“Does she want you? That’s the question, I suppose,” said Gilian weakly.
“That is not the question at all, it’s do I want her? There must be a beginning somewhere. Look at me; I’m strong, young, not very ugly (at least they tell me), I’m the grandson of Long Islay, who had a name for gallantry; the girl has no lover--Has she?” he asked eagerly, suddenly dropping his confidence.
“Well, there you are! What more is to be said? In these things one has but to wish and win--at least that’s been my training and my conviction. Here she’s lonely--I could see it in her; the company of her father is not likely to be long for her, and her Uncle Jamie is not what you would call a cheerful spark. Upon my soul, I believe I could get her if I was a hunchback.... Mind, I’m not lightlying the lady; I could not do that in this mood, but I’m fair taken with her; she beats all ever I saw. You know the feeling? No, you don’t; you’re too throng at book notions. God! God! God! I’m all ashake!”
He looked at Gilian, trying in the dark to make out how he was taking this, to make sure he was not laughing at him. Gilian, on the contrary, was feeling very solemn. He felt that this was a dangerously effective mood for a lover, and he knew the lad before him would always bring it to actual wooing if it got that length. He had no answer, and Young Islay again believed him the abstracted dreamer.
“I have this advantage,” he went on, unable to resist. “She likes soldiers; she said as much; it was in her mother and in her; she likes action, she likes spirit. She has them herself in faith! she almost boxed my ears when--when--but I could swear she was rather tickled at my impudence.”
“Your impudence!” repeated Gilian, “were you in that mood?”
“Oh, well, you know--I had the boldness to----
“To what?” said Gilian; apprehending some disaster.
“Just a trifle,” said Young Islay, shrewdly affecting indifference. “A soldier’s compliment; we are too ready with them in barrack-yards, you know.” And he sighed as he remembered the red ripe lips, the warm breath on his face, and the tingling influence of the skin he touched under the kerchief.
They walked on in silence again for a while. The night grew dark with gathering clouds. Lights far out at sea showed the trailing fishers; a flaring torch told of a trawler’s evening fortune made already. And soon they were at the Duke’s lodge and Gilian’s way up Glen Aray lay before him. He was pausing to say good-night, confused, troubled by what he had heard, feeling he must confess his own regard for the girl and not let this comparative stranger so buoyantly outdo him in admiration.