“It would take a wise man to tell,” said Lauderdale; “I would not pretend, for my own part, to fathom what any fool might mean--much less what I mean myself, that have glimmerings of sense at times. Yon sunshine’s awfu’ prying about the hills. Light’s aye inquisitive, and would fain be at the bottom of every mystery--which is, maybe, the reason,” said the speculative observer, “why there’s nae grandeur to speak of, nor meaning, according to mortal notions, without clouds and darkness. Yonder’s your postman, callant. Give him the letter and be done with it. I whiles find myself wondering how it is that we take so little thought to God’s meanings--what ye might call His lighter meanings--His easy verses and such-like, that are thrown about the world, in the winds and the sky. To be sure, I ken just as well as you do that it’s currents of air, and masses of vapour, and electricity, and all the rest of it. It’s awfu’ easy learning the words--but will you tell me there’s no meaning to a man’s heart and soul in the like of that?” said Colin’s companion, stopping suddenly with a sigh of impatience and vexation, which had to do with something more vital than the clouds. Just then, nature truly seemed to have come to a pause, and to be standing still, like themselves, looking on. The sky that was so blue and broad a moment since had contracted to a black vault over the Holy Loch. Blackness that was positive and not a mere negation frowned out of all the half-disclosed mysterious hollows of the hills. The leaves that remained on the trees thrilled with a spasmodic shiver, and the little ripples came crowding up on the beach with a sighing suppressed moan of suspense and apprehension. So, at least, it seemed to one if not both of the spectators standing by. “It means a thunderstorm, in the first place,” said Colin; “look how it begins to come down in a torrent of gloom over Loch Goil. We have just time to get under shelter. It is very well for us we are so near Ramore.” “Ay--” said Lauderdale. He repeated the syllable over again and again as they hurried back. “But the time will come, when we’ll no be near Ramore,” he said to himself as the storm reached him and dashed in his face not twenty yards from the open door. Colin’s laugh, as he reached with a bound the kindly portal, was all the answer which youth and hope gave to experience. The boy was not to be discouraged on that sweet threshold of his life. CHAPTER XIV.