“Alive!” said he, abruptly. “Why, bless the man, she wants you to marry her.”
“Marry——” said I, “I am a minister of the kirk. I have ever spoken against irregular marriages. How can I marry without another minister?”
Hob laughed a short laugh. He never thought much of my love-making.
“Better marry than burn!” quoth he, abruptly. “Mr. Hepburn, of Buittle Kirk, is here. He came over to hearten you in the day of your adversity.”
Then I recognised the hand of God in the thing and bowed my head.
So in an aching expectant silence, hearing only a poor divided heart pulse within me, I followed Hob over the moor, and up by the sides of the frozen mosses to the house of Drumglass. He knew the way blindfold, which shows what a wonderful gift he had among the hills. For I myself had gone that way ten times for his once. Yet that night, save for my brother, I had stumbled to my hurt among the crags.
Presently we came to the entering in of the farmyard. Lights were gleaming here and there, and I saw some of the servant men clustered at the stable door.
There was a hush of expectation about the place, as if they were waiting for some notable thing which was about to happen.
Nathan Gemmell met me in the outer hall, and shook me by the hand silently, like a chief mourner at a funeral. Then he led the way into the inner room. Hepburn came forward also, and took my hand. He was a man of dark and determined countenance, yet with singularly lovable eyes which now and then unexpectedly beaconed kindliness.
Jean sat on a great chair, and beside her stood Alexander-Jonita.