"There has come naething frae Burnbank for five days," replied Betty; "an' the siller I got frae the guid auld man, the last time he was here, I payed awa i' the village for necessaries I had taen on afore we got that help. Our girnel winna haud oot lang against three mous; an' if Laird Cherrytrees bides awa muckle langer, I see naething for it but to beg."
The tear started to the eye of David. He looked at Effie. She wept and sobbed, and covered her face with her hands.
"Effie, woman," said David, "a' this micht hae been averted if ye had just gane to the door, an' welcomed the auld Laird, as ye were wont. He's a blate man, though a guid carl; an' he has, nae doot, thocht he was unwelcome when yer auld practice o' waitin for him was gien up."
"I tauld her that, David," said Betty, "an' pressed her to gang to the door, though it was only to gie the blate Laird a glimpse o' her, whilk was a' he wanted to bring him in; but she only sabbed the mair. Unhappy hour she first saw that callant, wha may now be dead or married for ought she kens!—an yet for his sake maun a hail family dree the dule o' this day's misery. Effie, woman, can ye no forget are wha hasna thocht ye worth the trouble o tellin ye, by ae scrape o' his pen, whether he be i' the land o' the livin!"
A sob was the only reply Effie could make to this appeal.
"I hae tauld Effie," said David, "what wad save us frae the ruin an' starvation that stare us i' the face; but my mind's made up to suffer to the end, though I should lie here wi' my broken banes, and dree the pains o' hunger, rather than force my dochter to marry a man against her ain choice. But, O Effie, woman, wad ye see yer puir faither, broken as he is baith in mind and body, lie starvin here in his bed, wi' nae mair pooer to earn a bite o' bread than the unspeaned bairn, and no mak a sacrifice to save him?"
"Ay, faither," replied Effie, "I wad dee to save ye."
"But deein winna save either him or me," said Betty. "Naething will hae that effect but yer agreein to be the leddy o' the braw hoose an' braid acres o' Burnbank. Wae's me! what a difference between that condition, wi' servants at yer nod, an' a' the comforts an' luxuries o' life at yer command, an', abune a', the pooer o' makin happy yer auld faither and mother, an' this awfu prospect o' dreein the very warst an' last o' a' the evils o' life—want an' auld age—ill-matched pair! Effie, woman, my bonny bairn, hae ye nae love in yer heart, but for Lewie Campbell? Wad ye, for his sake, see a' this misfortune fa' on the heads o' yer parents, whom, by the laws o' God an' man, ye are bound to honour, serve, and obey?"
It was easier for Effie to say she would die to save her parents, than that she would comply with the wish of her mother; but the feeling appeal of her parent increased her agony, which induced another paroxysm of hysterical sobs—the only answer she could yet make to her mother.
"Effie doesna care for either you or me, Betty," said David, "or she wad hae little hesitation aboot marryin a guid, fresh, clean, rich, auld man, to save her faither and mother frae poverty and starvation. I see nae great sacrifice i' the matter. Her young heart mayna rejoice i' the pleasures o' a daft love, but her guid sense will be gratified by a feelin o' duty far aboon the vain, frawart freaks o' a silly, giddy, youthfu passion. Let her refuse Laird Cherrytrees, an' when Lewie Campbell comes hame, the owrecome bread o' the funeral o' her faither may grace a waddin bought wi' the price o' his life."