“Why, auntie, you must not think of such things.  You will send Keith away in low spirits, if you have not a bright face and a smile for him when he goes away.”

“But you do not know—­you do not know,” the old woman said, “what Keith has done for me.  The others—­oh yes, they were brave lads; and very proud of their name, too; and they would not disgrace their name, wherever they went; and if they died—­that is nothing:  for they will be together again now, and what harm is there?  But Keith, he was the one that did more than any of them; for he stayed at home for my sake; and when other people were talking about this regiment and that regiment, Keith would not tell me what was sore at his heart; and never once did he say, ‘Mother, I must go away like the rest,’ though it was in his blood to go away.  And what have I done now?—­and what am I to say to his brothers when they come to ask me?  I will say to them, ’Oh yes, he was the handsomest of all my six lads; and he had the proudest heart, too; but I kept him at home—­and what came of it all?’ Would it not be better now that he was lying buried in the jungle of the Gold Coast, or at Koniggratz, or in the Crimea?”

“Oh, surely not, auntie!  Keith will come back to us soon; and when you see him well and strong again, and when you hear his laugh about the house, surely you will not be wishing that he was in his grave?  Why, what is the matter with you to-day, auntie?”

“The others did not suffer much, Janet, and to three of them, anyway, it was only a bullet, a cry, and then the death sleep of a brave man and the grave of a Macleod.  But Keith, Janet—­he is my youngest—­he is nearer to my heart than any of them:  do you not see his face?”

“Yes, auntie,” Janet Macleod said, in a low voice; “but he will get over that.  He will come back to us strong and well.”

“Oh yes, he will come back to us strong and well!” said the old lady, almost wildly, and she rose, and her face was pale.  “But I think it is a good thing for that woman that my other sons are all away now; for they had quick tempers, those lads; and they would not like to see their brother murdered.”

“Murdered, auntie!”

Lady Macleod would have answered in the same wild, passionate way; but at this very moment her son entered.  She turned quickly; she almost feared to meet the look of this haggard face.  But Keith Macleod said, quite cheerfully,—­

“Well now, Janet, and will you go round to-day to look at the Umpire? And will you come too, mother?  Oh, she is made very smart now; just as if we were all going away to see the Queen.”

“I cannot go to-day, Keith,” said his mother; and she left the room before he had time to notice that she was strangely excited.

“And I think I will go some other day, Keith,” his cousin said, gently, “just before you start, that I may be sure you have not forgotten anything.  And, of course, you will take the ladies’ cabin, Keith, for yourself; for there is more light in that, and it is farther away from the smell of the cooking in the morning.  And how can you be going to-day, Keith, when it is the man from Greenock will be here soon now?”