Yet the more Lizzie heard about the Highlands, the more she longed to be there with young Donald by her side.

At length a day came when Donald, with little fear and much hope in his heart, asked the maiden if she would go with him to the Highlands.

We will feed on curds and whey, cried the daring young Donald; your cheeks will grow more pink, and your brow more white with our simple fare. Your bed shall be made on the fresh green bracken and my plaid shall wrap you round. Will ye come to the Highlands with me, Lizzie Lindsay?

Now Lizzie had listened to young Donald's words with joy, but also with some fear. Her food had been of the daintiest, her bed of the softest down, and the young stranger, who was indeed scarce a stranger now, had, it seemed, but little to offer her save his love. Yet Lizzie still wished to go to the Highlands.

But when Dame Lindsay heard what young Donald had said she hardened her heart against the bonny young Highlander.

Ye shall speak no more to my daughter, she cried, until ye have told me where your home is, and how many broad lands are your own? For it seemed to the old dame that a penniless lad would never dare to win her daughter, when lords and nobles had wooed her in vain.

But Donald's head was high, and he seemed to feel no shame as he answered the old dame bravely—

My name is Donald MacDonald, and I hold it high in honour. My father is an old shepherd and my mother a dairymaid. Yet kind and gentle will they be to your beautiful daughter if she will come with me to the Highlands.

Dame Lindsay could scarce believe she had heard aright. Her daughter marry a shepherd lad! Nay, that should never be, though indeed the lad was a bonny one and brave.

Then in her anger she bade young Donald begone. If ye do steal away my daughter, then, without doubt ye shall hang for it! she cried.

The young laird turned haughtily on his heel. He had little patience, nor could his spirit easily brook such scorn as the old Dame flung at him.

He turned on his heel and he said, There is no law in Edinburgh city this day which can hang me.

But before he could say more Lizzie was by his side. Come to my room, Donald, she pleaded; and as he looked at the beautiful girl the young laird's wrath vanished as quickly as it had come. Come to my room for an hour until I draw a fair picture of you to hang in my bower. Ye shall have ten guineas if you will but come.

Your golden guineas I will not have! cried Donald quickly. I have plenty of cows in the Highlands, and they are all my own. Come with me, Lizzie, and we will feed on curds and whey, and thou shalt have a bonnie blue plaid with red and green strips. Come with me, Lizzie Lindsay; we will herd the wee lambs together.

Yet, though Lizzie loved young Donald MacDonald, she still hesitated to leave her kind parents and her beautiful home.

She sat in her bower and she said to her maid, Helen, what shall I do, for my heart is in the Highlands with Donald?

Then the maid, who was wellnigh as beautiful as her mistress, cried, Though I were a princess and sat upon a throne, yet would I leave all to go with young Donald MacDonald.

O Helen! cried Lizzie, would ye leave your chests full of jewels and silk gowns, and would ye leave your father and mother, and all your friends to go away with a Highland laddie who wears nought but a homespun kilt?

But before her maid could answer her, Lizzie had sprung from her chair, saying, Yet I think he must be a wizard, and have enchanted me, for, come good or come ill, I must e'en go to the Highlands.

Then early one morning Lizzie tied up her silk robes in a bundle and clad herself in one of Helen's plain gowns. With her bundle over her arm, Lizzie Lindsay was off to the Highlands with Donald MacDonald.

Donald's heart was glad as he left the fair city of Edinburgh behind him, Lizzie by his side. He had so much to tell his beautiful bride, so much, too, to show her, that at first the road seemed neither rough nor long.

But as the hours passed the way grew rougher, the hills steeper, and Lizzie's strength began to fail. Her shoes, too, which were not made for such rough journeys, were soon so worn that her feet grew hot and blistered.

Alas! sighed Lizzie Lindsay, I would I were back in Edinburgh, sitting alone in my bower.

We are but a few miles away from the city, said Donald; will you even now go back?

But the tears trickled slowly down the maiden's cheeks, and she sobbed, Now would I receive no welcome from my father, no kiss from my mother, for sore displeased will they be that I have left them for you, Donald MacDonald.

On and on they trudged in silence, and as evening crept on Donald cried aloud, Dry your tears now, Lizzie, for there before us is our home, and he pointed to a tiny cottage on the side of the hill.

An old woman stood at the door, gazing down the hill, and as they drew near she came forward with outstretched hands. Welcome, Sir Donald, she said, welcome home to your own.

She spoke in Gaelic, as Highlanders do, so Lizzie did not know what she said.

Sir Donald whispered quickly in the same language, Hush, call me only Donald, and pretend that I am your son. The old woman, though sore dismayed at having to treat the young laird in so homely a way, promised to do his bidding.

Then Donald turned to Lizzie. Here, mother, he said, is my lady-love, whom I have won in the fair city of Edinburgh.

The old woman drew Lizzie into the cottage, and spoke kindly to her, but the maiden's heart sank. For a peat fire smouldered on the hearth and the room was filled with smoke. There was no easy chair, no couch on which to rest her weary body, so Lizzie dropped down on to a heap of green turf.

Her sadness did not seem to trouble Donald. He seemed gayer, happier, every moment.

We are hungry, mother, he said; make us a good supper of curds and whey, and then make us a bed of green rushes and cover us with yonder grey plaids.

The old woman moved about eagerly as though overjoyed to do all that she could for her son and his young bride.

Curds and whey was a supper dainty enough for a queen, as Lizzie whispered to her shepherd lad with a little sigh. Even the bed of green rushes could not keep her awake.

No sooner had she lain down than, worn out with her long journey, she fell fast asleep, nor did she awake until the sun was high in the sky.

As she awoke she heard Donald's voice. He was reproaching her, and she had not been used to reproach.

It would have been well, said Donald, that you had risen an hour ago to milk the cows, to tend the flock.

The tears gathered in Lizzie's eyes and trickled down her cheeks.

Alas, alas! she sighed, I would I had never left my home, for here I am of little use. I have never milked a cow, nor do I know how to begin, and flocks have I never tended. Alas that I ever came to the Highlands! Yet well do I love Donald MacDonald, and long and dull would the days have been had he left me behind him in Edinburgh.

Shed no more tears, Lizzie, said Donald gently. Get up and dress yourself in your silk gown, for to-day I will take you over the hills of Kingcaussie and show you the glens and dales where I used to play when I was but a little lad.

Then Lizzie dried her tears and soon she was up and dressed in her finest gown, and leaning on Donald's arm she wandered with him over the heathery hills until they reached a noble castle.

Joyously then laughed the young laird, as he bade Lizzie gaze all around her and be glad.

I am the lord of all you see, Lizzie, cried he, for this castle is my home and the mountains are my own broad lands.

Then joyously too laughed Lizzie Lindsay, for she knew that her shepherd lad was none other than the far-famed Sir Donald MacDonald.

At that moment the castle gates were flung wide, and the old Laird of Kingcaussie came out to greet the bride.

Ye are welcome, Lizzie Lindsay, welcome to our castle, he said right courteously. Many were the lords and nobles who begged for your hand, but it is young Donald, my son, who has won it, with no gift save the glance of his bonny blue eyes. And the old laird laughed merrily as he looked up at his son.

The laird's gracious mother too came down to greet her, and well was she pleased that her boy had won the beautiful maiden he loved.

As for Lizzie Lindsay, she sent to Edinburgh to fetch her father and mother, that they might see for themselves how wise their daughter had been to follow Donald MacDonald to the Highlands.