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Start the verra meenute that ye get this letter; yir father bids ye come, and I'm writing this in place o' yir mother. Marget went out to tend the flowers while Lachlan read the letter, and when he gave it back the address was written in his own hand. He went as far as the crest of the hill with Marget, and watched her on the way to the post office till she was only a speck upon the road.
Carmichael ought perhaps to have taken his beating like a man, and said nothing to any one, but instead thereof he betook himself for consolation to Marget, a better counsellor in a crisis than Janet, with all her Celtic wiles, and Marget set him in the very seat where Kate had put her case.
She took the Dominie's hand, and said to him, "Under God this was your doing, Maister Jamieson, and for your reward ye'ill get naither silver nor gold, but ye hae a mither's gratitude." Whinnie gave a hoarse chuckle and said to his wife, "It was frae you, Marget, he got it a'."
And maybe things will take a turn for the dear lad yet. Hope for it anyhow. Hope is as cheap as despair." "Folks will be talking anon." "They are talking already. Do you think that I did not hear all this clash and clavers before? Lucky Sims, and Marget Roy, and every fish-wife in Pittendurie, know both the beginning and the end of it.
"Christina will make a good wife, and she will keep a tidy house, I'll warrant her." "She will, Marget. And it is a very important thing; far more so than folks sometimes think. You may put godliness into a woman after she is a wife, but you can not put cleanliness; it will have to be born in her." "And so Jamie Logan is to have a berth from the Hendersons?
"Give me the pen, Marget;" and Flora wrote for a minute, but Lachlan never moved. When he lifted his head, this was what he read in a vacant space: FLORA CAMPBELL. Missed April 1873. Found September 1873. "Her father fell on her neck and kissed her." Drumtochty made up its mind slowly upon any new-comer, and for some time looked into the far distance when his name was mentioned.
The very mention of a kind uncle was enough to remind Marget of her own, and her eyes filled again. She said she hoped their two uncles would meet, some day. It made me shudder. Philip said he hoped so, too; and that made me shudder again. "Maybe they will," said Marget. "Does your uncle travel much?" "Oh yes, he goes all about; he has business everywhere."
I said no, and she was relieved, and said please don't; for if Miss Marget knew, she would think it was an unholy cat and would send for a priest and have its gifts all purified out of it, and then there wouldn't be any more dividends. So I said we wouldn't tell, and she was satisfied.
"There's nae pooer in heaven or airth like luve," Marget said to me afterwards; "it maks the weak strong and the dumb tae speak. Oor herts were as water afore Tammas's words, an' a' saw the doctor shake in his saddle. A' never kent till that meenut hoo he hed a share in a'body's grief, an' carried the heaviest wecht o' a' the Glen.
"Never mind, mither, there's nae secrets atween us, and it gar'd my heart leap to hear ye speak up like yon for God, and to know yir content. Div ye mind the nicht I called for ye, mother, and ye gave me the Gospel aboot God?" Marget slipped her hand into George's, and he let his head rest on her shoulder.
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