“Annie’s deein’, Drumsheugh, an’ Tammas is like tae brak his hert.”
“That’s no lichtsome, doctor, no lichtsome, ava, for a’ dinna ken ony man in Drumtochty sae bund up in his wife as Tammas, and there’s no a bonnier wumman o’ her age crosses oor kirk door than Annie, nor a cleverer at her work. Man ye ‘ill need tae pit yir brains in steep. Is she clean beyond ye?”
“Beyond me and every ither in the land but ane, and it wud cost a hundred guineas tae bring him tae Drumtochty.”
“Certes, he’s no blate; it’s a fell chairge for a short day’s work; but hundred or no hundred we ‘ill hae him, and no let Annie gang, and her no half her years.”
“Are ye meanin’ it, Drumsheugh?” and MacLure turned white below the tan.
“William MacLure,” said Drumsheugh, in one of the few confidences that ever broke the Drumtochty reserve, “a’ ‘m a lonely man, wi’ naebody o’ ma ain blude tae care for me livin’, or tae lift me intae ma coffin when a’ ‘m deid.
“A’ fecht awa’ at Muirtown market for an extra pund on a beast, or a shillin’ on the quarter o’ barley, an’ what’s the gude o’ ‘t? Burnbrae gaes aff tae get a goon for his wife or a buke for his college laddie, an’ Lachlan Campbell ‘ill no leave the place noo without a ribbon for Flora.
“Ilka man in the Kildrummie train has some bit fairin’ in his pooch for the fouk at hame that he’s bocht wi’ the siller he won.
“But there’s naebody tae be lookin’ oot for me, an’ comin’ doon the road tae meet me, and daffin’ (joking) wi’ me aboot their fairin’, or feelin’ ma pockets. Ou, ay! A’ ‘ve seen it a’ at ither hooses, though they tried tae hide it frae me for fear a’ wud lauch at them. Me lauch, wi’ ma cauld, empty hame!
“Yir the only man kens, Weelum, that I aince luved the noblest wumman in the Glen or onywhere, an’ a’ luve her still, but wi’ anither luve noo.