“It was the sodger, Dragon,” said Katie Calder, with instant determination. Violet said nothing. She was pulling away the withered fibres of ivy from Dragon’s wall. “I think folk shouldna be led away,” said Lettie slowly, after a considerable pause; “and you never say folk are led away when they do _good_ things, Dragon. I think it was _his_ blame too, as well as the other man’s.” “He’s in his grave this forty year,” said Dragon, “but I mind him better than I mind his nameson, Geordie Paxton, that I saw only yestreen. Maybe I should have ga’en sooner to my account mysel, and wan beside a’ my ain friends; but for a’ I’m sae auld, bairns, I never crave to be away; and mony a young head I’ve seen laid in the mools, since my ain was as white as it is this day. No that I’m bragging o’ that, Missie--but I’m auld, and I never feel ony dinnles noo. I think my heart has slippit down some gate, where trouble can never get a rug at it; and I’m aye pleased with the light and the guid day, and wi’ a book whiles, and a crack, and my meat regular, and naething to fash me; and I see nae reason I have for deeing, though I _am_ an auld man.” Strange, broken gleams shone out of Dragon’s wandering eyes as he spoke, nodding his head feebly with a half-palsied motion--fitful glances, out of his torpor, of the heart and spirit which long ago made him a man; but the soul dwelt benumbed in its wintry habitation, like some forlorn dweller among the hills whose hut the snow has buried--and resigned itself to the slumbrous spell, without strength to struggle into consciousness of anything higher than the warmth and ease in which it lay. CHAPTER V. I have heard when one lay dying, after long And steadfast contemplation of sure death, That sudden there would spring delicious hope, And boastful confidence of health restored, Into the heart which had not threescore throbs Of its worn pulse to spend-- There is a madness that besets the verge Of full destruction--madness that hath wild dreams Of victory and triumph. “HOW’S the farm getting on, Harry? Armstrong doesn’t seem very jubilant about it. What’s to become of the land?” said Gilbert Allenders. They were sitting in the little round turret-room, looking out from the open door upon the lands of Allenders, and many a fair acre besides. A dewy May evening was shedding sweetness and peace over it all, and through the whole wide country before them the setting sun found out, here and there, a running water, and made all the hills aware of it with a triumphant gleam. Green corn rustling in the breeze, and gardens gay with blossoms, with here and there a red field of new ploughed earth, or a rich luxuriant strip of meadow to diversify them, spread round on every side; and the hum of animate life, the indistinct farmyard voice, the din of playing children, came to them dreamily, upon air which told you in loving whispers, of the hawthorn trees in those deep lanes below.