I’d place his colours in my breast And ride by moor and lea, And win his side, there to abide And bear him company.’ Was it not so?" "Yes," she said, smiling; "how well you remember, John." "And there was a refrain, too," I went on. "’For sooth a maid, all unafraid, Should by her lover be, With wile and art to cheer his heart, And bear him company.’" Marjory blushed. "Why do you remind me of my old song?" she said. "It pains me, for I used to sing it ere the trouble came upon us, and when we were all as happy as the day was long." "Nay," I said, "it is a song for the time of trouble. It was your promise to me, and I have come to claim its fulfilment. I am for the hills, Marjory, and I cannot leave you behind. Will you come and bear me company? I will take you to Smitwood, where even the devil and my cousin Gilbert could not follow you. There you will be safe till I come again when this evil time is past, for pass it must. And I will go to the hills with a blithe heart, if once I knew you were in good keeping." "Oh, John, to be sure I will follow you," she said, "even to the world’s end. I will fare among rough hills and bogs if I may but be near you. But I will go to Smitwood, for most terribly I dread this place." So it was all brought to a conclusion, and it but remained to make ready with all speed and seek the uplands. We trusted ourselves wholly to Nicol’s guidance, for he knew the ways as he knew his own name, and had a wide acquaintance with the hillmen and their hiding-places. On him it lay to find shelter for us on the road and guide us by the most unfrequented paths. So we set about the preparing of provisions and setting the house in order. The old man, who was the sole servant remaining, was left in charge of the place against our uncertain return. For myself I should have taken but one horse, Marjory’s roan mare, and tramped along on foot; but Nicol bade me take Maisie, for, said he, "I’ll tak ye by little-kenned ways, where ye may ride as easy as walk; and forbye, if it cam to the bit, a horse is a usefu’ cratur for rinnin’ awa on. I could trot fine on my feet mysel’, but though ye’re a guid man at the sma’-swird, Laird, I doubt ye’d no be muckle at that." The words were wise, so I saddled Maisie and prepared to ride her to Smitwood, and there leave her.