In every
burning heart, in everything that hopes and fears and is, Love is the
creative presence, the centre, the source of life, yea Life itself; yea,
God himself!"
The elder woman drew herself a little back, held the poor white-faced thing
at arms'-length, and looked her through the face into the heart.
"My bonny lamb!" she cried, and pressed her again to her bosom. "Come hame,
and be a guid bairn, and ill man sall never touch ye, or gar ye greit ony
mair! There's _my_ man waitin for ye, to tak ye, and haud ye safe!"
Isy looked up, and over the shoulder of her hostess saw the strong paternal
face of the farmer, full of silent welcome. For the strange emotion that
filled him he did not seek to account: he had nothing to do with that; his
will was lord over it!
"Come ben the hoose, lassie," he said, and led the way to the parlour,
where the red sunset was shining through the low gable window, filling the
place with the glamour of departing glory. "Sit ye doon upo the sofa there;
ye maun be unco tired! Surely ye haena come a' the lang ro'd frae Tiltowie
upo yer ain twa wee feet?"
"'Deed has she," answered the minister, who had followed them into the
room; "the mair shame to me 'at loot her dee 't!"
Marion lingered outside, wiping away the tears that would keep flowing.
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