She turned her face to listen. Was it possible:
that soul-stirring sound, so terrible in battle that the English had
since outlawed it?
Was it there, or was she truly mad? She strained all her senses.....
No. The sound was gone. She buried her face and wept once more,
defeated.
Again a breeze stirred, this time more gentle, this time much nearer.
She felt a large hand caress the crown of her head, and brush the side
of her face as she turned again, bewildered. Half blind with tears she
saw the wavering outline of a man, and heard a voice whisper,
"My Mary."
She knew no more.
Two
She was found there by her aunt, pale and shivering. And as
consciousness and memory returned to her, a light of wild hope and
fear widened the deep emerald of her eyes.
"Aunt Margaret, I saw him! He called me by name, I swear it!"
But whether because the wisdom of age had taught her the wishful
fancies of the young, or for some other reason, the hale, grey-haired
woman elucidated no surprise. She helped the frightened girl to her
feet, and without a word, started her on the path to home.
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