She spoke shyly with hesitation and blushes, but he felt all the kindness
of the question. He took her hand and kissed it. At that moment she looked
lovely to him.
"I have no need of money, Mary. I only ask for your kind remembrance."
"That is ever yours. Do not go far away."
"Not far. You shall hear from me soon."
The thought of a correspondence struck him very pleasantly. He might
thus--if he liked the idea upon future reflection--arrange the whole
matter with Mary, and return home as her expected husband. That would be a
sufficient assertion of his own individuality.
He went to Edinburgh. He had no definite plan, only that he felt a desire
for seclusion, and he knew fewer people in Edinburgh than in Glasgow or
London. The day after his arrival there he accompanied a casual
acquaintance to Leith pier, from which place the latter was going to sail
for London. As he stood watching the vessel away, his hat blew off and a
fisherman brought it back to him. It was Will Johnson of Pittenloch, and
he was not a man to whom Allan felt he could offer money. But he stood
talking with him about the Fife fishing towns, until he became intensely
interested in their life. "I want to see them," he said to Will; "let me
have a couple of hours to get my trunks, and I will go with you to
Pittenloch."
There are very few men who have not a native longing for the ocean; who do
not love to go "----back to the great, sweet Mother,
Mother and lover of men, the sea;"
and Allan forgot all his annoyances, as soon as he felt the bound of the
boat under him. Johnson had to touch at Largo, but ere they reached it the
wind rose, and it was with some difficulty the harbor was made. But during
the rough journey Allan got very near to the men in the boat; he looked
forward to a stay at Pittenloch with pleasure; and afterward, events would
doubtless shape themselves better than he could at that time determine
them.
It had been a sudden decision, and made very much in that spirit which
leads men to toss up a penny for an oracle. And sometimes it seems as if a
Fate, wise or otherwise, answers the call so recklessly made. If he lived
for a century Allan knew that he would never forget that first walk to
Promoters--the big fisherman at his side, the ocean roaring in his ears,
the lights from the cottage windows dully gleaming through the black
darkness--never forget that moment in which Maggie Promoter turned from
the fire with the "cruisie" in her hand, the very incarnation of
womanhood, crowned with perfect health and splendid beauty.