A Daughter of Fife

The sound of their voices, in an indistinct, fitful way, reached him where

he sat. At first there was nothing peculiar in the tone, but in a few

minutes it was evident that Maggie was getting angry. Allan rose then and

went slowly toward them. Where the hill touched the beach it terminated in

a point of jagged rocks about seven feet high. Maggie and Angus stood on

one side of them, Allan on the other. He was as yet unseen, but

half-a-dozen steps would bring them together. Maggie was by this time in a

passion.

"It is weel for you, Angus Raith, that my fayther is at the bottom o' the

sea," she said. "If Will was alive, or John, or Sandy, this day, ye hadna

daured to open your ill mouth to me."

"Why dinna you tell your fine brother Davie?"

"Davie is aboon sorting the like o' you. Do you think I wad hae hands that

are for the Ordinances touch you, you--born deevil?"

"Tell Maister Allan Campbell then. If a's true that's said to be true--"

"Dinna say it, Angus! Dinna say it! I warn you to keep a still tongue in

your head."

"If he isna your man, he ought to be."

In a moment she had struck him on the mouth a blow so swift and stinging

that it staggered him. Allan heard it; he stepped quickly forward and put

his hand upon her shoulder. She was quivering like a wounded bird. But she

drew herself proudly away from Allan's touch and faced Angus in a blaze of

scornful passion.

"Ay; strike me back! It wad be like you!" For the first impulse of the man

on recovering himself had been to raise his hand. "But I'd rayther you

struck me dead at your feet, than to be your wife for ane five minutes."

Angus laughed mockingly. "You kent wha was behind the rock dootless! The

blank--blank--blank fine gentleman! The----the----the----" and a volley of

epithets and imprecations followed which made Maggie put her hands to her

ears.

"Let me take you home." It was Allan who spoke, and again he laid his hand

gently upon her. She shook it angrily off. "Dinna touch me, sir!" she

cried, "I hae had scorn and sorrow in plenty for you. I can tak' mysel'

hame finely;" and she walked rapidly away with her head flung proudly

backward.

The girl had never been taught to control her feelings. She was a natural

woman suffering under a sense of insult and injustice, and resenting it.

And she was angry at Allan for being a witness to her emotion. His very

calmness had seemed like a reproof to her. Wrath, chagrin, shame,

resentment, swept in hot passionate waves over her; and the very intensity

of her mental anguish imparted to her body a kind of majesty that perforce

commanded respect.