Fergus had stayed with her at Lally-broch, helped to take care of her and the place he hadnвЂ™t. Maybe moreВ , he thought, his grief aggravated by guilt. Fergus had known Mam longer than Ian had, and loved her as much. Mam had raised Fergus from the time he was ten, and heвЂ™d had no mother before that. He meant to bring them up here-the family.ДЇergus, to begin with. A small clearing, out of the way, up among a scatter of great lichened boulders, under the shadow of firs and at the foot of a big red cedar a place where no casual passerby would go, but not inaccessible. IAN MURRAY STOOD with a stone in his hand, eyeing the ground heвЂ™d chosen. The forest between Philadelphia and Valley Forge and that a land lapped by no sea but blood, bordered only by the outlines of a face long-loved. Here I stand on the brink of war again, a citizen of no place, no time, no country but my own. What have I seen? You are the vision of my youth, the constant dream of all my ages. Ours is the guarding of the spring, ours the shielding of the light we have lit, the flame that we are. Young women donвЂ™t see-they areВ , and the spring of life runs through them. We see necessity, and we do the things that must be done.

Your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visionsВ . IN THE LIGHT OF eternity, time casts no shadow. This book is dedicated to ALL of the people Р§РёС‚Р°С‚СЊ РѕРЅР»Р°Р№РЅ Written in My Own Heart's Blood.

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