It will be seen, then, that John Campbell was not one of those
money-makers with stunted senses, and incomplete natures, for whom all the
grapes in the garden of God are sour. He had loved and suffered, the songs
of his native land had sweet echoes in his heart, he could appreciate
beauty, he delighted in color, he had learned the blessedness of giving
and forgiving, he had found out that with renunciation the higher life
begins. When Allan told him in the morning that he was going to Fife, he
accepted the information pleasantly, as part of an understood arrangement.

"Will you be long away, Allan?"

"A few days, sir."

"And when you return? What then?"

"I have decided to go Westward."

"I am glad of it. Boston! New York! Baltimore! Charleston! New Orleans!
Why the very names are epics of enterprise! Old as I am, if I could win
away from my desk, I would take a year or two to read them."

They parted pleasantly with a lingering handclasp, and words of "good
speed;" and though Allan was going to bid Maggie a long farewell, he was
light-hearted, for it was not a hopeless one. If she loved him, and could
have patience for two years, he would be free to make her his wife. And he
intended to give her this hope to share with him.

When he arrived in Edinburgh, the city was all astir with moving
regiments, and the clear, crisp autumn air thrilling with military music--
that admirable metallic music so well disciplined, so correct, and yet all