"Abroad, mother, since you know me. Who are you?"
"Who be I?" she laughed, a mirthless, unpleasant laugh. "Why, thee hasna heard of Sarah Milsham? I nursed your father when he were a baby. What be'st a doing here, boy? Hast come to kill Rupert Devereux?"
"He deserves it," I cried, hotly.
"So afore God he does," cried the old hag tremulously, "and die he will, for I ha' seen the mark o' death upon his forehead. But it'll be no by your hand, no by your hand, boy. What be'st a doing here? Go to thy father, boy! Why hast left him alone?"
"I am going," I answered. "Please God I shall be with him before many months."
"Ay, go, boy, go," she quivered out, "and tell him this from me. Tell him that sure as Devereux Court is built upon a rock, I, Sarah Milsham, shall live to see him here again. Sure as that limb of hell, Rupert Devereux, bears the seal of death upon his forehead, so sure the day will come when the whole country shall welcome him home again, and old Sir Francis shall be proud t' own him for his son. Tell him Sarah Milsham said so."
She hobbled away into the wood and commenced picking up sticks. I would have followed her, but she held out her hand to prevent me, and would not answer me when I spoke. So I mounted Black Prince and galloped away homewards.
When I entered Marian's room I saw that she had a visitor. Sir Francis Devereux was leaning back in my easy chair, laughing at one of my sister's quaint speeches, and she was handing him a cup of tea.