... But punish--punish!"
He and Black Alan pushed on to the head of the glen. Here was Mother
Binning's cot, and here he dismounted, fastening the horse to the
ash-tree. Mother Binning was outdoors, gathering herbs in her apron.
* * * * *
She straightened herself as he stepped toward her. "Eh, laird of
Glenfernie, ye gave me a start! I thought ye came out of the ground by
the ash-tree!... Wound is healed, and life runs on to another
springtime?"
"Yes, it's another springtime.... I do not think that I believe in
scrying, Mother Binning. But I'm where I pick up all straws with which
to build me a nest! Sit down and scry for me, will you?"
"I canna scry every day, nor every noon, nor every year. What are you
wanting to see, Glenfernie?"
"Oh, just my soul's desire!"
Mother Binning turned to her door. She put down the herbs, then
brought a pan of water and set it down upon the door-step, and herself
beside it. "It helps--onything that's still and clear! Wait till the
ripple's gane, and then dinna speak to me. But gin I see onything, it
will na be sae great a thing as a soul's desire."
She sat still and he stood still, leaning against the side of her
house. Mother Binning sat with fixed gaze. Her lips moved. "There's
the white mist. It's clearing."
"Tell me if you see a ship.
Pages:
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245