Who was Lost and is Found

t of rapture with which the long summer evenings in Scotland impressed my own mind when I rediscovered them,

that is soft and fair, through every tint and shining colour and mingling of lights, until they reach that which is inconceivable—surround us with a heavenly atmosphere all their own, the fusion of every radiance, the subdual of every shade. Th

e consciousness of the beginning and the end, and the sequence and connection of all things. Sometimes: but perhaps not very often, for these gleams of discovery are but gleams, and fly like the flashes of lightning which suddenly reveal to us a broad country, a noble city lost in the darkness. On such occasions the great sphere overhead, the great landscape stretching into distance, the glimpses of houses, great and small, amid the warm surrounding of the trees, the murmur of the Esk low

matter to the world—just the going away of a heedless young man. It was not that she was always thinking of him, for her thoughts rambled and wandered through all the heavens and earth; but that he was the centre of all, the pivot on which they turned, the beginning and the end of everything. He had gone away—he had left his home, having already{20} erred and strayed—and he had been heard of no more. She was not complaining or finding fault with God for it: she would sometimes wonder with a little wistfulness why God never listened to her, did not somewhere seize that wandering boy and bring him back—to satisfy her before she died. But then there were many things to be considered, Mrs Ogilvy knew and acknowledged to herse

road, which turned out to be a very common figure,—sometimes a beggar, or a man with a pack, a travelling merchant, or, more familiar still than that, a postman on his way home, or a lad that had been working later than usual. But whatever the man was, the sight of him always gave Mrs Ogilvy a sharp sensation. “At any moment!” she had said to herself so long that it had entered into her very soul. “At any

distance sh

her heart

Miller from the paper-mill, perhaps some friend of Andrew’s and Janet’s. Her heart beat in her ears, in her throat, for a dreadful moment, and then stood still. It was not he: how should it? She rose up with no heart at all, everything stopped and hushed, and said, “How are you to-night, Mr Logan? What a bonnie

what is now called the old school. He was not a man who had ever thought of making innovations or disturbing the old order of affairs. His services were just the same as{23} they had been when he was ordained some thirty years before. He had baptised a great part of his parishioners, and married the others, so that there were only the quite old folk, patriarchs of the parish, who could remember the time when he was first “placed” at Eskholm, and opposed by some, though always “well likit” by others. He was considered by

Susie?” Mrs

ook quite so genuine as the lurking smile. “Oh, Susie, poor t

s just been wonderful in her

too much for her; and now that they’re coming and going to Edinburgh every day, and all the trouble of getting them off in the morning, with sandwiches for George who is in his office, and

subdued, so that nobody could ask the min

stonished. I have always thought there was no

for her, Mrs Ogilvy. I’ve always said so. She takes aft

le word wife was as when a man who has ma

f this alarming peculiarity. She said, “I cannot think Susie delicate

ing interferes with Susie. It is an anxious position for a man to

,” said Mrs Ogilvy;

g his head a little. “You will have heard there was a marriage in the parish yesterday. They would fain have had it in the church, in their new-fangled wa

family that have taken the little house near the Dean.

ish, though they come from the south—and a family you can call it no longer, fo

an, and well-looking too: but I know no

“We{26} were at the little entertainment after, Susie and me. Everything was just perfectly don

hich is naturally awakened by excessive praise bestowed upon the better methods of a stranger. “We are maybe

subject. “These simple sort of things are so much better; but it takes a clever person to see just what is adapted to a country place. I was

usie think?” Mr

ve them a poor character; but they are maybe slower of the uptake than men—especially when

wise a man to hold up an

red: but perhaps I am too open in my speech at all times. I’ve come to speak

uns, which arose not from want of grammar,

till, the dear lassie; but it’s very maturing to the mind to be in a posit

not interrupt the lurking smile; “but it’s a very d

Ogilvy had all the natural prejudices, and she was resolved that at least she would do nothing to help him out. She sat demurely and looked at him, while he, leaning forward, traced lines upon the gravel w

“a man’s a sad wreck in many cases when he’s left a

he weakened

life he s

e used, but it just comes to that. You will know

self to be a rule for

re you to judge of other folk’s feelings

ulous thing to say to her, he should muddle through it the best way he

ere is a great deal of care connected with a large family that people never think of.” He paused for sympathy, but it was not a point{29} upon which his present listener could speak: he went on with a slight and momentary feeling that she was selfish not to have entered into this trouble,

Susie; but I think for my part she is

reassured. Mr Logan felt that his old friend and parishioner, to whom he had come half fo

right. Well,” he said, getting up slowly, “I’m afraid I must be going. This is a

ith him along the little platform round the plot of gr

rise: then added, shaking his head, “What things there are to go further, and how far

s a little formal wit

hted in the drawing-room for Mrs Ogilvy to read the chapter by, though there was no real need for it. Janet, who had come out for her

he minister——? But perhaps I should not speak o

e bear it—and better from yo

ot bark—which roused Janet to her inmost soul. She was not satisfied even with her mistress, though she had never forsaken the Kirk of her fathers. Janet bore her burden, as the only perfectly

find fault with the minister without cause? Nor am I finding fault with him

ain! What is it? He is a douce man, that wou

ngs he said. Was there ever any lady’s name named—

orn that he has ever said a ceevil word to. You ken little of country clashes, mem, if

ossip; but if it should come your way from any of the neighbours, I would like to hear what they say. Poor Susie! he says she is not able for so much work, that he is feared

ard who the leddy

gilvy cried, very inconclusively it must be allow