Her face was blushing a rosy red; but her eyes were steadfast and clear and kind; and she had stopped in her walk to confront him.
'I heard the news of you—yes, I heard the news,' she continued; and it was his eyes, not hers, that were downcast; 'and I knew you would do much for me—at least, I thought so,—and I said to myself that if I were to go to Glasgow, and find you, and ask you for my sake to give me a promise——'
'I know what ye would say, Miss Douglas,' he interposed, for she was dreadfully embarrassed. 'To give up the drink. Well, it's easily promised and easily done, now—indeed, I've scarce touched a drop since ever I got the bit of heather you sent me. It was a kind thing to think of—maybe I'm making too bold to think it was you that sent it——'
'I knew you would know that it was I that sent it—I meant you to know,' she said simply.
'It was never any great love of the drink that drove me that way,' he said. 'I think it was that I might be able to forget for a while.'
'To forget what, Ronald?' she asked, regarding him.
'That ever I was such a fool as to leave the only people I cared for,' he answered frankly, 'and come away here among strangers, and bind myself to strive for what I had no interest in. But bless me, Miss Douglas, to think I should keep ye standing here—talking about my poor affairs——'
'Ronald,' she said calmly, 'do you know that I have come all the way to Glasgow to see you and to talk about your affairs and nothing else; and you are not going to hurry away? Tell me about yourself. What are you doing? Are you getting on with your studies?'
He shook his head.
'No, no. I have lost heart that way altogether. Many's the time I have thought of writing to Lord Ailine, and asking to be taken back, if it was only to look after the dogs. I should never have come to this town; and now I am going away from it, for good.'