A Daughter of Fife

"Forgive me, David. I feel almost broken-hearted. I am irritable also for

want of food. I have not eaten since early this morning."

"That is not right, sir. Sit down, in a few minutes you shall have all

that is needful."

"No, no; I must go home. Half an hour will take me there. Shake hands,

David. Whatever differences we may have, you, at least, understand fully

that I never could wrong your sister."

"I am glad to give you my hand, sir. I owe you more than can be told. I

had not been where I am to-day but for you."

"And if there is anything more needed?"

"There is nothing more, sir. I have paid back all I borrowed. I have been

fortunate above my fellows. I owe you only the gratitude I freely and

constantly pay."

Allan scarcely understood him; he grasped the hand David offered him, then

walked to Argyle Street and called a cab; in half an hour, he was in his

own rooms in the Blytheswood Square house. His advent caused a little

sensation; the housekeeper almost felt it to be a wrong. "In the very

thick of the cleaning!" she exclaimed; "every bit of furniture under

linen, and all the silver put by in flannel. Miss Campbell said she wasna

coming until the end o' September; and as for Mr. Allan, every one thought

he was at a safe distance. We'll hae to hurry wi' the paint work noo, and

if there's one thing mair than anither no to be bided it's hurrying up

what should be taken pains wi'."

Generally Allan would have been conscious of the disapproval his visit

evoked, and he would have reconciled the servants to any amount of trouble

by apologies and regrets; but at this time his mind was full of far more

personal and serious affairs. He had been inclined to think the very best

of Maggie, to be quite certain that she had been detained by circumstances

absolutely uncontrollable by her; but after reading again and again her

letters to David, he did think she ought to have had some written

explanation of her absence waiting for him. She knew he would certainly

see either Willie Johnson or Elder Mackelvine, and he felt that she might

--if she wished--have spared him much anxiety and disappointment.

He longed now to see his father; he determined to tell him the truth, and

be guided by his advice. But John Campbell's last letter to his son had

been dated from Southern Russia, and it was scarcely likely he would be in

Glasgow for three weeks. However, Mary Campbell was at Drumloch, and he

thought as he sipped his coffee, that it would probably be the best thing

to go there, rest for a day or two with his cousin, and if he found her

sympathetic, ask her help in his perplexity.