Perhaps it
was only now that she had grown into appreciation of the relations
between that mother and son, as she read the letters, preserved on
each side, and revealing the full beauty and greatness of her
husband's nature, his perfect confidence in his mother, and a guiding
influence from her, which she herself had never thought of exerting.
Does not many an old correspondence thus put the present generation
to shame?
Jock was the first person with whom she had shared these letters, and
it was good to watch his face as he read the words of the father whom
he remembered chiefly as the best of playfellows. He was of an age
and in a mood to enter into them with all his heart, though he
uttered little more than an occasional question, or some murmured
remark when anything struck him. Both he and his mother were so
occupied that they never observed that the sky clouded over and rain
began to fall, nor did they think of any other object till Bobus
opened the door in search of them.
"Halloo, you deserter!"
"Hush! Mother has a headache."
"Not now, you have cured it."
"Well, you've missed an encounter with the most impudent rascal I
ever came across."
"You didn't meet Hermann?"
"Well, perhaps I have found his match; but you shall hear.
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