Who could tell what she might do after the dark came down?
He rose and would have taken her hand to draw it from her face;
but she turned her back quickly, saying in a hard forced voice:
"A man canna help a wuman--'cep it be till her grave." Then
turning suddenly, she laid her hands on his shoulders, and cried:
"For the love o' God, Ma'colm, lea' me this moment. Gien I cud
tell ony man what ailed me, I wad tell you; but I canna, I canna!
Rin laddie; rin' an' leap me."
It was impossible to resist her anguished entreaty and agonized
look. Sore at heart and puzzled in brain, Malcolm yielding turned
from her, and with eyes on the ground, thoughtfully pursued his
slow walk towards the Seaton.
At the corner of the first house in the village stood three women,
whom he saluted as he passed. The tone of their reply struck
him a little, but, not having observed how they watched him as he
approached, he presently forgot it. The moment his back was turned
to them, they turned to each other and interchanged looks.
"Fine feathers mak fine birds," said one of them.
"Ay, but he luiks booed doon," said another.
"An' weel he may! What 'll his leddy mither say to sic a ploy? She
'll no sawvour bein' made a granny o' efter sic a fashion 's yon,"
said the third.
"'Deed, lass, there's feow oucht to think less o' 't," returned
the first.
Although they took little pains to lower their voices, Malcolm was
far too much preoccupied to hear what they said.
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