Out on the terrace they walked up and down in
the soft, bright morning light. Mr. Touris seemed to wish company; he
clung to Glenfernie until the latter must mount his horse and ride
home. Only for a moment did Alexander and Mrs. Alison have speech
together.
"When will you be seeing Elspeth?"
"I hope this afternoon."
"May joy come to you, Alexander!"
"I want it to come. I want it to come."
He and Black Alan journeyed home. As he rode he thought now and again
of Ian, perhaps in Edinburgh according to his word of mouth, but
perhaps, despite that word, on board some ship that should place him
in the Low Countries, from which he might travel into France and to
Paris and that group of Jacobites humming like a byke of bees around a
prince, the heir of all the Stewarts. He thought with old affection
and old concern. Whatever Ian did--intrigued with Jacobite interest or
held aloof like a sensible man--yet was he Ian with the old appeal.
_Take me or leave me--me and my dusky gold!_ Alexander drew a deep
breath, shook his shoulders, raised his head. "Let my friend be as he
is!"
He ceased to think of Ian and turned to the oncoming afternoon--the
afternoon rainbow-hued, coming on to the sound of music.
Again in his own house, he and Strickland worked an hour or more upon
estate business. That over and dinner past, he went to the room in the
keep.
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