"
"That's a sign that I hae the mair o' 't, Tibbie. I'm sae muckle better
o' that ashma, that I think whiles the Lord maun hae blawn into my
nostrils anither breath o' that life that he breathed first into Edam
an' Eve."
"I'm richt glaid to hear't, Thamas. Breath maun come frae him ae gait
or ither."
"Nae doobt, Tibbie."
"Will ye sit doon asides's, Thamas? It's lang sin' I hae seen ye."
Tibbie always spoke of _seeing_ people.
"Ay will I, Tibbie. I haena muckle upo' my han's jist the day. Ye see I
haena won richt into my wark again yet."
"Annie an' me 's jist been haeing a crack thegither aboot this thing
an' that thing, Thamas," said Tibbie, dropping her knitting on her
knees, and folding her palms together. "Maybe _ye_ could tell me
whether there be ony likeness atween the licht that I canna see and
that soun' o' the water rinnin', aye rinnin', that I like sae weel to
hear."
For it did not need the gentle warm wind, floating rather than blowing
down the river that afternoon, to bring to their ears the sound of the
_entick_, or dam built across the river, to send the water to the
dyer's wheel; for that sound was in Tibbie's cottage day and night,
mingled with the nearer, gentler, and stronger gurgling of the swift,
deep, _deedie_ water in the race, that hurried, aware of its work, with
small noise and much soft-sliding force towards the wheel.
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