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Updated: April 30, 2025
The farm of Howglen prospered. Alec never practised in his profession, but became a first-rate farmer. Within two years Annie and he were married, and began a new chapter of their history. When Mrs Forbes found that Alec and Annie were engaged, she discovered that she had been in reality wishing it for a long time, and that the opposing sense of duty had been worldly.
As soon as school was over on that first day of Alec's absence, Annie darted off on the road to Howglen, where he lived, and never dropped into a walk till she reached the garden-gate. Fully conscious of the inferiority of her position, she went to the kitchen door. The door was opened to her knock before she had recovered breath enough to speak.
Nowhere could Alec find a fit place to land, till they came to a village, fortunately on the same side as Howglen, into the street of which the water flowed. He bent to his oars, got out of the current, and rowed up to the door of a public-house, whose fat kind-hearted landlady had certainly expected no guests that day.
At Howglen, there happened, this year, to be a field of oats not far from the house, the reaping of which was to begin that day. It was very warm, and glorious with sunshine. So, after a few stooks had been set up, Alec crawled out with the help of his mother and Kate, and lay down on some sheaves, sheltered from the sun by a stook, and watched. The men and women and corn leaned all one way.
"I doobt sair gien ye'll win to Howglen the nicht," said Aggie. "But ye're not yer lone? "she added, trying to summon her English, of which she had plenty of a sort, though not always at hand. "My father is with me," said the lady, looking back into the dark carriage, "but I think he is asleep, and I don't want to wake him while we are standing still."
They are, I hope, by this time, waiting us at Howglen." The fire had been thawing the sleep out of Lord Mergwain, and now at length he was sufficiently awake to be annoyed that his daughter should hold so much converse with the folk of the inn. "Can't you show us to a room?" he said gruffly, "and get us something to eat?" "We are doing the best we can for your lordship," replied the laird.
"It's a lady gaein to Mistress Forbes's at Howglen." "Hoo ken ye that?" "'Cause Alec Forbes rade oot to meet her, and syne took her hame i' the gig." "Ay! ay! I thought I heard mair nor the ordinar nummer o' horse-feet as the coch cam' up. He's a braw lad, that Alec Forbes�isna he?"
So things did go on�-of themselves as it were, for no one cared much about them, although it was the finest harvest that year that Howglen had ever borne. It had begun at length to appear that the old labour had not been cast into a dead grave, but into a living soil, like that of which Sir Philip Sidney says in his sixty-fifth psalm: "Each clodd relenteth at thy dressing,"
He gave a stare when he saw Annie, for he had thought her out of the way at Howglen, and said in a tone of asperity, "Ye're a' gait at ance, Annie Anderson. A doonricht rintheroot!" "Lat the bairn be, Maister Bruce," said Tibbie. "She's doin' the Lord's will, whether ye may think it or no. She's visitin' them 'at's i' the prison-hoose o' the dark.
"You'll never win to Howglen to-night, mem," said Aggie. "We must put up where we can, then," answered the lady. "I dinna know of a place nearer, fit for gentlefowk, mem." "What are we to do then?" asked the lady, with subdued, but evident anxiety.
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