He led the way out into the open and I followed close behind him. As we emerged a man approached us out of the darkness. I started and laid a hand upon Hector's arm.
"There's naething to fear," he said. "It's only the minister frae the cave at the Linn. He's come to mairry you."
"To marry me," I exclaimed. "Who has arranged it?"
"I ha'e nae doot," answered Hector, "Mary and you arranged it lang syne on the braes at Daldowie. A' I ha'e dune is to mak' your arrangements possible."
My heart was full.
The minister greeted me warmly, and together the three of us made for the summit of the little knoll beside the Abbey. While Mr. Corsane was congratulating me upon my escape and upon the rescue of Mary, the packman had turned his back upon us and was gazing earnestly towards the mouth of the Cluden. As we talked he interrupted us suddenly by saying:
"They're coming noo, I can see them." Along the edge of the bank below us, three figures were moving. Soon they had begun to ascend the knoll.
"Mary's there," said Hector, "and the twa wi' her are the good-man o' Nunholm and his better three-quarters."
I sprang towards the advancing figures and calling "Mary," clasped her in my arms. There are moments too sacred for speech. I could only kiss her. Then linking my arm through hers I helped her to the top of the mound.
There in the aisle of the trees with the light of the kindly stars filtering through and falling on the ground with a holier radiance than ever streamed through the east window of a cathedral, the minister made us one. He could not unite our hearts. That had been done long ago. He could only join our hands.