A Daughter of Fife

"I love you, sweet: how can you ever learn

How much I love you?"

"You I love even so,

And so I learn it."

"Sweet, you cannot know

How fair you are."

"If fair enough to earn

Your love, so much is all my love's concern."

"Ah! happy they to whom such words as these

In youth have served for speech the whole day long!"

David left early in the morning for Dron Point, and Allan went to the pier

with him, and watched the boat away. It was not a pleasant morning. There

had been, all night, surly whiffs of rain, and the sky was full of gleam

and gloom and guest.

"I think it is likely Aunt Janet will get a good sea-tossing," Allan said

in a voice of satisfaction, and David smiled grimly, and reflected

audibly, "that it was all o' twenty miles, and the wind dead against them,

for the hame coming."

Then Allan walked rapidly back to the cottage. He was longing to speak to

Maggie, and every moment of David's absence was precious. She was far from

expecting him, for she knew that David and Allan had left the cottage

together, and she supposed Allan had also gone to Dron Point. When he

opened the door the house was empty; but glancing up the beach, he saw

Maggie, with her head bent to the smiting rain, slowly making her way

home. He knew that this early walk had become a usual thing with her, and

he understood by his own feelings, how grateful the resolute onward march

against wind and rain would be to her heart.

In a few minutes she pushed open the cottage door; and her wet rosy face,

in the dark green folds of the plaid over her head, had a vivid

distinctness. When she saw Allan she trembled. His unexpected presence,

the eager longing gaze in his eyes, his outstretched arms, the soft,

penetrating utterance of her name, "Maggie! dearest Maggie!" All

these things were an instant's revelation to her. She clasped her hands

helplessly, and the next moment Allan was taking the wet plaid off her

head and shoulders, and whispering, as he did so, all the fond words which

he had so long restrained.

She let him tell her again and again how much he loved her. She had no

more power to resist the sweet pleading than a man dying of thirst has

power to resist water. For a few moments she surrendered herself to a joy

so pure and so unexpected. "Oh Maggie, sweetest Maggie, tell me that you

love me: that you love none but me, that you will marry none but me,"

pleaded Allan.