But now is my turn not yet come; and I wait until you have a
wife, and then shall I be in your son, and a brave part of him,
rejoicing manfully to launch the boat into the surf, skilful to
direct the helm, and a man of might where the ring closes and the
blows are going."
"This is a marvellous thing to hear," said the man; "and if you are
indeed to be my son, I fear it will go ill with you; for I am
bitter poor in goods and bitter ugly in face, and I shall never get
me a wife if I live to the age of eagles."
"All this hate I come to remedy, my Father," said the Poor Thing;
"for we must go this night to the little isle of sheep, where our
fathers lie in the dead-cairn, and to-morrow to the Earl's Hall,
and there shall you find a wife by my providing."
So the man rose and put forth his boat at the time of the
sunsetting; and the Poor Thing sat in the prow, and the spray blew
through his bones like snow, and the wind whistled in his teeth,
and the boat dipped not with the weight of him.
"I am fearful to see you, my son," said the man. " For methinks
you are no thing of God."
"It is only the wind that whistles in my teeth," said the Poor
Thing, "and there is no life in me to keep it out."
So they came to the little isle of sheep, where the surf burst all
about it in the midst of the sea, and it was all green with
bracken, and all wet with dew, and the moon enlightened it.
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