und he had to set himself severe
tasks to keep sufficiently ahead of his pupil.

And in return for his pains Scotty gave an allegiance to his master
that had in it something of homage. Not the gay, reckless Callum was
his hero now, but this quiet, self-controlled gentleman. Unconsciously
the boy copied him in every particular, and unquestioningly adopted his
opinions. Monteith had seen the world, had lived in cities, and even
in that magic land, "the old country," and surely he should be an
authority. Scotty early learned that the new master despised the
tavern, not quite in the way Store Thompson and the minister and his
grandfather did, as a force of evil, but in lofty scorn of its lowness.

In consequence the boy was never found hanging about its doors any
more. And though the teacher said nothing about his religious views,
the pupil soon learned and adopted them too. Monteith treated all
creeds with a good-natured tolerance. The Bible, he declared, was a
grand piece of literature, and he liked to go to church because Mr.
Cameron's sermons gave him some intellectual stimulus. Religion he
characterised chiefly as an emotion. A man needed only common sense to
show him how to live, he declared. Scotty felt that this was the creed
for him; he had come under Monteith's control at a period when he was
in revolt against all earlier restraint and rejoiced in the feeling of
independence which the new belief brought.

The two soon became fast friends in their common pursuit of learning.
When the second winter came, and Scotty had become too old for school,
he and Monteith studied together in the long evenings, and each month
of companionship served to deepen their friendship. But in spite of
their intimacy the boy never elicited any explanation of his friend's
strange behaviour when he first realised that Scotty's name was
Stanwell. Monteith was always careful to call him Ralph, but he
forebore from any allusion to the subject; and as the days went happily
on the matter dropped from the boy's thoughts.

XI

THE WEAVER'S REWARD

Love came at dawn when all the world was fair,
When crimson glories, bloom and song were rife;
Love came at dawn when hope's wings fanned the air,
And murmured, "I am life."

Love came at even when the day was done,
When heart and brain were tired and slumber pressed;
Love came at eve, shut out the sinking sun,
And whispered, "I am rest."
--WILLIAM