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Updated: June 5, 2025
Somehow or other I found myself shaking hands twice with Miss Troall, and she again thanked me for bringing her the message from him who was gone; and I heard Miss Rundle remark as I went out, that I was a very well-mannered young man, though I was a common sailor. It was rather later than I intended.
There sat one I had so long thought of, whom I had come to search for, Margaret Troall. She looked at me in a strange, bewildered way, still she knew me, and yet she could not believe her senses. She tried to rise from her chair to come towards me, but something seemed to keep her back. She drew her breath quickly, as if she would have wished to have spoken, but could not.
I had a fancy for staying on shore after having been knocked about at sea for so many years, and setting up in some business. "What, have you forgotten Margaret Troall?" said my aunt to me one day. The chord was struck. "No, indeed, I have not," said I; "I'll go and find her, and bring her back to you as my wife if she will have me."
"You have fulfilled it already," said the young lady, with a faltering voice, and bursting into tears; "I am Margaret Troall. And oh, believe me, I am most grateful to you."
I found that the name of my host, the uncle of Miss Troall, was David Angus, and that the place where the smack had been wrecked was in Saint Magnus Bay, in the parish of North Morven. My friends were the holders of one of the largest farms in the district, and lived in a very comfortable, though what people in the south would call a rough way.
She seemed almost breathless as I proceeded with my story, but every now and then she would say, "Go on in mercy go on." So I continued with my story to the end; "and," said I, "the first time I have freedom on shore, I will, please heaven, go and fulfil my promise to poor Seton. I remember the young lady's name Margaret Troall."
You shall see her letter, for I do not think she would object to my showing it to you." I thanked Miss Rundle very much for the account she had given me, but I could with difficulty reply to her for thinking what I would do. All sorts of ideas crowded into my mind. I scarcely, however, recollected Charley Iffley and his behaviour. My thoughts flew off to Shetland, and to Margaret Troall.
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