what the shepherd said, and that he ought
to have seen her safe home. But he didn't know that MacLeod's father
had threatened to kill him if ever he spoke to the girl again."

"But," said Allister, "I thought it was about Sir Worm Wymble--not
Mr. MacLeod."

"Sure, boy, and am I not going to tell you how he got the new name of
him?" returned Kirsty, with an eagerness that showed her fear lest the
spirit of inquiry should spread. "He wasn't Sir Worm Wymble then. His
name was--"

Here she paused a moment, and looked full at Allister.

"His name was Allister--Allister MacLeod."

"Allister!" exclaimed my brother, repeating the name as an incredible
coincidence.

"Yes, Allister," said Kirsty. "There's been many an Allister, and not
all of them MacLeods, that did what they ought to do, and didn't know