In pure obedience he rose from the heather, and sat upon the stone. She went behind him, and clasped his head, round the temples, with her shapely, strong, faithful hands. ‘I ken ye noo for a man, Francis. Ye hae set yersel to du _his_ wull, and no yer ain: ye’re a king; and for want o’ a better croon, I croon ye wi my twa han’s.’ Little thought Kirsty how near she came, in word and deed, to the crowning of Dante by Virgil, as recorded toward the close of the ‘Purgatorio.’ Then she came round in front of him, he sitting bewildered and taking no part in the solemn ceremony save that of submission, and knelt slowly down before him, laying her head on his knees, and saying,-- ‘And here’s yer kingdom, Francis--my heid and my hert! Du wi’ me what ye wull.’ ‘Come hame wi’ me, and help save my mother,’ he answered, in a voice choked with emotion. ‘I wull,’ she said, and would have risen; but he laid his hands on her head, and thus they remained for a time in silence. Then they rose, and went. They had gone about half-way to the farm before either spoke. Then Kirsty said,-- ‘Francie, there’s ae thing I maun beg o’ ye, and but ane--’at ye winna desire me to tak the heid o’ yer table. I canna but think it an ungracious thing ’at a young wuman like me, the son’s wife, suld put the man’s ain mother, his father’s wife, oot o’ the place whaur his father set her. I’m layin doon no prenciple; I’m sayin only hoo it affecs me. I want to come hame as her dochter, no as mistress o’ the hoose in her stead. And ye see, Francie, that’ll gie ye anither haud o’ her, agen disgracin o’ hersel! Promise me, Francie, and I’ll sune tak the maist pairt o’ the trouble o’ her aff o’ yer han’s.’ ‘Ye’re aye richt, Kirsty!’ answered Francis. ‘As ye wull.’ CHAPTER XLIV KIRSTY’S TOCHER The next morning, Kirsty told her parents that she was going to marry Francie. ‘Ye du richt, my bairn,’ said her father. ‘He’s come in sicht o’ ’s high callin, and it’s no possible for ye langer to refuse him.’ ‘But, eh! what am I to du wantin ye, Kirsty?’ moaned her mother. ‘Ye min’, mother,’ answered Kirsty, ‘hoo I wad be oot the lang day wi’ Steenie, and ye never thoucht ye hadna me!’ ‘Na, never. I aye kenned I had the twa o’ ye.’ ‘Weel, it’s no a God’s-innocent but a deil’s-gowk I’ll hae to luik efter noo, and I maun come hame ilka possible chance to get hertenin frae you and my father, or I winna be able to bide it. Eh, mother, efter Steenie, it’ll be awfu’ to spen’ the day wi’ _her_! It’s no ’at ever she’ll be fou: I s’ see to that!--it’s ’at she’ll aye be toom!--aye ringin wi’ toomness!’ Here Kirsty turned to her father, and said,-- ‘Wull ye gie me a tocher, father?’ ‘Ay wull I, lassie,--what ye like, sae far as I hae ’t to gie.’