Sometime, she said, she should like me to go, but not until she was laid away.

'And how small I have grown this last winter.

Look at my wrists.

It canna be long now.' No, I never thought of going, was never absent for a day from her without reluctance, and never walked so quickly as when I was going back.

In the meantime that happened which put an end for ever to my scheme of travel.