"I felt kind o' shamed then at my hurry, and I said, 'Doctor, you'll hae
heard tell o' the calamity that has come to our house?' And he answered,
'I hae heard; but we willna call it a calamity, David, seeing that it was
o' His ordering.'"
"'It was very suddent, sir,' I said, and he lookit at me, and said, 'His
messengers fly very swiftly. Your father was ready, and I do not think He
calls the young men, unless He wants them. It was not of the dead you came
to talk with me?' I said, 'No, sir, I came to ask you aboot Maggie and
mysel'.'"
"Then I told him hoo I longed to be a minister, and hoo fayther and the
rest had planned to send me to Aberdeen this vera year, and hoo there was
still £50 which you wanted me to take, and he never said a word, but just
let me go blethering and blundering through the story, till I felt like I
was the maist selfish and foolish o' mortals. When I couldna find anither
word, he spake up kind o' stern like--"
"What did he say? You be to tell me that noo."
"He said, 'David Promoter, you'll no dare to touch the £50 this year. Go
back to the boats, and serve the Lord upon the sea for a twelve months. Go
back to the boats and learn how to face hunger, and cold, and weariness,
with patience; learn to look upon death, and not to fear him. Forbye you
cannot leave your sister her lane. Lassies marry young among your folk,
and she'll need some plenishing. You would not surely send her from you
with empty hands. You cannot right your own like with wranging hers, not
even by a bawbee.'"
"He shouldna hae said the like o' that. The siller isna mine, nor wasna
meant for me, and I'll ne'er touch it. That I wont." "Marry Angus Raith,
and tak' it, Maggie. He loves you weel."
"Angus Raith isna to be thocht o', and it's ill-luck mixing wedding talk
wi' death talk. The minister is right; whatna for are we hurrying up the
future? Let us be still and wait; good, as well as evil comes, and us not
looking for it. I'm sorry you didna hae a pleasanter visit."
"It wasna just unpleasant. I ken weel the minister is right. Put on a
covering turf noo, Maggie, for the tide serves at six o'clock, and I'll be
awa' to Largo the morn."
Maggie was up at gray dawn next morning, while yet the sea birds were
dozing on their perches, looking like patches of late snow in the crannies
of the black rocks. There was no wrath in the tide, only an irresistible
set shoreward. When David was ready for his breakfast, Campbell was ready
also; he said he wished to go with the boat, and David's face lighted up
with satisfaction at the proposal. And Maggie was not ill-pleased to be
left alone. She was restless, and full of strange thoughts, and needed the
calm and strength of solitude.