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But from loch to rim, over field and muir and forest, the golden, liquid light ever flows on a sunny day and fills the Cuagh Oir till it runs over. On the east side of the loch, among some ragged firs, a rambling Manor House, ivy-covered and ancient, stood; and behind it, some distance away, the red tiling of a farm-cottage, with its steading clustering near, could be seen.
The overseer was left standing and thinking, and Clemence, who had not forgotten who threw her into the draining-ditch, cunningly passed by. "Ah, Clemence " "Mo pas capabe! Mo pas capabe! 'oir Miché Agricol' Fusilier! ouala yune bon monture, oui!" which was to signify that Agricola could interpret the very Papa Lébat. "Agricola Fusilier! The last man on earth to make peace."
"Well," said Martin, his face growing hotter with every word of explanation, "you have a wife and we have a mutual friend in our little nurse, and that's how I learned. And so I thought I'd be on hand anyway. You remember I met your sister up at your Highland home with the unpronounceable name." "Ah, yes! Cuagh Oir. Dear old spot!" said Cameron reminiscently.
This ranch lay nestling cozily among the foothills and in sight of the towering peaks of the Rockies, and was so well watered with little lakes and streams that when his eyes fell upon it Cameron was conscious of a sharp pang of homesickness, so suggestive was it of the beloved Glen Cuagh Oir of his own Homeland. There would be a thousand pounds or more left from his father's estate.
Cameron is not bad," she added, with a little bow to Cameron, with whom she had just finished a reel. Readily enough Cameron tuned his pipes, for he was aching to get at them and only too glad to furnish music for the gay company of kindly hearted folk who were giving him his first evening's pleasure since he had left the Cuagh Oir.
Through many pipes he pursued his dreams, but always they led him to that old doorway and the maiden with the grave sweet face and the hair and eyes full of the golden sunlight of the Glen Cuagh Oir. "Oh, pshaw!" he grumbled to himself at last, knocking the ashes from his pipe. "She has forgotten me. It was only one single day. But what a day!"
True, Cameron had no means of getting inside the doctor's mind and therefore had no knowledge of the vision that came nightly to torment him in his dreams and the memory that came daily to haunt his waking hours; a vision and a memory of a trim little figure in a blue serge gown, of eyes brown, now sunny with laughing light, now soft with unshed tears, of hair that got itself into a most bewildering perplexity of waves and curls, of lips curving deliciously, of a voice with a wonderfully soft Highland accent; the vision and memory of Moira, Cameron's sister, as she had appeared to him in the Glen Cuagh Oir at her father's door.
And all that lay between, the hills, the hollows, the rolling prairie, was bathed in a multitudinous riot of color that made a scene of loveliness beyond power of speech to describe. "Oh, Allan, Allan," cried his sister, "I never thought to see anything as lovely as the Cuagh Oir, but this is up to it I do believe."
"Yes, but Maclennan beat him." "Maclennan! I haf heard him." The tone was quite sufficient to classify the unhappy Maclennan. "And I haf heard Macpherson too. You iss a player. None of the fal-de-rals of your modern players, but grand and mighty." "I agree with you entirely," replied Cameron, his heart warming at the praise of his old friend of the Glen Cuagh Oir.
But instead he sang them this: "La prémier' fois mo té 'oir li, Li té posé au bord so lit; Mo di', Bouzon, bel n'amourèse! L'aut' fois li té si' so la saise Comme vié Madam dans so fauteil, Quand li vivé cóté soleil.
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