Watson, Dr Percival, Spallanzani, and especially the Bishop
of Landaff.]

II

THE OLD NURSE'S STORY

From "The Portent"

By GEORGE MACDONALD

I set out one evening for the cottage of my old nurse, to bid her
good-bye for many months, probably years. I was to leave the next day
for Edinburgh, on my way to London, whence I had to repair by coach to
my new abode--almost to me like the land beyond the grave, so little did
I know about it, and so wide was the separation between it and my home.
The evening was sultry when I began my walk, and before I arrived at its
end, the clouds rising from all quarters of the horizon, and especially
gathering around the peaks of the mountain, betokened the near approach
of a thunderstorm. This was a great delight to me. Gladly would I take
leave of my home with the memory of a last night of tumultuous
magnificence; followed, probably, by a day of weeping rain, well suited
to the mood of my own heart in bidding farewell to the best of parents
and the dearest of homes. Besides, in common with most Scotchmen who are
young and hardy enough to be unable to realise the existence of coughs
and rheumatic fevers, it was a positive pleasure to me to be out in
rain, hail, or snow.

"I am come to bid you good-bye, Margaret, and to hear the story which
you promised to tell me before I left home: I go to-morrow."

"Do you go so soon, my darling? Well, it will be an awful night to tell
it in; but, as I promised, I suppose I must."

At the moment, two or three great drops of rain, the first of the
storm, fell down the wide chimney, exploding in the clear turf-fire.

"Yes, indeed you must," I replied.

After a short pause, she commenced. Of course she spoke in Gaelic; and I
translate from my recollection of the Gaelic; but rather from the
impression left upon my mind, than from any recollection of words. She
drew her chair near the fire, which we had reason to fear would soon be
put out by the falling rain, and began.

"How old the story is, I do not know. It has come down through many
generations. My grandmother told it to me as I tell it to you; and her
mother and my mother sat beside, never interrupting, but nodding their
heads at every turn. Almost it ought to begin like the fairy tales,
_Once upon a time_,--it took place so long ago; but it is too dreadful
and too true to tell like a fairy tale.--There were two brothers, sons
of the chief of our clan, but as different in appeara