“My ain tongue is mair homelike and kindly. But I’ll try yours, an’ you want me to.”
After Mary had listened an hour, she suddenly interrupted Maggie. “You read that love scene with wonderful feeling. Had you ever a lover, Maggie?”
“Maist girls have lovers. I couldna expect to escape. You will dootless hae lovers yoursel’, ma’am?”
“I had one lover, Maggie, not much of a lover, he wanted to marry Drumloch, not me.”
“That was a’ wrang. Folks shouldna marry for gold. Sorrow comes that way.”
“You would not, I am sure’”
“No, not for a’ the gold in Scotland.”
“Is your lover poor then, Maggie?”
“I ne’er asked him if he had this or that. He is a gude kind lad.”
“Did he ever give you any beautiful things—precious rings or lockets—as the lovers in books do? The Sir Everard of whom you have just been reading gave Lady Hilda a ring of diamonds and opals, you remember?”