“It was like him. And is this David Cunningham able to spare all that money? It would be an ill thing to harm or harass him now after so long a time.”
“I cannot say whether he be rich or poor; but I am certain sure that nothing will hinder him from paying his debt. He told me that the sight of my face had given him more pleasure than anything he had seen in Scotland yet,” said John laughing. “I would have brought him out to see you, if the doctor would have let him come. He is but a frail man, and must go south again till summer is fairly here. He said little about himself, but I know he is a married man.”
“And he would be sorry to hear of your father’s losses at the last.”
“Ay, that was he, and angry at the ill done him. If he had but known, he said, he could have helped to tide him over the worst of his troubles, and it might have prolonged his life.”
“It was God’s will, and we must submit,” said Mrs Beaton softly.
“Yes, it was God’s will.” Then John rose and set the table back into its place, and stirred the fire and sat down again.
“Well, John?” said his mother in a little.
“Well, mother! You are a rich woman again, in a small way.”
“I have ay been a rich woman. If I had been asked would I have more, I would have said I am content. I am glad of this for your sake, John, if you are glad. But I think the message from your father, as it seems, is more to me than the money.”
“Yes, mother, and to me as well.”