Now although the cousinship with Ronald claimed by Mrs. Menzies did not exist in actual fact,—there was some kind of remote relationship, however,—still, it must be confessed that it was very ungrateful and inconstant of him to have let the fate and fortunes of the pretty Kate Burnside (as she was in former days) so entirely vanish from his mind and memory. Kate Burnside was the daughter of a small farmer in the Lammermuir district; and the Strangs and Burnsides were neighbours as well as remotely related by blood. But that was not the only reason why Ronald ought to have remembered a little more about the stalwart, black-eyed, fresh-cheeked country wench who, though she was some seven or eight years or more his senior, he had boldly chosen for his sweetheart in his juvenile days. Nay, had she not been the first inspirer of his muse; and had he not sung this ox-eyed goddess in many a laboured verse, carefully constructed after the manner of Tannahill or Motherwell or Allan Cunningham? The 'lass of Lammer Law' he called her in these artless strains; and Kate was far from resenting this frank devotion; nay, she even treasured up the verses in which her radiant beauties were enumerated; for why should not a comely East Lothian wench take pleasure in being told that her cheeks outshone the rose, and that the 'darts o' her bonnie black een' had slain their thousands, and that her faithful lover would come to see her, ay, though the Himalayas barred his way? But then, alas!—as happens in the world—the faithful lover was sent off into far neighbourhoods to learn the art and mystery of training pointers and setters; and Kate's father died, and the family dispersed from the farm; Kate went into service in Glasgow, and there she managed to capture the affections of an obese and elderly publican whom—she being a prudent and sensible kind of a creature—she forthwith married; by and by, through partaking too freely of his own wares, he considerately died, leaving her in sole possession of the tavern (he had called it a public-house, but she soon changed all that, and the place too, when she was established as its mistress); and now she was a handsome, buxom, firm-nerved woman, who could and did look well after her own affairs; who had a flourishing business, a comfortable bank account, and a sufficiency of friends of her own way of thinking; and whose raven-black hair did not as yet show a single streak of gray. It was all this latter part of Kate Burnside's—or rather, Mrs. Menzies's—career of which Ronald was so shamefully ignorant; but she speedily gave him enough information about herself as they drove through the gas-lit streets, for she was a voluble, high-spirited woman, who could make herself heard when she chose.
'Ay,' said she, at length, 'and where have ye left the good wife, Ronald?'
'What goodwife?' said he.
'Ye dinna tell me that you're no married yet?'
'Not that I know of,' said he.
'What have ye been about, man? Ye were aye daft about the lasses; and ye no married yet? What have ye been about, man, to let them a' escape ye?'
'Some folk have other things to think of,' said he evasively.
'Dinna tell me,' she retorted. 'I ken weel what's upper-most in the mind o' a handsome lad like you. Weel, if ye're no married, ye're the next door to it, I'll be bound. What's she like?'
'I'll tell ye when I find her,' said he drily.
'Ye're a dark one; but I'll find ye out, my man.'