ingle-side this morning, Muhme? I am sure I bid you good even, and had
your God-speed, last night."

"And left me more siller than the useless old woman will use till you
come back again, bird of my bosom," said the sibyl. "But it is little
I would care for the food that nourishes me, or the fire that warms
me, or for God's blessed sun itself, if aught but weal should happen
to the grandson of my father. So let me walk the _deasil_ round you,
that you may go safe out into the far foreign land, and come safe
home."

Robin Oig stopped, half embarrassed, half laughing, and signing to
those around that he only complied with the old woman to soothe her
humour. In the meantime, she traced around him, with wavering steps,
the propitiation, which some have thought has been derived from the
Druidical mythology. It consists, as is well known, in the person who
makes the _deasil_, walking three times round the person who is the
object of the ceremony, taking care to move according to the course
of the sun. At once, however, she stopped short, and exclaimed, in a
voice of alarm and horror, "Grandson of my father, there is blood on
your hand." "Hush, for God's sake, aunt," said Robin Oig; "you will
bring more trouble on yourself with this Taishataragh (second sight)
than you will be able to get out of for many a day."

The old woman only repeated, with a ghastly look, "There is blood on
your hand, and it is English blood. The blood of the Gael is richer
and redder. Let us see--let us--"

Ere Robin Oig could prevent her, which, indeed, could only have been
by positive violence, so hasty and peremptory were her proceedings,