I've always thought of you as one who would serve Wisdom and
show us her beauty--"
"To me this is now wisdom--this is now beauty. Poets may stay and
make poetry, but I go after Ian Rullock!"
"Oh, there's poetry in that, too," said Greenlaw, "because there's
nothing in which there isn't poetry! But you're choosing the kind
you're not best in, or so it seems to me."
Glenfernie rode from Littlefarm homeward. But the next day he and
Black Alan went to Black Hill. Here he saw Mr. Touris alone. That
gentleman sat with a shrunken and shriveled look.
"Eh, Glenfernie! I am glad to see that you are yourself again! Well,
my sister's son has broken prison."
"Yes, one prison."
"God knows they were all mad! But I could not wish to see him in my
dreams, hanging dark from the King's gallows!"
"From the King's gallows and for old, mad, Stewart hopes? I find,"
said Glenfernie, "that I do not wish that, either. He would have gone
for the lesser thing--and the long true, right vengeance been
delayed!"
"What is that?" asked Mr. Touris, dully.
"His wrong shall be ever in his mind, and I the painter's brush to
paint it there! Give me, O God, the power of genius!"
"Are you going to follow him and kill him?"
"I am going to follow him. At first I thought that I would kill him.
But my mind is changing as to that.
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