“I am, I am, Peter!” cried Marion, breaking down at once, and utterly. “Dee what ye wull, and I’ll dee the same—only lat it be dene quaietly, ’ithoot din or proclamation! What for sud a’body ken a’thing! Wha has the richt to see intil ither fowk’s herts and lives? The warl’ could ill gang on gien that war the gait o’ ’t!”
“Father,” said James, “I thank God that noo ye ken a’! Eh, sic a weicht as it taks aff o’ me! I’ll be hale and weel noo in ae day!—I think I’ll gang wi’ ye to Isy, mysel!—But I’m a wee bit sorry ye cam in jist that minute! I wuss ye had harkit a wee langer! For I wasna giein-in to my mother; I was but thinkin hoo to say oot what was in me, ohn vext her waur nor couldna be helpit. Believe me, father, gien ye can; though I doobt sair ye winna be able!”
“I believe ye, my bairn; and I thank God I hae that muckle pooer o’ belief left in me! I confess I was in ower great a hurry, and I’m sure ye war takin the richt gait wi’ yer puir mither.—Ye see she loed ye sae weel that she could think o’ nae thing or body but yersel! That’s the w’y o’ mithers, Jamie, gien ye only kenned it! She was nigh sinnin an awfu sin for your sake, man!”
Here he turned again to his wife. “That’s what comes o’ lovin the praise o’ men, Mirran! Easy it passes intil the fear o’ men, and disregaird o’ the Holy!—I s’ awa doon to the soutar, and tell him the cheenge that’s come ower us a’: he’ll no be a hair surprised!”
“I’m ready, father—or will be in ae minute!” said James, making as if to spring out of bed.
“Na, na; ye’re no fit!” interposed his father. “I would hae to be takin ye upo my back afore we wis at the fut o’ the brae!—Bide ye at hame, and keep yer mither company.”
“Ay, bide, Jamie; and I winna come near ye,” sobbed his mother.
“Onything to please ye, mother!—but I’m fitter nor my father thinks,” said James as he settled down again in bed.
So Peter went, leaving mother and son silent together.
At last the mother spoke.