"Ay," he replied. "But not altogether. We've had many a couple come to us directly after their marriage, and I believe that lots of them have just gone over the border for a Scotch marriage."
"By the way," asked Paul, "do you remember twenty-five years ago this very month that a young man brought his wife here? It was on the twenty-ninth of August. Think, now; do you remember it?"
"Ay, I think I do, but my wife has a better memory than I. Meg! Will you come here?"
The old lady was keenly interested in Paul's questions. "Why, of course, Angus. I've thought about them many a time since. He was fair and she was dark."
"That's it," said Paul eagerly. "That's it."
"She had black een, I remember," said the woman. "Een as black as sloes, and her hair was like the sheen of a raven's wing. And they did love each other, too, I could see that."
"And did they sign any register or anything of that sort?" said Paul. "Do you keep a register of your visitors?"
"Nay," said the woman. "We kept no register then, but we do now. People came and went then, and we thought not so much of it. All the same, they did write something."
"Both of them?" asked Paul.
"Ay, both of them. You see, I wasna so sure about them, and I wondered whether it was a runaway match. The lad introduced the lass as his wife, but they seemed mighty nervous, and the lad had been here a few weeks previously with some others, and I am sure he had nae thought of marrying then."