Come, we must go; I must see them all again. Let us to
the burn first, and put my face right."
A moment he stood looking down upon his mother's grave. The hideous
thing that had put her far from him, and that had blurred the clear
vision of her face, was gone. A smile soft and tender as a child's stole
over his face, and with that smile he turned away. As they were
coming back from the burn, Martin and the schoolmaster saw them in the
distance.
"Bless me, man, will you look at him?" said the master in an awestruck
tone, clutching Martin's arm. "What ever is come to him?"
"What's up," cried Martin. "By Jove! you're right! the Roderick Dhu and
Black Douglas business is gone, sure!"
"God bless my soul!" said Maclise in an undertone. "He is himself once
more."
He might well exclaim, for it was a new Allan that came striding up
the high road, with head lifted, and with the proud swing of a Highland
chieftain.
"Hello, old man!" he shouted, catching sight of Martin and running
towards him with hands outstretched, "You are welcome"--he grasped
his hands and held them fast--"you are welcome to this Glen, and to me
welcome as Heaven to a Hell-bound soul."
"Maclise," he cried, turning to the master, "this letter," waving it in
his hand, "is like a reprieve to a man on the scaffold.
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