A DOZEN WAYS OF LOVE***
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A DOZEN WAYS OF LOVE
by
L. DOUGALL
Author of 'Beggars All,' 'The Zeitgeist,' 'The Madonna of a Day,' Etc.
London Adam And Charles Black 1897
TO
M. S. E.
WITHOUT WHOSE AID, I THINK, MY BOOKS WOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN WRITTEN
CONTENTS
PAGE I. YOUNG LOVE 1
II. A MARRIAGE MADE IN HEAVEN 29
III. THRIFT 57
IV. A TAINT IN THE BLOOD 77
V. 'HATH NOT A JEW EYES?' 127
VI. A COMMERCIAL TRAVELLER 141
VII. THE SYNDICATE BABY 169
VIII. WITCHCRAFT 195
IX. THE GIRL WHO BELIEVED IN THE SAINTS 219
X. THE PAUPER'S GOLDEN DAY 237
XI. THE SOUL OF A MAN 251
XII. A FREAK OF CUPID 293
I
YOUNG LOVE
It was after dark on a November evening. A young woman came down the main street of a small town in the south of Scotland. She was a maid-servant, about thirty years old; she had a pretty, though rather strong-featured, face, and yellow silken hair. When she came toward the end of the street she turned into a small draper's shop. A middle-aged woman stood behind the counter folding her wares.
'Can ye tell me the way to Mistress Macdonald's?' asked the maid.
'Ye'll be a stranger.' It was evident that every one in those parts knew the house inquired for.
The maid had a somewhat forward, familiar manner; she sat down to rest. 'What like is she?'
The shopkeeper bridled. 'Is it Mistress Macdonald?' There was reproof in the voice. 'She is much respectet--none more so. It would be before you were born that every one about here knew Mistress Macdonald.'
'Well, what family is there?' The maid had a sweet smile; her voice fell into a cheerful coaxing tone, which had its effect.
'Ye'll be the new servant they'll be looking for. Is it walking ye are from the station? Well, she had six children, had Mistress Macdonald.'
'What ages will they be?'
The woman knit her brows; the problem set her was too difficult. 'I couldna tell ye just exactly. There's Miss Macdonald--she that's at home yet; she'll be over fifty.'
'Oh!' The maid gave a cheerful note of interested understanding. 'It'll be her perhaps that wrote to me; the mistress'll be an old lady.'
'She'll be nearer ninety than eighty, I'm thinking.' There was a moment's pause, which the shop-woman filled with sighs. 'Ye'll be aware that it's a sad house ye're going to. She's verra ill is Mistress Macdonald. It's sorrow for us all, for she's been hale and had her faculties. She'll no' be lasting long now, I'm thinking.'
