Scotland/Scots > Reminiscences of a Highland parish

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A HIGHLAND PARISH.
tions of Donald’s unfaithfulness, or the repetition
of the story told by the soldier.
The fifth year of desolation had reached mid¬
summer, and it was clear that Mary was falling
into permanent bad health. One day, having
toiled until the afternoon at the making of a hay¬
stack, she sat down to rest upon some hay near
it. Above, lads and lasses were busy tramping,
under the superintendence of Hugh M'Allister.
H ugh suddenly paused in the midst of his work,
and, gazing steadfastly for a minute or two at a
distant person approaching the manse from the
gate, said, with a suppressed voice, and a “hush”
which commanded silence, “ If Donald Maclean is
in life, that’s him ! ” Every eye was directed to
the traveller, who, with a knapsack on his back,
was slowly approaching. “ It’s a beggar,” said
Kate Kitchen. “It’s like Donald, after all,” said
another, as the sounds of the traveller’s feet were
heard on the narrow gravel walk. “ It is him, and
none but him! ” cried Hugh, as he slid down to
the ground, having seen Donald’s face as he took
off his cap and waved it. Flying to Mary, who
had been half asleep from fatigue, he seized her