Salted With Fire | Page 7

at your
ease?"
He shoved aside his work, and looking up with some concentration in
his regard, pushed his chair back a little from the table, and rejoined--
"What's the matter with you this last day or two, Isy? You're not
altogether like yourself!"
She hesitated a moment, then answered--
"It can be naething, I suppose, sir, but just that I'm growin older and
beginnin to think aboot things."
She stood near him. He put his arm round her little waist, and would
have drawn her down upon his knees, but she resisted.
"I don't see what difference that can make in you all at once, Isy! We've
known each other so long that there can be no misunderstanding of any
sort between us. You have always behaved like the good and modest
girl you are; and I'm sure you have been most attentive to me all the
time I have been in your aunt's house."
He spoke in a tone of superior approval.
"It was my bare duty, and ye hae aye been kinder to me than I could
hae had ony richt to expec'. But it's nearhan' ower noo!" she concluded
with a sigh that indicated approaching tears, as she yielded a little to the
increased pressure of his arm.
"What makes you say that?" he returned, giving her a warm kiss,
plainly neither unwelcome nor the first.
"Dinna ye think it would be better to drop that kin' o' thing the noo,
sir?" she said, and would have stood erect, but he held her fast.
"Why now, more than any time--I don't know for how long? Where
does a difference come in? What puts the notion in your pretty little
head?"

"It maun come some day, and the langer the harder it'll be!"
"But tell me what has set you thinking about it all at once?"
She burst into tears. He tried to soothe and comfort her, but in
struggling not to cry she only sobbed the worse. At last, however, she
succeeded in faltering out an explanation.
"Auntie's been tellin me that I maun luik to my hert, so as no to tyne't to
ye a'thegither! But it's awa a'ready," she went on, with a fresh outburst,
"and it's no manner o' use cryin til't to come back to me. I micht as weel
cry upo' the win' as it blaws by me! I canna understan' 't! I ken weel
ye'll soon be a great man, and a' the toon crushin to hear ye; and I ken
jist as weel that I'll hae to sit still in my seat and luik up to ye whaur ye
stan', no daurin to say a word--no daurin even to think a thoucht lest
somebody sittin aside me should hear't ohn me spoken. For what would
it be but clean impidence o' me to think 'at there was a time when I was
sittin whaur I'm sittin the noo--and thinkin 't i' the vera kirk! I would be
nearhan' deein for shame!"
"Didn't you ever think, Isy, that maybe I might marry you some day?"
said James jokingly, confident in the gulf between them.
"Na, no ance. I kenned better nor that! I never even wusst it, for that
would be nae freen's wuss: ye would never get ony farther gien ye did!
I'm nane fit for a minister's wife--nor worthy o' bein ane! I micht do no
that ill, and pass middlin weel, in a sma' clachan wi' a wee bit
kirkie--but amang gran' fowk, in a muckle toon--for that's whaur ye're
sure to be! Eh me, me! A' the last week or twa I hae seen ye driftin awa
frae me, oot and oot to the great sea, whaur never a thoucht o' Isy
would come nigh ye again;--and what for should there? Ye camna into
the warl' to think aboot me or the likes o' me, but to be a great preacher,
and lea' me ahin ye, like a sheaf o' corn ye had jist cuttit and left
unbun'!"
Here came another burst of bitter weeping, followed by words whose
very articulation was a succession of sobs.

"Eh, me, me! I doobt I hae clean disgraced mysel!" she cried at last,
and ended, wiping her eyes--in vain, for the tears would keep flowing.
As to young Blatherwick, I venture to assert that nothing vulgar or low,
still less of evil intent, was passing through his mind during this
confession; and yet what but evil was his unpitying, selfish exultation
in the fact that this simple-hearted and very pretty girl should love him
unsought, and had told him so unasked? A true-hearted man would at
once have perceived and shrunk from what he was bringing upon her:
James's vanity only made him think it very natural, and more than
excusable