"I've come oot on the muir a wheen o' nichts noo, to try an' meet you,"
he began, getting into the business right away, "an' I had begun to
think you had stopped comin' owre."
But Mysie answered never a word. Her face grew paler, and her agitation
became more evident.
"Mysie," he began, now fully braced for the important matter in view, "I
want you to marry me. I want you to be my wife. You've kenned me a' my
life. We gaed to the school together, and we gaed to work together, an'
I hae aye looked on you as my lass. I canna keep it ony langer noo. I
hae wanted to tell you a lang time aboot it, an' to ask you to be my
wife. My place at hame is easier noo. My mother has the rest o' the
family comin' on to take my place, and her battle is gey weel owre, an'
I can see prospects o' settin' up a hoose o' my ain, if you'll agree to
share it with me. I haven't muckle to offer you, but I think you'll ken
by this time that I'll be guid to you. Mysie, I want you. Will you
come?"
For answer, Mysie burst into tears, her shoulders heaving with the sobs
of her grief, her breast surging and falling, while her little hands
covered her eyes, as she stood with bent head, a pitiable little figure.
Pages:
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217