“I have no delight in it,” said she; but with that she sighed.
“The ways of life are straight like the grooves of launching,” said the man; and he took her by the hand.
“And what shall we do with the horse-shoe?” quoth she.
“I will give it to your father,” said the man; “and he can make a kirk and a mill of it for me.”
It came to pass in time that the Poor Thing was born; but memory of these matters slept with him, and he knew not that which he had done. But he was a part of the eldest son; rejoicing manfully to launch the boat into the surf, skilful to direct the helm, and a man of might where the ring closes and the blows are going.
XX
THE SONG OF THE MORROW
The King of Duntrine had a daughter when he was old, and she was the fairest King’s daughter between two seas; her hair was like spun gold, and her eyes like pools in a river; and the King gave her a castle upon the sea beach, with a terrace, and a court of the hewn stone, and four towers at the four corners. Here she dwelt and grew up, and had no care for the morrow, and no power upon the hour, after the manner of simple men.