“Well, you see you belong to me, Lilian, and I am a careful man and look after my belongings. Mrs. St. Clair is one of my flock now, and I must take her in hand. Whisht, lassie,” as Lilian averted her face and would not look at him, “have you such a mean opinion of me that you think I am not to be trusted to look at any woman but yourself, and I a minister with a cure of souls; that is a poor look-out for our wedded life.” And here Fergus whispered something that brought the dimples into play again; and after a little more judicious coaxing, Lilian was made to understand that ministers were not just like other men, and must be suffered to go their “ain gait.”
And the upshot of this conversation was that Fay found herself confronted at the wooden gate one day by a tall, broad-shouldered young man, who she knew was the young minister. Of course he was going to see the falls, and she was about to pass him with a slight bow, when he stopped her and offered his hand. “I think we know each other, Mrs. St. Clair, without any introduction. I am Fergus Duncan, and I have long wanted to be acquainted with Aunt Jeanie’s guest;” and then he held open the gate and escorted her back to the Manse.
Fay could not find fault with the young man’s bluntness; she had no right to hold herself aloof from Mrs. Duncan’s nephew. He must know how she had avoided him all these months, but he seemed too good-humored to resent it. He talked to her very pleasantly about the weather and the falls and his uncle’s health, and Fay answered him with her usual gentleness.
They parted in the porch mutually pleased with each other; but the young man drew a long breath when he found himself alone.
“Ech, sirs! as Jean says, but this is the bonniest lass I have ever set eyes on. Poor little Lilian! no wonder she felt herself a bit upset. Come, I must get to the bottom of this; Aunt Jeanie is too soft for anything. Why, the sables she wore were worth a fortune; and when she took off her gloves her diamond and emerald rings fairly blinded one.”
Fergus arrived at the Manse with all his traps about a fortnight after this; and when the first few days were over, Fay discovered that she had no reason to dislike Mr. Fergus’s company.
He was always kind and good-natured, and took a great deal of notice of the baby. Indeed, he never seemed more content than when baby Hugh was on his knee, pulling his coarse reddish hair, and gurgling gleefully over this new game. Fay began to like him very much when she had seen him with her boy; and after that he found little trouble in drawing her into conversation.
His first victory was inducing her to make friends with Lilian. Fay, who shrunk painfully from strangers, acceded very nervously to this request. But when Lilian came, her shy, pretty manners won Fay’s heart, and the two became very fond of each other.
Fergus used to have long puzzled talks with Aunt Jeanie about her protégé. “What is to be done about Mrs. St. Clair when Lilian and I are married?” he would ask; “the Manse can not hold us all.”
“Eh, lad, that is what Jean and me often say; but then the summer is not here yet, and may be we can find a cottage in Rowan-Glen, and there is Mrs. Dacre over at Corrie that would house them for a bit. Mrs. St. Clair was speaking to me about it yesterday. ‘Where do they mean to live when they are married?’ she says, quite sensible-like. ‘Is there anywhere else I can go to make room for them?’ And then she cried, poor bairn, and said she would like to stay in Rowan-Glen.”