And Allan was not prepared to admit this conclusion to the intercourse
which had been so sweet, so inexpressibly sweet. He knew that her simple
presence was a joy to him. He could see that her shining eyes grew
brighter at his approach, and that her face broke up like happy music as
he talked to her. "She is the other half of my own soul," he said, "and my
life can never be complete without her. But what a mockery of Fate to
bring us together. I cannot fall to her station; I cannot raise her to
mine. I ought to go away, and I will. In a little while she will forget
me."
The thought angered and troubled him; he tossed restlessly to and fro
Until daybreak, and then fell into a heavy slumber. And he dreamed of Mary
Campbell. His heart was full of Maggie, but he dreamed of Mary; and he
wondered at the circumstance, and though he was hardly conscious of the
fact, it made him a trifle cooler and more restrained in his intercourse
with Maggie. And Maggie thought of her bad temper the previous night, and
she was ashamed and miserable.
At irregular intervals, as occasion served, he had gone into Edinburgh,
and when there, he had always made an opportunity for writing to Meriton.
Mary therefore concluded that he was staying in Edinburgh, and John
Campbell did not fret much over the absence of a son who could be recalled
easily in a few hours. He understood that Allan was in correspondence with
his Cousin Mary, and he would not admit a doubt of the final settlement of
the Drumloch succession in the way he desired.
And undoubtedly the result of Allan's long self-examination was a resolve
to tear himself away from Maggie Promoter, and return to his home and his
evident duty. He could show his regard for the Promoters by interesting
himself in David's advancement. Maggie would understand his motives. She
would know what he suffered by her own sufferings, but the weary ache
would die out finally, and leave only in each heart a tender memory which
perhaps they might carry into another life, "if both should not forget."
He almost wept as he made this mental funeral of his dearest hopes; yet he
made it frequently during the following days, and he was making it so
earnestly as he walked into Kinkell to see Dr. Balmuto, that he was at the
manse before he had realized that he was on the road to it.
The doctor had seen him frequently in Kirk, but always in such clothes as
the fishers wore. He glanced at the elegantly dressed young man and
recognized him. Then he lifted the card which Allan had sent in as his
introduction, and said sharply, "Good morning, Mr. Campbell. I have seen
you often lately--in fisher's dress. I hope you have a good reason for the
masquerade, for let me tell you, I know something of John Campbell, your
father, and I doubt if you have his approval."