“Ah, Katie, that is the way you always silence me about Ronald,” said Ella, smiling.
“Well, then, tell me about Fergus: he is your work too.”
“You know all I can say about him,” said Ella, sighing. “You know my pride in him, and that this very pride makes me the more grieved when I see his temper harassed and soured by care, as I feel it must go on to be, more and more. I am always in dread of a quarrel with one neighbour or another; and more than ever now, in the high fishing season.”
“Surely he has less care now than at other times,” observed the widow. “There is just now abundance for every body.”
“True; but this is the time for revenge. If Fergus has carried himself high towards any neighbour, or given the sharp words that are never forgotten, now is the time for his nets to be cut, or his boat set adrift, or what he has fished in the day carried off in the night.”
“There are those in Garveloch, I know,” said Katie, “who can bring themselves to do such things.”
“Let us mention no names, Katie; but thus it is that men shame their race, and spurn the gifts they little deserve. To think that we cannot enjoy a plentiful season in peace and thankfulness, but that some must injure, and others complain! These are times when we should leave it to the osprey to follow a prey, and to the summer storms to murmur. Hark! there is Angus’s step outside; and time it is, for it cannot be far from midnight.”
The widow invited Angus in to warm himself by her now bright fire; but it was time for rest. Kenneth had gone home an hour before.
“He would find supper on the board,” said Ella; “and now, Angus, you will be glad to do the same.”
Katie promised the nets within three days; and as soon as she had closed the door behind her guests, sat down again for one other hour to help the fulfilment of her promise, and then slept all the better for having watched till the wind went down.