mother with a cheque for £20,000. And what’s more, he wisely invested it in gilt-edged stocks so that we have a sure and
steady tax-free income of over £500 a year.’
For a moment Finlay was silent. Then, in an odd voice, and pointing to a wayside bench, he said. ‘Let’s sit here, Bob.’ Presently, having apparently collected himself, Finlay
said:
‘What a blessing for your dear mother that this brave young lawyer was there to help her.’
‘Oh yes, Finlay, he really stood up for her. We had known Mr Dean even before the accident to my dear dad. In fact, he and my mother were intimate friends, very intimate. To be quite
honest Finlay, he was deeply and truly in love with her, well before the accident.’
‘And she was with him, of course.’ Finlay managed to bring out the words.
‘Dear Finlay, with Mother it is hard to tell. There’s no doubt but that, for a long, long time she was terribly in love with you. But, as you never said the word, it’s possible
she felt free to look elsewhere.’
‘And if she did, Bob, who is to blame her. I have loved your mother ever since I first saw her. My love has so grown that I have never looked at, never laid a finger on another woman. But
circumstances prevented me from speaking. So now, who would blame that dear, lovely lass, if she were to take to her bosom this young lawyer who has fought and won a fortune for her, and who would
expect her to remember the man who has loved her, will love her a’ his life, in steeled, suffering silence? Let her forget him, as if he, too, were dead. Let her wed, and be happy with this
lawyer who has really proved how much he loves her.’
Here Finlay broke off with heaving breast and Bob saw that this fine man whom he loved and admired was weeping, anguished tears falling in scalding drops on the wooden bench.
A long silence prevailed. Then Finlay, again master of himself, said quietly: ‘So here you are, Bob, at the Academy to brush up your Latin, before ye go to the university.’
‘Yes, Finlay, and also to see you, my blood father!’
‘Then let’s meet often, Bob, and go fishing for burn trout in the high moorland streams.’ He paused. ‘Your mother will be holidaying with her lawyer friend?’
‘No, Finlay. She has gone alone to the Baths at Harrogate Spa. She says she wants to wash herself clean of her past life before she comes back to Tannochbrae to meet you.’
A long silence. Then, as they paused before approaching Tannochbrae Finlay said firmly: ‘Not a word of my weakness to your mother!’
‘I reserve the right to open my heart to my dear mother whenever I wish, and I am writing her a long letter this very night!’
The Flame is Extinguished
One fine morning, almost a month later, Finlay finished his leisurely breakfast and, assuring himself that Dr Cameron was dealing with the surgery, went out to stroll up and
down in front of the house, enjoying the cool morning air. Long days of striding across the moors with Bob had left their rugged mark on him. He was at his best, tanned, erect, his shoulders
square, his movements supple and easy. Momentarily his attention was caught by signs of activity in the house next door, a fine old Georgian building that had long been empty. Often Finlay had gone
through it, admiring the lovely rooms, beautiful antique furniture, the rich carving of the woodwork, and from the upper floor the magnificent view of the surrounding countryside and the distant
Lammermuir Hills.
Now the signs of activity increased and indeed the big old FOR SALE sign was being taken down and removed.
Finlay, who knew everyone in Tannochbrae and was well liked by all, shouted across the big garden.
‘What’s up, Davie? Don’t tell me the house is sellt.’
‘Ay, deed an’ it is, Dr Finlay, sir.’
‘Who’s bocht it, Davie?’
‘Dinna ken, sir. It’s our ain lawyers in the town that have managed the sale. And forbye, they’re managing a’ the cleaning, painting, doing
steady tax-free income of over £500 a year.’
For a moment Finlay was silent. Then, in an odd voice, and pointing to a wayside bench, he said. ‘Let’s sit here, Bob.’ Presently, having apparently collected himself, Finlay
said:
‘What a blessing for your dear mother that this brave young lawyer was there to help her.’
‘Oh yes, Finlay, he really stood up for her. We had known Mr Dean even before the accident to my dear dad. In fact, he and my mother were intimate friends, very intimate. To be quite
honest Finlay, he was deeply and truly in love with her, well before the accident.’
‘And she was with him, of course.’ Finlay managed to bring out the words.
‘Dear Finlay, with Mother it is hard to tell. There’s no doubt but that, for a long, long time she was terribly in love with you. But, as you never said the word, it’s possible
she felt free to look elsewhere.’
‘And if she did, Bob, who is to blame her. I have loved your mother ever since I first saw her. My love has so grown that I have never looked at, never laid a finger on another woman. But
circumstances prevented me from speaking. So now, who would blame that dear, lovely lass, if she were to take to her bosom this young lawyer who has fought and won a fortune for her, and who would
expect her to remember the man who has loved her, will love her a’ his life, in steeled, suffering silence? Let her forget him, as if he, too, were dead. Let her wed, and be happy with this
lawyer who has really proved how much he loves her.’
Here Finlay broke off with heaving breast and Bob saw that this fine man whom he loved and admired was weeping, anguished tears falling in scalding drops on the wooden bench.
A long silence prevailed. Then Finlay, again master of himself, said quietly: ‘So here you are, Bob, at the Academy to brush up your Latin, before ye go to the university.’
‘Yes, Finlay, and also to see you, my blood father!’
‘Then let’s meet often, Bob, and go fishing for burn trout in the high moorland streams.’ He paused. ‘Your mother will be holidaying with her lawyer friend?’
‘No, Finlay. She has gone alone to the Baths at Harrogate Spa. She says she wants to wash herself clean of her past life before she comes back to Tannochbrae to meet you.’
A long silence. Then, as they paused before approaching Tannochbrae Finlay said firmly: ‘Not a word of my weakness to your mother!’
‘I reserve the right to open my heart to my dear mother whenever I wish, and I am writing her a long letter this very night!’
The Flame is Extinguished
One fine morning, almost a month later, Finlay finished his leisurely breakfast and, assuring himself that Dr Cameron was dealing with the surgery, went out to stroll up and
down in front of the house, enjoying the cool morning air. Long days of striding across the moors with Bob had left their rugged mark on him. He was at his best, tanned, erect, his shoulders
square, his movements supple and easy. Momentarily his attention was caught by signs of activity in the house next door, a fine old Georgian building that had long been empty. Often Finlay had gone
through it, admiring the lovely rooms, beautiful antique furniture, the rich carving of the woodwork, and from the upper floor the magnificent view of the surrounding countryside and the distant
Lammermuir Hills.
Now the signs of activity increased and indeed the big old FOR SALE sign was being taken down and removed.
Finlay, who knew everyone in Tannochbrae and was well liked by all, shouted across the big garden.
‘What’s up, Davie? Don’t tell me the house is sellt.’
‘Ay, deed an’ it is, Dr Finlay, sir.’
‘Who’s bocht it, Davie?’
‘Dinna ken, sir. It’s our ain lawyers in the town that have managed the sale. And forbye, they’re managing a’ the cleaning, painting, doing
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