David came and sat beside her a few moments and said a great many comforting things, and when he rose to go the world had taken on a new aspect for her eyes — bright, dark eyes, looking up at him with a gleam of hope.

“I believe ye,” she said. “We’ll do anything you say, Doctah.”

Thryng walked out past the loom shed and paused to look in on the young girl as she sat swaying rhythmically, throwing the shuttles with a sweep of her arm, and drawing the great beam toward her with steady beat, driving the threads in place, and shifting the veil of warp stretched before her with a sure touch of her feet upon the treadles, all her lithe body intent and atune. It seemed to him as he sat himself on the step to watch, that music must come from the flow of her