“Islay will be all right,” said Mr. Ochterlony; “he will have what your father had, and you will always make him at home in Earlston. It is Will I am thinking about. I am not fond of Will. Don’t be too generous to him, or he will think it is his right. I know no harm of the boy, but I would not put all my affairs into his hands as I put them into yours.”
“It will not be my fault if I don’t justify your confidence, uncle,” said Hugh, with something swelling in his throat.
“If I had not known that, I would not have trusted you, Hugh,” said Mr. Ochterlony. “Take your mother’s advice—always be sure to take your mother’s advice. There are some of us that never understand women; but after all it stands to reason that the one-half of mankind should not separate itself from the other. We think we are the wisest; but I am not so sure——”
Mr. Ochterlony stopped short and turned his eyes, which were rather languid, to the distant lamp, the one centre of light in the room. He looked at it for a long time in a dreamy way. “I might have had a woman taking care of me like the rest,” he said. “I might have had the feeling that there was somebody in the house; but you see I did not give my mind to it, Hugh. Your father left a widow, and that’s natural—I am leaving only a collection. But it’s better for you, my boy. If you should ever speak to Agatha Seton about it, you can tell her that——”
Then there was a pause, which poor young Hugh, nervous, and excited, and inexperienced, did not know how to break, and Mr. Ochterlony continued to look at the lamp. It was very dim and shaded, but still a pale ray shone sideways between the curtains upon the old man who lay a-dying, and cast an enlarged shadow of Hugh’s head upon the wall. When Mr. Ochterlony turned round a little, his eye caught that, and a tender smile came over his face.
“It looks like your father,” he said to Hugh, who was startled, and did not know what he meant. “It is more like him than you are. He was a good fellow at the bottom—fidgety, but a very good fellow—as your mother will tell you. I am glad it is you who are the eldest, and not one of the others. They are fine boys, but I am glad it is you.”
“Oh, uncle,” said Hugh, with tears in his eyes, “you are awfully good to me. I don’t deserve it. Islay is a far better fellow than I am. If you would but get well again, and never mind who was the eldest——”
Mr. Ochterlony smiled and shook his head. “I have lived my day,” he said, “and now it is your turn; and I hope you’ll make Earlston better than ever it was. Now go to bed, my boy; we’ve talked long enough. I think if I were quiet I could sleep.”
“And you’ll call me, uncle, if you want me? I shall be in the dressing-room,” said Hugh, whose heart was very full.
“There is no need,” said Mr. Ochterlony, smiling again. “But I suppose it pleases you. You’ll sleep as sound as a top wherever you are—that’s the privilege of your age; but John will be somewhere about, and nothing is going to happen before morning. Good night.”