After this they went to see various of the sights of Glasgow, in which Eddy, it must be allowed, was not very much interested—the Cathedral, for one, which Archie looked upon as the most glorious building in the world, but which young Saumarez cared about as little for as he would have cared for any other cathedral under the sun. Eddy yawned as he walked about the aisles and investigated the crypt. He cared neither for the architecture nor the antiquity, nor for the painted glass, nor even for Rob Roy, which latter interest poor Archie considered infallible. Nor were the other sights more exciting to him. He suggested luncheon as far more interesting either than the Necropolis, the College, or the Broomielaw: and after the luncheon, which he did not consider highly satisfactory, asked with much languor and fatigue of expression, whether Rowland had not some one he wanted to call on instead of bothering about any more Glasgow sights?
Archie coloured high at this question, not on Eddy’s account, but with a curious feeling of shame, which was also a feeling of guilt. To be in Glasgow without going to see his aunt would be, he was aware, an unpardonable and heartless thing. It would wound her deeply if she knew, and even if she never knew, it would be no less a mean and abominable thing to do. Nevertheless the presence of Eddy had been enough to make him put this from his mind as an impossibility. “I was not thinking of calling anywhere,” he said.
“But you must have people that you want to see. Let’s go and see somebody,” Eddy said. “I like people. I’m not a fellow for seeing sights.”
“I might take you to see the football at the Westpark—if you are fond of football.”
“Oh I don’t mind it,” said Eddy; “let’s go and see the football. It is better than staring at things neither you nor I care about.”
“Oh, I care about that,” said Archie: and as he thought of the old field in which his old companions used to meet, a certain warmth from the old times came over his heart. He had been rather a fine performer at football in his day, and the Westpark men had meant to play the College that very season, he recollected. He had not appeared at the field since the season began. His place there knew him no more. Nevertheless, to see them at their practice would be something, and he might meet some of the fellows between whom and himself there was now such a gulf fixed. Saumarez would be startled no doubt by their noisy ways, and their broad Scotch: but what did it matter after all what Saumarez thought? They went accordingly to the Westpark where, with pleasure but alarm, he had conducted his father four months ago, when cricket was going on. Happy lads! they had but changed from cricket into football, while Archie—What changes, what changes his life had undergone!
They got to the field before the play had begun, and Archie was loudly welcomed by several of his old friends. “What’s come of ye, man, all this time!” “Eh, Archie! you’re a sight for sair een.” “Are ye back in Glaskie, or are ye just on a visit?” Archie shook hands with a whole band, and replied that he was only up for the day, but that he felt he must come and see them, and hear what was going on; and he had a friend with him—a friend from England. The young athletes clustered round, delighted to see any friend of Archie’s. They asked Eddy questions about the game “in the South.” “But I don’t know much about the South,” he said. “Harrow’s the farthest South I know.” Archie’s friends, though they were but Glasgow lads, knew enough to know that Harrow merited respectful treatment, and they led the stranger to the best place to see the game which was just beginning. The two young men stood and watched with great interest for some time, and then in this new springing of kindly associations, Archie felt it was impossible to go back without seeing his aunt. To come here and not to go to Aunt Jane, to run the risk of wounding her to the heart: for some one would be sure to tell her he had been seen at Westpark—he felt that it was impossible he should do this thing. He touched Eddy on the shoulder at the very crisis of the interest and whispered, “I’m going to run away for ten minutes to see an old friend. I’ll come back for you here.”
“Not a bit,” said Eddy, promptly. “I’ll go with you. My interest is not overwhelming in the match. I’d much rather go——”
“Oh, it is not a place you will care for,” said Archie, much embarrassed.
“Never mind: I’ll come with you,” said his companion, and what could Archie say? He made a hurried explanation to one of the performers that he was compelled to go, and the two left the field. Even then Archie made another attempt to throw off this too close companion.