“If it must be anyone.”
“And, Shenac,” continued her brother, “you must tell her so. She fancies that for some things you will not like it, and she wants to put it off for ever so long—till—till something happens—till you are married yourself, I suppose.”
Now Shenac was vexed. She was in the way—at least, Allister and Shenac Dhu thought so. It was quite as well that the sound of footsteps gave her no time to speak the words that rose to her lips. They were overtaken by Mr Stewart and Hamish. It had been to see the minister that they had all gone to Angus Dhu’s, for he was going away in the morning, and they did not know when they might see him again. It was late, and the farewells were brief and earnest.
“God bless you, Shenac!” was all that Mr Stewart said; and Shenac answered never a word.
“I’ll walk a little way with you,” said Allister. Hamish and Shenac stood watching them till they passed through the gate, and then Shenac sat down on the doorstep with a sigh, and laid her face upon her hands. Hamish looked a little astonished, but he smiled too.
“He will come back again, Shenac,” he said at last.
“Yes, I know,” said she, rising slowly. “I must tell you before he comes. We must not stay here. Come in; you will take cold. I don’t know what to think. He expected me to be pleased, and I shall be in a little while, I think, after I have told you. Do you know it, Hamish?”
“I know—he told me; but I thought he had not spoken to you,” said the puzzled Hamish.
“Did Allister tell you? Are you glad, Hamish?”
“Allister?” repeated Hamish.