“Miss Mowbray must have overrated my services; but at all events I had no right to take advantage of that fortunate accident to better my fortunes, by presuming on her feelings of gratitude to her preserver.”
“What for no? what for no?” cried the laird; “ye should hae married her on the spot. There were eight couples sprang frae the snaw-meeting—ye should hae made the ninth, and then ye needna hae had a ball put through your shouther, nor ever moved frae the braw holmes o’ Surrey. ’Od, I wish it had been me that took her out o’ the water; that is, if I had been as young as you, and Providence had afflicted me with the loss o’ Mrs Kirkton.”
“If I had been on a level with her as to fortune”——
“Weel, but noo yer brither’s dead, ye’re heir o’ the auld house, an’ ye’re a major—what’s to forbid the banns noo?”
“I have never heard of Miss Mowbray from that hour to this. In all probability she is married to some lucky fellow”——
“She wasna married when I saw Mrs Carmichael four months since; she was in what leddies call delicate health though; she had aye been melancholy since the time of the water business. Mrs Carmichael thought ye were a great fule for rinnin’ awa.”
“Mrs Carmichael is very kind.”
“’Deed is she,” replied the laird, “as kind-hearted a woman as ever lived. She’s maybe a thocht ower auld, or I dinna doubt she wad be very happy to marry you hersel.”
“I hope her gratitude would not carry her to such an alarming length,” said Charles, laughing. “It would make young men rather tender of saving ladies’ lives.”
“If I knew where she was just now, I wad soon put everything to rights. It’s no ower late yet, though ye maun get fatter before the marriage—ye wad be mair like a skeleton than a bridegroom. But, save us! what’s the matter wi’ ye? are ye no weel? headache? gout? what is’t, man? Confound my legs, I canna stir. Sit down, and rest ye.”