"Ye're the first that said it," says she.
"And I hope I'll be the last," says I. And on we joggit, as loving-like as if we had been returning from the kirk on our bridal.
It might be four weeks after this meeting, that Margery and I were out, on an autumn evening, in the lang green loaning that leads down to the Linthaughs. It was as bonny a night as man could be abroad in: the moon, nearly full, was just rising owre the Black Cairn, and the deep stillness that prevailed was only broken by the low monotonous murmur o' the trees, or interrupted by our own footsteps. I dinna ken how long we might have sauntered in the loaning—aiblins, two hours—and though inclined a' the time to confess to Margery that I loved her, I could not bring mysel to out with it, for aye as I was about to attempt it, I felt as if something were threatening to choke me. At last I thought on an expedient. And what was it, think ye? No—you'll not guess, Richard; but you'll laugh when you hear. I had recently got by heart the affecting ballad that had been written by a freend o' my ain, on Willie Grahame and Jeanie Sanderson o' Cavers, a little before Jeanie's death; and, thinks I—as I was a capital hand at the Scotch—Ise try what effect the reciting o' it will have upon Margery; for wha kens but it may move her heart to love and pity? This scheme being formed, I says to her—
"Margery, did you ever hear the waesome ballad about Jeanie Sanderson and her sweetheart?"
"Where was I to hear it?" says she.
"Would ye like to hear it?" says I.
"I'm no caring," says she.
And wi' that I began the ditty; but, as it has never been in prent, I had better rin owre it, that you may be able to judge o' its fitness for accomplishing my end. It begins as if Jeanie—who was dying o' consumption—were addressing hersel to Willie Grahame, and he to her—vice versâ.
SCOTTISH BALLAD.
"Six years have come and gane, Willie,
Since first I met with you;
And through each chequer'd scene I've been
Affectionate and true.
But now my yearning heart must a'
Its cherish'd hopes resign;
For never on this side the grave
Can my true love be mine."