The day was growing late and the sunbeams long and level, when she sat suddenly up, and wrapped in its handkerchief and put by that psalm-book which had already played a part so decisive in the first chapter of her love-story.In the absence of the mesmerist's eye, we are told nowadays that the head of a bright nail may fill his place, if it be steadfastly regarded.So that torn page had riveted her attention on what might else have been but little, and perhaps soon forgotten; while the ominous words of Dandie - heard, not heeded, and still remembered - had lent to her thoughts, or rather to her mood, a cast of solemnity, and that idea of Fate - a pagan Fate, uncontrolled by any Christian deity, obscure, lawless, and august - moving indissuadably in the affairs of Christian men.Thus even that phenomenon of love at first sight, which is so rare and seems so ****** and violent, like a disruption of life's tissue, may be decomposed into a sequence of accidents happily concurring.
She put on a grey frock and a pink kerchief, looked at herself a moment with approval in the small square of glass that served her for a toilet mirror, and went softly downstairs through the sleeping house that resounded with the sound of afternoon snoring.Just outside the door, Dandie was sitting with a book in his hand, not reading, only honouring the Sabbath by a sacred vacancy of mind.She came near him and stood still.
"I'm for off up the muirs, Dandie," she said.
There was something unusually soft in her tones that made him look up.
She was pale, her eyes dark and bright; no trace remained of the levity of the morning.
"Ay, lass? Ye'll have yer ups and downs like me, I'm thinkin'," he observed.
"What for do ye say that?" she asked.
"O, for naething," says Dand."Only I think ye're mair like me than the lave of them.Ye've mair of the poetic temper, tho' Guid kens little enough of the poetic taalent.It's an ill gift at the best.Look at yoursel'.At denner you were all sunshine and flowers and laughter, and now you're like the star of evening on a lake."She drank in this hackneyed compliment like wine, and it glowed in her veins.
"But I'm saying, Dand" - she came nearer him - "I'm for the muirs.Imust have a braith of air.If Clem was to be speiring for me, try and quaiet him, will ye no?""What way?" said Dandie."I ken but the ae way, and that's leein'."I'll say ye had a sair heid, if ye like.""But I havena," she objected.
"I daursay no," he returned."I said I would say ye had; and if ye like to nay-say me when ye come back, it'll no mateerially maitter, for my chara'ter's clean gane a'ready past reca'.""O, Dand, are ye a lecar?" she asked, lingering.
"Folks say sae," replied the bard.
"Wha says sae?" she pursued.
"Them that should ken the best," he responded."The lassies, for ane.""But, Dand, you would never lee to me?" she asked.
"I'll leave that for your pairt of it, ye girzie," said he."Ye'll lee to me fast eneuch, when ye hae gotten a jo.I'm tellin' ye and it's true; when you have a jo, Miss Kirstie, it'll be for guid and ill.Iken: I was made that way mysel', but the deil was in my luck! Here, gang awa wi' ye to your muirs, and let me be; I'm in an hour of inspiraution, ye upsetting tawpie!"But she clung to her brother's neighbourhood, she knew not why.
"Will ye no gie's a kiss, Dand?" she said."I aye likit ye fine."He kissed her and considered her a moment; he found something strange in her.But he was a libertine through and through, nourished equal contempt and suspicion of all womankind, and paid his way among them habitually with idle compliments.
"Gae wa' wi' ye!" said he."Ye're a dentie baby, and be content wi'
that!"
That was Dandie's way; a kiss and a comfit to Jenny - a bawbee and my blessing to Jill - and goodnight to the whole clan of ye, my dears!
When anything approached the serious, it became a matter for men, he both thought and said.Women, when they did not absorb, were only children to be shoo'd away.Merely in his character of connoisseur, however, Dandie glanced carelessly after his sister as she crossed the meadow."The brat's no that bad!" he thought with surprise, for though he had just been paying her compliments, he had not really looked at her."Hey! what's yon?" For the grey dress was cut with short sleeves and skirts, and displayed her trim strong legs clad in pink stockings of the same shade as the kerchief she wore round her shoulders, and that shimmered as she went.This was not her way in undress; he knew her ways and the ways of the whole *** in the country-side, no one better;when they did not go barefoot, they wore stout "rig and furrow" woollen hose of an invisible blue mostly, when they were not black outright; and Dandie, at sight of this daintiness, put two and two together.It was a silk handkerchief, then they would be silken hose; they matched - then the whole outfit was a present of Clem's, a costly present, and not something to be worn through bog and briar, or on a late afternoon of Sunday.He whistled."My denty May, either your heid's fair turned, or there's some ongoings!" he observed, and dismissed the subject.
She went slowly at first, but ever straighter and faster for the Cauldstaneslap, a pass among the hills to which the farm owed its name.