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Updated: June 6, 2025
The soutar opened it himself, and took the minister straight to the ben-end of the house, where Isy sat alone. She rose, and with downcast eyes went to meet him. "Isy," he faltered, "can ye forgie me? And wull ye merry me as sene's ever we can be cried? I'm as ashamed o' mysel as even ye would hae me!" "Ye haena sae muckle to be ashamet o' as I hae, sir: it was a' my wyte!"
But me and yer father eh, weel we lo'ed her! for to hiz she was like oor ain Isy, ay, mair a dochter nor a servan wi'a braw lovin kin'ness in her, no to be luikit for frae ony son, and sic as we never had frae ony afore but oor ain Isy.
Come awa hame wi' me, my dear; my wife's anither jist like mysel, an'll turn naething to ye but the smilin side o' her face, I s' un'ertak! She's a fine, herty, couthy, savin kin' o' wuman, my wife! Come ye til her, and see!" Isy rose to her feet. "Eh, but I would like to luik ance mair intil the face o' a bonny, clean wuman!" she said.
But Marion heard her, and brought her breakfast, beaming with ministration; then thinking she would eat it better if left to herself, went back to her work. In about five minutes, however, Isy joined her, and began at once to lend a helping hand. "Hoot, hoot, my dear!" cried her hostess, "ye haena taen time eneuch to make a proaper brakfast o' 't! Gang awa back, and put mair intil ye.
He could not tell whence or why it should be so, for no news of Isy reached him, and he felt, in his quieter moments, almost certain that she could not have passed so completely out of his horizon, if she were still in the world. When most persuaded of this, he felt ablest to live and forget the past, of which he was unable to recall any portion with satisfaction.
He jist gars me creep!" Receiving no answer, for her husband was nowhere near at the moment, she called aloud in her desperation "Isy! Isy! come and see gien ye can dee onything to quaiet this ill bairn." Isy heard, and sprang from her bed. "Comin, mistress!" she answered; "comin this moment." They had not met since her resurrection, as Peter always called it. "Isy!
The farmer, already seated at the table, looked up, and anxiously regarding her, said "Bairn, ye're no fit to be aboot! Ye maun caw canny, or ye'll be ower the burn yet or ever ye're safe upo' this side o' 't! Preserve's a'! ir we to lowse ye twise in ae month?" "Jist answer me ae queston, Isy, and I'll speir nae mair," said Marion.
At the top of the stair stood their little daughter, a child of five or six, wanting to go down to her mother, and wondering why she was not permitted. "Who is it, moder?" she whispered, as Mrs. Robertson passed her, following her husband and Isy. "Is she very dead?" "No, darling," answered her mother; "it is an angel that has lost her way, and is tired so tired!
A' the last week or twa I hae seen ye driftin awa frae me, oot and oot to the great sea, whaur never a thoucht o' Isy would come nigh ye again; and what for should there? Ye camna into the warl' to think aboot me or the likes o' me, but to be a great preacher, and lea' me ahin ye, like a sheaf o' corn ye had jist cuttit and left unbun'!"
"Noo, I hae but the dregs to drink, and them I maun glog ower wi' patience, for I hae weel deserved to drink them! But, eh, my bonnie Isy, she maun hae suffert sair! I daur hardly think what she maun hae come throuw!" "Her mither couldna hae broucht her up richt! The first o' the faut lay i' the upbringin!"
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