Amelia Barr - Christine - A Fife Fisher Girl

“I see ye hae made up your mind to stand by Ballister. Vera weel! Do sae! As long as he keeps himsel’ in foreign pairts, he’ll ne’er fret me; but if he comes hame, he’ll hae to keep a few hundred miles atween us.”

“Nonsense! We’ll a’ be glad to see him hame.”

“Your way be it. Get your eating done wi’, and then awa’ to the manse, and get me thae powders. I’m restless and feared if I have none i’ the house.”

“I’ll be awa’ in ten minutes now. Ye ken the Domine doesna care for seeing folk till after ten o’clock. He says he hes ither company i’ the first hours o’ daybreak.”

“Like enou’, but he’ll be fain to hear about the doings last night, and he’ll be pleased concerning Faith getting a sweetheart. I doubt if she deserves the same.”

“Mither! Dinna say that. The puir lassie!”

“Puir lassie indeed! Her feyther left her forty pounds a year, till she married, and then the principal to do as she willed wi’. I dinna approve o’ women fretting and fearing anent naething.”

“But if they hae the fret and fear, what are they to do wi’ it, Mither?”

“Fight it. Fighting is better than fearing. Weel, tak’ care o’ yoursel’ and mind every word that you say.”

“I’m going by the cliffs on the sea road.”

“That will keep you langer.”

“Ay, but I’ll no require to mind my words. I’ll meet naebody on that road to talk wi’.”

“I would not say that much.”

A suspicion at once had entered Margot’s heart. “I wonder,” she mused, as she watched Christine out of sight – “I wonder if she is trysted wi’ Angus Ballister on the cliff road. Na, na, she would hae told me, whether or no, she would hae told me.”

The solitude of the sea, and of the lonely road, was good for Christine. She was not weeping, but she had a bitter aching sense of something lost. She thought of her love lying dead outside her heart’s shut door, and she could not help pitying both love and herself. “He was like sunshine on my life,” she sighed. “It is dark night now. All is over. Good-by forever, Angus! Oh, Love, Love!” she cried aloud to the sea. “Oh, you dear old troubler o’ the warld! I shall never feel young again. Weel, weel, Christine, I’ll not hae ye going to meet trouble, it isna worth the compliment. Angus may forget me, and find some ither lass to love – weel, then, if it be so, let it be so. I’ll find the right kind o’ strength for every hour o’ need, and the outcome is sure to be right. God is love. Surely that is a’ I need. I’ll just leave my heartache here, the sea can carry it awa’, and the winds blow it far off” – and she began forthwith a tender little song, that died down every few bars, but was always lifted again, until it swelled out clear and strong, as she came in sight of the small, white manse, standing bravely near the edge of a cliff rising sheerly seven hundred feet above the ocean. The little old, old kirk, with its lonely acres full of sailors’ graves, was close to it, and Christine saw that the door stood wide open, though it was yet early morning.

“It’ll be a wedding, a stranger wedding,” she thought. “Hame folk wouldna be sae thoughtless, as to get wed in the morning – na, na, it will be some stranger.”

These speculations were interrupted by the Domine’s calling her, and as soon as she heard his voice, she saw him standing at the open door. “Christine!” he cried. “Come in! Come in! I want you, lassie, very much. I was just wishing for you.”

“I am glad that I answered your wish, Sir. I would aye like to do that, if it be His will.”

“Come straight to my study, dear. You are a very godsend this morning.”

He went hurriedly into the house, and turned towards his study, and Christine followed him. And before she crossed the threshold of the room, she saw Angus and his Uncle Ballister, sitting at a table on which there were books and papers.

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