“Thora’s marriage is all right. They fell in love with each other the moment they met. No other marriage is possible for either. It is this, or none at all,” answered Sunna.
“I heard the man was the son of a great Edinburgh preacher.”
“Yes, the Rev. Dr. Macrae, of St. Mark’s.”
“That is what I heard. He is a good man, but a very hard one.”
“If he is hard, he is not good.”
“Thou must not say that, little Miss; it may be the Episcopalian belief, but we Calvinists have a stronger faith––a faith fit for men and soldiers of the Lord.”
“There! Mrs. Beaton, you are naming soldiers. That is against our agreement to drop war talk. About Macrae I know nothing. He is not aware that anyone but Thora Ragnor lives; and I was not in the least attracted by him––his black hair and black eyes repelled me––I dislike such men.”
“Will they live in Edinburgh?”
“I believe they will live in Kirkwall. Mrs. Ragnor owns a pretty house, which she will give them. She is going to put it in order and furnish it from the roof to the foundation. Thora is busy about her napery––the finest of Irish linen and damask. Now then, I must hurry home. My grandfather will be waiting his tea.”