“Never mind the horse: we’ll walk,” said Rowland, at which Marion gave him a look of wonder and reproach. Walk! a dog-cart was not much, but it was always a more dignified thing than to think a young lady like herself capable of walking like a common person to the pier.
“And, sir,” said Sandy, “about the little dougs—Rankin would be glad to know.”
“The little dougs?”
“The young gentleman will have tell’t ye. It’s Rankin’s little dougs that are kent for a grand breed—and there’s aye somebody wanting them. He would like to ken one way or anither afore the young gentleman goes away.”
“It’s some little terriers,” said Archie, coming forward a step, “we were looking at them. They’re very bonnie little beasts. I thought that maybe—there would be watch-dogs wanted about the house—or—just for the fun of them—they’re—fine little things. I—I—thought it might be—a good thing.”
Rowland looked severely at his son as he stammered and hesitated. He replied coldly, “If you want the dogs, I suppose that is enough.” He waved his hand to Sandy, dismissing him. “Now Marion, are you ready, for your walk?”
Marion pouted and protested that she was sure she could not walk so far, but Rowland was inflexible. “It will be something to do,” he said grimly. And with a troubled countenance and trembling limbs Archie followed.
A more beautiful walk could scarcely have been conceived. Here and there, as they descended the hill, they came out upon an open space where the lovely loch, with the great range of hills at the head lying full in the western sun, stretched out before them. Its surface glistened with gleams of reflection, repeating everything from the white scattered houses on its banks to the whiter clouds that goated on the surface of the sky. A boat or two, between the dazzling atmosphere above and the still more dazzling reflection below, lay like a thing beatified. Woods and hills and shining water—there was nothing wanting to the perfection of the scene. “Every prospect pleases, and only man is vile:” and troubled—troubled, full of care—wanting for something wherever he is.
The successful man marched along with his head high, his pretty little daughter running with her short steps by his side, the house of his choice behind him, the wife of his choice awaiting him, and so well off, able to do whatever he pleased, the admiring, curious people said. Whatever he pleased! yes, to buy furniture of the rarest description, horses and carriages, even Rosmore itself, if he could by any means procure that it should be brought to market; but not with all his wealth able to expand the little vulgar nature of the girl, or open the disturbed heart of the boy beside him. Poor rich man! to whom his wealth could give no pleasure while this constant irritation gnawed at his heart.
He took them back to Sauchiehall Road, not exhilarated by their day’s outing; and while Marion recovered her fatigue and began really to enjoy Rosmore in describing its grandeur to her aunt, he took Archie aside for a few brief words. “What was that about the dogs?” he said. “Did you pay for them, or have they to be paid for, or what did the groom mean? I won’t have any familiarity with the grooms. Why should I be consulted as if you couldn’t settle such a matter for yourself?”