it's the dead, and no the living that ought to be in my heart. Oh Maggie
Promoter, whate'er has come o'er you!"

To such reflections she was hasting with bent head back to her cottage,
And trying to avoid a meeting with any of the few men and women about so
early. But she was soon sensible of a rapid step following her, and before
she could turn her head, a large hand was laid upon her shoulder, and
Angus Raith was at her side.

"Sae you thocht to shun me, Maggie."

"You are wrang there, I didna even see you, Angus."

"That's the God's truth. You havena e'en for any body noo, but that proud,
fine gentleman that's staying wi' you."

"Be quiet, Angus. Hoo daur you say the like o'that? I ne'er saw the man's
face until yestreen; you shouldna think ill o' folk sae easy."

"What does he want here amang fishers? They dinna want him, I'm vera sure.
There's nae room for gentlemen in Pittenloch."

"Ask him what he wants. He pays for his room at Pittenloch; fourteen white
shillings every week, he agreed wi' Davie for."

"Fourteen shillings!"

The magnitude of the sum astonished him. He walked silently by Maggie's
side until she came to her door-step. He was a heavy-faced Celt; sallow,
and dark-eyed; with the impatient look of a selfish greedy man. Maggie's