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ROAMIN' IN THE GLOAMIN' 197
to be beside her ain folks for that peculiarly Scottish festival. I was left alone in London.
On Monday morning, the first day of 191 7 I was handed a telegram. My heart started to beat double-time. I could not bring myself to open the telegram. I knew what it contained. God ! the agonies I suffered that bright New Year's morning. They cannot be written about. But hundreds of thousands, aye, millions, of fathers and mothers will know just what I passed through for many hours and for many weeks. My only son. The one child God had given us. "Captain John Lauder killed in action. Official. War Office."
That was what the telegram said when I came to read it. Then I noticed the post-mark. It was from Dunoon. So Nance knew already! Brave soul, she had received the information first and simply re-directed it on to me. Pulling myself together I realized that my place was at Dunoon with my boy's mother. Throughout the day many of my personal friends called at the hotel and their presence and kindly words of sympathy and encouragement kept me on something of a level keel mentally and physically. Tom Vallance, the boy's uncle, never left me for a moment and he and I travelled up to Scotland by the midnight mail. The meeting between Nance and myself next morning I shall never forget. She was wonderful. Through her tears her eyes shone with a brave light. For her there were no hysterics, no frenzied outbursts against Fate — and God. She was proud of John in death as she had been of him in life. I was the weak individual that morning; she the strong. And after we had prayed a little together, not questioning His mysterious ways, but simply asking Him for strength and comfort, we both felt slightly more resigned to our terrible loss.
Had it not been for Nance and her mothering of me at that time I think my professional career would have ended