"Then I must die without seeing what I yearned to see. Well, so be it. Now give me a promise, girl—the last I shall ever ask of thee."
"I promise it beforehand—but it must not be the last. You will live, grandfather——"
"Tush, bairn! A broken jug carries no wine.—God, don't cry so, Janet! When I was hale, I could never bide the sight of tears; and now they madden me. Listen; when the breath is out of my body, my folk will wake beside the bier. Well, the Waynes must come then if they'll not come while I'm living; death will soften them, lass."
"Grandfather——"
"Peace, I say!—Whenever I die, girl, be it to-day or when it will, do thou take the news to Wayne of Marsh and bid him to the lyke-wake with all his kin. Wilt do this much, Janet?"
"I will do it gladly, sir."
"It may be to-night, Janet. Art prepared?—Yet, Lord, I doubt they will not come! Girl, will they come, think'st thou?"
"Grandfather, what ails you? Is't not enough that you have righted this evil quarrel? You rode down to Marsh, at a time when you had scarce strength to sit the saddle; you showed Ned that he could trust you; you won him to the side of peace. What then? Lie back on your pillow, sir, and rest content."
"Rest? There's no rest," he muttered. "Fears crowd thick about a dying man; fears are carrion crows, girl, that never swoop until a man is past his strength. I fear everything, I tell thee—everything."
"I'll not wait, sir; let me go see Wayne of Marsh this moment—'twill ease thee to know I 'have told him how hour by hour your eagerness for peace grows hotter."