“Even so,” said Roderic, “for hard though he pressed me with his vigorous blows, yet my good sword was true to the last, and I clove his young head in twain.”

“Woe to you, woe to you, Roderic of Gigha!” cried Aasta, shrinking from his approach.  “Curses be upon you for the evil work that you have done.  May you never again know peace upon this earth.  May those you love —­ if any such there be —­ may they be torn from you and slain before your eyes.  Worse than brute that you are, meaner than the meanest worm that creeps, curse you, curse you!”

Then as Aasta drew yet farther back her hand was caught by another hand which drew her gently aside, and from behind the rock appeared the gaunt figure of old Elspeth Blackfell.  And Lulach the herd boy, having overcome his fears, crept nearer and stood apart.

Roderic paused at seeing the old crone, and his face grew pale.

“Unworthy son of Bute!” said Elspeth, pointing her thin finger at the island king, “you have heard this good maiden’s curse.  Even so do all the dwellers in Bute curse you at this hour.  But the great God who sees into all hearts, and in whose hands alone must rest our vengeance —­ He will surely repay you for the sorrows that your wickedness has caused.  Go, Roderic MacAlpin.  Go, ere it is too late, and before the high altar of St. Blane’s pray to Him for the mercy and forgiveness that you sorely need.”

Roderic bowed his head and nervously clasped and unclasped his hands.

“Go while there is yet time and confess your sins,” continued Elspeth.  “And if there is aught of penitence in your black heart then seek from our good and holy abbot the means whereby you may fulfil your penance during the days that remain to you on earth.”

It seemed that a great change had come over him as he walked away, for his step was halting and his head was bowed.  He walked along by the cliffs that are at the verge of the sea; southward past Scalpsie and Lubas and Barr, then inland to the little chapel of St. Blane’s.  And ever at his heels hobbled Elspeth Blackfell.

When Earl Roderic had entered the holy place to open his heart in confession to the abbot, Elspeth waited on the headland above the bay of Dunagoil.  In that bay there was a ship, and the shipmen were unloading her of a cargo of English salt and other commodities of the far south.  Presently the old woman went downward to the beach, and there held speech with the shipmaster, who, as it chanced, being a man of Wales, could make shift to understand the Gaelic tongue, and from him she learned that the ship was to leave at the ebb tide for England.

Now Elspeth had seen young Ailsa Redmain as the girl was passing to her father’s castle, and Ailsa had told her how the wicked lord of Gigha had been made an outlaw.  So Elspeth questioned the shipmaster, asking him if he would be free to carry this man away from Bute.