"It's no for that either," said Jock, laughing; "but I just thought shame to speak about it, and yet there's nae ill in't, after a'. I've been thinkin, aye since ye wouldna let me gie half-a-crown for yon strowl o' lace i' the market, that you and me micht do waur than make a bargain oorsels. I wad just need somebody like you to look after me; and noo, Nelly, if you would promise to be my wife, I would never seek anither."
Nelly's countenance brightened up with a glow of satisfaction, such as it had not exhibited for years, at hearing these words. But, striving to suppress those unwonted feelings which were rising in her bosom, and endeavouring to appear as unconcerned as before—"Hoot, Jock," was her reply, "what need I promise?—though I were to mak twenty promises, ye ken brawly that ye would just rin awa and leave me, to follow the first bonny lass ye saw, at the next market or the next tent-preachin; and then, guid-day to ye, Nelly."
These words, though apparently intended to discourage Jock in his suit, were spoken in such a manner as to produce a quite contrary effect. We need not, however, repeat his vows and promises, and the solemn oaths with which he confirmed them: they were such as have been a thousand times made, and, sad to say, nearly as often broken, upon similar occasions. But when they were concluded, though Nelly did not speak, she looked a promise which, to Jock, was satisfactory! She also allowed him to have a kiss without the customary battle, or, at least, without a battle of the customary length; and for what remained of that and the two following days, though she was three-and-thirty, she looked almost as young as if she had been only two-and-twenty.
But "pleasures," which everybody now likens to "poppies spread," are, in most instances, short-lived. On the third day from Abernethy Market, Betsy Braikens, in returning from Auchtermuchty, whither she had been on some errand, called at Howdycraigs, "to speer for her cousin, Sandy Crawford, who was the herd laddie, and to tell Nelly Kilgour, of whom she had also some acquaintance, that Grizzy Glaiket had haen a bairn to Geordy Gowkshanks. No ane kenned a single thing about it afore it cam hame," continued the girl; "and, as he has naething to enable him to pay for it, and her father is determined no to let him gang, the folk say that he'll just hae to marry her."
Geordy Gowkshanks was no other than the beau who had been seen gallanting Lizzie Gimmerton through the market; and Nelly felt a strange misgiving when she heard his name mentioned in the present affair, for she doubted not, when matters stood thus, that some attempt would be forthwith made to recall Jock to his former allegiance. Nor was she long left in suspense; for Jock himself soon came in for his dinner, and the girl exclaimed—"Losh, Jock, I'm glad I've seen ye, for, if ye hadna come in, I would forgotten to tell ye that I saw Lizzie last nicht, and when I telled her that I was comin owre here on the morn, and that I would maybe see you, she bade me be sure to speer if ye had gotten ony fricht wi' the witches about the glen, or if ye was feared for the croupie craws fleein awa wi' ye after it was dark, that ye never cam owre to see your auld acquaintances about Abernethy noo!"
These questions, and the new light which they threw upon an old subject, made both Jock and Nelly look thoughtful, though it is reasonable to suppose their thoughts ran in very different channels. The effects of reaction have been already noticed; but, after reaction has acted, there are such things as the actions themselves beginning to react. Jock was now under the influence of the last-mentioned principle. Its exact operations need not be particularised; but, from that hour, his kindness to Nelly began to abate, and she began to feel less comfortable under the change than might have been expected from a discreet damsel of her years. On the following night she slept but little; and next morning she rose earlier than was her usual, and was just beginning to kindle up the fire, when she heard Jock engaged in a low but earnest conversation with the herd laddie. She was separated from them only by a thin partition, or clay hallan, as it was called in those days, so that she could easily hear what was passing; and, reprehensible as her conduct in this respect may seem, she could not refrain from listening.
"I need a new bannet," said Jock; "and I'm gaun owre to Abernethy for ane the morn's nicht—but mind, Sandy, ye maunna tell Nell whar I am; and, if she happens to speer, ye can just say that I'm awa down to Auchtermuchty for a pickle snuff."
"Aweel, aweel," said the other, "I can haud my tongue. But what need can there be for makin lees aboot it? I'll warrant Nell winna care how aften ye gang to Abernethy."
"I hae nae time to tell ye aboot it enow," said Jock; "but I'll maybe tell ye afterhend—and mind, as your name's Sandy Crawford, dinna ye speak aboot it; and I'll gie ye as muckle market-fare as ye can devour, gin mid-simmer."
As this conversation concluded, Nelly contrived to get into her bed again without noise; and, covering herself up with the bedclothes, and pretending to sleep, Jock passed through the kitchen without in the least suspecting that she had become a party to his supposed secret. From what she had heard, however, she saw plainly what was brewing, and whither fate was tending. She saw that Lizzy Gimmerton's scheme for once more attaching Jock to her interest had already succeeded; and that, if he should "break both his leg and his neck in the first burn he crossed," he had determined to go again and see her. But what could she do to prevent things from taking their course? Like other disconsolate maidens, she might lament in secret, and shed tears of disappointment and sorrow without number—but this would by no means mend the matter. Jock, she thought, would make a good husband, if he had only a wife who knew how to manage him; but, unless something extraordinary interposed, he was likely to get one who was a still greater fool than himself; and, at this distance of time, it were difficult to say how far benevolence, and a wish to prevent him from making himself a mis-sworn man, might have a place in her cogitations. She thought, also, that she would make a good wife, if it were only her good fortune to get a husband; but, then, something or other had always come to thwart her wishes in this respect; and even now, when the prize seemed almost won, without a miracle, or something, at least, out of the ordinary course of events, she stood a fair chance for being again left in the lurch. She felt that it was a sore matter to have hope from time to time deferred in this manner; but what to do she could not exactly determine. She, however, determined to leave nothing undone; and, after her, let none despair!