“‘The lads that cast a glance at me
I dinna care to see,
And the lads that I would look at
Winna look at me.’
“Well, dear, you mustna be angry though I say it, but you may be ower ill to please. I told you that before, you’ll mind.”
“Oh! yes, I mind. But I convinced you of your error. Indeed, I look upon myself as an object for commiseration rather than blame; so you mustna look cross, and you mustna look too pitiful either, for I am going to prove to you and Fanny and all the rest that an old maid is, by no means, an object of pity. Quite the contrary.”
“But, my dear, it seems strange-like, and not quite right for you to be setting your face against what is plainly ordained as woman’s lot. It is no’ ay an easy or a pleasant one, as many a poor woman kens to her sorrow; but—”
“But, Janet, you are mistaken. I am not setting my face against anything; but why should you blame me for what I canna help? And, besides, it is not ordained that every woman should marry. They say married-life is happier, and all that; but a woman may be happy and useful, too, in a single life, even if the higher happiness be denied her.”
“But, my dear, what ailed you at him you sent away the other week—him that Rosie was telling me of?”
“Rosie had little to do telling you anything of the kind. Nothing particular ailed me at him. I liked him very well till—. But we won’t speak of it.”
“Was he not good enough? He was a Christian man, and well off, and well-looking. What said your brother to your refusal?” persisted Janet.
“Oh! he said nothing. What could he say? He would have known nothing about it if I had had my will. A woman must decide these things for herself. I did what I thought right. I could not have done otherwise.”
“But, my love, you should consider—”