“I call the Virgin Mary and St Bridget to witness That if your hurt was caused by man, Through ill-will, Or the evil eye, Or a wicked heart, That you, Muireall, my daughter, may be whole-- And this in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost!”) Just as she finished, and as she was lingering on the line, “_Gu’m bi thusa, Muireall gu math_” Rory, the blind collie, rose, whimpered, and stood with snarling jaws. Strangely enough, Gorromalt heard this, though his ears had been deaf to all else, or so it seemed, at least. “Down, Rory! down, beast!” he exclaimed, in a voice strangely shrill and weak. But the dog would not be still. His sullen fear grew worse. Suddenly he sidled and lay on his belly, now snarling, now howling, his blind eyes distended, his nostrils quivering, his flanks quaking. My uncle rose and stared at the dog. “What ails the beast?” he asked angrily, looking now at Rory, now at us. “Has any one come in? Has any one been at the door?” “No one, Archibald.” “What have you been doing, Elspeth?” “Nothing.” “Woman, I heard your voice droning at your prayers. Ah, I see--you have been at some of your _sians_ and _eolais_ again. Sure, now, one would be thinking you would have less foolishness, and you with the greyness upon your years. What _eolas_ did she say, lass?” I told him. “Aw, silly woman that she is, the _eolas an t-Snaithnean_! madness and folly!… Where is Morag?” “In bed.” I said this with truth in my eyes. God’s forgiveness for that good lie! “And it’s time you were there also, and you too, Elspeth. Come now, no more of this foolishness. We have nothing to wait for. Why are we waiting here?” At that moment Rory became worse than ever. I thought the poor blind beast would take some dreadful fit. Foam was on his jaws; his hair bristled. He had sidled forward, and crouched low. We saw him look again and again towards the blank space to his right, as if, blind though he was, he saw some one there, some one that gave him fear, but no longer a fierce terror. Nay, more than once we saw him swish his tail, and sniff as though recognisingly. But when he turned his head towards the door his sullen fury grew, and terror shook upon every limb. It was now that Gorromalt was speaking. Suddenly the dog made a leap forward--a terrible bristling wolf he seemed to me, though no wolf had I ever seen, or imagined any more fearsome, than Rory, now. He dashed himself against the door, snarling and mouthing, with his snout nosing the narrow slip at the bottom. Aunt Elspeth and I shook with fear. My uncle was death-white, but stood strangely brooding. He had his right elbow upon his breast, and supported it with his left arm, while with his right hand he plucked at his beard.