A Daughter of Fife

"Maggie!"

The cry was one of utter wonder and delight. "Oh, my love! My love!

My love!" He held her in his arms. She was his forever now. "Not death

itself shall part us again," he whispered, with that extravagance of

attachment which is permissible to lovers. For what lover ever spoke

reasonably? The lover that can do so is not a lover; he is fathoms below

that diviner atmosphere whose language is, of necessity, as well as

choice, foolishness to the uninitiated.

Allan had been sent by Mary for some book she affected to particularly

want. He forgot the book, as Maggie forgot the flowers, and in

half-an-hour, John Campbell was sent after his dilatory son. Old men do

not like surprises as well as lovers, and Mary had thought it best to

prepare him for the meeting that was close at hand. He had felt a little

fear of the shock he was sure he would have to bear as graciously as

possible. But pleasant shocks do not hurt, and John Campbell's spirits

rose as soon as his eyes fell upon the beautiful woman standing by his

son's side. He came forward with smiles, he welcomed Maggie, and called

her "daughter" with a genuine pride and tenderness.

Very soon he reminded the lovers that he was an old man who thought highly

of his dinner; he gave Maggie his arm and led her into the dining-room.

There were no flowers on the table, and the meats were a little out of

time and past savor, but Allan and Maggie were oblivious of such trifles,

and John Campbell was too polite, and perhaps also too sympathetic to

remind them that they were still in Ayrshire, and that Ayrshire was not

Eden. And though Mary had not been able to witness the happiness she had

planned, she felt it. It seemed to pervade the house like some quicker

atmosphere. She had even a better appetite, and the servants also seemed

conscious of a new joy, and indefinable promise of festivity--something

far more subtle than a bird in the air had carried the matter to every

heart.

After dinner, while John Campbell was talking to Maggie, Allan went to see

Mary. She was still on her sofa, a little tired, but very happy and very

pretty. He knelt down by her side, and kissed her, as he whispered, "Oh

Mary! My sister Mary! How good you have been to me! It is wonderful! I

cannot thank you, dear, as I want to. I am so happy, so happy, Mary; and

it is your doing."

"I know how glad and grateful you are, Allan. The work was its own reward.

I love Maggie. She has far more than repaid me. My dear Allan, you are

going to be a very happy man. Now you may go to Maggie, and tell Uncle

John that I expect him to sit with me to-night."