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Updated: May 24, 2025
"No, mother; there's no fear o' that, as lang's the laird or Miss Lexy's to the fore. They tret me I winna say like ane o' themsel's, but as if they would hae likit me for ane o' themsel's, gien it had pleased the Lord to sen' me their way instead o' yours. They're that guid to me ye canna think!" "Then what's broucht ye the day?" "I beggit for a play-day. I wantit to see An'rew." "Eh, lass!
Lat me jist dook mysel i' the bonny win'!" she added, turning herself round and round. " Isna it jist like awfu' thin watter, An'rew? Here, gie me a haud o' that loaf. I s' cairry that, and my ain bit bundle as weel; syne, I fancy, ye can manage the lave yersel!" Andrew never had much to say, and this time he had nothing.
"But, An'rew," she said at length, "I want to tell ye something that's troublin' me; then ye can learn me what ye like." "Tell on, Dawtie," said Andrew; and she began. "Ae nicht aboot a fornight ago, I couldna sleep. I drave a' the sheep I could gether i' my brain, ower ae stile efter anither, but the sleep stack to the woo' o' them, an' ilk ane took o' 't awa' wi' him.
Has na he taught me to lo'e God to lo'e Him better nor father, mither, An'rew, or onybody? I wull lo'e An'rew! What can ye mean, mother?" "What I mean, Dawtie, is, that ye mamma think because ye lo'e him ye maun hae him; ye maunna think ye canna du wantin' An'rew!" "It's true, mother, I kenna what I should do wantin' An'rew!
"Sin' lang afore I had ony min' o' my ain!" responded Dawtie, turning to her vernacular. "Then let us be of one heart too, Dawtie!" She was so accustomed to hear Andrew speak in figures, that sometimes she looked through and beyond his words. She did so now, and seeing nothing, stood perplexed. "Winna ye, Dawtie?" said Andrew, holding out his hands. "I dinna freely un'erstan' ye, An'rew."
I'm feart for ye! Ye maunna set yer hert sae hie! An'rew's the best o' men, but a lass canna hae a man til hersel' jist 'cause he's the best man i' the warl'!" "What mean ye by that, mother?" said Dawtie, looking a little scared. "Am I no' to lo'e An'rew, 'cause he's 'maist as guid's the Lord wad hae him? Wad ye hae me hate him for't?
Gien I dinna mak His mine, and stick til't, I'm lost! Noo, mother, I'll set the things, and run ower to the hoose, and lat An'rew ken I'm here!" "As ye wull, lass! ye'r ayont me! I s' say naething anent a willfu' woman, for ye've been aye a guid dochter. I trust I hae risen to houp the Lord winna be disappointit in ye."
"As for no' lo'ein' him, mither me that canna luik at a blin' kittlin' ohn lo'ed it! lo, mither! God made me sae, an didna mean me no' to lo'e An'rew!" "Andrew!" she repeated, as if the word meant the perfection of earth's worthiest rendering the idea of appropriation too absurd. Silence followed, but the mother was brooding. "Ye maun bethink ye, lass, hoo far he's abune ye!" she said at length.
"I wull, An'rew; I was nae suner left to mysel' i' the prison than I faun' mysel' thinkin' aboot you you first, and no the Lord. I said to mysel', 'This is awfu'. I'm leanin' upo' An'rew, and no upo' the First and the Last. I saw that that was to brak awa' frae Him that was nearest me, and trust ane that was farther awa' which wasna i' the holy rizzon o' things.
It's a' richt!" "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him!" said Dawtie. She raised her head. The color had come back to her face; her lips had ceased to tremble; she stepped on steadily to where, a few yards from the door, the spring-cart was waiting her. She bade her mistress good-bye, then turned to Andrew and said: "Good-bye, An'rew! I am not afraid."
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