The Grey Man

by S. R. Crockett

'He is none so ugly as that!' said Nell—with, I think, a look at me which I took for a certain complaisance it pleased me to see.

Then I told her how the Dominie had added that it was not yet time for men of his profession to come about the house of a newly-wedded knight. But that if prosperity should come to Palgowan and the din of bairns' voices, we might ask him again in ten years or somewhat less.

'Oh,' said Nell, shortly, and rode a little further off. Yet I flattered myself that I had said the thing pretty well. For it was not at all in these terms that the Dominie had put his offer. Indeed, I was in a quandary how most discreetly to deliver his message.

So, in the long twilight of May, we came riding down Minnoch Water. For, with the sun-setting, we had fallen silent, and we looked no more so frankly at each other. But with one accord we turned our eyes across the water to watch for the light of my mother's candle in the little window.

She heard us as we came; and there, lo! before I knew it, she was at Nelly's saddle leather, helping her to dismount, and the tears were running steadily down her face. I think she minded the day when she, too, had come home a bride to the little house of Kirrieoch among the hills.

'Oh, my bairn—my bairn,' was what she said, 'come awa' ben!'

And it was to Nell that she said it. Me she minded no more than a cock-sparrow under the eaves. Then came Hugh of Kirriemore out to take the horses. But I went, as is my custom, to the stable with Dom Nicholas, for he never slept well otherwise. And when I came in again I found that my mother had Nell already seated by the fireside, for it is chill among the uplands in May. The peats were burning fine, and on the white board there was a supper set fit for a prince and princess.

But all the time my mother never minded me at all, save to rage on me for bringing the lass so far and so fast.

'But, mother,' said I, 'remember that if I had not made some haste, all your fine supper would have been wasted.'

And indeed it came not far from being that as it was, for we could eat but little. The finest of muirland fare seemed somehow or other to stick by the way, tasting strangely dry and sapless. And after we had done we drew apart and looked at the red ashes, while my mother rattled on about the simple concerns of the sheep and the calves, which mountain-bred folk vastly love both to speak of and to hear about.