“Is that the children playin’?”
“Aye, dearie, playin’ in the garden.”
“Dear, dear!” Maggie exclaimed, “I hear their little clogs clattering like ponies. I’ll just peek at the lambs.”
She lifted herself up and dropped back.
“I’m tired!” she exclaimed apologetically.
“Aye, dearie,” Gabriel said; then asked, “Will ye be still here a half hour while I write a bit of a letter an’ take it out?”
“Yes,” she said, “very still, lad; I’ll just sleep awhile”; and smiling at him, she closed her eyes.
“Poor old man!” Sir Evan muttered, his austere young face angry and pained. He turned to the letter again.
“Sir,” it read, “Mr. Thatcher said we must leave Isgubor Newydd in two weeks. It broke Maggie’s heart. A few minutes ago I found her lying on the floor touched. It will kill her if we must go. Sir, if your honoured lady mother were living, would you have the heart to send her away from her home? Sir, for God’s sake let me hear from you. Your humble servant,