Maitland, as she bent
over the figure of her daughter who, clinging to Matthew's knees, was
looking up into his face, as he lay back in his chair where he had
fallen, when Mysie fell at his feet. "Oh, my puir lamb, you're wet to
the skin, an' fair done; for God knows its an' awfu' mess you hae cam'
hame in."
"Puir thing," she wailed and crooned, again breaking out after having
kissed and fondled Mysie's wet face. "We hae lang hungered for
you--hungered for you for a gey lang time, an' noo you hae cam' hame,
near to daith's door. But we'll nurse you back. We'll mak' you strong
and healthy again. Oh, Mysie, my puir lassie. What ails you? Where hae
you been? What has happened to you a' this time? But what am I thinking
aboot," she broke off, "sitting here, when I should be gettin' some dry
claes for you, an' a bed ready."
She rose and began to busy herself shaking up a bed and diving into
drawers, bringing clean clothes forth and hanging them over a piece of
rope which stretched across the fireplace, so as to air and heat them,
the tears streaming from her eyes and occasionally a low moan breaking
from her as if forced by some inward pain; while Matthew, nearly
overcome with excitement, could only lie back in his chair, his eyes
closed and his hands stroking tenderly the wet young head that lay
against his knee.
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