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Updated: May 27, 2025
The magistrate made out Dawtie's commitment for trial. He remarked that she might have been misled by a false notion of duty: he had been informed that she belonged to a sect claiming the right to think for themselves on the profoundest mysteries and here was the result!
"True; and so you are back on the other fear!" "What would you have said to her, Mr. Ingram?" "I would have reminded her that Jesus was perfectly content with His Father; that He knew what was coming on Himself, and never doubted Him just gloried that His Father was what He knew Him to be." "I see! But what did you mean when you said that Dawtie's very fear was faith?"
The scent of the sweet-pease growing against the turf wall entered Dawtie's soul like a breath from the fields of heaven, where the children made merry with the angels, the merriest of playfellows, and the winds and waters, and all the living things, and all the things half alive, all the flowers and all the creatures, were at their sportive call; where the little ones had babies to play with, and did not hurt them, and where dolls were neither loved nor missed, being never thought of.
The laird laughed, for the danger was over! to Dawtie's deep dismay he laughed! "My poor girl," he said, "you take an innocent love of curious things for the worship of Mammon! Don't imagine me jesting. How could you believe an old man like me, an elder of the kirk, a dispenser of her sacred things, guilty of the awful crime of Mammon worship?"
Dawtie's mother was not a little amused at the idea of any one idling in her house, not to say Dawtie, whom idleness would have tried harder than any amount of work; but, if only that Miss Fordyce might see what sort of girl Dawtie was, she judged it right to accept her offer. She had not been at Potlurg a week before Meg began to complain that she did not leave work enough to keep her warm.
Dawtie's simplicity and calmness, her confidence devoid of self-assertion, had its influence on the jury, and they gave the uncomfortable verdict of "Not Proven," so that Dawtie was discharged. Alexa had a carriage ready to take her home. As Dawtie went to it she whispered to her husband: "Ye hae to tak me wantin' a character, Andrew."
Through the governor of the jail Andrew obtained permission to stand near the prisoner at the trial. The counsel for the prosecution did all he could, and the counsel for the defense not much at least Dawtie's friends thought so and the judge summed up with the greatest impartiality.
It was desirable also, he said, that a thorough search should be made in those rooms before he placed the matter of the missing cup in the hands of the magistrates. Dawtie's last words had sufficed to remove any lingering doubt as to what had become of the chalice.
Her small feet were bare and black except on Saturday nights and Sunday mornings but full of expression, and perhaps really cleaner, from their familiarity with the sweet all-cleansing air, than such as hide the day-long in socks and shoes. Dawtie's specialty was love of the creatures. She had an undoubting conviction that every one of them with which she came in contact understood and loved her.
Dawtie's father had a rarely keen instinct for what is mean, and that not in the way of abhorrence in others, but of avoidance in himself. To shades and nuances of selfishness, which men of high repute and comfortable conscience would neither be surprised to find in their neighbors nor annoyed to find in themselves, he would give no quarter.
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