'Well--I--I really cannot tell you exactly. You see, I didn't buy it myself. I happened to hear your clerical friend say something about the Laurieston bazaar; so I wrote to Ormskirk, my confidential clerk, giving him the few particulars I possessed, and he managed everything to my satisfaction. The price he paid for it will be noted down: he stated it in his letter, but as it was of minor importance I don't remember the exact figure.'

I had risen from my chair when she stood up to examine the picture; and, thinking she might be tired standing, I asked her to sit down. She made no response, however; and, lost in thought, looked long into the glowing fire.

'Ormskirk! Mr Ormskirk, your confidential clerk!' she repeated slowly.

'The name seems familiar to me. Oh yes, now I remember;' and she laughed cheerily, and gave me a blithe look. 'It is a coincidence, Mr Russell; but I was received once by a Mr Ormskirk of an Edinburgh legal firm. The name struck me as being unusual.'

'Well, Miss Stuart, so far as I know there is only one Ormskirk in our profession in Edinburgh, and he is with us--my firm, I mean--Monteith & Russell.'

'Monteith & Russell!' she repeated. 'And you are'----

'Well, I'm Mr Monteith's partner.'

She looked at me with surprise in her big dark eyes, and then slowly every vestige of colour left her face. 'You--you are Mr Russell! Oh, I am so glad to meet you! I have corresponded with you, and my father very often spoke of you. I am Dsire Stuart. My affairs are in your firm's hands. I am the daughter of General Stuart of Abereran. This is very bewildering!' and she smiled feebly through moist, l.u.s.trous eyes.

I was too astonished to speak. No suitable words could I utter in acknowledgment of this unexpected information. Never for a moment had I a.s.sociated Miss Stuart the artist with Miss Stuart of Abereran. Somehow, I cannot say exactly what followed; but I have a dim recollection of hearing her apologising for sobbing, on the plea that I was the first person she had met since her father's death of whom, in his last illness, he had spoken with kindliness and affectionate regard. And I welcomed this with avidity as another link which bound me to her.

'Your father and I didn't meet often, Miss Stuart,' I said, after a pause, during which we had both been busy in thought; 'but we corresponded very frequently. I am glad to know he spoke of me with appreciation. Unfortunately I was confined to bed at the time of his death, otherwise I should have been with you; but my partner, Mr Murray Monteith, attended to everything, and has been giving your affairs every consideration.'

'Yes, Mr Monteith has been very attentive. I called at your office and asked to see you. It was on this occasion I met your Mr Ormskirk. Well, Mr Monteith received me, and rea.s.sured me on one or two points about which I was anxious. After all, I didn't tell him the real reason of my visit.'

'Indeed! And--and why didn't you?'

'Well, I somehow didn't like. I know it was very silly; but I just couldn't speak of it--at least to him.'

'Oh, I'm sorry to know that!' I said. 'Mr Monteith would have been only too pleased to help you with his advice. Is the matter you wished to bring before me still of consequence?'

'Yes. But it can wait. You know this is neither the time nor the place to talk business. Besides, I oughtn't to bother you about my affairs just now. You are still on the sick list, though I must say you look less the invalid to-day than you did the first time I saw you.'

'Thank you, Miss Stuart. I am glad to know I look better; certainly I feel much stronger, and I trust to be back to business soon. But do tell me now what you wanted to consult me about in Edinburgh.'

For a time she remained silent, and I watched with interest the run and play of her thoughts, as expressed in her mobile face.

'Don't you think,' she said at length, 'that all this is very queer--I mean our previous accidental meetings, the personal and business connection between us, and the fact of our sitting together in this room in this quiet little village? I feel we are known to each other, yet we are not acquainted. Oh, it does seem so strange and unusual!'

'Yes. The whole circ.u.mstances are rather remarkable, and I could tell you something--a little story in which you and I figure, which is even more mystifying; but we are wandering from the subject we had on hand.

You haven't yet told me what I wish to know.'

'I cannot mention it to-night, Mr Russell,' she said. 'More than ever I feel I ought not to have broached it. Later I trust we shall have an opportunity of discussing everything. You don't mind my deferring it?'

'Just as you wish; but before we dismiss business, may I ask you a question?'

'Certainly.'

'Well, I had a letter from Mr Monteith the other day in which he referred to your affairs. By the same token, he is coming down to see your aunt, so we'll all meet and go into everything thoroughly. Well, what he mentioned in his letter with reference to you set me a-thinking, and I have been wondering since if you are aware of the fact that you hold four thousand Banku oil shares. Have you received any dividends lately?'

'I know,' she answered thoughtfully, 'that father, some time ago--when I came of age it was--transferred some shares to me, and from time to time he gave me what must have been dividends. I didn't trouble him for particulars; he always hated business chats, but more so after his last visit to India. I am sure he got a touch of sun, although the doctor would never admit it, and I purposely refrained from referring to business affairs, as it only annoyed and irritated him. Since he died I have received no money at all. As a matter of fact'--and she blushed painfully--'that's what I wanted to see you about. Aunt is awfully decent, and grudges me nothing; but surely I ought to have received something. It isn't very nice to be depending on her for every shilling, and--you understand, Mr Russell?--I'm perhaps too independent, and'----

'Oh, Miss Stuart, I am so sorry! This is a most unfortunate oversight. I must rectify it at once, and see that money is sent to you to-morrow.

You have quite a large sum to your credit with us.'

'I am glad to know that;' and she smiled. 'But please don't put yourself to any immediate trouble on my account. I--I am all right for money at present. Unknown to my aunt, I sent two of my pictures to Glasgow last week. Yesterday I received--what do you think?--four guineas each for them;' and again the blood mounted to her cheek.

'Miss Stuart,' I said, in consternation, 'have you through our thoughtlessness been obliged to'----I didn't finish my sentence, for at that moment the door opened, and Betty entered with the tea-tray. Maybe it was a fortunate, certain I am it was a timely, interruption, as I was strongly tempted to act unprofessionally, and take a client to my arms.

We had tea brewed in my mother's old Worcester teapot and served in dainty cups of the same ware. The modern gas was extinguished, and the candles in the candelabra were lit. n.o.body in Thornhill, or out of it, can bake soda-scones to compare with Betty's; no one can approach her in the lightness and pan-flavour of her toothsome pancakes, the 'gou' of her b.u.t.ter, and the aroma of her home-blended tea. As for her homely, kindly presence--well, only one other possessed its match, and she was sitting at Betty's right hand, admiring my mother's old china, praising Betty's scones, filling my heart with a gladness it had never known before. Ah, Betty Grier--my dear old Betty--I owe much to you! Before life was a reality to me, you cared for me and ministered to my wants.

When I was cast adrift from moorings of my own making you took me in, nursed me, and tended me. For all this I thank you; but for bringing this little tea-party about I'll bless your name for ever and ever.

Amen.

So far I have not been out of doors after nightfall. The village streets are not too well lit; the pavements are too uneven for my uncertain steps; but Miss Stuart couldn't go home unattended. Betty was very emphatic on this point, and of course I heartily concurred. Bang and Jip certainly came into the house with me after our walk; but they must have recognised in Miss Stuart a counter-attraction, and slipped away to their respective homes un.o.bserved. Standing in the lobby with my coat and hat on, and thinking they might be keeping Nathan company in his back-room, I called to them several times, but all in vain; so Miss Stuart and I went out alone.

It was a clear, quiet, moonlight night, with that sharp touch of frost in the air which makes walking a pleasure. No winter night winds sighed in the bare, leafless limes as we pa.s.sed down the street; no discordant sounds broke the stillness of the Gillfoot as we wended our way by its shadowy wood.

I had, of course, perforce to walk slowly, and in some unaccountable way my thoughts and speech seemed to keep in rhythm with my steps. This at first disturbed and annoyed me, as I was anxious to be vivacious and animated; but I soon found out that in certain circ.u.mstances conversation is not essential to good-fellowship.

When we reached the top of the Gillfoot Brae, and were almost opposite the little wicket to Nithbank Wood, we halted for a minute, and in silence looked down upon the scene, the natural features of which my companion had with such loving skill transferred to her canvas.

There are times when Nature a.s.serts herself--thrusts herself, as it were, upon us, and emphatically proclaims her glory and power. It is good for us to come under her dominance then, for if we have within us a soul worthy of the name we cannot but feel our true position and standing in the great Creator's plan.

As I stood, with the woman I loved beside me, on that glamour-haunted spot, amidst scenes grand in their solemnity and hallowed by a.s.sociations, myriads of twinkling worlds above us, at our feet peaceful howmes all bathed in moonlight, a fuller realisation of the true import of life was borne in upon me. And there, in a consciously chastened spirit, with Nature's sermon in my heart and her inspirations all around me, I turned to my companion, and falteringly told the story of my dream.

In silence and with wonderment in her eyes, she listened to all my heart bade me say, and when I had finished she slightly turned away from me, and her head was bowed. Then in a flash my mind reverted to her recent bereavement; and when I thought of her loneliness and isolation, the uncertainty of her prospects, and the shame and mental trials she would in all probability be called upon to bear, reproach came to me, and I felt selfish and mean in adding to her burden of mind.

'Miss Stuart,' I said, 'please pardon me if I have said anything amiss, or if what I have spoken is unwelcome or ill-timed, and a cause of unhappiness to you. If it is so, I am deeply sorry, but I cannot take back anything I have told you. G.o.d knows it is true, and my whole life will be devoted to prove to you that it is so. But for the present--well, doubtless you have plenty to think about, so please dismiss from your mind what I have said. If I may, I shall some day speak to you again. Meanwhile let me be your friend. Somehow, I think you need one.'

She looked gratefully at me with moistened eyes. 'Thank you very much.

What you have told me is all so strange, so unexpected, and--and I feel it is all true. You are very kind. I do need a friend, and I can trust you.'

I am lying in my old truckle-bed. It is far into the morning, and sleep has not yet closed my eyes. Nathan has not been so well to-night, and his restlessness has kept Betty astir, but it hasn't disturbed me. And, somehow, I am not lonely. 'I do need a friend, and I can trust you;'

these words, during the quiet hours, are often being whispered in my ear, and I would rather remain awake and hear them than slip into slumberland and lose them.

CHAPTER XV.

For the first time since I was a boy, Betty had to waken me this morning. As a rule I lie for half-an-hour before getting up, allowing my mind to simmer over the events of the previous day, and planning how best I may spend the coming forenoon and afternoon. I had no need to make out any programme for to-day, however, as I had that all arranged last night.

I dressed hurriedly, and after spending a few minutes with Nathan, who, poor man, is abed, I sent off a telegram to Murray Monteith, requesting him to wire on receipt one hundred pounds on Miss Stuart's account to the local bank. When I had breakfasted I wrote him a long letter, and asked him to send me particulars regarding her interests in the Banku Oil Company. Then I went up and arranged with Mr Crichton the banker as to her account.

Walking along to the bank, I met Joe on his way down to Betty's. Joe's jacket is always closely b.u.t.toned, and he wears his tweed cap tilted on his head at the same angle as he would his glengarry when on parade.

His hair is cropped short, the forelock brushed firmly and obliquely across his left temple, and showing prominently under the stem of his civilian cap. His trousers are always carefully pressed; consequently they never show a bagginess at the knees. He is not so tall as Nathan, nor has he the 'boss' appearance; but I fancied that to-day he had more than usual of the same serious Hebron expression; and when he gave me the salute, as he always does in true soldierly style, it wasn't accompanied by the customary cheery smile. He pa.s.sed me at the regulation step, and from the fact that he was carrying a brown-paper bag bearing the name of John Nelson, Fruiterer, I surmised that Betty was contemplating an apple-dumpling for dinner.

My business with Mr Crichton was soon disposed of; but it took me some considerable time to dispose of Mr Crichton. He has a jocose, affable way with him, a pawky knack of leaving one subject and starting another; and when he is in a reminiscent mood, as he was this morning, he can be very dreich and very entertaining at one and the same time. Long ago, of an evening, he used to play chess with my father. He took snuff in those days--he takes snuff still, and treats others unstintingly, as Betty will know when my handkerchief goes to the wash--and when my father had lured him into an awkward position on the board his little silver box was seldom out of his hand. My recollection of him at that period is very hazy, and it is so closely a.s.sociated with this box that it may be if he hadn't snuffed I shouldn't have remembered him at all. I notice he applies the stimulant always to his right nostril, never to the left, and he has a dainty and a stealthy way of conveying the pinch which contrasts strongly with that of Deacon Webster, whose recklessness where snuff is concerned is such that more is distributed on his shirt-front and waistcoat than is sniffed into the nasal receptacle. On the other hand, so cleanly and dapper is Mr Crichton that, were it not for the aroma of Kendal brown which ever lingers about him, you wouldn't know he used snuff at all.

After a couthie crack, which, in spite of my preoccupation, I enjoyed, I said good-bye and walked out of the bank, only to fall a ready prey to the blandishments of Douglas the barber, who inveigled me into his back-yard to see a cavie of Wyandotte chickens of which, as prize-winners, he had great expectations. Then, in his draughty lobby, I had to listen to an account of his first and only interview with Thomas Carlyle at Holmhill, of his photographing the Chelsea seer and 'snoddin'' his hair; also to a rsum of a lecture on the Ruthwell Cross he had heard delivered by our fellow-villager, Dr Hewison, which pleased him, as he said, 'doon to the nines.' On reaching home I found, to my great disappointment, that Dr Grierson had called and had gone away. I wanted particularly to see the doctor, as I felt he should know that I had taken his advice and unburdened my mind to the lady of my dream.