m delight of a brother contemplating the fair face of a sister;
for Philip's heart glowed as he gazed, and the blush gathered on his
cheek. One summer evening they were returning from the fields together,
the sun was sinking in the west, the Ettrick murmured along by their
side, and the voice of the wood-dove was heard from the copse-wood which
covered the hills.
"Why are you so sad, brother Philip?" said Mary; "would you hide
anything from your own sister?"
"Do not call me _brother_, Mary," said he earnestly--"do not call me
_brother_!"
"Who would call you brother, Philip, if I did not?" returned she
affectionately.
"Let Daniel call me brother," said he, eagerly; "but not you--not you!"
She burst into tears. "When did I offend you, Philip," she added, "that
I may not call you brother?"
"Never, Mary!--never!" he exclaimed; "call me Philip--_your_
Philip!--anything but brother!" He took her hand within his--he pressed
it to his bosom. "Mary," he added, "I have neither father, mother,
brother, nor kindred--I am alone in the world--let there be something
that I can call _mine_--something that will love me in return! Do you
understand me, Mary?"
"You are cruel, Philip," said she, sobbing as she spoke; "you know I
love you--I have always loved you!"
"Yes! as you love Daniel--as you love your father; but not as"----
"You love Mr. Duncan," he would have said; but his heart upbraided him
for the suspicion, and he was silent. It is here necessary to inform the
reader that Mr. Duncan was a preacher of the Covenant, and John Brydone
revered him much. He was much older than Mary, but his heart cleaved to
her, and he had asked her father's consent to become his son-in-law.
John, though a stern man, was not one who would force the inclination
of his daughter; but Mr. Duncan was, as he expressed it, "one of the
faithful in Israel," and his proposal was pleasing to him. Mary,
however, regarded the preacher with awe, but not with affection.
Mary felt that she understood Philip--that she loved him, and not as a
brother. She hid her face upon his shoulder, and her hand returned the
pressure of his. They entered the house together, and her father
perceived that his daughter's face was troubled. The manner of both was
changed. He was a shrewd man as well as a stern man, and he also
suspected the cause.
"Philip," said he calmly, "for twenty years hae I protected ye, an'
watched ower ye wi' a faither's care, an' I fea
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