humiliation too much to intrude upon it, even with his sympathy: who
comprehended her so well, as to understand that even condolence might be
an additional offence. She could not have put the feeling into words, and
yet she clearly understood that there are some sorrows which it is the
truest kindness to ignore.

In about half-an-hour the first vehemence of her grief was over. She stood
up and smoothly snooded back her hair; she dried her eyes, and then looked
cautiously out of the window. In the dim light, Allan's tall graceful
figure had a commanding aspect, greatly increased in Maggie's eyes by the
fashionable clothing he wore that day. As she watched him, he stood still
and looked toward the sea; and his attitude had an air of despondency that
she could not endure to witness. She went to the door, set it wide open,
and stood upon its threshold until Allan came near.

"I dinna mean to shut you oot, sir," she said sadly, "you are aye
welcome."

"Thank you, Maggie."

His voice was grave, almost sorrowful, and he went at once to his own
room. That was precisely what Maggie felt he ought under the circumstances
to do; and yet she had a perverse anger at him for doing it.

"He might hae said, 'it's a fine night;' or 'has Davie come hame?' or the
like o' that," she whispered; "I'll hae lost his liking forever mair,
anda' for Angus Raith's ill tongue. I wish I had keep't my temper, but
that is past wishing for." Then a sudden thought struck her, and she
knocked gently at Allan's door.