"But that needna trouble ye owre muckle either," was the reply; "for—what's this I was gaun to say, again?—ou ay—wi' respect to Jenny, puir thing, if it were her guid fortune to draw his affection, I'm sure she would strive, as far as lay in her power, to mak ye comfortable."
"I dinna doubt a single word o' what ye say," rejoined the other. "Jenny is a dutiful and a kind-hearted lassie; I ken that weel. But, as the auld sayin is, ilka body kens their ain sair best; and, though it's nae doubt a weakness, I maun e'en tell ye a'. When I was married—I mind as weel as yesterday—baith David and me thought we could live happy wi' his mither; and we did live happy, for aught days or sae; but, after that, I could do naethin to please her. If I tried to 'earn the milk, it was either owre het or owre cauld when I put in the 'earning; if I began to wash the dishes, she aye milkit the kye first, and then she wondered how some folk had sae little sense. I could neither mak the parritch, nor wash, nor spin, nor mak up a hasp o' yarn—no, nor soop in the very house, to please her; and, though I tried, as far as was in my power, to do a'thing her way, it gae me mony a sleepless nicht, and cost him that's awa nae little vexation. And weel do I mind mony a time I wondered what pleasure she could tak in distressin me; but I think noo it was just a frailty o' our nature—a something that auld folk canna help. And I think, too, I've discovered the cause o' her grumlin since I began to see the prospect o' Sandy takin a wife. Now, ye'll nae doubt think it strange," she continued, in a hesitating tone—"ye'll nae doubt think it strange, Nelly; but, dearly as I like my ain son—and weel as I would like to see him happy wi' a woman wha loved him better than a' the warld beside—still there's a something in the idea o' anither comin in to be the mistress o' the hoose whaur I've had the management sae lang, that aye distresses me when I think on't."
"I dinna wonder ava at what ye say," responded Nelly. "If I were in your place, a' that troubles you would trouble me. But there's naebody without something to distress them; and we maun just look upon things o' that kind as a crook in our lot, a something that maun be borne. But, after a', woman, if the twa were to gang thegither, could ye no come owre here? Ye have only him, and we have only her; the little gear we hae maun a' gang to him at last; and, if the young folk could live thegither in ane o' the places, the auld folk micht surely do the same in the tither."
"Thank ye, Nelly—thank ye!" said Margaret; "ye're aye the same guid-hearted creature yet. But a body's ain hame's aye kindly. And yet, if sic a thing were to happen, I would rather come here, than gang to ony freend I hae." As she uttered these words, she made an involuntary motion forward, and would have fallen, had she not supported herself by the wall.
"Dear me, Margaret, what's the matter wi' ye?" said Nelly, in a tone of evident alarm.
"It's a dizziness i' my head, woman," was the reply. "I've never been mysel since that illness I had afore the term. Thae curious turns come owre me aye, noo and then," she continued, her voice sinking and saddening as she spoke; "and, for the last six weeks, it's been borne in upon me, that I'm no to be lang to the fore. Now, if I was taen awa, Sandy would be sair to mean wi' naebody about the house but a servant; and that gars me sometimes think I would maist like to see him married to some carefu lass like your Jenny afore my head be laid down."
"Wheesht, Margaret!" said the other; "never let thae thoughts come owre ye, for there's an auld proverb that says, thought can kill and thought can cure. And I doubt I've driven the joke owre far already. But, though it's natural aneugh for young lasses to like to get husbands, and natural aneugh, too, for their mithers to like to see them weel married, I would ten times owre see our Jenny live and dee without a man a'thegither, rather than see her married to the best man on earth, if her marriage were to gie you real vexation, or be the means o' shortenin your days."
"It's no that," said Margaret, in the same low solemn tone in which she had before spoken—"it's no onything ye have said that has hurt me, for I've thought about a' thae things afore. When I had that ill turn afore Martinmas, when folk thought I was deein, I began to consider wha would be maist likely to keep a comfortable hame to my ain bairn; and then, I confess, my thoughts turned upon your Jenny. This made me look mair attentively at baith him and her than I had ever done before; and twa or three times, when she cam owre to see how I was, I thought I saw something like the first symptoms of affection in his manner as weel as hers; and I felt glad at the sicht. But, as I began to get a little better, and to be able to gang about again, the things that had happened wi' my ain guidmither came fresh to my memory, and I thought I would like to manage the house mysel, and do for the best as lang as I was able. But I fear," she added, with a deep sigh, "this complaint, whatever it is, will weather me afore it's lang."
"Na, Margaret; I hope better things," said the other; "and ye maun strive to hope for better things too. Though ye mayna be sae stout through the winter, when the warm weather comes in ye'll gather strength again; and, if ance ye had yer fit on a May gowan, ye'll be as hale and hearty as the best o' us."
"It's lang to the month o' May," said Margaret, in a voice unwontedly solemn; "and, afore that time come round, hundreds that are laughin and makin muckle sport the nicht may be cauld in their graves. But promise, if I'm taen awa, that ye'll do yer best to supply my place, and to bring the twa thegither if ye can."