I will not describe the heats and chills of the moment that elapsed before the big loose figure appeared on the walk, coming on leisurely, with a perceptible air of fatigue. “Ah, you’re up still,” he said, as he came within hearing. Janet had flown to open the door for him, undoing all the useless bars, making a wonderful noise in the night. “I could have stepped in through the window,” he said. “You’ve walked from Edinburgh,” cried Janet; “you must be wanting some supper.” “I would not object to a little cold meat,” he said, with a laugh. His tone was always pleasant to Janet. His mother stood and listened to this colloquy within the parlour door. She must have been angry, you would say, jealous that her maid should be more kindly used by her son than she, exasperated by his heedless selfishness. She was none of all those things. Her heart was like a well, a fountain of thankfulness welling up before God: her whole being over-flooded with sudden relief and sweet content.
“How imprudent with that window open--in the middle of the night; how can you tell who may be about?” were the first words he said, going up himself to the window and closing it and the shutters over it hastily. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said afterwards. “I missed the last train, and then I think I missed the road. I’ve been a long time getting here. These confounded light nights; you’ve no shelter at all, however late you walk.”
“You will be tired, my dear.” He had brought in an atmosphere with him that filled in a moment this little dainty old woman’s room. It was greatly made up of tobacco, but there was also whisky in it and other odours indiscriminate, the smell of a man who had been smoking all day and drinking all day, though the latter process had not affected his seasoned senses. Of all things horrible to her this was the most horrible: it made her faint and sick. But he was, of course, quite unconscious of any such effect, nor did he notice the paleness that had come over her face.
“Yes, I am tired,” he said; “Janet’s suggestion was not a bad idea. I have not walked so far for years. A horse between my legs, and I would not mind a dozen times the distance; but I’ve got out of the use of my own feet.” He spoke more naturally, with a lighter heart than he had shown yet. “I have not had a bad day. I looked up some of the old howffs. Nobody there that remembered me, but still it was a little like old times.”