"I dinna want to eat," he said, "my soul is satisfied. I feel as if I
ne'er could be hungry any mair." He was particularly delighted at the
minister's kindness, and said fervently, "I thank him for the books, far
mair for the blessing." He took all the favors to be done him without
dispute or apology, just as a candid, unselfish child, takes what love
gives it. He was so anxious to get to work, that he would liked to have
left at once for Glasgow; but Allan was not ready to leave. Indeed he was
"swithering" whether, or not, he should take this opportunity of bidding
farewell to Pittenloch.
After breakfast they went to the boat together. The decks were covered
With a mass of glinting, shimmering fish, that looked like molten silver
in the sunshine. "David," said Allan, "make the boys clean her thoroughly,
and in smooth water you can now use her as a study. Maggie dislikes men
about the house all day; you can bring your books and papers to the boat
and drift about in smooth water. On the sea there will be no crying
children and scolding mothers to disturb you."
The idea delighted David; he began at once to carry it out; but Allan took
no further interest in the matter, and went strolling up the beach until
he came to the spot where the quarrel of the preceding evening had taken
place. Here he stood leaning against the rock unconscious of outside
influences for neatly two hours. He asked himself "did he love Maggie
Promoter?" "Did she love him?" "Was there any hope in the future for their
marriage?"
Then he acknowledged to his soul that the woman was inexpressibly dear to
him. As for Maggie's love of himself, he hoped, and yet he feared it;
feared it, because he loved her so well that he did not like to think of
the suffering she must bear with him. He felt that no prospect of their
marriage could be entertained. He loved his father, and not only
respected, but also in some measure shared his family pride. He felt that
it would be a sin to desert him, and for his own private pleasure crumble
the unselfish life-work of so many years to pieces. Then also, beautiful
as Maggie was in her cot at Pittenloch, she would be sadly out of place in
the splendid rooms at Meriton. Sweet, intoxicatingly sweet, the cup which
he had been drinking, but he felt that he must put it away from his own,
and also from Maggie's lips. It would be fatal to the welfare of both.
Thinking such thoughts, he finally went back to the cottage. It was about
ten o'clock; Maggie's house work was all "redd up;" and she was standing
at her wheel spinning, when Allan's shadow fell across the sanded floor,
and she turned to see him standing watching her.