Amid the purple heather the well lay; clear and cool, soft green moss grew close round it; and ferns hung over its sides in graceful beauty—some tiny ones were still green there, whilst all around had caught the autumn colours. From the well northwards, the eye ranged over grand mountains—some clad with trees far up their sides, others purple and brown with heather; whilst in the immediate background the copsewood was glowing in crimson and golden glory, the leaves gently falling with every light gust of wind, and strewing the ground as with gold and rubies.
Eric soon wearied, and ran off to amuse himself with his pet rabbits; but Nora and Ronald chatted on a while, till the nurse and two little cousins came in search of Miss Nora, who was wanted indoors to see a lady who was calling. Then Ronald set off alone to pay a farewell visit far down the glen to an invalid widow who had been his mother's nurse.
After a short walk, he reached one of the most beautiful of Highland passes, on the opposite side of which the cottage for which he was bent was situated. Lovely indeed did the pass look that autumn day. Through it dashed a noisy little river, white here and there with foam gathered as it rolled over the high boulder stones that were deeply embedded in its channel, and which at times almost obstructed its way; while its banks on both sides were richly wooded—and as the boy's eyes rested on them, they literally blazed in scarlet and golden splendour. No wonder that his heart beat with enthusiasm as he gazed at the scene; and he began, with boyish fervour, to repeat the lines,—
"Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land?"
And we marvel not that his heart shrank from the thought of leaving it all for other scenes.
He received a warm greeting, chiefly in the Gaelic language, as he entered the hut where old Peggy sat in her arm-chair.
"Come in, my young master, an' bide a wee, an' gledden the auld woman's een wi' a sicht o' her bairn—" for such she always termed the handsome lad.
He seated himself beside her as in olden days; but her keen eyes noticed the tear that now and then moistened for a second the eyes of her favourite, and told of a full heart. Quickly she guessed the cause.
"An' so ye're leavin' us, Maister Ronald, an' gaun yer first voyage intil the wide world? Aweel, aweel! It's little auld Peggy kens aboot that world, she that's been quietly fostered a' her days, as maiden, wife, an' widow, in the Highland glen. But, O laddie!"
And she laid her hand kindly on his shoulder, "The Lord God, the Maker o' a' the world, kens ilka turn in it; he's no ane to leave the lad he's brocht to trust in him to lose his road in a strange land. Ye're no gaun withoot a guid Guide, bairn; and Ane wha never leaves his wark unfinished. 'This God is our God for ever and ever; he will be our guide even unto death.' Ay," she added, "an' thro' the valley also; an' he'll no gie up the wark even on the ither side; he's guidin' your dear mother yonder, Maister Ronald, by the crystal sea an' the livin' fountains o' water. Ye're no feard he'll fail you, my lad?"