"And yet when all is thought and said.
The heart still overrules the head."
"From the lone shieling of the misty islands.
Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas:
But we in dreams behold the Hebrides."
One morning toward the end of July, Mary was reading the "Glasgow Herald."
"Maggie," she said, "one of the Promoters has evidently left Fife, for I
see the name among the list of students--David Promoter--he has done
wondrously. The man is a miracle, he has taken every prize in his classes,
I think."
"I'm right glad to hear tell o' it. I must aye wish weel--"
"Well, Maggie, not weel."
"Well, to the name."
It was true. David had overstepped even his own ambition. He had finished
the term with an ovation from his fellows, and he had been urged to go
with Prof. Laird's son to the outer Hebrides. And now that the strain of
his study was over, and the goal, so far, nobly won, he could afford to
remember his sister. Indeed David deserves more justice than these words
imply. He had often thought of her since that March afternoon when he had
put her into the train for Stirling. But he really believed that his first
duty was to his studies, and he fully expected that his letter to Dr.
Balmuto would be a sufficient movement to insure her welfare. Practically,
he had thrown his own duty upon the minister's conscience, but he felt
sure that the good man had accepted the obligation, for if not, he would
certainly have written to him on the subject.
He sent the doctor the newspapers advertising his success, and a couple of
days afterward went to Kinkell. Young Laird did not require his company
for a week, and he thought well of himself for taking a journey to Fife
merely to pleasure his sister, before he took his own pleasure. He had
improved much in personal appearance during his residence in Glasgow. He
was well dressed, and he had acquired an easy confidence of manner which
rather took Dr. Balmuto by surprise. Perhaps it irritated him a little
also; for he was not at all satisfied with David. The first words he said
were not words of congratulation, they were a stern inquiry.
"David Promoter, where is your sister Maggie? Has she come back with you?"
"I came to ask you about Maggie, sir."
"Me! What way would you come to me? I have nothing to do with Maggie
Promoter."
"Sir, when she left me last March, I gave her a letter to you, and put her
in the train that was to bring her here."
"What did you write to me about?"
"I told you how unhappy and dissatisfied my sister was at Pittenloch; and
I asked you to advise her to stay at Kinkell under your eye. Then none
could speak ill o' her."