Angus rose, and took her hand. Then, seeing the speechless sorrow in her eyes, he let go his hold of her, and, bowing his head, did not lift up his eyes again till Mary had entered the inner room.
He knew that, with those two women there, all would go well with Lora, if it were ordained that she was to live. But he feared that death was already entered in at the door; and he knew not what passionate sorrow might come upon and undo those who ministered to the woman, who even now was in those pains of labour that ere morn should end in the birth of a child. Long he sat brooding. Then, weary of his vigil, once more he began to read, resuming with the verse where he had been interrupted:
"Even so, thou knowest not the work of God who doeth all.
"In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand: for thou knowest not which shall prosper, whether this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good."
Looking up, he saw Ealasaid standing at the door, a wonderful light on her old face.
"It lives," she said simply. "Mary said that the child would certainly be born dead; but it lives. She says now it has the shadow upon it, and must die ere long; but they told me that my own little blossom was strong, and would live: ... and even as they were wrong, wrong also may Mary Maclean be."
Hearing a call, she turned, and went within.
The old islesman muttered for a while, with bent head and closed eyes. Then he began to read again:
"Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun."
"Hush!"
It was Mary who spoke. She had that in her face which made him rise.