“It maun be that Geordie has come home, and that the joy of it has softened his heart,” said Willie.
“Ay. He has gotten his son back again?” said Mrs Calderwood. And Willie knew that his mother was thinking of her child who would never return.
Marion came dancing in with the glad news. She told it soberly after a glance at her mother’s face. And then they all sat waiting, knowing that George and his father would pass that way.
But George did not pass. Both men stood still before their door, and George’s hand was laid for an instant on his father’s shoulder. They knew what he was saying though they did not hear him speak, and then Mr Dawson went on “looking grave, but no’ angry,” Marion whispered, and George came into the house.
Mrs Calderwood received him as she had received her son, kissing him and thanking God for his safe home coming at last. Their meeting could not be all gladness, remembering how they had parted. George was very white and silent. Even Marion’s bright face and joyful welcome could not win a smile. Willie and he had much to say to each other, but all that must wait till another time. George could stay but a moment, for his father was waiting for him at the pier.
That night Mrs Calderwood and her son sat together in the gathering gloaming, and after a long silence Willie said, “Would it break your heart altogether, mother, to think of leaving Portie?”
“Hearts are no’ so easily broken as I used to think. I could leave it, if it were the wisest thing to do. I could leave even Scotland itself, for that matter.”
“Yes, it would end in leaving Scotland—if any change were to be made. But as far as you are concerned, you needna be in haste for a time.”
“A while sooner or later would make little difference,” said his mother.
Nothing more was said; but from that night, Mrs Calderwood knew that it might come to leaving Portie with them, and she set herself calmly to look the possibility in the face.