Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing TimesMacKenna, Robert William
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Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times
MacKenna, Robert William
Adventure stories; Covenanters -- Scotland -- Fiction; Love stories; Scotland -- History -- 17th century -- Fiction
"Mary!" I exclaimed, "how can you?" And as there was no one to see but
a following gull which hung above us, I kissed her. "But tell me," I
continued, "what happened to you after we parted on the moors--and how
came I to find this among the ashes of Daldowie," and I drew out the
fragment of her ring and showed it to her.
"My ring!" she cried. "The ring you gave me! Did you fin’ it there?
Oh, laddie!" and she nestled against me so tenderly that, in that happy
moment, the weary months of pain through which I had lived seemed as
nothing.
Then she told me what had befallen her. She had gone to the
hiding-place, but found no trace of her father; and after seeking for
him far and wide, but without avail, she had decided to return home. On
her way back she discovered troopers out upon the moor between herself
and home, and she had been compelled to hide for the night among the
heather. It was not until late on the following afternoon that she had
ventured to steal back to Daldowie, only to find her home in ashes. As
I had done, when I returned upon the day following, she had found three
skeletons among the ruins, and, with horror of heart, she had counted
that one of them was mine.
"I leaped," she said, "among the ashes, and though they burned me
cruelly, I brushed them aside frae the face that I thought was yours to
see your smile again. But a’ I saw was red embers and fleshless bones.
Oh, sweetheart--how I cried!" And she buried her head upon my shoulder
and sobbed for a moment. Then she raised her face and smiled.
"You maun think me silly. I’m greetin’ noo for joy, I cried then for
sorrow. As mither used to say--’Women are kittle cattle’--aren’t we?"
and she smiled, until the light in her sweet eyes dried the tears as the
sun dries the dew from the heather bells. "And I suppose," she added,
"that’s when I lost my ring--though I didna miss it till I had left
Daldowie far behin’ me."
"And where have you been," I asked, "since then? Both Hector and I
searched the length and breadth of Galloway for you, but without avail."
"Oh, fie," she said. "Ha’e you no’ been tellin’ me that you thocht I
was in the Kingdom of Heaven--and you looked for me in the Kingdom o’
Galloway," and in the playful notes of her voice I heard the echo of her
mother’s.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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