"Manifold are the changes Which Providence may bring. Many unhoped for things God's power hath brought about. What seemeth, often happeneth not; And for unlikely things God findeth out a way."
She smiled and laid the little volume down. "The tide has turned," she thought, "and many an ill wind has driven a ship into a good harbor. I wonder what was the matter with me this morning!" And she sat quiet with a new sense of peace in her heart, until the moon was low in the west, and the far hills stood clear and garish in the cold white light of morning. Then Mary called her again. There was a look of pitiful anxiety on her face; she grasped Maggie's hand, and whispered "The 29th? Is it come?"
"Now, Maggie. To-day. At once. Oh Maggie! Go, go, go! I shall be ill again if you do not."
It was useless to reason with her. She began to cry, to grow feverish.
"Spare no money. He will be waiting. I know it. Haste, Maggie! Oh dear, you don't know--oh, be quick, for my sake."
Then Maggie told Mrs. Leslie such facts as were necessary to account for Mary's anxiety, and she also urged her to keep the appointment. "Better late than ever," she said, "and you may not be too late; and anyhow the salt air will do you good, and maybe set you beyond the fit o' sickness you look o'er like to have."
So within an hour Maggie was speeding to the coast of Fife, faintly hoping that Allan might still be there; "for he must ken by his own heart," she thought, "that it would be life or death, and naething but life or death, that could make me break a promise I had made to him."
"Love's a divinity that speaks 'Awake Sweetheart!' and straightway breaks A lordlier light than sunshine's glow, A sweeter life than mortals know. I bow me to his fond command, Take life's great glory from his hand; Crowned in one moment's sweet surprise, When Somebody and I--changed eyes."
Maggie had very little hope of meeting Allan, and yet he might have lingered. Judging him by her own heart, she thought he would have done so, unless circumstances of which she had no knowledge made waiting impossible. It was this faint hope that made her wear the costume most becoming to her--a gown and mantle of dark blue cashmere and velvet, and a white straw bonnet with bands and strings of blue velvet and one drooping plume of the same tint. Mary looked at her critically, and said, "You do me great credit, Maggie, I expect some one to be very pleased with me. Kiss me, dear, and be sure and bring good news back with you."