I am asking
you this, Cameron. You owe it to yourself, you owe it to me, you owe it
to your sister."
For some moments Cameron sat gazing straight before him, his face
showing the agony in his soul. "As God's above, I do! I owe it to you,
Dunn, and to her, and to the memory of my--" But his quivering lips
could not utter the word; and there was no need, for they both knew that
his heart was far away in the little mound that lay in the shadow of the
church tower in the Cuagh Oir. The lad rose to his feet, and stretching
out his hand to Dunn cried, "There's my hand and my honour as a
Highlander, and until the last fighting moment I'll be fit."
At the party that night none was gayer than young Cameron. The shy
reserve that usually marked him was thrust aside. His fine, lithe
figure, set off by his Highland costume, drew all eyes in admiration,
and whether in the proud march of the piper, or in the wild abandon of
the Highland Fling, he seemed to all the very beau ideal of a gallant
Highland gentleman.
Dunn stood in the circle gathered to admire, watching Cameron's
performance of that graceful and intricate Highland dance, all
unconscious of a pair of bright blue eyes fastened on his face that
reflected so manifestly the grief and pain in his heart.
"And wherefore this gloom?" said a gay voice at his side.
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