“When? Be merciful, dearie.”
“There are several things in the way o’ my marrying anyone just yet.”
“Ay, there’s that new bairn i’ the house. Whatna for is he here?”
“He is my brither Allan’s son. He is sick, we are going to mak’ him weel.”
“Ay, and you’ll wear a’ your love on the little brat, and send a man that lo’es you to death awa’ hungry.”
“Cluny, I love no man better than I love you. Will not that satisfy you?”
“Na. It’s a mouthfu’, that’s a’. And it leaves me hungrier than ever;” and he smiled and clasped her hands so fondly, that she sat down beside him, and let him draw her close to his heart.
“Dearest woman on earth,” he whispered, “when will you be my ain? My very ain! My wife!”
“When the right time comes, laddie. I love none better than you. I’m not likely to love anyone better. When the right time comes——”