Barbara Lynn: A Tale of the Dales and Fells.

An enduring soul have the Fates given unto men. — Iliad.
LONDON EDWARD ARNOLD 1914
Barbara Lynn looked up the dale.
Thundergay glimmered through the green twilight with his hoary head under the Pole star, and his feet in the wan waters of a tarn. His breath was the North wind.
Barbara put up the shutters and turned to an old woman, who was propped against the pillows of a four-post bed. It stood in the full light of a turf fire, and looked like a ship with its sails furled.
I'll bid you good-night and good rest, great-granny, said the girl.
The old woman was watching her with keen eyes—eyes so bright that they glittered under her shaggy brows.
Do you ever waken o' nights? she asked.
Barbara laughed and shook her head.
Nay, I sleep from dark to dawn. But I'd hear you, great-granny, if you called. I've ears like a mountain hare.
Aye, aye, rest's for the young, restlessness for the old. I lie awake thinking o' the days gone by. But you've no memories worth minding yet, my lass. Wait till you're my age—ninety-six come Michaelmas.
Barbara placed a lighted candle on the bridewain close to the bed, and stood for a moment looking down at the eagle-eyed old woman.