A Daughter of Fife

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.