"Maggie!"
The cry was one of utter wonder and delight. "Oh, my love! My love!
My love!" He held her in his arms. She was his forever now. "Not death
itself shall part us again," he whispered, with that extravagance of
attachment which is permissible to lovers. For what lover ever spoke
reasonably? The lover that can do so is not a lover; he is fathoms below
that diviner atmosphere whose language is, of necessity, as well as
choice, foolishness to the uninitiated.
Allan had been sent by Mary for some book she affected to particularly
want. He forgot the book, as Maggie forgot the flowers, and in
half-an-hour, John Campbell was sent after his dilatory son. Old men do
not like surprises as well as lovers, and Mary had thought it best to
prepare him for the meeting that was close at hand. He had felt a little
fear of the shock he was sure he would have to bear as graciously as
possible. But pleasant shocks do not hurt, and John Campbell's spirits
rose as soon as his eyes fell upon the beautiful woman standing by his
son's side. He came forward with smiles, he welcomed Maggie, and called
her "daughter" with a genuine pride and tenderness.
Very soon he reminded the lovers that he was an old man who thought highly
of his dinner; he gave Maggie his arm and led her into the dining-room.
There were no flowers on the table, and the meats were a little out of
time and past savor, but Allan and Maggie were oblivious of such trifles,
and John Campbell was too polite, and perhaps also too sympathetic to
remind them that they were still in Ayrshire, and that Ayrshire was not
Eden. And though Mary had not been able to witness the happiness she had
planned, she felt it. It seemed to pervade the house like some quicker
atmosphere. She had even a better appetite, and the servants also seemed
conscious of a new joy, and indefinable promise of festivity--something
far more subtle than a bird in the air had carried the matter to every
heart.
After dinner, while John Campbell was talking to Maggie, Allan went to see
Mary. She was still on her sofa, a little tired, but very happy and very
pretty. He knelt down by her side, and kissed her, as he whispered, "Oh
Mary! My sister Mary! How good you have been to me! It is wonderful! I
cannot thank you, dear, as I want to. I am so happy, so happy, Mary; and
it is your doing."
"I know how glad and grateful you are, Allan. The work was its own reward.
I love Maggie. She has far more than repaid me. My dear Allan, you are
going to be a very happy man. Now you may go to Maggie, and tell Uncle
John that I expect him to sit with me to-night."