A Daughter of Fife

"My stay depends on this and that, Archibald. Is there any change round

Meriton?"

"Nane worth the praising, sir. We hae a new minister. I dinna think much

o' him."

"Not orthodox, I suppose."

"A puir body, sir, a puir body at a sermon. I like a gun and a minister to

shoot close. Dr. MacDonald is an awfu' scattering man. He'll be frae

Genesis to Revelations in the same discourse, sir."

They were passing between plantations of young larch; the great hills rose

behind them, the songs of a multitude of birds filled the warm, sweet air.

The horses tossed their heads, and lifted proudly their prancing feet.

Allan had a keen sense of the easy, swift motion through the balmy

atmosphere. As he leaned back against the comfortably cushioned vehicle,

he could not help contrasting the circumstances with the hoary

sea-shattering rocks of Fife, the tossing ocean, the tugging oars, and

the fisherman's open boat. He did not try to decide upon the merits of the

different situations; he simply realized the present, and enjoyed it.

The great doors of Meriton House stood open, and a soft-treading footman

met him with bows and smiles, and lifted his cloak and luggage, and made

him understand that he had again entered a life in which he was expected

to be unable to wait upon himself. It gave him no trouble to accept the

conditions; he fell at once into the lofty leisurely way of a man

accustomed to being served. He had dismissed his valet in Edinburgh, when

he determined to go to Pittenloch, but he watched his father's servant

brushing his dinner suit, and preparing his bath and toilet, without one

dissenting feeling as to the absolute fitness of the attention. The lofty

rooms, the splendor and repose, the unobtrusive but perfect service, were

the very antipodes of the life he had just left. He smiled to himself as

he lazily made contrasts of them. But Fife and the ways of Fife seemed far

away. It was like a dream from which he had awakened, and Meriton was the

actual and the present.

He knew that he would meet Mary Campbell very soon, and he was not

indifferent to the meeting. He could not help glancing with complaisance

at the new evening suit he had brought with him; and looking a little

ruefully at his browned and hardened hands, and the tan of wind and

weather on his face. He hoped he would meet Mary before his father's

arrival; so that he could get accustomed to the situation before he had to

exhibit himself in it to those keen and critical observers, the servants.

He went early into the dining-room, and found Mary already there. She had

some ferns and roses in her hands, and was mingling them, for the

adornment of the dinner table. She put them down, and went to meet him

with a smile like sunshine. Her small, slender figure clothed in white

India mull had a peculiarly fragile appearance; but Allan watched her, as

she glided about the room filling the crystal vases, with a restful

content. He thought how intelligent her face is! How graceful her diction,

how charming her low, sweet voice!