“Oh, ay, it will be that,” said Mackenzie, cheerfully enough. “But it iss every one will hef to do that, and no great harm comes of it. Oh, no, it will not be much whatever; and Sheila, she will be very glad in a little while after, and it will be enough for me to see that she is ferry contented and happy. The young folk must marry, you will see; and what is the use of marrying if it is not when they are young? But Sheila, she will think of none of these things. It was young Mr. MacIntyre of Sutherland—you hef seen him last year in Stornoway; he has three thousand acres of a deer forest in Sutherland—and he will be ferry glad to marry my Sheila. But I will say to him, ‘It is not for me to say yes or no to you, Mr. MacIntyre: it is Sheila herself will tell you that.’ But he was afraid to speak to her; and Sheila herself will know nothing of why he came twice to Borva the last year.”
“It is very good of you to leave Sheila quite unbiased in her choice,” said Ingram: “many fathers would have been sorely tempted by that deer forest.”
Old Mackenzie laughed a loud laugh of derision that fortunately did not stop Lavender’s execution of “I would that my love would silently.”
“What the teffle,” said Mackenzie, “hef I to want a deer forest for my Sheila? Sheila is no fisherman’s lass. She has plenty for herself, and she will marry just the young man she wants to marry, and no other one; that is what she will do, by Kott!”
All this was most hopeful. If Mackenzie had himself been advocating Lavender’s suit, could he have said more? But, notwithstanding all these frank and generous promises, dealing with a future which the old man considered as indefinitely remote, Ingram was still afraid of the announcement he was about to make.
“Sheila is fortunately situated,” he said, “in having a father who thinks only of her happiness. But I suppose she has never yet shown a preference for any one?”
“Not for any one but yourself,” said her father, with a laugh.
And Ingram laughed, too, but in an embarrassed way, and his sallow face grew darker with a blush. Was there not something painful in the unintentional implication that of course Ingram could not be considered a possible lover of Sheila’s, and that the girl herself was so well aware of it that she could openly testify to her regard for him?
“And it would be a good thing for Sheila,” continued her father, more gravely, “if there was any young man about the Lewis that she would tek a liking to; for it will be some day I can no more look after her, and it would be bad for her to be left alone all by herself in the island.”
“And you don’t think you see before you now some one who might take on him the charge of Sheila’s future?” said Ingram, looking toward Lavender.