If the hale hypothec were
to fa', I think, laddie, I would dee! Excuse a daft wife that loves ye,
and that kenned your mither. And for His name's sake keep yersel' frae
inordinate desires; haud your heart in baith your hands, carry it canny
and laigh; dinna send it up like a hairn's kite into the collieshangic
o' the wunds! Mind, Maister Erchie dear, that this life's a'
disappointment, and a mouthfu' o' mools is the appointed end."
"Ay, but Kirstie, my woman, you're asking me ower much at last," said
Archie, profoundly moved, and lapsing into the broad Scots. "Ye're
asking what nae man can grant ye, what only the Lord of heaven can grant
ye if He see fit. Ay! And can even He! I can promise ye what I shall
do, and you can depend on that. But how I shall feel - my woman, that
is long past thinking of!"
They were both standing by now opposite each other. The face of Archie
wore the wretched semblance of a smile; hers was convulsed for a moment.
"Promise me ae thing," she cried in a sharp voice.
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