He soon became a favourite with Thomas and Janet , especially the latter . He liked them both , discovering under all their outward peculiarities sterling worth and fitness of character . Thomas Gordon was surprisingly well read and could floor Eric any time in argument , once he became sufficiently warmed up to attain fluency of words . Eric hardly recognized him the first time he saw him thus animated . His bent form straightened , his sunken eyes flashed , his face flushed , his voice rang like a trumpet , and he poured out a flood of eloquence which swept Eric 's smart , up-to-date arguments away like straws in the rush of a mountain torrent . Eric enjoyed his own defeat enormously , but Thomas Gordon was ashamed of being thus drawn out of himself , and for a week afterwards confined his remarks to `` Yes '' and `` No , '' or , at the outside , to a brief statement that a change in the weather was brewing . Janet never talked on matters of church and state ; such she plainly considered to be far beyond a woman 's province . But she listened with lurking interest in her eyes while Thomas and Eric pelted on each other with facts and statistics and opinions , and on the rare occasions when Eric scored a point she permitted herself a sly little smile at her brother 's expense . Of Neil , Eric saw but little . The Italian boy avoided him , or if they chanced to meet passed him by with sullen , downcast eyes . Eric did not trouble himself greatly about Neil ; but Thomas Gordon , understanding the motive which had led Neil to betray his discovery of the orchard trysts , bluntly told Kilmeny that she must not make such an equal of Neil as she had done . `` You have been too kind to the lad , lassie , and he 's got presumptuous . He must be taught his place . I mistrust we have all made more of him than we should . '' But most of the idyllic hours of Eric 's wooing were spent in the old orchard ; the garden end of it was now a wilderness of roses -- roses red as the heart of a sunset , roses pink as the early flush of dawn , roses white as the snows on mountain peaks , roses full blown , and roses in buds that were sweeter than anything on earth except Kilmeny 's face . Their petals fell in silken heaps along the old paths or clung to the lush grasses among which Eric lay and dreamed , while Kilmeny played to him on her violin . Eric promised himself that when she was his wife her wonderful gift for music should be cultivated to the utmost . Her powers of expression seemed to deepen and develop every day , growing as her soul grew , taking on new colour and richness from her ripening heart . To Eric , the days were all pages in an inspired idyl . He had never dreamed that love could be so mighty or the world so beautiful .
He wondered if the universe were big enough XXXXX hold his joy or eternity long enough to live it out .
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