218 WILD FLOWERS OF SCOTLAND 



case of other eyes, much of the expression is there 

 reflection among the rest. Its shadows are reflec- 

 tions, in the deeper sense. Sad St. Mary's ! A good 

 deal is in that " sad." In its silent depths, memories 

 lie. When I come in sight, it is in one of its 

 quieter moods, not cheerful ; it never is only still. 



Even as I look, the aspect changes : the trouble 

 comes to the surface, the face darkens, the spirit 

 of gloom sweeps over it with a moan. Out of the 

 dark cloud comes the rain. Storm on St. Mary's 

 has something of a human outburst in it. Rain 

 falls with the bitter significance of tears. 



Five minutes are long enough to wet one 

 through. The seven miles to " Tibbie's " become a 

 dogged walk with water water everywhere, from 

 cap and finger-tips to boots. The Selkirk coach 

 has just come in, full of passengers. There is no 

 getting near the fire, and the floor looks miserable 

 with the drippings. 



A lull tempts me out again. Along the shores 

 of "the Lake of Lowes" the mist- winged storm 

 comes along worse than ever. Now all is natural. 

 The sadness has dropped behind only, the wild- 

 ness is in the mountain fastness, from which the 

 wind and the mist come forth, to play roughly on 

 the plain. 



