'I ken that lassie,' he said, and moved to get down from the counter
on which he too had seated himself.
'Na, na,' whispered the manufacturer, laying, like the Ancient
Mariner, a brown skinny hand of restraint upon Robert's arm--'na,
na, never heed her. Ye maunna speyk to ilka lass 'at ye ken.--Poor
thing! she's been doin' something wrang, to gang slinkin' aboot i'
the gloamin' like a baukie (bat), wi' her plaid ower her heid.
Dinna fash wi' her.'
'Nonsense!' returned Robert, with indignation. 'What for shouldna I
speik till her? She's a decent lassie--a dochter o' James Hewson,
the cottar at Bodyfauld. I ken her fine.'
He said this in a whisper; but the girl seemed to hear it, for she
left the shop with a perturbation which the dimness of the late
twilight could not conceal. Robert hesitated no longer, but
followed her, heedless of the louder expostulations of MacGregor.
She was speeding away down the street, but he took longer strides
than she, and was almost up with her, when she drew her shawl closer
about her head, and increased her pace.
'Jessie!' said Robert, in a tone of expostulation. But she made no
answer. Her head sunk lower on her bosom, and she hurried yet
faster. He gave a long stride or two and laid his hand on her
shoulder. She stood still, trembling.
'Jessie, dinna ye ken me--Robert Faukner? Dinna be feart at me.
What's the maitter wi' ye, 'at ye winna speik till a body? Hoo's
a' the fowk at hame?'
She burst out crying, cast one look into Robert's face, and fled.
Pages:
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463