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Updated: May 5, 2025
What ails the man?" "Och," said I, "his days o' freedom will be getting fewer, for they will be at the marrying soon." "We will be having a spree then," said Bryde. "I am thinking I have a present for Mistress Helen in my traps."
"Take me somewhere," said she, "where the folk will not be seeing." And then, "I will have been mad to be doing this all this night," said she, and pulled his head down to her and kissed him. "Tell me, Bryde, oh, tell me."
"Tell me," said she, "there would not be laughing in your voice and him away," and even then I was thinking she would be afraid to say that grim word. "Bryde will have a sned from a hanger," said I, making light of it. "You will have seen deeper in a turnip, and I left him sleeping."
"It's no' true, Hughie," said he, and lowered his hand and walked back to the kitchen, swayed a minute, and thrust his arms out blindly, and fell on the flagstones. "Have I killed him, Hamish?" cried Hugh "have I killed Bryde? God, what will Margaret say to this?" "I do not know what you have done," said I. "It would be maybe better if he is dead, for I think you will have killed his spirit."
It was in October, the fair day, that Mistress Helen came to visit Margaret, and Hugh had carried her the news of Bryde's going. "Your cousin has gone to his tall ships," said she to Margaret, "the tall ships and the black cannon and the cutlasses, you remember, ma belle." "Bryde has gone away truly," said Margaret, and then the two retired to their confidences.
"You will stable my little horse," said she, and when Bryde, smiling down at her, took the bridle, "But but I will be coming with you," she cried, "or surely you will be forgetting to halter him, or letting him run off and leave me," and as those two with the proud little horse moved to the inn, I saw her look up at the boy with all her heart in her eyes and her lips smiling a little pitifully.
"There is no sleep will come to me this night"; and then, "I wonder will the daylight never be coming?" "Margaret," said I, and I am glad always that I said this "Margaret," said I, "Bryde will be coming here in the morning; you will be meeting your kinsman on the road," said I, "and that will be doing him a kindness. "Maybe he will not be for me to be meeting him, Hamish?"
"You, Mistress Margaret," cried he. "What could I ever be to such as you but a servant?" "Bryde McBride, do you ken what there is in my heart to be doing to you," and her eyes were all alight, and her breath coming fast her face close to his and her arms round him: "I could be kissing your hurt till it was healed.
There was the stone of twenty-two snails close by, for that was the number we found on it, a thing I have many times thought about; and great games we had, Bryde with his black hair and swarthy skin and wild blue eyes, with laughter just ready in them, and the speed and grace of a wild cat; and Hugh, ruddy like his folks, and dour too and very loyal; and the lass Margaret, who could turn Bryde with her little finger, and gloried in the doing of it.
I could be getting ground there," said he, "in that far America; but would you not be vexed when the years went by vexed at the strange faces, and yearning for the cold splash of the sea in summer, and the green of the waving bracken, the purple of the hills, and the sound of voices that you would be knowing?" "Would I not be having you, Bryde?
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