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Updated: June 24, 2025
Glenfernie and Greenlaw, meeting, left each the saddle, went near to embracing, sat at last by a stone wall in the late sunshine, and felt a tide of liking, stronger, not weaker, than that of old days. "You are looking after White Farm?" "Yes. The old man fails. Jenny has become a cripple. Gilian and I are the rulers." "Or servers?" "It amounts to the same.... Gilian has a splendid soul."
Gilian looked longingly at the magic decks confused with ropes, and the open companion faced him, leading to warm depths, he knew by the smoke that floated from the funnel. But he paused, for the girl had turned her head to look at the sea, and though he guessed somehow she might be willing to have him with her for his youth, he did not care to venture. Then Black Duncan swore.
For Miss Mary stood behind him, with an air of proud possession of him that was disquieting, and the two men seemed to expect from him some very exciting history indeed. "Well, well!" said the Cornal, drumming with his fingers on his chair-arm impatiently, "you're in no great hurry with your budget. What vessel was it?" "It was the Jean," said Gilian, bracing himself up for a plunge.
It opened; they found a clean, bare place, twilight now, still, with the falling snow without. Gilian spoke. "I'll go on now to White Farm. Robin will come. In no long time you'll be upon the farther road.... Now I will say Fare you well!" Alexander took her hands. "Farewell, Gilian!" Gray eyes met gray eyes.
He turned in the middle of a chorus, for the boy was standing abashed in the entry, his natural fears at meeting the Paymaster greatly increased by the sound of revelry. "Well, little hero," said the Sergeant More, in friendly Gaelic, "are you seeking any one?" "I was sent to see the Paymaster, if it's your will," said Gilian, with his eyes falling below the scrutiny of this swarthy old sergeant.
The harvest fields lay half-garnered, smoke rose indolent and blue from cot-houses and farm-towns; very high up on the hills a ewe would bleat now and then with some tardy sorrow for her child. A most tranquil day, the very earth breathing peace. The Paymaster and Miss Mary sat together in Keils pew, Gilian with them, conscious of a new silk cravat.
"Except when you are singing, and then you like to have me listening because I understand," said Gilian, smiling with pleasure at his own astuteness. She reddened at his discovery and then laughed in some confusion. "You are thinking of the time I sang in the cabin to Black Duncan. You looked so white and curious sitting yonder in the dark, I could have stopped my song and laughed."
Miss Mary drew Gilian to her again and stiffened her lips. "You have nothing to do with it, Colin; it's John's house and if he wants to keep the boy he'll do it. And I'm sure if you but took the trouble to think that he is a poor orphan with no kith nor kin in the world, you would be the first to take him in at the door." The Cornal's face visibly relaxed its sternness.
Gilian, with the back of the pew coming up near his neck, wished fervently it had been built lower, for he knew how common and undignified his view from the rear must thus be made. Again he was remitted to his teens, sitting transported in the Jean, soaring heavenward upon a song by a bold child with spate-brown hair.
Gilian was fairer and more strongly made than Elspeth. They walked in silence; then said Robin: "You're the old Gilian, but I'm sure I miss the old Elspeth!" "I think, myself, she's gone visiting! I rack and rack my brains to find what grief could have come to Elspeth. She will not help me." "Gilian, could it be that, after all, her heart is set on the laird?" "Did you know about that?"
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