A Daughter of Fife

Coming home through the sound of Barra, Mary said, "We are a day or two

late, Maggie, but I have not forgotten your tryst. We shall run down the

coast now, and round the Mull of Kintyre on the 24th. The next day we may

be at Drumloch, that will be early enough?"

"Mair than enough, Miss Campbell. I needna leave Drumloch until the 27th,

though if it came easy I would leave before that."

"How near we are to the cliffs; we are rippling the shadows along shore.

Look at those forlorn headlands, Maggie. It was the sombre sadness of this

land that charmed the early saints, and girt all these isles with their

solitary cells."

"I liked well to read about them; and I can never think of Iona without

remembering Columba with his face bright from the communion of angels."

"And the hymn he wrote there, Maggie, we shall never forget that; it

breathes the soul of the saint, and pictures the scene of his saintship.

Now to the cries of the sea-birds overhead, let us have a few lines; the

swell of the waves will keep the time and the tune."

"That I might often see

The face of the ocean.

That I might see its heaving waves

Over the wide ocean,

When they chaunt music to their Father

Upon the world's course,

That I might see its level sparkling strand,

It would be no cause of sorrow,

That I might hear the songs of the wonderful birds,

Source of happiness;

That I might hear the thunder of the crowding waves

Upon the rocks;

That I might hear the roar by the side of the church

Of the surrounding sea,

That I might see its ebb and flood

In their career;

That I might bless the Lord

Who conserves all,

Heaven with its countless bright orders.

Land, strand and flood.

At times kneeling to beloved Heaven;

At times psalm-singing;

At times contemplating the King of Heaven,

Holy, the Chief;

At times work without compulsion;

This would be delightful;

At times plucking duilisc from the rocks;

At times fishing;

At times giving food to the poor;

At times in a solitary cell.

The best advice in the presence of God

To me has been vouchsafed.

The King, whose servant I am, will not let

Anything deceive me."

Skene, Celtic Scotland, v. 2, p. 93.

"Thank you, Maggie, historical places are not much to see, often, but they

are a great deal to feel. That hymn set me back into the sixth century,

and I have been wondering what sort of women you and I would have been

then. Perhaps nuns, Maggie."

"We will not think ill o' ourselves, Miss Campbell. Nane o' the Promoters

were ever Catholics."

"The Campbells prayed as the king prayed always--we have been a prudent

clan for both worlds, Maggie. 'To get on' has been the one thing needful

with us; but there are many families of that kind. Has not the wind

changed?"