My mother was by this time dead, and I expected naething but that the knowledge o’ his faithlessness would kill me too—for I had clung to hope till the last straw was broken.
I met him once during his stay in the country, and, strange to tell, it was within a hundred yards o’ the very spot where I first foregathered wi’ him, when he offered me the posie.
‘Ha! Die!’ said he, ‘my old girl, are you still alive? I’m glad to see you. Is the old woman, your mother, living yet?’ I was ready to faint, my heart throbbed as though it would have burst. A’ the trials I had ever had were naething to this; and he continued—‘Why, if I remember right, there was once something like an old flame between you and me.’ ‘O James! James!’ said I, ‘do you remember the words ye wrote in the Bible, and the vows that ye made me by the side of the Blackadder?’ ‘Ha! ha!’ said he, and he laughed, ‘you are there, are you? I do mind something of it. But, Die, I did not think that a girl like you would have been such a fool as to remember what a boy said to her.’
I would have spoken to him again; but I remembered he was the husband of another woman—though she was a mulatto—an’ I hurried away as fast as my fainting heart would permit. I had but one consolation, and that was, that, though he had married another, naebody could compare her face wi’ mine.
But it was lang before I got the better o’ this sair slight—ay, I may say it was ten years and mair; and I had to try to pingle and find a living upon the interest o’ my five hundred pounds, wi’ ony other thing that I could turn my hand to in a genteel sort o’ way.
I was now getting on the wrang side o’ eight and thirty; and that is an age when it isna prudent in a spinister to be throwing the pouty side o’ her lip to any decent lad that hauds out his hand, and says—‘Jenny, will ye tak me?’ Often and often, baith by day and by night, did I think o’ the good bargains I had lost, for the sake o’ my fause James Laidlaw; and often, when I saw some o’ them that had come praying to me, pass me on a Sunday, having their wives wi’ their hands half round their waist on the horse behint them—‘O James! fause James!’ I have said, ‘but for trusting to you, and it would hae been me that would this day been riding behint Mr. ——.’
But I had still five hundred pounds, and sic fend as I could make, to help what they brought to me. And, about this time, there was one that had the character of being a very respectable sort o’ a lad, one Walter Sanderson; he was a farmer, very near about my own age, and altogether a most prepossessing and intelligent young man. I first met wi’ him at my youngest sister’s goodman’s kirn,[F] and I must say, a better or a more gracefu’ dancer I never saw upon a floor. He had neither the jumping o’ a mountebank, nor the sliding o’ a play-actor, but there was an ease in his carriage which I never saw equalled. I was particularly struck wi’ him, and especially his dancing; and it so happened that he was no less struck wi’ me. I thought he looked even better than James Laidlaw used to do—but at times I had doubts about it. However, he had stopped all the night at my brother-in-law’s as weel as mysel; and when I got up to gang hame the next day, he said he would bear me company. I thanked him, and said I was obliged to him, never thinking that he would attempt such a thing. But, just as the pony was brought out for me to ride on (and the callant was to come up to Dunse for it at night), Mr. Walter Sanderson mounted his horse, and says he—
‘Now, wi’ your permission, Miss Darling, I will see you hame.’
It would hae been very rude o’ me to hae said—‘No, I thank you, sir,’ and especially at my time o’ life, wi’ twa younger sisters married that had families; so I blushed, as it were, and giein my powny a twitch, he sprang on to his saddle, and came trotting along by my side. He was very agreeable company; and, when he said, ‘I shall be most happy to pay you a visit, Miss Darling,’ I didna think o’ what I had said, until after that I had answered him, ‘I shall be very happy to see ye, sir.’ And when I thought o’ it my very cheek bones burned wi’ shame.
But, howsoever, Mr. Sanderson was not long in calling again—and often he did call, and my sisters and their guid-men began to jeer me about him. Weel, he called and called, for I daresay as good as three quarters of a year; and he was sae backward and modest a’ the time that I thought him a very remarkable man; indeed, I began to think him every way superior to James Laidlaw.