White Heather (Volume III of 3)

that Ronald's landlady, surprised not to have heard him stirring, knocked at his room. There was n

e no u

f her voice

and, being thus satisfied, the landlad

ct is, he had come home the night before in a reckless mood, and had sate on through hour after hour until it was nearly dawn, harassing himself with idle dreams and idle regrets, drinking to drown care, smoking incessantly, sometimes scrawling

me striding a

ughed alo

ich man's m

to his heel

merchant, off

that he d

their guineas a

ces were whi

folk labourin

im as he

their spades an

o their work

r along the

an sitti

y heavy upo

wful was

rivelled and b

hard wor

is locks, and b

he winter

Death, 'do you

ou are nea

ked: 'You are D

t I've foun

he did not seem to think so. As he contemplated the scrawled lines-with ra

rt Dundas Road, I know one that would be glad enough to go

lumberous sound of the great city already plunged in its multitudinous daily toil. Then he began to recall the events of the preceding evening; and had not Mrs. Menzies promised to call for him, about eleven, to drive him out to see some of her acquaintances at Milngavie? Well, it would be something to do; it would be a relief to get into the fresher

and took up the letter; and instantly-as he regarded the address on it-a kind of bewilderment, almost of fear, appeared on his face. For well he knew Meenie's handwriting: had

t him reached Inver-Mudal? And how much had she heard? There was a kind of terror in his heart as he went slowly back to the window, and sate down there, still staring absently at this token that had been sent him, and trying hard to make out the meaning of it. What was in Meenie's mind? What was her intention? Not merely to give him a sprig of white heather with wishes for good luck; there was more than that, as he e

de; the door was brusquely op

out o' your bed? Where's your breakf

; there was much to think of; there was more in his mind than t

below?'

and get on your coat. She doesn

t I'll be obliged if she will excuse me; I'm no up to the mark; ye'll have a merrier tim

l tak' no sic message. Come, come, man, pull yoursel' thegither. What's the matte

tubbornly. 'I'm not going. Tell her not to ta

it out between ye,' said Laidlaw. 'D'ye t

ld drive away and leave him to himself. But pr

nal

w a coat over his shoulders-just as Kate Menzie

ever-'what does this daft fellow Laidlaw mean by bringing me a message like that? I ken ye better, Ron

uncorked it, and poured out about

d I've got a hamper; and somewhere or other we'll camp out, like a band of gypsies. Dinna fear, lad; I'll no drag ye into the MacDougals' house until we're on the way back; and then it'll just

that I promised-but I'll take it kind of ye to excuse me-I'm

auntingly. '"The devil was ill, the devil a saint would be." He

im a hearty slap on the shoulder. Ther

a man against his will,' he said, an

for she had a temper too, 'if ye'll no be coaxed, there's them that will. If that's what Long John does for your

really a good-hearted kind of creature; before she had reached the outer door she had

different voice, 'it 'll no be

quarrel wi' ye,

drive, will ye look in in the afternoon or at night, if it suits ye be

could scarcely hear what she was saying to him for thinking of th

here was nothing for him but shame and self-abasement; this was a reproach; she had heard of the condition into which he had fallen; this was to remind him of what had been. And indeed, it was now for the first time that he began to be conscious of what that condition was. He had fled to those boon-companions as a kind of refuge from the hopelessness of the weary hours, from the despair with regard to the future that had settled

e end of li

ife all

nd then home again in the evening to supper, and singing, and a good-night bacchanalian festival at the Harmony Club. The hours passed; he did not wish

as a hot-bed of gossip; if any news of him had been sent by that agency, no doubt it was the worst. And still Meenie did not turn away from him with a shudder? He took out the envelope again. What could she mean? Might he dare to think it was this-that, no matter

And yet-and yet this was a friendly token; it seemed to make the day whiter somehow; it was with no ill-will she had been thinking of him when she gathered it from one of the knolls at the foot of Clebrig or from the banks of Mudal-Water. So white and fresh it was; it spoke of clear skies and sweet moorland winds: and there seemed to be the soft touch of her fingers still on it as she had pressed it into the envelope; and it was Meenie's own small white hand tha

carriages, and steam-yachts on Lake Michigan, and cat-boats on Lake George: but as for him, if Lord Ailine, now, would only let him go back to the little hamlet in the northern wilds, and give him charge of the dogs again, and freedom to ask Dr. Douglas to go with him for a turn at the mountain hares or for a day's salmon-fishing on the Mudal-in short, if only he could get back to his old life

r came for him to go down and see Kate Menzies and her friends, perhaps he was not altogether sorry that he had m

a little alarmed by the definite repugnance he had shown in the morning; she was glad to be friends with him again. As for him-well, he was as good-natured as ever; but rather absent in manner; for sometimes, amid all their boisterous camaraderie, he absolutely forgo