The Highland monthly - National Library of Scotland

722 The Highland Monthly.
At this point Kirsty broke into an hysterical sob ; and
John, behaving like any other rational male being in
similar circumstances, began a series of affectionate demon-
strations with a view to her comforting.
" Never mind, my lass, ye've lost yer money, an' I'll no'
say it'll no put back oor waddin' a bit ; but I aye said I
wudna marry for a fortune,' an' though it's gane, yer here
yersel', weighin' mair pounds than ye've lost."
" They're ye are," flared out Kirsty, " aye naggin' me
aboot my fat; I think I'll gie ye up a'thegether, John
Maxwell."
" Losh, woman, wull ye nae tak a compliment when ye
get ane?— I meant yer worth mair cash than ye've lost, my
bonnie doo."
" I think I'll dee tae— I'd be better awa'," was Kirsty's
irrelevant and tear-emphasised remark.
A better understanding was, however, soon arrived at,
and in a short time the pair were amicably discussing the
affairs of this world as they particularly affected the Castle
and its occupants. They recalled Elspeth's prophesy, now
well-known in the countryside, that Miss Flora would
never be mistress of Castle Stuart, and agreed that she had
fallen a victim to the old beldame's black art.
"Jist like Alic Tamson's coo," said John, " she cursed
it at nicht an' it was dead in the mornin'."
"There's ae consolation onyway," added Kirsty, " it's an
awfu' punishment, that ghaist," and, at the remark, as the
evening was now pretty well fallen, they drew closer
together.
" Serves her richt," was the reply ; " though I didna
think there was so muckle in Miss Flora as tae think o'
that."
As it became evident to both that something had gone
inexplicably wrong in the conversation, it was by mutual
consent dropped.
" Look here, John," resumed Kirsty, after a pause,
" here's a letter I fund amang the Professor's books
when I was clcanin' up ;
1 wonder what it's aboot."