There was nothing in the parting to strengthen her suspicions. Maggie was
indeed white and silent, but Allan went almost hurriedly away: as if he
were weary of the circumstances surrounding him. David thought him cool
and cross, and was pained by the mood; but Maggie knew the meaning of the
worried, slightly haughty manner; for in one quick glance, he had made her
understand how bitter it was to leave her in her worse than loneliness;
and how painful in his present temper was the vulgar effusiveness of
Janet Caird's thanks and noisy farewells.
An hour upon the sea cured him. "David," he said, "I was very cross. I did
not like that woman in your home. She spoils my memory of it."
"She is my fayther's sister, sir."
"Forgive me, David. Let us speak of other things. You have found
comfortable lodgings, I hope?"
"Ay, sir. Willie Buchan's third cousin married a Glasgow baker, who has a
gude place in the Candleriggs Street. That is close by the High Street and
vera convenient as to locality. The charges also are sma'. I hae a
comfortable room and my bite and sup for ten shillings weekly."
This introduced a subject which opened up endlessly to David, and Allan
was glad to let him talk; for thought is sweet to the lover, thought of
the beloved under any circumstances. No other shadow darkened a friendship
that had been so evenly cloudless, and David and Allan parted full of
mutual good will and regard, although the hopes and aims of each were so
widely different.
Allan went directly to his father's office, but John Campbell had gone to
a board meeting, and so he took the next boat for Meriton. Evidently
Archibald had not been warned that day by any peculiar "feeling" of his
arrival. There was no conveyance of any kind waiting for him; but as the
distance was only two very pleasant miles, Allan did not much regret the
prospect of having to walk them.
The woods adjoining the road were the Campbells' property, he leaped the
wall, and took the footpath through them. How silent it was under the
pines! the more so because of that vague stir in the air among them.
What nameless perfumes! emanations from the resinous earth, from the old
trunks, from the foliage. What delightful mysteries in their nooks! Bird
twitterings intimate and charming; chirpings of the mothers to their newly
fledged young; little cries of joy, and counsel, and innocent surprises!
A large, cool, calm hand was laid upon his heart, the hand of nature; he
sauntered slowly in the aromatic air, he dreamed impossible dreams of
bliss, and with the faith of youth believed in them. Good! When we have
weaned youth from dreams, from poetry, from enthusiasms, and made it
thoroughly sensible, and material, what kind of race will remain to the
world?