He thought with old affection and old concern.

Whatever Ian did--intrigued with Jacobite interest or held aloof like a sensible man--yet was he Ian with the old appeal.
_Take me or leave me--me and my dusky gold!_ Alexander drew a deep breath, shook his shoulders, raised his head.

"Let my friend be as he is!" He ceased to think of Ian and turned to the oncoming afternoon--the afternoon rainbow-hued, coming on to the sound of music.
Again in his own house, he and Strickland worked an hour or more upon estate business.

That over and dinner past, he went to the room in the keep.

When the hour struck three he passed out of the opening in the old wall, clambered down the bank, and, going through the wood, took his way to White Farm.
Just one foreground wish in his mind was granted.