Lover and Father.
“Noo, leuke here, young man, I wadna speake to ye at all but for your cloth, for my ain brither wore the true-blue, and was lost at sea in a Kirkcaldy herring-boat, and so I always feel disposed to foregather with ane who sails the ocean. Noo, ye’ve stoppit me oot here in the lane, speerin’ aboot the auld times. I was Sir Mooray’s gairdener then, fresh up frae the North Kintree—frae Galashiels, and spak the Scottish dialec then, only lang-dwelling in furren pairts has made quite a furrener o’ me. But I was gaun to say, Sir Mooray wud be sair angered wi’ me if he knew I so much as spak to ye, and I must do my duty by him.”
“But just answer me a few questions!” cried Brace, eagerly.
“Na, na!” said McCray, as he leaned against a gate and took snuff. “I’m sorry for ye—I am indeed, for I ken a’ aboot it. I had it frae the gudewife, who nursed the bairn oop yinder, ever sin’ she was a babe—at a time, too, when my ain hairt was sair. Ye lo’e the sweet flower weel, I’ve nae doot; but it canna be, young man—ye must goo awa’ and try and forget her. There’s a sair black pit atween ye twain, and I canna see that it will ever be filled up or bridged ower. Ye must try and bear it all as weel’s ye can.”
“But do you believe the story, McCray?” exclaimed Brace.
“I dinna ken—I winna say. All I can say is, I wush ye micht put a’ reet and win the sweet lassie; for yon loon wi’ the title—There, dinna say anither wurd to me, Meester Norton, for I’m forgetting whose sairvant I am. Tak’ my advice: join your ship, and go try and forget it a’; for it’s an awfu’ black affair a’thegither, and I’m sair afraid that the mair ye try to put it reet the waur ye’ll mak’ it.
“He’d ha’e made her a bonnie jo,” muttered McCray, as he went off, shaking his grey head. “And he’s a fine, fair-spoken young fellow; but Sir Mooray hates him like poison, and it can never be.”
He turned once, to see Brace Norton standing against the gate; and his heart swelled, as he thought of the days of old and his own misery.
“Puir lad—puir lad!” said McCray, as he strode on. “There was a wee bit of hope for me, but it’s a sair case for him, and for her too—bless her bright e’en! for I fear she lo’es him weel!”