That night the wind had a dreadful soughing in its voice--a lamentable voice that came along the rain-wet face of the hills, with a prolonged moaning and sobbing. Down in the big room, that was kitchen and sitting-room in one, where Gorromalt sat--for he had risen from his bed, for all that he was so weak and giddy--there was darkness. His wife had pleaded for the oil-lamp, because the shadows within and the wild wind without--though, I am thinking, most the shadows within her brain--filled her with dread; but he would not have it, no, not a candle even. The peats glowed, red-hot; above them the small narrow pine-logs crackled in a scarlet and yellow blaze. Hour after hour went by in silence. There were but the three of us. Morag? Ah, did Gorromalt think she would stay at Teenabrae, and Muireall near by, and in the clutch of the death-frost, and she, her sister dear, not go to her? He had put the ban upon us, soon as the blood was out of his brain, and he could half rise from his pillow. No one was to go to see her, no one was to send word to her, no one was to speak of her. At that, Aunt Elspeth had fallen on her knees beside the bed, and prayed to him to show pity. The tears rained upon the relentless heavy hand she held and kissed. “At the least,” she moaned, “at the least, let some one go to her, Archibald; at least a word, only one word!” “Not a word, woman, not a word. She has sinned, but that’s the way o’ women o’ that kind. Let her be. The wind’ll blow her soul against God’s heavy hand, this very night o’ the nights. It’s not for you nor for me. But I’m saying this, I am: curse her, ay, curse her again and again, for that she let the son of the stranger, the son of our enemy, who would drive us out of the home we have, the home of our fathers, ay, back to the time when no English foot ever trod the heather of Argyll, that she would let him do her this shame and disgrace, her and me, an’ you too, ay, and all of our blood, and the Strath too, for that--ay, by God, and the clan, the whole clan!” But though Gorromalt’s word was law there, there was one who had the tide coming in at one ear and going out at the other. As soon as the rainy gloom deepened into dark, she slipped from the house; I wanted to go with her, but she whispered to me to stay. It was well I did. I was able to keep back from him, all night, the story of Morag’s going. He thought she was in her bed. So bitter on the man was his wrath, that, ill as he was, he would have risen, and ridden or driven over to Kilbrennan, had he known Morag was gone there.