“And Maggie? Is she near by? At home? Where is she?”
“There is nane ken that, sir.”
“What do you mean, Mysie?”
“Maggie’s gane awa’, sir.”
“Maggie gone away! Where to?”
“‘Deed, sir, I’d be fain to ken where to—but I hae the house for the care o’ things; and David Promoter left word that if I took up Maggie’s name in my lips, I wad be to leave instanter; sae I’ll say naething at a’. Elder Mackelvine kens a’ that anybody kens, and when you hae had a drap o’ tea, you can ask him a’ the questions you like to.”
“Never mind tea, I am going at once to Mackelvine’s.”
“I’ll be to get your room ready, sir; and put a bit o’ fire in it, and the like o’ that?”
“Yes, I shall come back here.” He felt stunned, and glad to get into the fresh air. Maggie gone! He could hardly believe the words he had heard. Sorrow, anxiety, keen disappointment, amazement, possessed him; but even in those moments of miserable uncertainty he had not one hard or wrong thought of Maggie. Elder Mackelvine’s cottage was quite at the other end of the village, and he was walking rapidly down the shingle toward it, when he met Willie Johnson.
“I heard tell you were here, Maister Campbell, and I cam’ instanter to meet you, sir. You’ll hae to bide wi’ us to-night, for a’ is changed at the Promoters.”