The bitterness of these words was like snow in June upon all there. They stood amazed. None spoke. No one moved.
Neil Ross turned upon his heel, and, with a bright light in his eyes, walked away from the dead and the living. He went by the byres, whence he had come. Andrew Blair remained where he was, now glooming at the corpse, now biting his nails and staring at the damp sods at his feet.
When Neil reached the end of the milk-shed he saw Maisie Macdonald there, waiting.
"These were ill sayings of yours, Neil Ross," she said in a low voice, so that she might not be overheard from the house.
"So, it is knowing me you are."
"Sheen Macarthur told me."
"I have good cause."
"That is a true word. I know it."
"Tell me this thing. What is the rune that is said for the throwing into the sea of the sins of the dead? See here, Maisie Macdonald. There is no money of that man that I would carry a mile with me. Here it is. It is yours, if you will tell me that rune."
Maisie took the money hesitatingly. Then, stooping, she said slowly the few lines of the old, old rune.