"I wouldn't like to travel the path that's before ye--no!" Down the long road the two young people travelled, gossiping much, both of them touched by something sad and mysterious, neither knowing why; both of them happy, too, for somehow they had come nearer together than years of ordinary life might have made possible.

They thought of the old man and his hut, and then broke away into talk of their own countryside, of the war with France, of the growing rebellious spirit in Ireland, of riots in Dublin town, of trouble at Limerick, Cork, and Sligo.
At the gate of the mansion where Sheila was visiting, Dyck put into her hands the wild flowers he had picked as they passed, and said: "Well, it's been a great day.

I've never had a greater.

Let's meet again, and soon! I'm almost every day upon the hill with my gun, and it'd be worth a lot to see you very soon." "Oh, you'll be forgetting me by to-morrow," the girl said with a little wistfulness at her lips, for she had a feeling they would not meet on the morrow.

Suddenly she picked from the bunch of wild flowers he had given her a little sprig of heather.
"Well, if we don't meet--wear that," she said, and, laughing over her shoulder, turned and ran into the grounds of Loyland Towers..