Which is the house?"
She pulled up at the gate. Malcolm dismounted, but before he could
get near to assist her, she was already halfway up the walk--
flying, and he was but in time to catch the rein of Abbot, already
moving off curious to know whether he was actually trusted alone.
In about five minutes she came again, glancing about her all ways
but behind, with a scared look, Malcolm thought. But she walked
more slowly and statelily than usual down the path. In a moment
Malcolm had her in the saddle, and she cantered away--past the
hospital into Sloane Street, and across the park home. He said to
himself, "She knows the way."
CHAPTER XXVI: THE SCHOOLMASTER
Alexander Graham, the schoolmaster, was the son of a grieve, or
farm overseer, in the North of Scotland. By straining every nerve,
his parents had succeeded in giving him a university education,
the narrowness of whose scope was possibly favourable to the
development of what genius, rare and shy, might lurk among the
students. He had laboured well, and had gathered a good deal from
books and lectures, but far more from the mines they guided him to
discover in his own nature. In common with so many Scotch parents,
his had cherished the most wretched as well as hopeless of all
ambitions, seeing it presumes to work in a region into which no
ambition can enter--I mean that of seeing their son a clergyman.
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