“It has not been so bad in the west.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Weel, this being the first real warm day we’ve had, I tell’t Maggie to busk hersel’ and gang and veesit the neebors, for she’s been in a sad and sorrowfu’ way since her mither deed. She said she had nae heart to veesit, but wad tak a walk alang the river and be back to mak my denner. Her brithers we expect hame every day from takin’ rafts to Montreal.”
“I’ll go and seek her,” remarked Morton, as he turned, and the old man went on hoeing. Morton had gone about a mile, when his eye caught the flutter of the linen kerchief Maggie had pinned round her neck. She did not see him and as she sauntered before him, he marked her graceful carriage, and muttered to himself, “A woman worthy to woo and win.” Unwilling to startle her by going too near, he cried “Miss Forsyth.”
She paused, turned in astonishment, and as her color came and went said, “Is it you?”
“Yes, and surely you will not shrink from me as you did when last we met.”
She held out her hand and as he pressed it, simply said, “I’m glad you’re safe and well.”
“Have you no warmer greeting for me?”
“What warmer do you deserve?”
“My deservings are nothing, but your own kind heart might plead for me.”
“Oh, dear: the conceit of some men, who think they can pick up hearts on the banks of the Chateaugay as they would acorns.”