“I will be asking you this one thing, Katreen, daughter of my father’s brother: do you love that man Achanna who lives at Ranza-beag?” “You may ask the wind why it is from the east or the west, but it won’t tell you. You’re not the wind’s master.” “If you think I will let this man take you away from me, you are thinking a foolish thing.” “And you saying a foolisher.” “Ay?” “Ay, sure. What could you do, Ian-mhic-Ian? At the worst, you could do no more than kill James Achanna. What then? I too would die. You cannot separate us. I would not marry you, now, though you were the last man on the world and I the last woman.” “You’re a fool, Katreen Macarthur. Your father has promised you to me, and I tell you this: if you love Achanna you’ll save his life only by letting him go away from here. I promise you he will not be here long.” “Ay, you promise _me_; but you will not say that thing to James Achanna’s face. You are a coward.” With a muttered oath the man turned on his heel. “Let him beware o’ me, and you, too, Katreen-mo-nighean-donn. I swear it by my mother’s grave and by St Martin’s Cross that you will be mine by hook or by crook.” The girl smiled scornfully. Slowly she lifted a milk-pail. “It would be a pity to waste the good milk, Ian-gòrach; but if you don’t go it is I that will be emptying the pail on you, and then you’ll be as white without as your heart is within.” “So, you call me witless, do you? _Ian-gòrach!_ Well, we shall be seeing as to that; and as for the milk, there will be more than milk spilt because of _you_, Katreen-donn.” From that day, though neither Sheumais nor Katreen knew of it, a watch was set upon Achanna. It could not be long before their secret was discovered; and it was with a savage joy overmastering his sullen rage that Ian Macarthur knew himself the discoverer, and conceived his double vengeance. He dreamed, gloatingly, on both the black thoughts that roamed like ravenous beasts through the solitudes of his heart. But he did not dream that another man was filled with hate because of Katreen’s lover--another man who had sworn to make her his own; the man who, disguised, was known in Armadale as Donald McLean, and in the north isles would have been hailed as Gloom Achanna. There had been steady rain for three days, with a cold raw wind. On the fourth the sun shone, and set in peace. An evening of quiet beauty followed, warm, fragrant, dusky from the absence of moon or star, though the thin veils of mist promised to disperse as the night grew.