White Heather (Volume III of 3)

rible days to her-of mental torture, and heart-searching, and unceasing and unsatisfied longing, and yearning, and pit

ce with him: well she knew that. And how could she stand by idle and allow him to perish? The token she had sent him must have told him of her thinking of him; he would be prepared; perhaps he would even guess that she

to her father's room

me

her pale as

I would like to go to

d in his chair a

r mother declares there's nothing the matter. Glasgow? I dare say a change would do you good-cheer you up a bit, and that; but-Glasgow? More schooling, more fees, that would be

said simply. 'And indeed it is not for that, fath

go amongst them as a kind of Mezzofanti-it's precious little of that there's about Sir Alexander, as I know well. However

and stay with Agatha,

ed at h

to sink into a hopeless an?mic condition. Lassie, where's that eldritch laugh o' yours gone to? And I see you go dawdlin

ve at once. 'I think I heard you say that Mr. Blai

ng a well-earned holiday up at Tongue-fishing in the various

ther said, but good-naturedly enough. 'You m

es

ys-I suppose she will be for making a

ght to the girl a kind of frail and wandering joy and h

things I ought to get them in Glasgow. The pre

od-humoured Doctor, who was cautious about assenting to anythin

ht possibly do her good. There could be no doubt she had been looking ill; and in her sister's house she would have every attention paid her, quite as much as if she were in her own home. All the same, Mrs. Douglas was resolved that this opportunity for finally fitting Meenie for that sphere in which she hoped to see her move should not be lost. Agatha should have private i

laced his own large waggonette and a pair of horses at her disposal; and when the mail-cart came along from Tongue, Mr. Blair's luggage was quickly transferred to the more stately vehicle, and immediately they started. She did not look like a girl going away for a holiday. She was pale rather

a quite different place with her not there,-'a strange thing indeed to send a young girl away to Glasgow to get back the roses into he

times her colour came and went in a curious way, as if some sudden fancy had sent a tremor to her heart. Then, as they drew near to the great city-it was a pallid-clear morning, with some faint suggestions of blue overhead that gave the wan landscape an almost cheerful look-she was obviously suffering from nervous excitement; her answers to him were inconsequent, though she tried her bravest to keep up the conversation. The good man thought he would not bo

p observing how anxiously and eagerly she kept glancing fro

aiting for you, Miss Meen

a wrote that Mr. Gemmill would be at the warehouse, and-and she would be busy in the house on a Monday morning, and

ed to heed what was going on. Mr. Blair called a cab and got her boxes put on the top; but she was standing there by her

, in her voluminous communications about Ronald, described the exact loc

t

f both sides of the thoroughfares as the man drove her away along the Cowcaddens and the New City Road. But alas! how was she ever to find Ronald-by accident, as she had hoped-in that continuous crowd? She had pictured to herself her suddenly meeting

arden, with its grass-plots, and its flower-plots, and its trim walks and fountain-all so nice and neat and trim, and at this minute looking quite cheerful in the pallid sunshine. And here, awaiting her at the just opened door, was her sister Agatha-a sonsy, sufficiently good-looking young matron, who had inherited her buxom proportions from her fathe

ttle expected it-but ye're none the less welcome-and Walter's just quite set

was flushed with the excitement of her arrival, and pleased with the attentions of th

chance of a place where there was a gun or a fishing-rod handy, and that was enough. Well, well, Meenie, we must wake ye up a bit if you've been feeling dull; and Walter-he's as proud as a peacock that you're come; I declare it's enough to make any other woman than myself jealous, the way he shows your portrait to anybody and everybody th

that I was going to p

to be no finishing lessons, or anything of that kind, for a while yet; you're to walk about and amuse yourself; and we've a family-ticket for the Botanic Gardens-you can take a b

t likely to be very friendly feelings towards Ronald in this little domestic circle. But when they had gone over almost every conceivable topic, and not a single question had been asked about Ronald, nor any reference even made to him, she felt immensely relieved. To them, then, he was clearly of no importance. Probably t

reen slopes and trees and things of that kind had no novelty for her, whereas crowded streets and shops and the roar of cabs and carriages had; and so they turned city-wards when they left the house, and went away in by Cambridge Street and Sauchiehall Street to Buchanan Street. And was this the way, then, she asked herself (and she was rather an absent companion for her little niece), that Ronald would take on leaving his lodgings to get over to the south side of the city, where, as she understood from his sister's letters, lived the old forester who was superintending his studies? But there were so

left to do pretty much as she liked, and to go about alone. And her walks did not take her much to the Botanic Gardens, nor yet to the West End Park and Kelvin Grove; far rather she preferred to go errands for her sister, and often these would take her in by Sauchiehall Street and the top of Buchanan Street; and always her eyes were anxious and yet timorous, seeking and yet half-fearing to find. But wh

d to be, wondering what he would think of her having sent him the bit of white heather. And then she forced herself to raise her eyes; and it was at the very same instant that he caught sight of her-though he was yet some distance off-and for the briefest moment she saw his strange and startled look. But what was this? Perhaps he fancied she had not seen him; perhaps he had reasons for not wishing to be seen; at all events, after that one swift recogn