DRUMSHEUGH'S LOVE STORY
DRUMSHEUGH had arrested Dr. Maclure on the high road the winter before he died, and compelled him to shelter for a while, since it was a rough December night not far from Christmas, and every one knew the doctor had begun to fail.
“Is that you, Weelum?” for the moon was not yet up, and an east wind was driving the snow in clouds; “a' wes oot seein' the sheep werena smoored in the drift, an' a'm wrastlin' hame.
“Come back tae the hoose an' rest; gin there's tae be ony mune she 'ill be oot by nine, and the wind 'ill maybe settle; ye 're baith o' ye sair forfoochen” (exhausted), and Drumsheugh seized Jess's bridle.
For eight miles the wind had been on Mac-lure's back, and he was cased in snow from the crown of the felt hat, that was bent to meet his jacket collar, down to the line of his saddle. The snow made a little bank on the edge of the saddle that was hardly kept, in check by the heat of Jess's body; it was broken into patches on his legs by the motion of riding, but clung in hard lumps to the stirrup irons. The fine drift whirling round powdered him in front, and melting under his breath, was again frozen into icicles on his beard, and had made Jess's mane still whiter. When Drumsheugh's housekeeper opened the kitchen door and the light fell on the horse and her master—a very ghostly sight—Leezabeth was only able to say, “Preserve 's a' body and soul,” which was the full form of a prayer in use on all occasions of surprise.
Three times the doctor essayed to come down, and could not for stiffness, and he would have fallen on the doorstep had it not been for Drumsheugh.
“This 'ill be a lesson tae ye, Weelum,” helping him in to the kitchen; “ye 're doonricht numbed; get aff the doctor's boots, Leezabeth, an' bring a coat for him.”
“Awa wi' ye; div ye think a'm a bairn?... A 'll be masel in a meenut... it wes the cauld... they're stiff tae pull, Leezabeth... let me dae't... weel, weel, if ye wull... but a' dinna like tae see a wumman servin' a man like this.”
He gave in after a slight show of resistance, and Leezabeth, looking up, saw her master watching Maclure wistfully, as one regards a man smitten unto death. Drumsheugh realised in one moment that this was the doctor's last winter; he had never seen him so easily managed all his life.
Leezabeth had kept house for Drumsheugh for many years, and was understood to know him in all his ways. It used to be a point of interesting debate which was the harder, but all agreed that they led the Glen in ingenious economy and unfailing detection of irresponsible generosity. The Kildrummie butcher in his irregular visits to the Glen got no support at Drumsheugh, and the new lass that favoured the ploughmen with flowing measure was superseded next milking time.