GOOD-BYE

‘*Well, good-bye,” said Alan, and held out his left
hand.

“‘Good-bye,” said J, and gave the hand a little grasp,
and went off down hill.

Neither one of us looked the other in the face, nor so
long as he was in my view did I take one back glance
at the friend I was leaving. But as I went on my way
to the city, I felt so lost and lonesome, that I could have
found it in my heart to sit down by the dyke, and cry
and weep like any baby.

It was coming near noon when I passed in by the
West Kirk and the Grassmarket into the streets of the
capital. The huge height of the buildings, running up
to ten and fifteen storeys, the narrow arched entries
that continually vomited passengers, the wares of the
merchants in their windows, the hubbub and endless
stir, the foul smells and the fine clothes, and a hundred
other particulars too small to mention, struck me into
a kind of stupor of surprise, so that | let the crowd
carry me to and fro; and yet all the time what I was
thinking of was Alan at Rest-and-be-Thankful; and all
the time (although you would think I would not choose
but be delighted with these braws and novelties) there
was a cold gnawing in my inside like a remorse for
something wrong.

The hand of Providence brought me in my drifting
to the very doors of the British Linen Company’s bank.

281