He rose and went to his niece. "Come here, Mary, and sit down beside me.
Allan tells me you will not have him for your husband. Your decision is a
sore trouble to me; almost the worst trouble that could come to me. Oh,
Mary, what is the matter? Is not Allan handsome, and kind, and good, and
rich enough to mate you? And he loves you, too; I am sure he loves you; he
could not help it."
"But, uncle, what if he loves some other girl better than me?"
"That isn't possible. Did he tell you such a thing as that?"
"No; but I am sure it is so. However, Allan is the second thought, uncle;
Drumloch is the first. We must save Drumloch for the Campbells, uncle."
"You dear lassie! But how can that be done if Allan is not in the same
mind?"
"Three things may happen, uncle. I may remain unmarried, I may marry, I
may die. If I remain unmarried, I am only the steward of Drumloch; I shall
save it for Allan or Allan's children. If I die, its disposition will be
the same. If I marry into a strange name or family, I will sell Drumloch
to you before I change my name."
"You are a wise, kindly little woman; and you have found a drop of comfort
for me. I will buy Drumloch any day you wish to sell it. May be then I'll
be Campbell of Drumloch myself."
"Drumloch will be well off with such a laird. I would not fret yourself
one moment, uncle. There is more good in a disappointment than can be
seen."
"God bless you, my dearie! Allan is blind, and deaf, and foolish, or he
would never have taken 'no' from you."
"He is in love, uncle. That accounts for everything. Do you know where he
was during his last absence?"
"On the east coast, making pictures. The two he gave me are wonderful. He
has genius certainly; the Campbells mostly have genius. I had siller to
make, or I could have painted pictures myself. I have a remarkable
perception anent color."
"He was in the Fife fishing villages."
"And a very good place for subjects. The Fife fishers are a fine race
--faithful, religious, handsome."
"Very handsome, I should think. Did you notice the woman in the pictures
Allan gave you?"
"Yes, I did; a splendid study in both cases."
"Have you been in Allan's room lately?"
"Not since he returned home."
"Go to it to-night. You will find the walls covered with studies from
Fife. In nearly every study the same figure reappears. That is the woman
Allan loves. I am right, uncle; I feel I am."
"A fisher-girl!"
"Perhaps; but what a fisher-girl! The mother of men must have been like
her. There is one picture in which she leans against a jagged mass of
rocks, gazing over the sea. The face is so splendid, the figure so fine,
the sense of life so ample, that it haunts you. And every likeness of her
has just that tinge of melancholy which lies at the bottom of all things
that are truly happy, or truly beautiful. How could Allan care for any
other woman, having seen her?"