"But soon a wee bit cloud cam o'er me; for I began about this time to be sair fashed with a great income."
[I laid down the manuscript—"sair fashed with an income—I say, Lennox"—I saw the marine in his steward-room at the moment—"Why, Lennox, construe me this, if you please—'sair fashed with an income,'—that is more than ever I have been, if I take you up rightly; but explain, if you please—was your income so very great?"
"Indeed, sir, it was large enough to lame me for six months!"
I stared—"An income so large that it lamed you for six months—oh, you lived high—gout, I suppose?"
"Na, na, sir—I had never any title to gout, nor any of my forbears; but it was not the size of the tumor that was the worst of it; for it contracted the sinews and muscles of my left leg to such a degree, that, after I had hobbled on crutches for six weeks, I was at last fairly driven to stump it on a stick leg, although, Heaven be thanked, I recovered entirely in a year's time."
The poor fellow saw I was laughing; and apparently uncertain as to whether I comprehended him or not, he said—"An income is a tumour, sir; and mine was a very bad ane."
"Oh, I see, I see; but tell me this, Lennox—You speak very good English; and, from all I can hear, you write it correctly—how came you, therefore, to have indited your sorrows in your north country Doric?"
"Mair graphic, sir—I had an eye to publish, sir."
"Now, I understand—thank you"—and I resumed my study of the manuscript.]
"But I had my ain misgivings that Jessy would flee aff frae me, after all, now that I was a lameter, and I watched my opportunity to ask her frankly and fairly, 'whether we were to hold to our plighted troth, that we should be man and wife whenever I had laid by an hundred pounds from the school (I had already fifty), or that the calamity which had come over me'——I could scarcely speak here, for something rose up in my full breast, like a cork in a bottle that you are filling with water, and stuck in my thrapple like to choke me—; or that the calamity that had come over me, was to snap our vows in twain—and, Jessy Miller, I here declare, in the presence of our Maker, if it has wrought such change in you, I release you freely—freely—although it should break my heart, I release you.'