But William answered short: “I cannot marry Dora; by my life, I will not marry Dora.”
Then the old man was wroth, and doubled up his hands, and said: “You will not, boy! You dare to answer thus? But in my time a father’s word was law, and so it shall be now for you. Look to it; consider, William: take a month to think, and let me have an answer to my wish, or by the Lord that made me, you shall pack, and never more darken my doors again.”
But William answered madly; bit his lips, and broke away. The more he looked at her the less he liked her; and his ways were harsh; but Dora bore them meekly. Then, before the month was out he left his father’s house, and hired himself to work within the fields; and, half in love, half spite, he wooed and wed a laborer’s daughter, Mary Morrison.
When the wedding bells were ringing, Allan called his niece and said: “My girl, I love you well; but if you speak with him who was my son, or change a word with her he calls his wife, my home is none of yours. My will is law.” And Dora promised, being meek. She thought, “It cannot be: my uncle’s mind will change!” And days went on, and there was born a boy to William; then distresses came on him, and day by day he passed his father’s gate, heart-broken, and his father helped him not. But Dora stored what little she could save, and sent it them by stealth, nor did they know who sent it; till at last a fever seized on William, and in harvest time he died. Then Dora went to Mary. Mary sat and looked with tears upon her boy, and thought hard things of Dora. Dora came and said: “I have obeyed my uncle until now, and I have sinned, for it was all through me this evil came on William at the first. But, Mary, for the sake of him that’s gone, and for your sake, the woman that he chose, and for this orphan, I am come to you. You know there has not been for these five years so full a harvest: let me take the boy, and I will set him in my uncle’s eye among the wheat; that when his heart is glad of the full harvest, he may see the boy, and bless him for the sake of him that’s gone.” And Dora took the child and went her way across the wheat, and sat upon a mound that was unsown, where many poppies grew. Far off the farmer came into the field and spied her not; for none of all his men dare tell him Dora waited with the child. And Dora would have risen and gone to him, but her heart failed her; and the reapers reaped, and the sun fell, and all the land was dark.
But when the morrow came, she rose and took the child once more, and sat upon the mound; and made a little wreath of all the flowers that grew about, and tied it round his hat to make him pleasing in her uncle’s eye. Then when the farmer passed into the field he spied her, and he left his men at work, and came and said: “Where were you yesterday? Whose child is that? What are you doing here?”
So Dora cast her eyes upon the ground, and answered softly, “This is William’s child!”
“And did I not,” said Allan, “did I not forbid you, Dora?”
Dora said again: “Do with me as you will, but take the child, and bless him for the sake of him that’s gone!”
And Allan said, “I see it is a trick got up betwixt you and the woman there. I must be taught my duty, and by you! You knew my word was law, and yet you dared to slight it. Well!—for I will take the boy; but go you hence, and never see me more.”
So saying he took the boy that cried aloud and struggled hard. The wreath of flowers fell at Dora’s feet. She bowed over her hands, and the boy’s cry came to her from the field, more and more distant. She bowed down her head, remembering the day when first she came, and all the things that had been. She bowed down and wept in secret; and the reapers reaped, and the sun fell, and all the land was dark. Then Dora went to Mary’s house, and stood upon the threshold. Mary saw the boy was not with Dora. She broke out in praise to God, that helped her in her widowhood. And Dora said, “My uncle took the boy; but, Mary, let me live and work with you; he says that he will never see me more.”