she was dressed in soft blue or white, and the red stain was gone; but she was always Wee Brown Elspeth with the doelike eyes and the fair, transparent face, the very fair little face.  As I had noticed the strange, clear pallor of the rough troopers, so I noticed that she was curiously fair.  And as I occasionally saw other persons with the same sort of fairness, I thought it was a purity of complexion special to some, but not to all.  I was not fair like that, and neither was any one else I knew.

CHAPTER III

It was when I was ten years old that Wee Elspeth ceased coming to me, and though I missed her at first, it was not with a sense of grief or final loss.  She had only gone somewhere.

It was then that Angus Macayre began to be my tutor.  He had been a profound student and had lived among books all his life.  He had helped Jean in her training of me, and I had learned more than is usually taught to children in their early years.  When a grand governess was sent to Muircarrie by my guardian, she was amazed at the things I was familiar with, but she abhorred the dark, frowning castle and the loneliness of the place and would not stay.  In fact, no governess would stay, and so Angus became my tutor and taught me old Gaelic and Latin and Greek, and we read together and studied the ancient books in the library.  It was a strange education for a girl, and no doubt made me more than ever unlike others.  But my life was the life I loved.

When my guardian decided that I must live with him in London and be educated as modern girls were, I tried to be obedient and went to him; but before two months had passed my wretchedness had made me so ill that the doctor said I should go into a decline and die if I were not sent back to Muircarrie.

“It’s not only the London air that seems to poison her,” he said when Jean talked to him about me; “it is something else.  She will not live, that’s all.  Sir Ian must send her home.”

As I have said before, I had been an unattractive child and I was a plain, uninteresting sort of girl.  I was shy and could not talk to people, so of course I bored them.  I knew I did not look well when I wore beautiful clothes.  I was little and unimportant and like a reed for thinness.  Because I was rich and a sort of chieftainess I ought to have been tall and rather stately, or at least I ought to have had a bearing which would have made it impossible for people to quite overlook me.  But; any one could overlook me—­an insignificant, thin girl who slipped in and out of places and sat and stared and listened to other people instead of saying things herself; I liked to look on and be forgotten.  It interested me to watch people if they did not notice me.

Of course, my relatives did not really like me.  How could they?  They were busy in their big world and did not know what to do with a girl who ought to have been important and was not.  I am sure that in secret they were relieved when I was sent back to Muircarrie.