"Davey! Davey! Davey!" she called.
She ran down the track calling him.
But Davey was beyond her voice, or the sound of his horse's hoofs and the hot blood in his ears dulled the echo of his name that floated down to him.
When Mary went indoors again Donald Cameron was sitting in his chair, the fire had gone out of his eyes, leaving him dull and vacant.
"You've been harsh with him, Donald," she said. "It's all true what he says. You have worked him like a navvy, and never given him enough pocket money to keep him in tobacco even. It's hard on him when the Morrison boys and the Rosses have their own money to spend, and everybody saying we're better off than any of the people about. You wouldn't have stood so much yourself at his age."
"Whist, woman," he said pettishly, his head bent, as if he were trying to catch the sound of distant hoof-beats. "Of course you'd take sides with him!"
"Oh Donald, isn't it yourself in him that's making him like this," she cried. "Isn't it your own blood speaking in all his high-handed ways? What did you think your son would be to take the sort of treatment you've given him from any man—even his own father? You should have stayed on the farm in the old country if you'd wanted that sort of man for a son. If you hadn't wanted Davey to have a high spirit you should never have come over the sea here. You shouldn't have had me to come with you for his mother...."
Donald Cameron dropped into his chair. His face was grey and lined, as if the light behind it were extinguished.
"Be quiet, will you not, woman," he said.
"I will not!" There was a spark in her eyes. "I've got to say what I'm thinking, now, Donald Cameron. I've held my tongue long enough. You've had your way, and I've hardly dared to breathe when you spoke, for years. Your always laying your will on people crushes the spirit in them! The dominating way you have wants to lay down everything before it. But I'm glad you've not crushed Davey—though it's breaking my heart to think of his going away from us. I'd rather have it than see him grow into the creeping, crawling thing Nat Johnson is. Davey's got in him what brought you and me here. I'm glad he's got that spirit. There's no fear in it—it goes straight forward. You've grown old and I've grown old," she continued breathlessly. "We've lost all our fire, but he's got it—it's going on in him. And you with your old ideas—you don't like it—but he's got to be free—he's got to go his own way—he's got to break his own earth, Donald."