"Thy coat is new," said Truelove, with downcast eyes. "The earth will
stain the good cloth."
MacLean laughed. "Then will I wear it stained, as 'tis said a courtier
once wore his cloak."
"There is lace upon it," said Truelove timidly.
MacLean turned with a smile, and laid a fold of her cloak against his dark
cheek. "Ah, the lace offends you,--offends thee,--Truelove. Why, 'tis but
to mark me a gentleman again! Last night, at Williamsburgh, I supped with
Haward and some gentlemen of Virginia. He would have me don this suit. I
might not disoblige my friend."
"Thee loves it," said Truelove severely. "Thee loves the color, and the
feel of the fine cloth, and the ruffles at thy wrists."
The Highlander laughed. "Why, suppose that I do! Look, Truelove, how brave
and red are those holly berries, and how green and fantastically twisted
the leaves! The sky is a bright blue, and the clouds are silver; and think
what these woods will be when the winter is past! One might do worse,
meseems, than to be of God's taste in such matters."
Truelove sighed, and drew her gray cloak more closely around her.
"Thee is in spirits to-day, Angus MacLean," she said, and sighed once
more.
"I am free," he answered. "The man within me walks no longer with a
hanging head."
"And what will thee do with thy freedom?"
The Highlander made no immediate reply, but, chin in hand, studied the
drifts of leaves and the slow-moving water. "I am free," he said at last.
"I wear to-day the dress of a gentleman. I could walk without shame into
a hall that I know, and find there strangers, standers in dead men's
shoon, brothers who want me not,--who would say behind their hands, 'He
has been twelve years a slave, and the world has changed since he went
away!' ... I will not trouble them."
His face was as sombre as when Truelove first beheld it. Suddenly, and
against her will, tears came to her eyes. "I am glad--I and my father and
mother and Ephraim--that thee goes not overseas, Angus MacLean," said the
dove's voice. "We would have thee--I and my father and mother and
Ephraim--we would have thee stay in Virginia."
"I am to stay," he answered. "I have felt no shame in taking a loan from
my friend, for I shall repay it. He hath lands up river in a new-made
county. I am to seat them for him, and there will be my home. I will build
a house and name it Duart; and if there are hills they shall be Dun-da-gu
and Grieg, and the sound of winter torrents shall be to me as the sound of
the waters of Mull."