In the evenings we sat under the
trees on the lawn till the stars came out and the night dews drove us
in. Like two lovers, Graeme and his mother would wander off together,
leaving Jack and me to each other. Jack was reading for divinity, and
was really a fine, manly fellow, with all his brother's turn for rugby,
and I took to him amazingly; but after the day was over we would gather
about the supper table, and the talk would be of all things under
heaven--art, football, theology. The mother would lead in all. How quick
she was, how bright her fancy, how subtle her intellect, and through all
a gentle grace, very winning and beautiful to see!
Do what I would, Graeme would talk little of the mountains and his life
there.
'My lion will not roar, Mrs. Graeme,' I complained; 'he simply will
not.'
'You should twist his tail,' said Jack.
'That seems to be the difficulty, Jack,' said his mother, 'to get hold
of his tale.'
'Oh, mother,' groaned Jack; 'you never did such a thing before! How
could you? Is it this baleful Western influence?'
'I shall reform, Jack,' she replied brightly.
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