"Aye, dear heart, dead, and his bones have no grave, and happen his spirit no rest."
"This is terrible," said Betty with a shiver.
Mr. Johnstone moved restlessly to the window, and busied himself with his sword-knot.
"I have often told you, good mother," he said, and his voice had in it an odd mixture of grief and irritation, "that the less we dwell on these things the better. Mistress Betty," he went on hurriedly, "Harry Ray when he left my service, joined his fortunes with Wild Jack Barnstaple. He had ill-luck, poor lad, he was taken and ... and hanged."
His mother uttered a shuddering cry.
"And by the road he must hang," she cried, "till the earth and the wild winds have done their worst, and never a one to scare the wild birds from the flesh of my boy!"
"Dear dame," said Betty earnestly, "the soul recks little of its earthly tenement."
"God rest his soul, he was a good fellow and brave," said Johnstone earnestly.
"I also have seen Wild Jack," said Betty, willing to turn the poor woman from her troubles.
"Seen him! seen Wild Jack?" cried she.