She lingered on these thoughts, fully conscious of their comforting sweetness and wholly unaware that they heralded the dawn of love.
She found Elspeth working at her baking board with a downcast face. The baby was asleep in the box-bed by the side of the fire-place, and the rest of the children were at school, even little Colin, aged three and a half, having been admitted to the infant room.
"There you are at last, Miss Isla--a sicht for sair een. I said to Donald this morning that if it should be that you didna come the day, then I must go and seek for ye either at Achree or at Creagh. Where should I have found you?"
"We are leaving Achree to-day, and it is at Creagh that you will find me, Elspeth," said Isla as she took the chair that Elspeth set for her by the well-scrubbed table.
"I've come for my tea, Elspeth, and these scones smell as they ought. If the butter is newly churned, too, then I am in luck, and I will forget all about the rich meats that the American cook has been setting before us at Achree."
"But it wass the right thing for you to be there, Miss Isla, and it was fery, fery good of the folk. From end to end of the Glen you'll hear nothing but praise of them for it."
"It was good," said Isla with quiet conviction.
"And they'll be stoppin' on, at least for a while, at Achree, I hope?"
"Yes, they will be stopping on indefinitely at Achree."
"The little one--her they call Miss Sadie--comes here a lot, Miss Isla, and she hass the pairns quite crazy about her. The other day--it wass the day before the Laird died--she wass here drilling them in the yard. It was the funniest thing you ever saw in your life--and her so sweet and winsome wi' them! There be some that are all for the other one, but she seems high and proud-like and hass little to say to the folk."