"Thank God--thank God, my child, that I see you again safe!" fervently

ejaculated her father, at the same time straining the beloved being of

whom he spoke to his bosom.

After the lapse of a few minutes, and when the emotion of both had a

little subsided, taking his daughter by the hand, Mr M'Donald led her

towards her deliverer--who stood looking out of a window at the farther

end of the apartment, that he might not seem to witness the expression

of their feelings--and, on coming up to him, said, smiling as he spoke--

"Mr M'Arthur, I promised you the half of my fortune, if the intelligence

you brought me of Flora's safety were true, and I did this without being

aware that I was indebted to you for that inexpressible happiness; but

now, knowing this, I must throw something into the bargain. What would

you think, then, Mr M'Arthur, of my daughter here as a make-weight on

this occasion?"

M'Arthur looked confused and incredulous.

"Nay, I'm in earnest, Mr M'Arthur," continued Mr M'Donald. "You have won

her, and have the best right to wear her; and, to tell you both a truth,

I've long thought, and not with much displeasure, that you were not

indifferent to each other; and therefore I anticipate no very serious

objections on this occasion on either side. What say you, Flora? Have

you any objection to take Mr M'Arthur for your husband? Come now, be

honest, be candid."

Flora looked to the ground, blushed, but made no reply.

"Answer me, Flora," said her father, "have you any objection to receive

your deliverer as your husband?"

"I have always considered it one of my first duties to obey my father,"

replied Flora, in gentle accents.

"Enough, my dearest girl--enough," said her father, embracing her

tenderly. "Now, Mr M'Arthur," he continued, smiling as he spoke, "will

you have the goodness to state your objections to accepting the hand of

my daughter?"

"I would, sir, very readily, if I had any," replied Mr M'Arthur, smiling

in his turn, but almost entirely deprived of his presence of mind by the

great and unexpected happiness and good fortune with which he found

himself thus so suddenly blessed. "But--but----" and he stammered out

something about felicity, eternal gratitude, choice of his heart; which

Mr M'Donald, as he could not make out, though he perceived and

appreciated the feeling from which his confusion proceeded, suddenly

arrested by saying--

"That'll do, Mac--that'll do. You would make a speech if you could, but

it's not necessary. I know all you would say. But, Flora," he continued,

now in a bantering humour--"Mac tells me that he had rescued you before

he knew who you was; thus plainly intimating that it was no partiality

towards you in particular that induced him to do what he did. What do

you think of that?"

"Why, papa, I think the more of him for it," said Flora, blushing as she

spoke. "His gallantry was the more generous, the more disinterested. It

was a deed of true knight-errantry--the rescuing of a distressed damsel,

without regard to who or what she was. She was in jeopardy, and that was

enough for him."

"Excellent, Flora--very ingenious defence!" exclaimed her father,

laughing, and rubbing his hands with glee. "Commend me to a woman for

ready apology, for prompt excuse, for defending what is indefensible."

We need not prolong the scene. In a fortnight afterwards, Miss Flora

M'Donald was married to Duncan M'Arthur, Esq. of Rose Vale; and the

latter became an equal partner in the concerns of his father-in-law, by

which, in the course of a few years, he realised a handsome fortune,

which was further increased on the death of his patron, who left him,

for behoof of his wife and children, the whole of his immense wealth.

Such is the story--and a true tale it is--of the little barelegged and

bareheaded Highland boy whom we saw running wild on the banks of Loch

Awe.

It is almost unnecessary to add--yet our story would be incomplete

perhaps without it--that the parents of Mr M'Arthur participated in his

prosperity, and that in precise proportion with its advancement. Indeed,

to minister to the comforts of the authors of his being was one of his

first cares, and one of the very first purposes to which he applied the

means which his good fortune put in his power--a circumstance indicative

of so amiable and beautiful a trait of character, as would alone lessen

our wonder at the singular degree of prosperity that attended its

possessor--leaving us, is it does, impressed with a conviction that no

one who owned such an excellent disposition could be otherwise than

successful in the world.

END OF VOL. VIII

Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 08 · 第 21 / 21 段