Door and window faced the west, and the glow from the sinking sun illumined the thousand and one features of the place.  Here was the glint of tools and weapons; there pewter shone like silver, and brass dazzled the eyes.  Bales of red cotton, blue linen, flowered Kidderminster, scarlet serge, gold and silver drugget, all sorts of woven stuffs from lockram to brocade, made bright the shelves.  Pendent skins of buck and doe showed like brown satin, while looking-glasses upon the wall reflected green trees and painted clouds.  In one dark corner lurked kegs of powder and of shot; another was the haunt of aqua vitae and right Jamaica.  Playing-cards, snuffboxes, and fringed gloves elbowed a shelf of books, and a full-bottomed wig ogled a lady’s headdress of ribbon and malines.  Knives and hatchets and duffel blankets for the Indian trade were not wanting.

Haward, leaning against a table laden with so singular a miscellany that a fine saddle with crimson velvet holsters took the head of the board, while the foot was set with blue and white china, watched the sometime moulder of peak and islet draw out a case filled with such small and womanish articles as pins and needles, tape and thread, and place it before his customer.  She made her choice, and the storekeeper brought a great book, and entered against the head of the house of Taberer so many pounds of tobacco; then, as the maiden turned to depart, heaved a sigh so piteous and profound that no tender saint in gray could do less than pause, half turn her head, and lift two compassionate eyes.

“Mistress Truelove, I have read the good book that you gave me, and I cannot deny that I am much beholden to you,” and her debtor sighed like a furnace.

The girl’s quiet face flushed to the pink of a seashell, and her eyes grew eager.

“Then does thee not see the error of thy ways, Angus MacLean?  If it should be given me to pluck thee as a brand from the burning!  Thee will not again brag of war and revenge, nor sing vain and ruthless songs, nor use dice or cards, nor will thee swear any more?”

The voice was persuasion’s own.  “May I be set overtide on the Lady’s Rock, or spare a false Campbell when I meet him, or throw up my cap for the damned Hogan Mogan that sits in Jamie’s place, if I am not entirely convert!” cried the neophyte.  “Oh, the devil! what have I said?  Mistress Truelove—­Truelove”—­

But Truelove was gone,—­not in anger or in haste, for that would have been unseemly, but quietly and steadily, with no looking back.  The storekeeper, leaping over a keg of nails that stood in the way, made for the door, and together with Haward, who was already there, watched her go.  The path to the landing and the boat was short; she had taken her seat, and the boy had bent to the oars, while the unlucky Scot was yet alternately calling out protestations of amendment and muttering maledictions upon his unguarded tongue.  The canoe slipped from the rosy, unshadowed water into the darkness beneath the overhanging trees, reached the mouth of the creek, and in a moment disappeared from sight.