Donal Grant | Page 5

gien ever was ony."

As he spoke he rose, and stood up refreshed for his journey.
"I hae a sodger laddie awa' i' the het pairts ye spak o'," said the woman:
"gien ye hadna ta'en the milk, ye wad hae gi'en me a sair hert."
"Eh, gudewife, it wad hae gi'en me ane to think I had!" returned Donal.
"The Lord gie ye back yer sodger laddie safe an' soon'! Maybe I'll hae
to gang efter 'im, sodger mysel'."
"Na, na, that wadna do. Ye're a scholar--that's easy to see, for a' ye're
sae plain spoken. It dis a body's hert guid to hear a man 'at un'erstan's
things say them plain oot i' the tongue his mither taucht him. Sic a ane
'ill gang straucht till's makker, an' fin' a'thing there hame-like. Lord, I
wuss minnisters wad speyk like ither fowk!"
"Ye wad sair please my mither sayin' that," remarked Donal. "Ye maun
be jist sic anither as her!"
"Weel, come in, an' sit ye doon oot o' the sin, an' hae something to ait."
"Na, I'll tak nae mair frae ye the day, an' I thank ye," replied Donal; "I
canna weel bide."
"What for no?"
"It's no sae muckle 'at I'm in a hurry as 'at I maun be duin'."
"Whaur are ye b'un' for, gien a body may speir?"
"I'm gaein' to seek--no my fortin, but my daily breid. Gien I spak as a
richt man, I wad say I was gaein' to luik for the wark set me. I'm feart
to say that straucht oot; I haena won sae far as that yet. I winna du
naething though 'at he wadna hae me du. I daur to say that--sae be I
un'erstan'. My mither says the day 'ill come whan I'll care for naething
but his wull."
"Yer mither 'ill be Janet Grant, I'm thinkin'! There canna be twa sic in
ae country-side!"

"Ye're i' the richt," answered Donal. "Ken ye my mither?"
"I hae seen her; an' to see her 's to ken her."
"Ay, gien wha sees her be sic like 's hersel'."
"I canna preten' to that; but she's weel kent throu' a' the country for a
God-fearin' wuman.--An' whaur 'll ye be for the noo?"
"I'm jist upo' the tramp, luikin' for wark."
"An' what may ye be pleast to ca' wark?"
"Ow, jist the communication o' what I hae the un'erstan'in' o'."
"Aweel, gien ye'll condescen' to advice frae an auld wife, I'll gie ye a
bit wi' ye: tak na ilka lass ye see for a born angel. Misdoobt her a wee
to begin wi'. Hing up yer jeedgment o' her a wee. Luik to the moo' an'
the e'en o' her."
"I thank ye," said Donal, with a smile, in which the woman spied the
sadness; "I'm no like to need the advice."
She looked at him pitifully, and paused.
"Gien ye come this gait again," she said, "ye'll no gang by my door?"
"I wull no," replied Donal, and wishing her good-bye with a grateful
heart, betook himself to his journey.
He had not gone far when he found himself on a wide moor. He sat
down on a big stone, and began to turn things over in his mind. This is
how his thoughts went:
"I can never be the man I was! The thoucht o' my heart 's ta'en frae me!
I canna think aboot things as I used. There's naething sae bonny as
afore. Whan the life slips frae him, hoo can a man gang on livin'! Yet
I'm no deid--that's what maks the diffeeclety o' the situation! Gien I war
deid--weel, I kenna what than! I doobt there wad be trible still, though

some things micht be lichter. But that's neither here nor there; I maun
live; I hae nae ch'ice; I didna mak mysel', an' I'm no gaein' to meddle
wi' mysel'! I think mair o' mysel' nor daur that!
"But there's ae question I maun sattle afore I gang farther--an' that's this:
am I to be less or mair nor I was afore? It's agreed I canna be the same:
if I canna be the same, I maun aither be less or greater than I was afore:
whilk o' them is't to be? I winna hae that queston to speir mair nor ance!
I'll be mair nor I was. To sink to less wad be to lowse grip o' my past as
weel's o' my futur! An' hoo wad I ever luik her i' the face gien I grew
less because o' her! A chiel' like me lat a bonny lassie think hersel' to
blame for what I grew til! An' there's a greater nor the lass to be
considert! 'Cause he seesna fit to gie me her I wad hae, is he