'Some day there will be, then!' said Mrs. Maclehose, cheerfully, 'and you, be faithful to him, child!'
'Faithful?' cried Alison, wide-eyed. 'But I've never seen him, ma'am; he doesn't exist.'
'Ah! he does exist, somewhere—a kindred soul,' said the romantic visitor, nodding sagely. 'He is only waiting for the chance—the divine chance....'
'I doubt he will never get it at The Mains,' said the prosaic Alison.
'Faint heart!' cried Mrs. Maclehose. 'Believe in Love, the greatest of all the gods!'
Alison, never thus adjured before, looked doubtful.
'My mother and father tell me not to think about love,' she said, hesitatingly; 'they say 'tis a delusion.'
'They blaspheme, child!' cried the visitor, with energy. ''Tis love that has wrought me all the woe in my own span of life, God wot, yet I believe in him—believe in him still, with all my heart and soul.... But tell me, love,' she went on, breaking off in her rhapsody, 'who is it they would tie you to?'
''Tis a Mr. Cheape of Kincarley, in Fife,' said Alison, hanging her head. Mrs. Maclehose uttered a little trill of laughter.
'Oh, never, never, Mr. Cheape!' she tittered. 'Don't tell me 'tis the inevitable, the invincible, the inveterate Jimmy Cheape! ...'