Wad ye like me to
come back the nicht and tell ye what he says?"
"Na, na, lassie. It'll be nearhan' time for ye to gang to yer bed. And
it's a cauld nicht. I ken that by my leg. And ye see Jeames Johnstone's
no an ill-nater'd man like me. He's a douce man, and he's sure to be
weel-pleased and come till's tay. Na, na; ye needna come back. Guid
nicht to ye, my dawtie. The Lord bless ye for comin' to pray wi' an
ill-nater'd man."
Annie sped upon her mission of love through the murky streets and lanes
of Glamerton, as certainly a divine messenger as any seraph crossing
the blue empyrean upon level wing. And if any one should take exception
to this, on the ground that she sought her own service and neglected
home duties, I would, although my object has not been to set her forth
as an exemplar, take the opportunity of asking whether to sleep in a
certain house and be at liberty to take one's meals there, be
sufficient to make it home, and the source of home-obligations--to
indicate the will of God as to _the_ region of one's labour, other
regions lying open at the same time. Ought Annie to have given her aid
as a child where there was no parental recognition of the
relationship--an aid whose value in the eyes of the Bruces would have
consisted in the leisure it gave to Mrs Bruce for ministering more
devotedly in the temple of Mammon? I put the question, not quite sure
what the answer ought to be.
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