"
"It's not singing that I seek, my leddy," said the woman, blushing. "I
follow the call o' the Lord by the mouth o' His servant, John Gib."
"You'll follow the call of your mother by the mouth of me, Elspeth
Blair. Forget these havers, Janet, and come back like a good Christian
soul. Mount and be quick. There's room behind me on Bess."
The words were spoken in a kindly, wheedling tone, and the girl's face
broke into the prettiest of smiles. Perhaps Janet would have obeyed,
but Muckle John, swift to prevent defection, took up the parable.
"Begone, ye daughter of Heth!" he bellowed, "ye that are like the
devils that pluck souls from the way of salvation. Begone, or it is
strongly borne in upon me that ye will dree the fate of the women of
Midian, of whom it is written that they were slaughtered and spared
not."
The girl did not look his way. She had her coaxing eyes on her halting
maid. "Come, Janet, woman," she said again. "It's no job for a decent
lass to be wandering at the tail of a crazy warlock."
The word roused Muckle John to fury. He sprang forward, caught the
sorrel's bridle, and swung it round. The girl did not move, but looked
him square in the face, the young eyes fronting his demoniac glower.
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