That wantons thro’ the flow’ring thorn.
Thou minds me o’ departed joys,
Departed, never to return.”
The song died away in the distance.
“God pity her, God pity me,” he murmured brokenly.
CHAPTER VIII
From the huge, low ceilinged kitchen of Castle Montgomery, which was ablaze with light, came the gladsome sound of mirth and revelry, for
“Some merry countre folks togither did convene,