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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place In generations all. Before thou ever hadst brought forth The mountains great or small, Ere ever thou hadst formed the earth And all the world abroad, Ev'n thou from everlasting art To everlasting God." "Love, love, love!" cried Glenfernie's heart.
Perhaps and most probably, this very bright afternoon, the laird of Glenfernie waited for him there, pacing the sands, perhaps, watching the comers to the inn door.... Well, he must watch in vain. Ian Rullock would one day give him satisfaction, but certainly not now. Vast affairs might not be daffed aside for the laird of Glenfernie's convenience!
But he liked to debate with the laird election and the perseverance of the saints. Jenny Barrow, only, could not be held from exclamation over Glenfernie's defection. "Why does he na come as he used to? Wha's done aught to him or said a word to gie offense?" She talked to Menie and Merran since Elspeth and Gilian gave her notice that they were wearied of the subject.
Head, shoulders, a supple figure, not so tall nor so largely made as was Glenfernie's heir, all came upon the purple hilltop. Alexander raised himself from his couch in the heather. "Good day!" said the new-comer. "Good day!" The youth stood beside him. "I am Ian Rullock." "I am Alexander Jardine." "Of Glenfernie?" "Aye, you've got it." "Then we're the neighbors that are to be friends."
The platform of rock was smooth enough for good footing. They had no seconds, unless the shadows upon the hills and the mountain eagles answered for such. Ian was the highly trained fencer, adept of the sword. Glenfernie's knowledge was lesser, more casual.
"... As with an overflowing flood Thou carriest them away; They like a sleep are, like the grass That grows at morn are they. At morn it flourishes and grows, Cut down at ev'n doth fade " "Not grass of the field, O Lord," cried Glenfernie's heart, "but the forest of oaks, but the stars that hold for aye, one to the other " The glen was dressed in June, at its height of green movement and song.
But when he came to the door he found sitting with her, in the checkered space behind the opening, Glenfernie's inamorata. Now he remembered her.... He wondered if he had truly ever forgotten her. When he had received his welcome he sat down upon the door-step. He could have touched Elspeth's skirt.
She sang it through, then sat entirely still against the stem of the thorn, while about her lips played that faint, unapproachable, glamouring smile. Her hands touched the grass to either side her body; her slender, blue-clad figure, the all of her, smote him like some god's line of poetry. There was in the laird of Glenfernie's nature an empty palace.
It clinks like the money-changers and sellers of doves." Thomas, his helper, raised his head from a plate of cold mutton. "Glenfernie was na at kirk. He's na the kirkkeeper his father was. Na, na!" "Na," said the farmer. "Bairns dinna walk nowadays in parents' ways." Willy had a bit of news he would fain get in. "Nae doot Glenfernie's brave, but he wadna be a sodger, either!
After all, and all the time, Glenfernie's notion of friendship was a sieve. The notion that he had held up as though it were the North Star! The world, Ian Rullock, could not be so contemned.... He felt with heat and pain the truth of that. It was a wrong that Glenfernie should not understand!
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