“'Whatna place is this, Geordie?' an' he taks aff the cover an' holds up the picture. It wud hae dune ye gude tae hae seen the licht in the laddie's een. 'Athens,' he cried, an' then he reached oot his white hand tae Drumsheugh, but naethin' wes said.
“They were at it the hale forenoon, Geordie showin' the Temple the Greeks set up tae Wisdom, an' the theatre in the shadow of the hill whar the Greek prophets preached their sermons; an' as a' gied oot an' in, Geordie wud read a bonnie bit, and Domsie himsel cudna hae been mair interested than Drumsheugh. The deein' scholar an' the auld fairmer....”
“Ay, ay,” said Maclure..
“Ae story Geordie telt me never ran dry wi' Drumsheugh, an' he aye askit tae hear it as a treat till the laddie grew ower sober—aboot twa lovers in the auld days, that were divided by an airm o' the sea, whar the water ran in a constant spate, and the lad hed tae sweem across tae see his lass. She held a licht on high tae guide him, an' at the sicht o't he cared naethin' for the danger; but ae nicht the cauld, peetiless water gied ower his head, and her torch burned oot. Puir faithfu' lass, she flung hersel into the black flood, and deith jined them where there's nae partin'.”
“He likit that, did he?” said Maclure, with a tone in his voice, and looking at Marget curiously.
“Best o' a' the ancient things George gied him in the gairden, an' ae day he nearly grat, but it wesna for their deith.
“'Na, na,' he said tae George, 'a' coont him happy, for he hed a reward for the black crossin'; laddie, mony a man wud be wullin' tae dee gin he wes luved. What think ye o' a man fechtin' through the ford a' his life wi' nae kindly licht?'
“Geordie wes wae for him, an' telt me in the gloamin', an' it set me thinkin'. Cud it be that puir Drumsheugh micht hae luved an' been refused, an' naebody kent o't? Nane but the Almichty sees the sorrow in ilka hert, an' them 'at suffers maist says least.
“It cam tae me that he must hae luved, for he wes that conseederate wi' Geordie, sae wum-manlike in his manner wi' the pillows and shawls, sae wilie in findin' oot what wud please the laddie; he learned yon in anither place than Muirtown Market. Did ye... ever hear onything, doctor? It 's no for clashin' (gossip) a' wud ask, but for peety an' his gudeness tae ma bairn.”
“Is't likely he wud tell ony man, even though he be his freend?” and Maclure fenced bravely, “did ye hear naethin' in the auld days when ye wes on Drumsheugh?”