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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Salted with Fire"

He tried to soothe and comfort her, but in struggling
not to cry she only sobbed the worse. At last, however, she succeeded in
faltering out an explanation.
"Auntie's been tellin me that I maun luik to my hert, so as no to tyne't to
ye a'thegither! But it's awa a'ready," she went on, with a fresh outburst,
"and it's no manner o' use cryin til't to come back to me. I micht as weel
cry upo' the win' as it blaws by me! I canna understan' 't! I ken weel
ye'll soon be a great man, and a' the toon crushin to hear ye; and I ken
jist as weel that I'll hae to sit still in my seat and luik up to ye whaur
ye stan', no daurin to say a word--no daurin even to think a thoucht lest
somebody sittin aside me should hear't ohn me spoken. For what would it be
but clean impidence o' me to think 'at there was a time when I was sittin
whaur I'm sittin the noo--and thinkin 't i' the vera kirk! I would be
nearhan' deein for shame!"
"Didn't you ever think, Isy, that maybe I might marry you some day?" said
James jokingly, confident in the gulf between them.


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