seven shillings and sixpence of her own free will. The south room,
which was the sunniest and had the honeysuckle round the window, was for
her; and it was a marvel to see the things that she brought from Berwick
to put into it. Twice a week she would drive over, and the cart would
not do for her, for she hired a gig from Angus Whitehead, whose farm lay
over the hill. And it was seldom that she went without bringing
something back for one or other of us. It was a wooden pipe for my
father, or a Shetland plaid for my mother, or a book for me, or a brass
collar for Rob the collie. There was never a woman more free-handed.

But the best thing that she gave us was just her own presence. To me it
changed the whole country-side, and the sun was brighter and the braes
greener and the air sweeter from the day she came. Our lives were
common no longer now that we spent them with such a one as she, and the
old dull grey house was another place in my eyes since she had set her
foot across the door-mat. It was not her face, though that was winsome
enough, nor her form, though I never saw the lass that could match her;
but it was her spirit, her queer mocking ways, her fresh new fashion of
talk, her proud whisk of the dress and toss of the head, which made one
feel like the ground beneath her feet, and then the quick challenge in
her eye, and the kindly word that brought one up to her level again.

But never quite to her level either. To me she was always something
above and beyond. I might brace myself and blame myself, and do what I
would, but still I could not feel that the same blood ran in our veins,
and that she was but a country lassie, as I was a country lad. The more
I loved her the more frightened I was at her, and she could see the
fright long before she knew the love. I was uneasy to be away from her,
and yet when I was with her I was in a shiver all the time for fear my
stumbling talk might weary her or give her offence. Had I known more of