Clergy -- Fiction; Love stories; Scotland -- Fiction
"I am nearly six. Did you love grandmother? Then why did you never
come to see her? Did grandmother know you was here? Why not? Why
didn't I not know about you till after grandmother died?"
"I'll tell you when you are big."
"Shall I be big enough when I am six?"
"No, not till your eighteenth birthday."
"But birthdays comes so slow. Will they come quicker when I am big?"
"Much quicker."
On her sixth birthday Micah Dow drove my little maid to the
school-house in the doctor's gig, and she crept beneath the table and
whispered--
"Grandfather!"
"Father told me to call you that if I liked, and I like," she said
when I had taken her upon my knee. "I know why you kissed me just now.
It was because I looked like grandmother. Why do you kiss me when I
look like her?"
"Who told you I did that?"
"Nobody didn't tell me. I just found out. I loved grandmother too. She
told me all the stories she knew."
"Did she ever tell you a story about a black dog?"
"No. Did she know one?"
"Yes, she knew it."
"Perhaps she had forgotten it?"
"No, she remembered it."
"Tell it to me."
"Not till you are eighteen."
"But will you not be dead when I am eighteen? When you go to Heaven,
will you see grandmother?"
"Yes."
"Will she be glad to see you?"
My little maid's eighteenth birthday has come, and I am still in
Thrums, which I love, though it is beautiful to none, perhaps, save to
the very done, who lean on their staves and look long at it, having
nothing else to do till they die. I have lived to rejoice in the
happiness of Gavin and Babbie; and if at times I have suddenly had to
turn away my head after looking upon them in their home surrounded by
their children, it was but a moment's envy that I could not help.
Margaret never knew of the dominie in the glen. They wanted to tell
her of me, but I would not have it. She has been long gone from this
world; but sweet memories of her still grow, like honeysuckle, up the
white walls of the manse, smiling in at the parlor window and
beckoning from the door, and for some filling all the air with
fragrance. It was not she who raised the barrier between her and me,
but God Himself; and to those who maintain otherwise, I say they do
not understand the purity of a woman's soul. During the years she was
lost to me her face ever came between me and ungenerous thoughts; and
now I can say, all that is carnal in me is my own, and all that is
good I got from her. Only one bitterness remains. When I found Gavin
in the rain, when I was fighting my way through the flood, when I saw
how the hearts of the people were turned against him--above all, when
I found Whamond in the manse--I cried to God, making promises to Him,
if He would spare the lad for Margaret's sake, and he spared him; but
these promises I have not kept.
_The End._
* * * * *
Transcriber Note
Table of Contents added.
Passages in italics indicated by _underscores_.
Greek transliterations are surrounded by ~tildes~.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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