“Did you, faith?” said Young Islay, with a jealous tone. “You seem,” he went on, “to have made very little use of them. I wonder where the eyes of you could be. I never saw her, really, till an hour or two ago. I never heard her sing before, but yet, some way——” He hesitated in embarrassment.
Gilian made no answer. He felt it the most natural thing in the world that any one seeing and hearing Nan should appreciate herself and her singing. There was no harm in that.
The night was solemn with the continual cry of the owls that abound in the woody shoulder of Duntorvil; a sweet balmy influence loaded the air, stars gathered in patches between drifts of cloud. For some distance the young men walked together silent, till Young Islay spoke.
“I’ve been away seeing the world,” said he hurriedly, like a man at a confession, “not altogether with my father’s wish, who would sooner I stayed at home and farmed Drimlee; moving from garrison to garrison, giving my mind no hearth to stay at for more than a night at a time, and I’ve been missing the chance of my life. I went up the way there an hour or two since—Young Islay, a soldier, coarse, ashamed of sentiment, and now I go down another man altogether. I would not say it to any one but yourself; you’re a sort of sentimental person in a wholesale way; you’ll understand. Eh, what? You’ll understand!” He threw out his chest; breathed fully. “I’m a new man, I’m telling you. I wonder where the eyes of you fellows were?”
Even yet Gilian did not grudge Young Islay the elation that was so manifest.
“You understand, we did not see much of her in these parts lately, much more than yourself. I have not seen her myself since she returned. Has she changed much?”
“Much!” exclaimed Young Islay, laughing. “My son! she is not the girl I knew at all. When I went in there—into the room up, there you know, I was—I was—baffled to know her. I think I expected to see the same girl I had—I had—you mind, brought the boat out to, the same loose hair, the same—you know, I never expected to see a princess in Maam. A princess, mind you, and she looked all the more that because her uncle met me at the stair-foot as I was going in. A sour old scamp yon! He was teasing out his beard, and, ‘A nice piece there,’ said he, nodding at the door, ‘and I’m sure her father would be glad to have her off his hands.’ I laughed and——”
“I would have struck him on the jaw,” said Gilian with great heat.
“Oh!” said Young Islay, astonishment in his voice. He said no more for a little. Then, “I was not very well pleased myself with the remark when I went into the room and saw the lady it referred to. You’re not—you’re not chief in that quarter, are you?”
“Chief!” repeated Gilian. “You’re ahead of me even in seeing the lady.”