“I’m right glad to see baith you and the lassie, and now light ye down and the gude wife’ll gie ye some supper in the turning of a glass, and ye’ll spend the Sabbath wi’ us, and Monday morning ye can gang on rejoicing,”
“You are very kind, Mr. Cameron, but it is early and we can get to Pittsburg before it is very late.”
“I’ll niver consent to it. The horses are weary, so is the lassie; I ken it by the glance of her een. Ye’ll surely not travel on the Lord’s day, bating necessity, and the tavern at Pittsburg is no place for Christian people on the Sabbath, for there will be brawling and fighting and mayhap bloodshed between the flat-boat men.”
“Take the beasts by the bridles, Donald,” said his wife, “while I put on the kettle. What ails ye that ye dinna do it? We hae room eneuch for ten people, let alone twa, and what’s mair a hearty welcome.”
The Scotch Settlers’ Welcome. Page [284].
James could not have arranged matters so well for himself. Inwardly rejoicing, he assisted Miss Conly to alight, and they were ushered into the best room of the hospitable abode. While the travellers washed and rested a little from the fatigue of a long ride, Mrs. Cameron had prepared a backwoods supper.
“We have had worship,” said Mr. Cameron, “before ye came, but an ye are not too weary I wad like to sing a psalm or two; it’s seldom we hae any one wi’ us can sing.”
After spending an hour so pleasantly as to make James and Emily forget the fatigue of their journey, they retired for the night.
The evening had thus been fully occupied, and James, his courage screwed by despair to the sticking point, had as yet found no opportunity for a private interview.