'It doesn't matter my having it, you know, now that
you've read it to me, I want to make you do it justice.--But it's
quite time I were going home. Besides, I really don't think you can
see to read any more.'
'Weel, it's better no to try, though I hae them maistly upo' my
tongue: I might blunder, and that wad blaud them.--Will you let me
go home with you?' he added, in pure tremulous English.
'Certainly, if you like,' she answered; and they walked towards the
town.
Robert opened the fountain of his love for Ericson, and let it gush
like a river from a hillside. He talked on and on about him, with
admiration, gratitude, devotion. And Miss St. John was glad of the
veil of the twilight over her face as she listened, for the boy's
enthusiasm trembled through her as the wind through an ?olian harp.
Poor Robert! He did not know, I say, what he was doing, and so was
fulfilling his sacred destiny.
'Bring your manuscripts when you come next,' she said, as they
walked along--gently adding, 'I admire your friend's verses very
much, and should like to hear more of them.'
'I'll be sure an' do that,' answered Robert, in delight that he had
found one to sympathize with him in his worship of Ericson, and that
one his other idol.
When they reached the town, Miss St. John, calling to mind its
natural propensity to gossip, especially on the evening of a
market-day, when the shopkeepers, their labours over, would be
standing in a speculative mood at their doors, surrounded by groups
of friends and neighbours, felt shy of showing herself on the square
with Robert, and proposed that they should part, giving as a
by-the-bye reason that she had a little shopping to do as she went
home.
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