"Woman!" said Anne, quaking as she spoke, "I never swore, and I winna swear; but I give thee my hand that I will obey thee. I will go to Whitsome fair wi' my faither and Patrick."
"Go! go!" cried the sibyl, "lest the dark spirit come upon me; and he whom ye call Patrick shall die by his father's hand, or his father by his. But speak not of whom ye have seen, nor of what ye have heard—but go and do as ye have been commanded. Be silent till we meet again."
Anne bent her head in terror, and promised to obey; and the weird woman, again exclaiming—"Go!—be silent!—obey!" hastened from her sight.
When Anne entered the house, her father, and her adopted brother, or lover, were making ready for their journey. She sat down silently and thoughtfully in a corner of the apartment, and her half-suppressed sighs reached their ears.
"Why, what in the globe, daughter Anne," said her father, "can make thee sigh? Art thou sad because Patrick is to leave thee to go to a fair for a day or two? I suppose thou wouldn't hae troubled thy head, had thy father been to be absent as many months. But I don't blame thee; I mind I was tender-hearted at thy age, too—but Patrick knaws better what to say to thee than I do."
"Dear Anne," whispered the youth, taking her hand, "what ails thee?"
"Ask my father," she rejoined, hesitatingly, "that I may accompany you to Whitsome fair to-morrow."
"Nay, thou canst not go, dear," returned Patrick; "it is a long ride and a rough one; and the society thou wilt meet with will afford thee no pleasure, and but small amusement."
"I must go," she replied—"a strange being has laid a terrible command on me!"
"A grey-haired, wild-looking woman?" ejaculated Patrick, and his voice trembled as he spoke.