"Ye may say sae, or a lawyer wadna come speerin' her," returned him from
Drumglass as the boat reached the farther side.

"Guid-e'en to ye, Grace," said they both as they put their pennies down
on the little tin plate in the corner.

"She's an awesome still lassie, that," said the Mains, as he took the
road down to Parton Raw, where he had trysted with a maid of another
sort. "Did ye notice she never said a word to us, neyther 'Thank ye,'
nor yet 'Guid-day'? Her een were fair stelled in her head."

"Na, I didna observe," said Drumglass cotman indifferently.

"Some fowk are like swine. They notice nocht that's no pitten intil the
trough afore them!" said the Mains indignantly.

So they parted, each to his own errand.

Day swayed and swirled into a strange night of shooting stars and
intensest darkness. The soul of Grace Allen wandered in blackest night.
Sometimes the earth appeared ready to open and swallow her up. Sometimes
she seemed to be wandering by the side of the great pool of the Black
Water with her hands full of flowers. There were roses blush-red, like
what he had said her cheeks were sometimes. There were velvety pansies,
and flowers of strange intoxicating perfume, the like of which she had
never seen. But at every few yards she felt that she must fling them all
into the black water and fare forth into the darkness to gather more.

Then in her bed she would start up, hearing the hail of a dear voice
calling to her from the Rhonefoot. Once she put on her clothes in haste