*CHAPTER XLV*
*ON THE WINGS OF THE SEA-MEW*
The wind and the tides favoured us, and the little barque took to thesea like the bird whose name she bore.
Before us a rosy path, painted by the rising sun, stretched into thedistance. The soft winds of the dawn filled the brown sails and carriedus onward, and the little waves patted the sides of our boat as thoughthey were the hands of the sea-maidens, come from out of the deep tocheer us on our way.
We sat together in the stern of the boat, our feet resting on a heap oftarry cordage. I had wrapped her plaid about her to keep my Marywarm--and under its folds I had made her hands captive in one of mine.
"I can hardly believe it," she said. "It is amaist ower guid to betrue: to ha'e you by my side, my ain man, when I thocht you were deid."
"And I," I answered, "thought that I had lost you for ever. Many atime, of a night, I have looked up at the stars and chosen the brightestof them, and called it Mary's star: because I thought it must be yourdwelling-place. And all the while you were not dead at all."
"And were you really very, very sorry when you thocht that I was deid?"she asked, with a twinkle in her eyes.
"Mary!" I exclaimed, "how can you?" And as there was no one to see buta following gull which hung above us, I kissed her. "But tell me," Icontinued, "what happened to you after we parted on the moors--and howcame I to find this among the ashes of Daldowie," and I drew out thefragment of her ring and showed it to her.
"My ring!" she cried. "The ring you gave me! Did you fin' it there?Oh, laddie!" and she nestled against me so tenderly that, in that happymoment, the weary months of pain through which I had lived seemed asnothing.
Then she told me what had befallen her. She had gone to thehiding-place, but found no trace of her father; and after seeking forhim far and wide, but without avail, she had decided to return home. Onher way back she discovered troopers out upon the moor between herselfand home, and she had been compelled to hide for the night among theheather. It was not until late on the following afternoon that she hadventured to steal back to Daldowie, only to find her home in ashes. AsI had done, when I returned upon the day following, she had found threeskeletons among the ruins, and, with horror of heart, she had countedthat one of them was mine.
"I leaped," she said, "among the ashes, and though they burned mecruelly, I brushed them aside frae the face that I thought was yours tosee your smile again. But a' I saw was red embers and fleshless bones.Oh, sweetheart--how I cried!" And she buried her head upon my shoulderand sobbed for a moment. Then she raised her face and smiled.
"You maun think me silly. I'm greetin' noo for joy, I cried then forsorrow. As mither used to say--'Women are kittle cattle'--aren't we?"and she smiled, until the light in her sweet eyes dried the tears as thesun dries the dew from the heather bells. "And I suppose," she added,"that's when I lost my ring--though I didna miss it till I had leftDaldowie far behin' me."
"And where have you been," I asked, "since then? Both Hector and Isearched the length and breadth of Galloway for you, but without avail."
"Oh, fie," she said. "Ha'e you no' been tellin' me that you thocht Iwas in the Kingdom of Heaven--and you looked for me in the Kingdom o'Galloway," and in the playful notes of her voice I heard the echo of hermother's.
"Where was I?" she continued. "Weel, I was within three miles o'Dumfries a' the time. Ye see, when I left Daldowie, I didna ken wheretae go. I ran for miles and miles ower the hills, till I could run naelanger; and then the dark fell, and I lay doon among the heather andcried mysel' to sleep. But when the mornin' cam' I sat up and said tomysel', 'Mary Paterson--you maunna be a fool.' I spoke it oot lood--andit sounded sae like mither's voice that I began to greet again, and Iwent on greetin' till I could greet nae mair, and then I felt better."She looked at me roguishly. "And after that," she went on, "I set ootfor Dumfries. I thocht if I could reach the Solway I micht wade acrossit to England, but--I'm thinkin' noo that I've seen it, I would ha'ebeen drooned in the attempt." She laughed, and the gull above us, withits yellow legs apart, and its tail stretched tensely fan-wise, droppeddown and touched the sea with its beak, and having seized its prey,wheeled round on wide wings and floated above us again.
"Food I got frae kindly cotters, and when at last I reached Dumfries Iset oot to mak' for Glencaple. But when half-way there I sat doon by theroad and began to think, and then for the first time I missed my ring,and thinkin' o' the day when you put it on my finger and o' a' the loveyou bore me, I fair broke doon and cried like a bairn. I was greetin'sae sair that I didna notice a lady dressed in black until she wasstanding beside me. Very gently she asked me what ailed me, and thelook in her face made me feel that she had kent sorrow herse?--so Itellt her everything. Before I was finished she was greetin' as sair asmysel', and then she slipped her airm through mine and drew me to myfeet and kissed me. 'I am but a poor widow,' she said, 'whose husbandand sons have died for the Covenant: but the widow's cruse never runsdry, and you are welcome to a share of whatever the Lord sends me.' Sheled me to her bonnie wee hoose, set in a plantin' o' beech trees on theGlencaple road, and she has been a mother to me, and I a daughter to herever since. Sometimes we would shelter fugitive hill-men--and often Iha'e ta'en them food--and it was for that, for I was caught red-handed,that I was made prisoner and thrown into the Tolbooth."
"And that," I said, taking up the tale, "is how you come now to besitting, my wife, beside me." I kissed her beneath her littleshell-like ear.
"Behave yoursel'," she said with mock sternness. "The captain will seeyou!"
"And what if he does?" I asked, as I repeated the offence.
"Did you see me on the road to the Tolbooth?" she continued.
"Yes," I said, "that is where I saw you. Just when hope seemed utterlydead--you came."
The woman in her spoke: "Did I look feart?" she asked.
"Not a bit; you looked as brave as you are."
She laughed as she replied, "I'm gled I didna show it, for mither wouldha'e been ashamed o' me if she knew, but in my hert I was as frichtenedas a bairn."
"Never mind," I said, "you have nothing to fear now. You are mine forever."
"For ever," she answered. "That's a lang, lang time; are ye sure ye'llnever get tired o' me?"
"Sweetheart," I answered fervently, "long ago you told me to love youfor your soul. I have learned to do so, and such a love can never die";and as the captain's back was turned and there was neither sea-gull norsailor-man to see, I took her winsome face in both my hands andsmothered her with kisses.