Now the Laird of Supsorrow was a severely regular man, and always took a daily walk through the park or along the river-bank to watch the craft, the bustle of the towpath, the wrangling of the sea-coal porters--all the sights and sounds of the waterside so strange to him. Patsy fell easily into the habit of accompanying him. There was a freshness and yet a friendliness in the sound of that deep voice, unmistakable and weighty, yet with curiously tender inflections in it when he addressed Patsy. Patsy does not know herself how she first began to confide in this man. Perhaps she had a severe dose of home-sickness one day, and the Galloway voice, speaking broadly as they talked at Glenanmays, as Jean and Diarmid and Fergus and Agnew spoke, made her do it. For Miss Aline spoke dainty old lady Scots, but without the broad accent of the moors, which was not at all the same thing to Patsy. The shrewd old man divined a good deal too. Patsy did not care to talk about anything but the Valleys. She rejected topic after topic and returned to the Free Trade, the "running" of cargoes, the lads who had beaten the press-gang, and their chief, Stair Garland. Kennedy tried her once or twice on the subject of her marriage, and even slily addressed her once or twice as "Princess." This last "try-on" was successful, for Patsy burst forth. "I forbid you to say that. I will not be so misnamed. There is nothing in it, I tell you. My consent has never even been asked. They are trying to drive me into it, but I shall show them! Oh, if only I knew any way of getting away. It will come to that in the end. I have thought of coaches and so on, but that would cost money, more than I have got, and besides, they might get faster horses and catch me. I have written to my father and he only tells me that no one can possibly marry me against my will. I have only to say 'no'--as if I have ever got the chance. They all take it for granted!" "Then you dinna want to marry this grand Prince?" said Kennedy, feigning astonishment; "how can a lass not want to have such a great title? There are thousands that would jump at it." "Well, I won't. I am not going to be a Princess, but just Patsy Ferris of Cairn Ferris. Oh, Mr. Kennedy, I wish you could help me." "Weel," said the Laird of Supsorrow, tapping his snuff-box meditatively, "maybe I might--if so be I could see our way oot at the farther end." "Oh, there is a way," cried Patsy, clasping both hands about the Laird's arm, and looking up into his face, to the wonder and admiration of the passers-by, who envied the proud father of so charming a daughter--especially when the old man walked fast to get clear of a string of trace-horses, and Patsy took to skipping on one foot to keep up with him.