'Lias was very feeble, and David had a constant temptation to struggle with.

He understood that to excite 'Lias, to throw him again into the frenzy which had begotten the vision of the Pool, would be a cruel act.

But all the same he found it more and more difficult to restrain himself, to keep back the questions which burnt on his tongue.
As for 'Lias, his half-shut eye would brighten whenever David showed himself at the door, and he would point to a wooden stool on the other side of the fire.
'Sit tha down, lad.

Margret, gie him soom tay,' or 'Margret, yo'll just find him a bit oatcake.' And then the two would fall upon their books together, and the conversation would glide imperceptibly into one of those scenes of half-dramatic impersonation, for which David's relish was still unimpaired.
But the old man was growing much weaker; his inventions had less felicity, less range than of old; and the watchful Margaret, at her loom in the corner, kept an eye on any signs of an undue excitement, and turned out David or any other visitor, neck and crop, without scruple, as soon as it seemed to her that her crippled seer was doing himself a mischief.

Poor soul! she had lived in this tumult of 'Lias's fancies year after year, till the solid world often turned about her.