Isla listened. He heard a singing of birds. Then, suddenly, a glory came into the shine of the sun.
“I have come, Isla my king!”
It was the voice of Eilidh. He bowed his head, and swayed; for it was his own life that came to him.
“Eilidh!” he whispered.
And so, at the last, Isla came into his kingdom.
But are they gone, these twain, who loved with deathless love? Or is this a dream that I have dreamed?
Afar in an island-sanctuary that I shall not see again, where the wind chants the blind oblivious rune of Time, I have heard the grasses whisper: Time never was, Time is not.
THE DARK NAMELESS ONE
THE DARK NAMELESS ONE
One day this summer I sailed with Padruic Macrae and Ivor McLean, boatmen of Iona, along the south-western reach of the Ross of Mull.