“Janet! A sticket minister!”
“My dear, he’s no’ a sticket minister. He passed his examinations with great credit to himself. You hae your father’s word for that, who was there to hear him. And he’s a grand scholar—that’s weel kent; and though he mayna hae the gift o’ tongues like some folk, he may do a great deal of good in the world notwithstanding. And they say he has gotten the charge of a fine school now, and is weel off. I aye thought you might do worse than go with him. He’s a good lad, and you would have had a comfortable home with him.”
“Thank you. But when I marry it won’t be to get a comfortable home. I’m content with the home I have.”
“Ay, if you could be sure of keeping it,” said Janet, with a sigh; “but a good man and a good home does not come as an offer ilka day.”
“The deacon needna be feared to leave his case in your hands, it seems,” said Graeme, laughing, but not pleasantly.
“Miss Graeme, my dear,” said Mrs Nasmyth, gravely, “there’s many a thing to be said of that matter; but it must be said in a different spirit from what you are manifesting just now. If I’m worth the keeping here, I’m worth the seeking elsewhere, and Deacon Snow has as good a right as another.”
“Right, indeed! Nobody has any right to you but ourselves. You are ours, and we’ll never, never let you go.”
“It’s no’ far down the brae,” said Janet, gently.
“Janet! You’ll never think of going! Surely, surely, you’ll never leave us now. And for a stranger, too! When you gave up your own mother and Sandy, and the land you loved so well, to come here with us—!” Graeme could not go on for the tears that would not be kept back.
“Miss Graeme, my dear bairn, you were needing me then. Nae, hae patience, and let me speak. You are not needing me now in the same way. I sometimes think it would be far better for you if I wasna here.”