“They a’ think that, I’m thinkin’!” returned Cosmo with a sad bitterness. “An’ sae they wull, to the warl’s en’.—But, Aggie,” he added, after a pause, “ye ken ye’re no to be oonaiqually yokit.”
“That’s what I hae to heed, I ken,” murmured Aggie. “But what do ye un’erstan’ by ’t, Cosmo? There’s nae worshippers o’ idols the noo, as i’ the days whan the apostle said that.”
“There’s idols visible, an’ idols invisible,” answered Cosmo. “There’s heaps o’ idols amo’ them ’at ca’s themsel’s an’ ’s coontit christians. Gien a man set himsel’ to lay by siller, he’s the worshipper o’ as oogly an idol as gien he said his prayers to the fish-tailt god o’ the Philistines.”
“Weel I wat that!” returned Agnes, and a silence followed.
“You an’ me’s aye been true til ane anither, Aggie,” resumed Cosmo at length, “an’ I wad fain hae a promise frae ye—jist to content me.”
“What aboot, Cosmo?”
“Promise, an’ I’ll tell ye, as the bairnies say.”
“But we’re no bairnies, Cosmo, an’ I daurna—even to you ’at I wad trust like the Bible. Tell me what it is, an’ gien I may, I wull.”
“It’s no muckle atween you an’ me, Aggie. It’s only this—’at gien ever ye fa’ in love wi’ onybody, ye’ll lat me ken.”
Agnes was silent for a moment; then, with a tremble in her voice, which in vain she sought to smooth out, and again turning her head away, answered: