‘Stop!’ cried Peebles. ‘Since ye will gang, listen to a word I hae to say to you. Never think shame o’ the mother that bore ye, Desmond. I kenned her, lad; I kenned her weel. She was a brave woman, as true and honest as she was loving, and ’twas for your sake that she took the weary road o’ death.’
Desmond broke into sobs again, and the old man, seeing him thus softened, went on:
‘There’s jest one thing ye’ll promise me, lad. Before ye gang awa’, see me once more, and maybe I can help ye yet.’
‘I’ll promise you that,’ said Desmond, ‘if you’ll give me a promise in return. You’ll tell me all about my mother?’
‘Ay, lad, I’ll tell ye all I ken. There’s no word o’ shame for her in all the story, whatever shame there may be for others.’
‘All I think of now,’ continued Desmond, ‘is the thought of the grief I brought her.’
‘Ne’er believe it, lad,’ cried the old man; ‘ne’er believe it. Ye brought her comfort and hope.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘Many’s the time I’ve grat o’er your cradle, and noo, old fool that I am, I’m greeting again. Bide a bit, lad; God may help us yet! There, there!’ he continued, as the impulsive young fellow threw his arms about him, ‘ye’ll not be for hugging old Peebles. Tak’ the little lass in your arms, and gie her one more kiss for luck!’
‘Desmond!’ cried Dulcie, stretching her arms to him.
‘My conscience!’ said Peebles, as the lovers embraced, ‘if I’d your youth, and siccan a mouth to kiss, I wadna care if the Deil himsel’ was my progenitor!’
‘Good-bye, my darling!’ sobbed Desmond. ‘Good-bye, and God Almighty bless ye! I must go. Good-bye, good-bye!’ He tore himself from her arms, and ran out of the house. Dulcie sank back upon a bench, and her tears ran unrestrainedly.