And here I'm still - like an
auld droopit craw - lookin' on and craikin'! But, Mr. Erchie, do ye no
think that I have mind o' it a' still? I was dwalling then in my
faither's house; and it's a curious thing that we were whiles trysted in
the Deil's Hags. And do ye no think that I have mind of the bonny
simmer days, the lang miles o' the bluid-red heather, the cryin' of the
whaups, and the lad and the lassie that was trysted? Do ye no think
that I mind how the hilly sweetness ran about my hairt? Ay, Mr. Erchie,
I ken the way o' it - fine do I ken the way - how the grace o' God takes
them, like Paul of Tarsus, when they think it least, and drives the pair
o' them into a land which is like a dream, and the world and the folks
in't' are nae mair than clouds to the puir lassie, and heeven nae mair
than windle-straes, if she can but pleesure him! Until Tam dee'd - that
was my story," she broke off to say, "he dee'd, and I wasna at the
buryin'. But while he was here, I could take care o' mysel'.
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