Severed Selves and Shadows

He thought of David, but there would be little comfort in seeing David,
for he could not talk to him of Maggie. Allan would have liked well to
confide in David, and explain, as he thought he ought to, his honorable
intentions toward his sister; but Maggie had earnestly entreated that
nothing should be said to her brother. "He'll be aye questioning me. He'll
be aye watching me. He'll maybe tell folks, and I'll feel everybody's eye
is on me. Forbye, he willna be as happy in what you hae done for him. He
thinks now, it was just for your admiration o' his abilities, and your
liking for his sel', that you sent him to Glasga' College. If he kent you
thocht o' me, he wad be sure it was for my sake, and that wad jist tak'
the good out o' everything for Davie." Thus, Maggie had reasoned, and
Allan thought her reasoning both generous and prudent.

So there would be little comfort in threading the dirty ways of Argyle
Street to the Candleriggs; and he went to his hotel and ordered dinner,
then back to his father, and begged him to come and spend the last hours
of his delay with him. And John Campbell was delighted. "Things will go
tapsalteerie, Allan, but let them; we will have a bite and a cup of
kindness together." It was a very pleasant bite and cup, seasoned with
much love, and many cheerful confidences; and when Allan, at length, left
the dreary precincts of the old Caledonian Station, the last thing he saw
was his father's bare, white head, and that courtly upward movement of the
right hand which was his usual greeting or adieu; a movement which is as
much the natural salutation of a gentleman, as a nod is the natural one of
a vulgar mind.