ne'er could be hungry any mair." He was particularly delighted at the
minister's kindness, and said fervently, "I thank him for the books, far
mair for the blessing." He took all the favors to be done him without
dispute or apology, just as a candid, unselfish child, takes what love
gives it. He was so anxious to get to work, that he would liked to have
left at once for Glasgow; but Allan was not ready to leave. Indeed he was
"swithering" whether, or not, he should take this opportunity of bidding
farewell to Pittenloch.

After breakfast they went to the boat together. The decks were covered
With a mass of glinting, shimmering fish, that looked like molten silver
in the sunshine. "David," said Allan, "make the boys clean her thoroughly,
and in smooth water you can now use her as a study. Maggie dislikes men
about the house all day; you can bring your books and papers to the boat
and drift about in smooth water. On the sea there will be no crying
children and scolding mothers to disturb you."

The idea delighted David; he began at once to carry it out; but Allan took
no further interest in the matter, and went strolling up the beach until
he came to the spot where the quarrel of the preceding evening had taken
place. Here he stood leaning against the rock unconscious of outside
influences for neatly two hours. He asked himself "did he love Maggie
Promoter?" "Did she love him?" "Was there any hope in the future for their
marriage?"

Then he acknowledged to his soul that the woman was inexpressibly dear to
him. As for Maggie's love of himself, he hoped, and yet he feared it;
feared it, because he loved her so well that he did not like to think of
the suffering she must bear with him. He felt that no prospect of their
marriage could be entertained. He loved his father, and not only