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 have 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.
