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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"


"Laddie," she said, "I'm thinkin ye're wantit."
"Whaur am I wantit, mother?" he asked, rubbing his eyes, but with
anxiety already throbbing at his heart.
"At the castle," she replied.
"Hoo ken ye that?" he asked.
"It wad be ill tellin' ye," she answered. "But gien I was you,
Donal, I wad be aff afore the day brak, to see what they're duin'
wi' yon puir leddy at the muckle place ye left. My hert's that sair
aboot her, I canna rest a moment till I hae ye awa' upo' the ro'd
til her!"
Long before his mother had ended, Donal was out of bed, and hurrying
on his clothes. He had the profoundest faith in whatever his mother
said. Was it a vision she had had? He had never been told she had
the second sight! It might have been only a dream, or an impression
so deep she must heed it! One thing was plain: there was no time to
ask questions! It was enough that his mother said "Go;" more than
enough that it was for lady Arctura! How quickest could he go? There
were horses at sir Gibbie's: he would make free with one! He put a
crust of bread in his pocket, and set out running. There was a
little moonlight, enough for one who knew every foot of the way; and
in half an hour of swift descent, he was at the stable door of
Glashruach.
Finding himself unable to rouse anyone, he crept through a way he
knew, opened the door, without a moment's hesitation saddled and
bridled sir Gibbie's favourite mare, led her out, and mounted her.


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