It seemed twelve hours instead of one when the door swung back, and MacLure filled the doorway, preceded by a great burst of light, for the sun had arisen on the snow.

His face was as tidings of great joy, and Elspeth told me that there was nothing like it to be seen that afternoon for glory, save the sun itself in the heavens.

“A’ never saw the marrow o’ ‘t, Tammas, an’ a’ ’ll never see the like again; it’s a’ ower, man, withoot a hitch frae beginnin’ tae end, and she’s fa’in’ asleep as fine as ye like.”

“Dis he think Annie—­’ill live?”

“Of course he dis, and be aboot the hoose inside a month; that’s the gude o’ bein’ a clean-bluided, weel-livin’—­

“Preserve ye, man, what’s wrang wi’ ye?  It’s a mercy a’ keppit ye, or we wud hev hed anither job for Sir George.

“Ye ‘re a’richt noo; sit doon on the strae.  A’ ’ll come back in a while, an’ ye ’ill see Annie, juist for a meenut, but ye maunna say a word.”

Marget took him in and let him kneel by Annie’s bedside.

He said nothing then or afterward for speech came only once in his lifetime to Tammas, but Annie whispered, “Ma ain dear man.”

When the doctor placed the precious bag beside Sir George in our solitary first next morning, he laid a check beside it and was about to leave.

“No, no!” said the great man.  “Mrs. Macfadyen and I were on the gossip last night, and I know the whole story about you and your friend.

“You have some right to call me a coward, but I ’ll never let you count me a mean, miserly rascal,” and the check with Drumsheugh’s painful writing fell in fifty pieces on the floor.

As the train began to move, a voice from the first called so that all the station heard: 

“Give ’s another shake of your hand, MacLure; I’m proud to have met you; your are an honour to our profession.  Mind the antiseptic dressings.”

It was market-day, but only Jamie Soutar and Hillocks had ventured down.

“Did ye hear yon, Hillocks?  Hoo dae ye feel?  A’ ‘ll no deny a’ ’m lifted.”

Half-way to the Junction Hillocks had recovered, and began to grasp the situation.

“Tell ‘us what he said.  A’ wud like to hae it exact for Drumsheugh.”

“Thae’s the eedentical words, an’ they’re true; there’s no a man in Drumtochty disna ken that, except ane.”

“An’ wha’s that Jamie?”

“It’s Weelum MacLure himsel’.  Man, a’ ’ve often girned that he sud fecht awa’ for us a’, and maybe dee before he kent that he had githered mair luve than ony man in the Glen.

“‘A’ ‘m prood tae hae met ye,’ says Sir George, an’ him the greatest doctor in the land.  ‘Yir an honour tae oor profession.’

“Hillocks, a’ wudna hae missed it for twenty notes,” said James Soutar, cynic in ordinary to the parish of Drumtochty.

WANDERING WILLIE’S TALE, By Sir Walter Scott