Clergy -- Fiction; Country life -- Scotland -- Fiction; Deception -- Fiction; Romanies -- Fiction; Scotland -- Fiction
"And that is why he must be told of me," Gavin replied. "You are
no longer the woman you were, Babbie, and you know it, and I know
it, but he does not know it. He shall know it before he decides
whether he is to marry you."
Babbie looked at Gavin, and wondered he did not see that this
decision lay with him.
"Nevertheless," she said, "the wedding will take place to-morrow:
if it did not, Lord Rintoul would be the scorn of his friends."
"If it does," the minister answered, "he will be the scorn of
himself. Babbie, there is a chance."
"There is no chance," she told him. "I shall be back at the
Spittal without any one's knowing of my absence, and when I begin
to tell him of you, he will tremble, lest it means my refusal to
marry him; when he knows it does not, he will wonder only why I
told him anything."
"He will ask you to take time--"
"No, he will ask me to put on my wedding-dress. You must not think
anything else possible."
"So be it, then," Gavin said firmly.
"Yes, it will be better so," Babbie answered, and then, seeing him
misunderstand her meaning, exclaimed reproachfully, "I was not
thinking of myself. In the time to come, whatever be my lot, I
shall have the one consolation, that this is best for you. Think
of your mother."
"She will love you," Gavin said, "when I tell her of you."
"Yes," said Babbie, wringing her hands; "she will almost love me,
but for what? For not marrying you. That is the only reason any
one in Thrums will have for wishing me well."
"No others," Gavin answered, "will ever know why I remained
unmarried."
"Will you never marry?" Babbie asked, exultingly. "Ah!" she cried,
ashamed, "but you must."
"Never."
Well, many a man and many a woman has made that vow in similar
circumstances, and not all have kept it. But shall we who are old
smile cynically at the brief and burning passion of the young?
"The day," you say, "will come when--" Good sir, hold your peace.
Their agony was great and now is dead, and, maybe, they have
forgotten where it lies buried; but dare you answer lightly when I
ask you which of these things is saddest?
Babbie believed his "Never," and, doubtless, thought no worse of
him for it; but she saw no way of comforting him save by
disparagement of herself.
"You must think of your congregation," she said. "A minister with
a gypsy wife--"
"Would have knocked them about with a flail," Gavin interposed,
showing his teeth at the thought of the precentor, "until they did
her reverence."
She shook her head, and told him of her meeting with Micah Dow. It
silenced him; not, however, on account of its pathos, as she
thought, but because it interpreted the riddle of Rob's behavior.
"Nevertheless," he said ultimately, "my duty is not to do what is
right in my people's eyes, but what seems right in my own."
Babbie had not heard him.
"I saw a face at the window just now," she whispered, drawing
closer to him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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