Page:The Bothie of Toper-na-fuosich - Clough (1848).pdf/45

 That is the way I think, Sir, in England more than in Scotland; No she lives and takes pleasure in all, as in beautiful weather, Sorry to lose it, but just as we would be to lose fine weather. And she is strong to return to herself and feel undeserted, For she always keeps burning a cheerful fire inside her. Oh, she is strong, and not silly; she thinks no more about you; She has had kerchiefs before from gentle, I know, as from simple. Yes, she is good and not silly; yet were you wrong, Mr. Philip, Wrong, for yourself perhaps more than for her. But Philip replied not, Raised not his eyes from the hands on his knees. And Elspie continued. That was what gave me much pain, when I met you that dance at Rannoch, Dancing myself too with you, while Katie danced with Donald; That was what gave me such pain; I thought it all delusion, All a mere chance, and accident,—not proper choosing,— There were at least five or six—not there, no, that I don't say, But in the country about,—you might just as well have been courting. That was what gave me much pain, and (you won't remember that, though,) Three days after, I met you, beside my uncle's, walking, And I was wondering much, and hoped you wouldn't notice, So as I passed I couldn't help looking. You didn't know me. But I was glad, when I heard next day you were gone to the teacher. And uplifting his face at last, with eyes dilated, Large as great stars in mist, and dim, with dabbled lashes, Philip with new tears starting, You think I do not remember, Said,—suppose, that I did not observe! Ah me, shall I tell you? Elspie, it was your look that sent me away from Rannoch. It was your glance, that, descending, an instant revelation, Showed me, where I was, and whitherward going; recalled me, Sent me, not to my books, but to wrestlings of thought in the mountains. Yes, I have carried your glance within me undimmed, unaltered, As a lost boat the compass some passing ship has lent her, Many a weary mile on road, and hill, and moorland: It has been with me in shieling and bothie of wandering drovers, It has been with me, more precious, in chariot and palace of peeress: And you suppose, that I do not remember, I had not observed it! O, did the sailor bewildered observe when they told him his bearings? O, did he cast overboard, when they parted, the compass they gave him?