"Where the birds go, Annie?--Well, it may be! But the ptarmigan's not gone yet, though there are not many; and for the capercailzie--only who that loves them will be here to see!--But do you really think there is a heaven for all God's creatures, Annie? Ian does." "I don't know what I said to make you think so, sir! When the heart aches the tongue mistakes. But how is my lady, your mother?" "Pretty well, thank you--wonderfully cheerful. It is time I went home to her. Lachlan would think I was playing him false, and making love to you on my own account!" "No fear! He would know better than that! He would know too, if she was not belonging to Lachlan, her father's daughter would not let her chief humble himself." "You're one of the old sort, Annie! Good night. Mind you tell Lachlan I never miss a chance of looking in to see how you are getting on." "I will. Good night, Macruadh." They shook hands over the counter, and the young chief took his departure. As he stood up, he showed a fine-made, powerful frame, over six feet in height, and perfectly poised. With a great easy stride he swept silently out of the shop; nor from gait any more than look would one have thought he had been all day at work on the remnant of property he could call his own. To a cit it would have seemed strange that one sprung from innumerable patriarchal ancestors holding the land of the country, should talk so familiarly with a girl in a miserable little shop in a most miserable hamlet; it would have seemed stranger yet that such a one should toil at the labour the soul of a cit despises; but stranger than both it would seem to him, if he saw how such a man is tempted to look down upon HIM. If less CLEVERNESS is required for country affairs, they leave the more room for thinking. There are great and small in every class; here and there is a ploughman that understands Burns, here and there a large-minded shopkeeper, here and there perhaps an unselfish duke. Doubtless most of the youth's ancestors would likewise have held such labour unworthy of a gentleman, and would have preferred driving to their hills a herd of lowland cattle; but this, the last Macruadh, had now and then a peep into the kingdom of heaven. CHAPTER V. THE CHIEF. The Macruadh strode into the dark, and down the village, wasting no time in picking his way--thence into the yet deeper dark of the moorland hills. The rain was beginning to come down in earnest, but he did not heed it; he was thoroughbred, and feared no element. An umbrella was to him a ludicrous thing: how could a little rain--as he would have called it had it come down in torrents--hurt any one!