"You are feared she'll tak' you?"
"Just so, Maggie. Now what would you advise me to do?"
"You wouldna do the thing I told you. Whatna for then, should I say a
word?"
"I think I should do what you told me. I have a great respect for your
good sense, Maggie. I have never told my trouble to anyone but you."
"To naebody?"
"Not to any one."
"Wait a wee then, while I think it o'er. I must be sure to gie you true
counsel, when you come to me sae trustful."
She set the wheel going and turned her face to it for about five minutes.
Then she stilled it, and Allan saw that the hand she laid upon it trembled
violently.
"You should gae hame, sir; and you should be as plain and trustful wi'
your cousin, as you hae been wi' me. Tell the leddy just hoo you love her,
and ask her to tak' you, even though you arena deserving o' her. Your
fayther canna blame you if she willna be your wife. And sae, whether she
says 'na,' or 'yes,' there will be peace between you twa."
"That is cutting a knot with a vengeance, Maggie."
"Life isna lang enough to untie some knots."
Then with her head still resolutely turned from Allan, she put by the
wheel, and went into her room, and locked its door. Her face was as gray
as ashes. She sat with clenched hands, and tight-drawn lips, and swayed
her body backwards and forwards like one in an extremity of physical
anguish.
"Oh Allan! Allan! You hae killed me!" she whispered; "you hae broken my
heart in twa."
As she did not return to him, Allan went to his room also, and fell
asleep; a sleep of exhaustion, not indifference. Maggie's plan had struck
him at first as one entirely impracticable with a refined, conventional
girl like Mary Campbell; but when a long dreamless rest had cleared and
refreshed his mind, he began to think that the plan, primitive as it was,
might be a good one. In love, as well as geometry, the straight line might
be the easiest and best.
But he had no further opportunity to discuss it with her. David's trip to
Glasgow was a very important affair to him, and he stayed at home in the
afternoon to prepare for it. Then Maggie had her first hard lesson in
self-restraint. All her other sorrows had touched lives beside her own;
tears and lamentations had not only been natural, they had been expected
of her. But now she was brought face to face with a grief she must hide
from every eye. If a child is punished, and yet forbidden to weep, what a
tumult of reproach and anguish and resentment is in the small pathetic
face! Maggie's face was the reflex of a soul in just such a position. She
blamed Allan, and she excused him in the same moment. The cry in her heart
was "why didna he tell me? Why didna he tell me before it was o'er late?
He kent weel a woman be to love him! He should hae spoken afore this! But
it's my ain fault! My ain fault! I ought to think shame o' mysel' for
giving what was ne'er sought."