'Oh, but this will do,' said she (and whatever her inward thoughts were, her speech was blithe enough). 'See, I will put up the umbrella, and you will carry it for me—it is not the first time, Ronald, that you and I have had to walk in the rain together, and without any umbrella. And do you know why I do not care for the rain?' she added, glancing at him again with the frank, affectionate eyes; 'it's because I am so glad to find you looking not so ill after all, Ronald.'
'Not so ill, maybe, as I deserve to be,' he answered; but he took the umbrella and held it over her; and they went down Renfield Street a little way and then into West Regent Street; and if she did not put her hand on his arm, at least she was very close to him, and the thrill of the touch of her dress was magnetic and strange. Strange, indeed; and strange that he should find himself walking side by side with Meenie through the streets of Glasgow town; and listening mutely and humbly the while to all her varied talk of what had happened since he left Inver-Mudal. Whatever she had heard of him, it seemed to be her wish to ignore that. She appeared to assume that their relations to each other now were just as they had been in former days. And she was quite bright and cheerful and hopeful; how could he know that the first glance at his haggard face had struck like a dagger to her heart?
Moreover, the rain gradually ceased; the umbrella was lowered; a light west wind was quietly stirring; and by and by a warmer light began to interfuse itself through the vaporous atmosphere. Nay, by the time they had reached Blythswood Square, a pallid sunshine was clearly shining on the wet pavements and door-steps and house-fronts; and far overhead, and dimly seen through the mysteriously moving pall of mist and smoke, there were faint touches of blue, foretelling the opening out to a joyfuller day. The wide square was almost deserted; they could talk to each other as they chose; though, indeed, the talking was mostly on her side. Something, he scarcely knew what, kept him silent and submissive; but his heart was full of gratitude towards her; and from time to time—for how could he help it?—some chance word or phrase of appeal would bring him face to face with Meenie's eyes.
So far she had cunningly managed to avoid all reference to his own affairs, so that he might get accustomed to this friendly conversation; but at length she said—
'And now about yourself, Ronald?'
'The less said the better,' he answered. 'I wish that I had never come to this town.'
'What?' she said, with a touch of remonstrance in her look. 'Have you so soon forgotten the fine prospects you started away with? Surely not! Why, it was only the other day I had a letter from Miss Hodson—the young American lady, you remember—and she was asking all about you, and whether you had passed the examination yet; and she said her father and herself were likely to come over next spring, and hoped to hear you had got the certificate.'
He seemed to pay no heed to this news.
'I wish I had never left Inver-Mudal,' he said. 'I was content there; and what more can a man wish for anywhere? It's little enough of that I've had since I came to this town. But for whatever has happened to me, I've got myself to blame; and—and I beg your pardon, Miss Douglas, I will not bother you with any poor concerns of mine——'
'But if I wish to be bothered?' she said quickly. 'Ronald, do you know why I have come from the Highlands?'