"
"I remember Black Durham! Had he not a white star on his forehead?"
"A white blaze sure enough."
"Is he at the tower still? I did not see him in the plump of
spears."
"No, no, poor beast. He broke his leg four years ago come Martinmas,
in a rabbit-hole on Berwick Law, last raid that we made, and I
tarried to cut his throat with my dagger--though it went to my heart,
for his good old eyes looked at me like Christians, and my lord told
me I was a fool for my pains, for the Elliots were hard upon us, but
I could not leave him to be a mark for them, and I was up with the
rest in time, though I had to cut down the foremost lad."
Certainly "home" would be very unlike the experience of Grisell's
education.
Ridley gave her a piece of advice. "Do not be daunted at my lady;
her bark is ever worse than her bite, and what she will not bear with
is the seeming cowed before her. She is all the sharper with her
tongue now that her heart is sore for Master Bernard."
"What ails my brother Bernard?" then asked Grisell anxiously.
"The saints may know, but no man does, unless it was that Crooked Nan
of Strait Glen overlooked the poor child," returned the esquire.
"Ever since he fell into the red beck he hath done nought but peak
and pine, and be twisted with cramps and aches, with sores breaking
out on him; though there's a honeycomb-stone from Roker over his bed.
My lord took out all the retainers to lay hold on Crooked Nan, but
she got scent of it no doubt, for Jack of Burhill took his oath that
he had seen a muckle hare run up the glen that morn, and when we got
there she was not to be seen or heard of.
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