with a momentary seriousness, but forgot before the smoke of Glasgow was
out of sight that he had ever parted from anybody, or that all his
friends were not awaiting him in this summer of delight.
CHAPTER VIII.
“Come away into the fire; it’s bonnie weather, but it’s sharp on the
hillside,” said the mistress of Ramore. “I never wearied for you, Colin,
so much as I’ve done this year. No that there was ony particular
occasion, for we’ve a’ been real weel, and a good season, and baith
bairns and beasts keeping their health; but the heart’s awfu’
capricious, and canna hear reason. Come in bye to the fire.”
“There’s been three days of east wind,” said the farmer, who had gone
across the loch to meet his son, and bring him home in triumph, “which
accounts for your mother’s anxiety, Colin. When there’s plenty of blue
sky, and the sun shining, there’s naething she hasna courage for. What’s
doing in Glasgow? or rather what’s doing at the college? or maybe, if
you insist upon it, what are you doing? for that’s the most important to
us.”
To which Colin, who was almost as shy of talking of his own achievements
as of old, gave for answer some bald account of the winding up of the
session, and of his own honours. “I told you all about it in my last
letter,” he said, hurrying over the narrative; “there was nothing out of
the common. Tell me rather all the news of the parish. Who is at home
and who is away, and if any of the visitors have come yet?” said the
lad, with a conscious tremor in his voice. Most likely his mother
understood what he meant.
“It’s ower early for visitors yet,” she said, “though I think for my
part there’s nothing like the spring, with the days lengthening, and the
light aye eking and eking itself out. To be sure, there’s the east
winds, which are a sore drawback, but they have nae great effect on the
west coast. The castle woods are wonderful bonnie, Colin; near as bonnie
as they were last year, when a’ thae bright English bairnies made the
place look cheerful. I wonder the Earl bides there so seldom himself.
He’s no rich, to be sure, but it’s a moderate kind of a place. If I had
enough money I would rather live there than in the Queen’s palace, and
so the minister says. You’ll have to go down to the manse the morn, and
tell him a’ about your prizes, Colin,” said his proud mother, looking at
him with beaming eyes. She put her hand upon her boy’s shoulder, and
patted him softly as he stood beside her. “He takes a great interest in
what you’re doing at the college,” she continued; “he says you’re a
credit to the parish, and so I hope you’ll aye be,” said Mrs. Campbell.
She had not any doubt on the subject so far as her own convictions went.
“He does not know me,” said the impatient Colin; “but I’ll go to the
manse to-morrow if you like. It’s halfway to the castle,” he said, under
his breath, and then felt himself colour, much to his annoyance, under
his mother’s eyes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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