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Updated: September 2, 2025
Alice was with a kinswoman of rank in a great house near Edinburgh, submitting, not without enjoyment, to certain fine filings and polishings and lacquerings and contacts. Jamie, who would be a soldier and fight the French, had his commission and was gone this past week to Carlisle, to his regiment. English Strickland was yet at Glenfernie House.
The moving air neither struck nor caressed, but there breathed a sense of coming and going, unhurried and unperplexed, from far away to far away. The laird of Glenfernie crossed long grass to where, for a hundred years, had been laid the dead from White Farm. There was a mound bare to the sunlight thrown from the moon. He saw the flowers that Gilian had brought.
"Eh, Glenfernie! is there news of the lassie?" "None. You've got the sight. Can you not see?" "It's gane from me! When it gaes I'm just like ony bird with a broken wing." "If you cannot see, what do you think?" "I dinna want to think and I dinna want to say. Whaur be ye gaeing now?" "On over the moor and down by the Kelpie's Pool." "Gae on then. I'll watch for ye coming back." He went on.
The horse was fastened to a stake that once had been the bole of an ancient willow. It grazed around somewhere would be a master.... Presently Strickland's eye found the latter a man lying upon the moorside, just above the water. Again with a shock and thrill though not like the first it came to him who it was. The laird of Glenfernie lay very still, his eyes upon the Kelpie's Pool.
"I walked there from Littlefarm with Robin Greenlaw. Jarvis Barrow was reading Leviticus, looking like a listener in the Plain of Sinai. They expected Gilian home from Aberdeen. They say the harvest everywhere is good." Alexander asked no further and presently they parted for the night. The laird of Glenfernie looked from his chamber window, and he looked toward White Farm.
Glenfernie went there, passing by a terrace walk around the house. Going under the windows of the room that was yet Ian's when he came home. Ian still in his mind, he recovered strongly the look of that room the day Ian had taken him there, in boyhood, when they first met.
The laird of Glenfernie turned to his ancient house on the craggy hill.... That night he made him a fire in his old loved room in the keep. He sat beside it; he lighted candles and opened books, and now and then he sat so still before them that he may have thought that he read. But the books slipped away, and the candles guttered down, and the fire went out.
Yet I took it as a trust, and was faithful. What does the Bible say, 'Vanity of vanities'? But I say that the world's made wrong." Glenfernie left him at last, wrinkled and shrunken and shriveled, cold on a summer day, plying himself with wine, a serving-man mending the fire upon the hearth. Alexander went to Mrs. Alison's parlor.
"If it is there, even little and far away, I'll try to bend my steps the way shall bring it nearer. But, oh, Glenfernie, it may be that there is naught upon the road!" "Will you journey to look for it? That's all I ask now. Will you journey to look for it?" "Yes, I may promise that. And I do not know," said Elspeth, wonderingly, "what keeps me from thinking I'll meet it."
It's been a slow failing for two years ever since Mrs. Jardine's death." "She was dead before I came to this kirk. But once, when I was a young man, I stayed awhile in these parts. I remember her." "She was the best of women." "So they said. But she had not that grip upon religion that the laird has!" "Maybe not." Mr. M'Nab directed his glance upon the Glenfernie tutor.
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