sudden impulse, she lifted up her lips and kissed him fervently. Then she fluttered from his side with a light laugh. But Jock drew her back, as he whispered, smiling slyly:—
“Is it ay or no, Jessie?”
Jessie blushed a double crimson, and laughed.
“Ye ken best yoursel’, Jock,” she said.
“Is it ay?”
“Atweel, Jock,” said Jessie, still trying to escape, “I’ll speir at mither. Ye ken what that means. Gude nicht.”
“Gude nicht, Jessie,” quoth Jock, and he stalked off to his own home, the most coolly happy young fellow in Christendom.
That night Jessie laid a head full of busy thoughts on her quiet pillow, and cherished sweet feelings in her girl’s heart. She had experienced all the yearnings peculiar to young women. She had felt the indescribable yearning most girls feel,—to pass a career of uneventful happiness, a true wife and a happy mother.
And now, the man of her heart had promised these joys to her, and her humble wishes were realized. As to her stepmother, of course she would only be too proud to hear of the engagement. Jessie would break the good news to her in the morning, and get the matter off her mind. So she slept very peaceably.
See page 18
Next morning she was up and stirring with the first lark, bustling about the house, and singing to herself with a light heart. Thank goodness, there was plenty of work to do, otherwise I do believe her happiness would have climbed to that pinnacle which suddenly turns liquid and topples over with tears. At breakfast time, she broke the tidings after the following fashion:—
“Mither,” she said, abruptly, “ye’ll no’ guess the gude news I hae to gie ye. It’s a’ settled, mither, and I’m gaun to marry Jock gin summer next!”
Had Jessie been a very acute observer, or had she been less absorbed in the contemplation of her new hopes, she would have seen Mrs. Cameron’s face turn paler than usual. The woman’s countenance regained its natural colour in a moment; but her lips quivered, her fingers fidgetted nervously with the table-cloth, and a fierce cat-like look darkened for a moment in her slumberous eyes. Her voice was unchanged, however, and she now spoke in the calm monotonous tones that were usual to her.
“Whatna Jock?” inquired Mrs. Cameron, after a moment’s pause.
“Wha would it be, mither, but Jock Macintyre, o’ the smiddy yonder. And, mither, he’s gaun to build a new house, and he’s weel-to-dae, and he says he’ll hae heaps o’ siller ane o’ these days.” And Jessie laughed happily, and began to hum the words of Willie Miller’s glorious song:—
Folks wha hae skill o’ the bumps on the head,
Hint there’s mair ways than toiling o’ winning ane’s bread;
