'I'll go and get it ready now,' the little Maggie said, and she went from the room, leaving these two alone.
He was a little embarrassed; and she was also. There had been no amantium irae of any kind; but all the same the integratio amoris was just a trifle difficult; for she on her side was anxious to have their old relations re-established during the brief period that would elapse ere he left the neighbourhood, and yet she was hesitating and uncertain; while he on his side maintained a strictly respectful reserve. He 'knew his place;' his respect towards her was part of his own self-respect; and if it did not occur to him that it was rather hard upon Meenie that all the advances towards a complete rehabilitation of their friendship should come from her, that was because he did not know that she was moved by any such wish, and also because he was completely ignorant of a good deal else that had happened of late. Of course, certain things were obvious enough. Clearly the half-frightened, distant, and yet regretful look with which she had recently met and parted from him when by chance they passed each other in the road was no longer in her eyes; there was a kind of appeal for friendliness in her manner towards him; she seemed to say, 'Well, you are going away; don't let us forget the old terms on which we used to meet.' And not only did he quickly respond to that feeling, but also he was abundantly grateful to her; did not he wish to carry away with him the pleasantest memories of this beautiful, sweet-natured friend, who had made all the world magical to him for a while, who had shown him the grace and dignity and honour of true womanhood, and made him wonder no less at the charm of her clear-shining simplicity and naturalness? The very name of 'Love Meenie' would be as the scent of a rose—as the song of a lark—for him through all the long coming years.
'It will make a great change about here,' said she, with her eyes averted, 'your going away.'
'There's no one missed for long,' he answered, in his downright fashion. 'Where people go, people come; the places get filled up.'
'Yes, but sometimes they are not quite the same,' said she rather gently. She was thinking of the newcomer. Would he be the universal favourite that Ronald was—always good-natured and laughing, but managing everybody and everything; lending a hand at the sheep-shearing or playing the pipes at a wedding—anything to keep life moving along briskly; and always ready to give her father a day's hare-shooting or a turn at the pools of Mudal-Water when the spates began to clear? She knew quite well—for often had she heard it spoken of—that no one could get on as well as Ronald with the shepherds at the time of the heather-burning: when on the other moors the shepherds and keepers were growling and quarrelling like rival leashes of collies, on Lord Ailine's ground everything was peace and quietness and good humour. And then she had a vague impression that the next keeper would be merely a keeper; whereas Ronald was—Ronald.
'I'm sure I was half ashamed,' said he, 'when I got his lordship's letter. It was as fair an offer as one man could make to another; or rather, half a dozen offers; for he said he would raise my wage, if that was what was wrong; or he would let me have another lad to help me in the kennels; or, if I was tired of the Highlands he would get me a place at his shooting in the south. Well, I was sweirt to trouble his lordship with my small affairs; but after that I couldna but sit down and write to him the real reason of my leaving——'
'And I'm certain,' said she quickly, 'that he will write back and offer you any help in his power.'
'No, no,' said he, with a kind of laugh, 'the one letter is enough—if it ever comes to be a question of a written character. But it's just real friendly and civil of him; and if I could win up here for a week or a fortnight in August, I would like well to lend them a hand and set them going; for it will be a good year for the grouse, I'm thinking——'
'Oh, will you be coming to see us in August?' she said, with her eyes suddenly and rather wistfully lighting up.
'Well, I don't know how I may be situated,' said he. 'And there's the railway expense—though I would not mind that much if I had the chance otherwise; for his lordship has been a good master to me; and I would just like to lend him a hand, and start the new man with the management of the dogs and the beats. That's one thing Lord Ailine will do for me, I hope: I hope he will let me have a word about the man that's coming in my place; I would not like to have a cantankerous ill-tempered brute of a fellow coming in to have charge of my dogs. They're the bonniest lot in Sutherlandshire.'