'I will see to her,' Doreen whispered. 'Now, do you go down, _to please me_, Terence. You will never regret having done your best to turn Glandore. If you succeed, what blessed visions will paint the walls of your prison-cell! Go and speak seriously to Shane, for all our sakes.'
Terence pressed his cousin's hand and promised. If it was his fate to languish through a long life on the cold crags of Moray Firth, that placid air of calm, the light of those solemn eyes, should soothe him to the last upon his pilgrimage. He was greedily laying up a store of precious memories. The time was growing very short. Orders must come very soon for that final parting. Whate'er befel, he promised himself to follow to the end his guiding star. Heaven would inspire him with words which should save his brother from himself. Doreen was right, as she always was. He strolled leisurely across to the stable-yard to inquire whether my lord had returned from hunting.
The Eumenides galloped in full cry after my lady. Their quarry was run down, scrambled up and staggered on again--was near the end of the run now. When Shane, apple of his mother's eye, gave the last unconscious stab, she bore it without wincing, and sat up and attempted a wintry smile, as he had bidden her. The goblet which, through her strength of character, she had been able to push aside during many years, was held at her lips by a ruthless hand, and must be drained. There was no help for it. She must go and grovel before the hated Gillin, and pray her in mercy to remove the obnoxious Norah. There was nothing else for it. Schemes had miscarried, plots had fallen through. What a sorry spectacle is a harried mortal in the death-grip of the hags of Até!
Even a year's absence at Glas-aitch-é had not blurred the memory of Norah in the heart of the young prodigal. Gillin still beguiled him to the Little House--the knavish, cruel woman! What steadiness of purpose she had shown all through her relentless course! And now she was waiting in her den with cool assurance to consummate her fiendish work. What a terrible thing to have to bow down and implore mercy from this common, vulgar wretch! Would she even now, with her rival at her feet, be merciful? Or would she, with the inherent ungenerosity of a low nature, spurn and deride the victim? Be that as it might, the ordeal must be assayed. It was no use to shake the fist at serene heaven in the impotence of rage. That would in nowise mend matters, and was silly besides. My lady resolved at last to take her cup and drink the draught, since there was no avoiding it. For several days she waited, hoping against hope for a means of escape. None came. She accepted the position, put on her hood, and sallied forth on the self-same afternoon upon which Terence decided to speak out to Shane.