And Maggie mourned most of all, because Allan would think her faithless;
would judge her from the wicked, envious tongues that had driven her from
her home; and it is always the drop of injustice in sorrow that makes
sorrow intolerable. Only, Maggie trusted! In spite of many a moment's fear
and doubt she trusted! Trusted God, and trusted Allan, and trusted that
somehow out of sorrow would come joy; and as she stepped softly about her
loving cares, or watched, almost breathlessly, Mary passing Death's
haggard hills, she often whispered to herself part of a little poem they
had learned together: "I will try to hope and to trust in God!
In the excellent Glory His abode
Hath been from of old; thence looketh He,
And surely He cannot help seeing me.
And I think perhaps He thinks of me;
For my heart is with Him continually."
In the meantime, Allan, like all true lovers, had outrun the clock to keep
his tryst. On the evening of the 28th of August a small steamer cast
anchor at Pittenloch pier. She had one passenger, Allan Campbell. He had
been waiting two days in Leith, but no boat from Pittenloch having arrived
during that time, he had hired a small steamer to run up the coast with
him. He landed in the evening, just about the time the lamps in the
cottages were being lit; and he looked eagerly toward the Promoter cottage
for some such cheering sign. As he looked, the window became red, and he
leaped off the boat in a fever of joyful expectation. Surely Maggie would
be watching! The arrival of a strange steamer must have told her who was
coming. Every moment he expected to see her at the open door. As he neared
it, the turfs sent up a ruddy glow, and touched the whole interior with
warm color. The entrance was light, but the house place was empty. Smiling
to himself, he went in, and stood upon the snow-white hearth, and glanced
round the dear, familiar room. Nothing was changed. In a moment or two he
heard a step; he looked eagerly toward it, and a very pleasant-looking old
woman entered.
"I thocht it wad be you, Maister Campbell. Welcome hame, sir! I'll mak you
a cup o' tea anon, for the kettle's boiling, and a' things ready."
"Thank you. I don't remember--I suppose Mistress Caird has left?"
"Sent awa', sir--not before she deserved it."
"And you are in her place? I think I have seen you before?"
"Nae doot, sir. I'm Mysie Jardine--the Widow Jardine, sir."