Grizel.
"The doctor comes to-morrow?"
"Aye. Tibbie thinks him a bit stronger."
"I will watch to-night with Alexander."
"Hoot, man! ye maun be weary enough yourself!" said Mrs. Grizel.
"No, I am not. I will sleep awhile after supper, and come in about
ten. So you and Tibbie may get one good night."
Some hours later, in the room that had been his since his first coming
to Glenfernie, he gazed out of window before turning to go
down-stairs. The snow had ceased to fall, and out of a great streaming
floe of clouds looked a half-moon. Under it lay wan hill and plain.
The clouds were all of a size and vast in number, a herd of the upper
air. The wind drove them, not like a shepherd, but like a wolf at
their heels. The moon seemed the shepherd, laboring for control. Then
the clouds themselves seemed the wolves, and the moon a traveler
against whom they leaped, who was thrown among them, and rose
again.... Then the moon was a soul, struggling with the wrack and wave
of things.
Strickland went down the old, winding Glenfernie stair, and came at
last to the laird's room. Tibbie Ross opened the door to him, and he
saw it all in low firelight and made ready for the night. The laird
lay propped as before in the great bed, but seemed asleep. Alexander
sat before the fire, elbows upon knees and chin in hand, brooding over
the red coals.
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