Reared in those dwellings have brave ones been;
Brave ones are still there;
Forth from their darkness on Sunday I've seen
Conning pure linen,
And, like the linen, the souls were clean
Of them that wore it.
Blessings be with ye, both now and aye,
Dear human creatures!
Yours is the love no gold can buy.
Nor time wither.
Peace be to thee and thy children, O Skye!
Dearest of Islands!"
"That is not one of your fisher songs, David?"
"Na, na; it is a sang made aboot Skye, and our mither was a Skye woman;
sae Maggie learned it to please her. I dinna think much o' it."
"It is the most touching thing I ever heard." The melody was Gaelic, slow
and plaintive, and though Maggie gave the English words with her own
patois, the beauty and simplicity of the song was by no means injured.
"Put by the books, David," said Allan. "I have no heart now for
dry-as-dust lessons. Let us speak of Maggie. How is she going to live when
you go to Glasgow?"
"She will just bide where she is. It is her ain hame, and she is amang her
ain folk."
"Surely she will not live alone?"
"Na, na, that wed gie occasion for ill tongues to set themsel's to wark.
Aunt Janet Caird is coming to be company for her. She is fayther's sister,
and no quite beyond the living wi'. I thocht o' taking the boat the morn,
and going for her."
"Where to?"
"About twenty miles to the nor'ward, to a bit hamlet, thae call Dron
Point."
"What kind of a woman is she, David? I hope she is kind and pleasant."
"We can hope sae, sir; but I really dinna expect it. Aunt Janet had a bad
name wi' us, when we were bairns, but bairns' judgment isn't to lippen
to."
"I think it is. If you have any fear about Aunt Janet being good to live
with, don't go for her."
"The thing is a' settled between her and oursel's. Maggie and I talked it
o'er and o'er. There wasna any other thing to do. All o' oor kin but Aunt
Janet hae big families o' their ain to look after. Maggie willna hear tell
o' leaving the cottage, and she canna stay in it her lane. Sae, she must
tak' the ill and gude thegither."
"For my own sake I am glad she stays in the cottage, because I wish to
keep possession of my room. Your face need not cloud, David; I am not
coming here at all; but it is inconvenient for me to remove my books, and
the many sea-treasures I gathered during my stay with you. If I did remove
them, I should have to store them in some other place, so it will be a
kindness, if you will continue to rent me the room."