Thus thinking, he opened the door of his uncle’s private room, and said cheerily, “Good morning, uncle.”

“Good morning, Davie.  Your father is here.”

Then Andrew Lockerby came forward, and his son met him with outstretched hands and paling cheeks.  “What is it, father?  Mother?  Mary?  Is she dead?”

“’Deed, no, my lad.  There’s naething wrang but will turn to right.  Mary Moir was married three days syne, and I thocht you wad rather hear the news from are that loved you.  That’s a’, Davie; and indeed it’s a loss that’s a great gain.”

“Who did she marry?”

“Just a bit wizened body frae the East Indies, a’most as yellow as his gold, an’ as auld as her father.  But the Deacon is greatly set up wi’ the match—­or the settlements—­and Mary comes o’ a gripping kind.  There’s her brother Gavin, he’d sell the ears aff his head, an’ they werena fastened on.”

Then David went away with his father, and after half-an-hour’s talk on the subject together it was never mentioned more between them.  But it was a blow that killed effectually all David’s eager yearnings for a loftier and purer life.  And it not only did this, but it also caused to spring up into active existence a passion which was to rule him absolutely—­a passion for gold.  Love had failed him, friendship had proved an annoyance, company, music, feasting, amusements of all kinds were a weariness now to think of.  There seemed nothing better for him than to become a rich man.

“I’ll buy so many acres of old Scotland and call them by the Lockerby’s name; and I’ll have nobles and great men come bowing and becking to David Lockerby as they do to Alexander Gordon.  Love is refused, and wisdom is scorned, but everybody is glad to take money; then money is best of all things.”

Thus David reasoned, and his father said nothing against his arguments.  Indeed, they had never understood one another so well.  David, for the first time, asked all about the lands of Ellenmount, and pledged himself, if he lived and prospered, to fulfill his father’s hope.  Indeed, Andrew was altogether so pleased with his son that he told his brother-in-law that the L20,000 would be forthcoming as soon as ever he choose to advance David in the firm.

“I was only waiting, Lockerby, till Davie got through wi’ his playtime.  The lad’s myself o’er again, an’ I ken weel he’ll ne’er be contented until he settles cannily doon to his interest tables.”

So before Andrew Lockerby went back to Glasgow David was one of the firm of Gordon & Co., sat in the directors’ room, and began to feel some of the pleasant power of having money to lend.  After this he was rarely seen among men of his own age—­women he never mingled with.  He removed to his uncle’s stately house in Baker street, and assimilated his life very much to that of the older money maker.  Occasionally he took a run northward to Glasgow, or a month’s vacation on the Continent, but nearly all such journeys were associated with some profitable loan or investment.  People began to speak of him as a most admirable young man, and indeed in some respects he merited the praise.  No son ever more affectionately honored his father and mother, and Janet had been made an independent woman by his grateful consideration.