"But never mind all that. It hardly matters. Good, decent John MacCain
and I were married, and lived happily enough for two years. I still
bear his name, though it is seldom remembered. But if there is one
thing the cruel Christian God will not tolerate---he, too, is called
the Father---it is those who find meaning and bounty without him. We
had little enough in the world's eyes, and never more than we needed
to live day by day. But what of that? We had each other, and the boy,
who had come to think of me as his mother. We had the sun and the sea,
and the land behind. Our Scotland.
"Then one day he took the boy and went out in his boat, as ever, to
earn our daily bread. It was as fine an April morning as you could
ask, and I saw them off under a gentle sky, with softly lapping waves
to put a woman's heart at ease. It need hardly be said that the skies
soon darkened, and a gale blew in like thunder---
"Nay, girl, back to your chair; I don't want pity. That was the way of
it, and nothing to be said or done now.
"He did not return that night.
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