[Note from the transcriber: I have compiled a glossary with definitionsof most of the Scottish words found in this work and placed it at theend of this electronic text. This glossary does not belong to theoriginal work, but is designed to help with the conversations andreferences in Broad Scots found in this work. A further explanation ofthis list can be found towards the end of this document, preceding theglossary. ]

ALEC FORBES OF HOWGLEN

BY

GEORGE MACDONALD LL. D. 

NEW EDITION

c. 1900

CHAPTER I. 

The farm-yard was full of the light of a summer noontide. Nothing canbe so desolately dreary as full strong sunlight can be. Not a livingcreature was to be seen in all the square inclosure, though cow-housesand stables formed the greater part of it, and one end was occupied bya dwelling-house. Away through the gate at the other end, far off infenced fields, might be seen the dark forms of cattle; and on a road, at no great distance, a cart crawled along, drawn by one sleepy horse. An occasional weary low came from some imprisoned cow--or animal of thecow-kind; but not even a cat crossed the yard. The door of the barn wasopen, showing a polished floor, as empty, bright, and clean as that ofa ball-room. And through the opposite door shone the last year's ricksof corn, golden in the sun. 

Now, although a farm-yard is not, either in Scotland or elsewhere, theliveliest of places in ordinary, and still less about noon in summer, yet there was a peculiar cause rendering this one, at this moment, exceptionally deserted and dreary. But there were, notwithstanding, agreat many more people about the place than was usual, only they wereall gathered together in the ben-end, or best room of the house--a roomof tolerable size, with a clean boarded floor, a mahogany table, blackwith age, and chairs of like material, whose wooden seats, and high, straight backs, were more suggestive of state than repose. Every one ofthese chairs was occupied by a silent man, whose gaze was either fixedon the floor, or lost in the voids of space. Each wore a black coat, and most of them were in black throughout. Their hard, thick, brownhands--hands evidently unused to idleness--grasped their knees, or, folded in each other, rested upon them. Some bottles and glasses, witha plate of biscuits, on a table in a corner, seemed to indicate thatthe meeting was not entirely for business purposes; and yet there wereno signs of any sort of enjoyment. Nor was there a woman to be seen inthe company. 

Suddenly, at the open door, appeared a man whose shirt-sleeves showedvery white against his other clothing which, like that of the rest, wasof decent black. He addressed the assembly thus:

"Gin ony o' ye want to see the corp, noo's yer time. "

To this offer no one responded; and, with a slight air of discomfiture, for he was a busy man, and liked bustle, the carpenter turned on hisheel, and re-ascended the narrow stairs to the upper room, where thecorpse lay, waiting for its final dismission and courted oblivion. 

"I reckon they've a' seen him afore, " he remarked, as he rejoined hiscompanion. "Puir fallow! He's unco (uncouthly) worn. There'll no bemuckle o' _him_ to rise again. "

"George, man, dinna jeest i' the face o' a corp, " returned the other. "Ye kenna whan yer ain turn may come. "

"It's no disrespeck to the deid, Thamas. That ye ken weel eneuch. I wasonly pityin' the worn face o' him, leukin up there atween the buirds, as gin he had gotten what he wanted sae lang, and was thankin' heavenfor that same. I jist dinna like to pit the lid ower him. "

"Hoot! hoot! Lat the Lord luik efter his ain. The lid o' the coffindisna hide frae his een. "

The last speaker was a stout, broad-shouldered man, a stonemason bytrade, powerful, and somewhat asthmatic. He was regarded in theneighbourhood as a very religious man, but was more respected thanliked, because his forte was rebuke. It was from deference to him thatthe carpenter had assumed a mental position generating a poetic moodand utterance quite unusual with him, for he was a jolly, careless kindof fellow, well-meaning and good-hearted. 

So together they lifted the last covering of the dead, laid it overhim, and fastened it down. And there was darkness about the dead; buthe knew it not, because he was full of light. For this man was one who, all his life, had striven to be better. 

Meantime, the clergyman having arrived, the usual religious ceremonialof a Scotch funeral--the reading of the Word and prayer--was going onbelow. This was all that gave the burial any sacred solemnity; for atthe grave the Scotch terror of Popery forbids any observance of areligious character. The voice of the reader was heard in the chamberof death. 

"The minister's come, Thamas. "

"Come or gang, " said Thomas, "it's muckle the same. The word itsel' ooto' his mou' fa's as deid as chaff upo' clay. Honest Jeames there'llrise ance mair; but never a word that man says, wi' the croon o' 'sheid i' the how o' 's neck, 'll rise to beir witness o' hisministrations. "

"Hoot, Thamas! It's no for the likes o' me to flee i' your face--butjist say a fair word for the livin' ower the deid, ye ken. "

"Na, na. It's fair words maks foul wark; and the wrath o' the Almichtymaun purge this toon or a' be dune. There's a heap o' graceless gaeinson in't; and that puir feckless body, the minister, never gies a pu' atthe bridle o' salvation, to haud them aff o' the scaur (cliff) o'hell. "

The stone-mason generally spoke of the Almighty as if he were in astate of restrained indignation at the wrongs he endured from hischildren. If Thomas was right in this, then certainly he himself wasone of his offspring. If he was wrong, then there was much well worthhis unlearning. 

The prayer was soon over, and the company again seated themselves, waiting till the coffin should be placed in the hearse, which now stoodat the door. 

"We'll jist draw the cork o' anither boatle, " whispered a sharp-facedman to his neighbour. 

And rising, he opened two bottles, and filled the glasses the secondtime with wine, red and white, which he handed to the minister first. 

"Tak' a drappy mair, sir, " he whispered in a coaxing, old-wivish tone;"it's a lang road to the kirkyard. "

But the minister declining, most of the others followed his example. One after another they withdrew to the door, where the hearse was nowladen with the harvest of the grave. 

Falling in behind the body, they moved in an irregular procession fromthe yard. Outside, they were joined by several more in gigs and onhorseback; and thus they crept, a curious train, away towards theresting-place of the dead. 

It were a dreary rest, indeed, if that were their resting-place--on theside of a low hill, without tree or shrub to beautify it, or even thepresence of an old church to seem to sanctify the spot. There was somelong grass in it, though, clambering up as if it sought to bury thegravestones in their turn. And that long grass was a blessing. Betterstill, there was a sky overhead, in which men cannot set up anygravestones. But if any graveyard be the type of the rest expected bythose left behind, it is no wonder they shrink from joining those thatare away. 

CHAPTER II. 

When the last man had disappeared, the women, like those of an easternharem, began to come out. The first that entered the deserted room wasa hard-featured, reproachful-looking woman, the sister of the departed. She instantly began to put the place in order, as if she expected herturn to come on the morrow. In a few moments more a servant appeared, and began to assist her. The girl had been crying, and the tears wouldstill come, in spite of her efforts to repress them. In the vainattempt to dry her eyes with the corner of her apron, she nearlydropped one of the chairs, which she was simultaneously dusting andrestoring to its usual place. Her mistress turned upon her with a kindof cold fierceness. 

"Is that hoo ye shaw yer regaird to the deid, by brackin' the cheirs heleft ahin' him? Lat sit, an' gang an' luik for that puir, doited thing, Annie. Gin it had only been the Almichty's will to hae ta'en her, an'left him, honest man!"

"Dinna daur to say a word again' the bairn, mem. The deid'll hear ye, an' no lie still. "

"Supperstitious quean! Gang an' do as I tell ye this minute. Whatbusiness hae ye to gang greetin aboot the hoose? He was no drap's bluido' yours!"

To this the girl made no reply, but left the room in quest of Annie. When she reached the door, she stood for a moment on the threshold, and, putting her hand over her eyes, shouted "_Annie_!" But, apparentlystartled at the sound of her own voice where the unhearing dead had solately passed, she let the end of the call die away in a quaver, and, without repeating it, set off to find the missing child by the use ofher eyes alone. First she went into the barn, and then through the barninto the stack-yard, and then round the ricks one after another, andthen into the corn-loft; but all without avail. At length, as she wasbeginning to feel rather alarmed about the child, she arrived, in theprogress of her search, at the door of one of the cow-houses. Themoment she looked round the corner into the stall next the door, shestood stock-still, with her mouth wide open. This stall was occupied bya favourite cow--brown, with large white spots, called therefore_Brownie_. Her manger was full of fresh-cut grass; and half-buried inthis grass, at one end of the manger, with her back against the wall, sat Annie, holding one of the ears of the hornless Brownie with onehand and stroking the creature's nose with the other. 

She was a delicate child, about nine years old, with blue eyes, halffull of tears, hair somewhere between dark and fair, gathered in a silknet, and a pale face, on which a faint moon-like smile was glimmering. The old cow continued to hold her nose to be stroked. 

"Is na Broonie a fine coo, Betty?" said the child, as the maid went onstaring at her. "Puir Broonie! Naebody mindit me, an' sae I cam to you, Broonie. "

And she laid her cheek, white, smooth, and thin, against the broad, flat, hairy forehead of the friendly cow. Then turning again to Betty, she said--

"Dinna tell auntie whaur I am, Betty. Lat me be. I'm best here wi'Broonie. "

Betty said never a word, but returned to her mistress. 

"Whaur's the bairn, Betty? At some mischeef or ither, I'll wad. "

"Hoot! mem, the bairn's weel eneuch. Bairns maunna be followed likecarr (calves). "

"Whaur is she?"

"I canna jist doonricht exackly tak upo' me to say, " answered Betty;"but I hae no fear aboot her. She's a wise bairn. "

"Ye're no the lassie's keeper, Betty. I see I maun seek her mysel'. Ye're aidin' an' abettin' as usual. "

So saying, Auntie Meg went out to look for her niece. It was some timebefore the natural order of her search brought her at last to the_byre_. By that time Annie was almost asleep in the grass, which thecow was gradually pulling away from under her. Through the open doorthe child could see the sunlight lying heavy upon the hot stones thatpaved the yard; but in here it was so dark-shadowy and cool, and thecow was such good, kindly company, and she was so safe hidden fromauntie, as she thought--for no one had ever found her there before, andshe knew Betty would not tell--that, as I say, she was nearly asleepwith comfort, half-buried in Brownie's dinner. 

But she was roused all at once to a sense of exposure and insecurity. She looked up, and at the same moment the hawk-nose of her aunt cameround the _door-cheek_. Auntie's temper was none the better than usualthat it had pleased the _Almichty_ to take the brother whom she loved, and to leave behind the child whom she regarded as a painfulresponsibility. And now with her small, fierce eyes, and her big, thinnose--both red with suppressed crying--she did not dawn upon the senseof Annie as an embodiment of the maternity of the universe. 

"Ye plaguesome brat!" cried Auntie; "there has Betty been seekin' ye, and I hae been seekin' ye, far an' near, i' the verra rottan-holes; an'here ye are, on yer ain father's buryin' day, that comes butance--takin' up wi' a coo. "

But the causes of Annie's preference of the society of Brownie to thatof Auntie might have been tolerably clear to an onlooker, without wordspoken. For to Annie and her needs, notwithstanding the humblefour-footedness of Brownie, there was in her large mild eyes, and herhairy, featureless face, all nose and no nose, more of the divine thanin the human form of Auntie Meg. And there was something of anindignation quite human in the way the cow tossed her bound head andneck towards the woman that darkened the door, as if warning her offher premises. But without a word of reply, Annie rose, flung her armsaround Brownie's head, kissed the white star on her forehead, disengaged herself from the grass, and got out of the manger. Auntieseized her hand with a rough action, but not ungentle grasp, and ledher away to the house. The stones felt very hot to her little barefeet. 

CHAPTER III. 

By this time the funeral was approaching the churchyard at a more rapidpace; for the pedestrians had dropped away one by one, on divergingroads, or had stopped and retraced their steps. But as they drew nearthe place, the slow trot subsided into a slow walk once more. To anEnglish eye the whole mode would have appeared barbarous. But if thecarved and gilded skulls and cross-bones on the hearse wereill-conceived, at least there were no awful nodding plumes to makedeath hideous with yet more of cloudy darkness; and one of the panelsshowed, in all the sunshine that golden rays could yield, theResurrection of the Lord--the victory over the grave. And, again, whenthey stopped at the gate of the churchyard, they were the hands offriends and neighbours, and not those of cormorant undertakers andobscene mutes, that bore the dead man to his grave. And, once more, ifthe only rite they observed, when the body had settled into its placeof decay, was the silent uncovering of the head, as a last token ofrespect and farewell, it may be suggested that the Church of Englandherself, in all her beautiful service, has no prayer for the departedsoul, which cannot be beyond the need of prayer, as the longings thatfollow it into the region of the Unknown, are not beyond its comfort. 

Before the grave was quite filled the company had nearly gone. ThomasCrann, the stone-mason, and George Macwha, the _wright_, alone remainedbehind, for they had some charge over the arrangements, and were nowtaking a share in covering the grave. At length the last sod was laidupon the mound, and stamped into its place, where soon the earth'sbroken surface would heal, as society would flow together again, closing over the place that had known the departed, and would know himno more. Then Thomas and George sat down, opposite to each other, ontwo neighbouring tombstones, and wiping their brows, gave each a sighof relief, for the sun was hot and oppressive. 

"Hech! it's a weary warl, " said George. 

"Ye hae no richt to say sae, George, " answered Thomas, "for ye haenever met it, an' foughten wi' 't. Ye hae never draan the soord o' theLord and o' Gideon. Ye hae never broken the pitcher, to lat the lampshine out, an' I doubt ye hae smo'red it by this time. And sae, whanthe bridegroom comes, ye'll be ill-aff for a licht. "

"Hoot, man! dinna speak sic awfu' things i' the verra kirkyard. "

"Better hear them i' the kirkyard than at the closed door, George!"

"Weel, but, " rejoined Macwha, anxious to turn the current of theconversation, which he found unpleasantly personal, "jist tell mehonestly, Thamas Crann, do ye believe, wi' a' yer heart an' sowl, thatthe deid man--Gude be wi' him!--"

"No prayin' for the deid i' my hearin', George! As the tree falleth, soit shall lie. "

"Weel! weel! I didna mean onything. "

"That I verily believe. Ye seldom do!"

"But I jist want to speir, " resumed George, with some asperity, gettingrather nettled at his companion's persistent discourtesy, "gin yebelieve that Jeames Anderson here, honest man, aneath our feet, crumblin' awa', as ye ken, and no ae spoke o' his wheel to the fore, orlang, to tell what his cart was like--do ye believe that his honestface will, ae day, pairt the mouls, an' come up again, jist here, i'the face o' the light, the verra same as it vanished whan we pat thelid ower him? Do ye believe that, Thamas Crann?"

"Na, na, George, man. Ye ken little what ye're busiest sayin'. It'll bea glorifeed body that he'll rise wi'. It's sown in dishonour, andraised in glory. Hoot! hoot! ye _are_ ignorant, man!"

Macwha got more nettled still at his tone of superiority. 

"Wad it be a glorifeed timmer-leg he rase wi', gin he had been buriedwi' a timmer-leg?" asked he. 

"His ain leg wad be buried some gait. "

"Ow ay! nae doubt. An' it wad come happin' ower the Paceefic, or theAtlantic, to jine its oreeginal stump--wad it no? But supposin' the manhad been born _wantin'_ a leg--eh, Thamas?"

"George! George!" said Thomas, with great solemnity, "luik ye efter yersowl, an' the Lord'ill luik after yer body, legs an' a'! Man, ye're noconvertit, an' hoo can ye unnerstan' the things o' the speerit? Ayejeerin', an' jeerin'!"

"Weel! weel! Thamas, " rejoined Macwha, mollified in perceiving that hehad not had altogether the worst in the tilt of words; "I wad only tak'the leeberty o' thinkin' that, when He was aboot it, the Almighty michtas weel mak' a new body a'thegither, as gang patchin' up the auld ane. Sae I s' twa hame. "

"Mind ye yer immortal pairt, George, " said Thomas with a final thrust, as he likewise rose to go home with him on the box of the hearse. 

"Gin the Lord tak's sic guid care o' the body, Thamas, " retortedMacwha, with less of irreverence than appeared in his words, "maybe hewinna objec' to gie a look to my puir soul as weel; for they say it'sworth a hantle mair. I wish he wad, for he kens better nor me hoo toset aboot the job. "

So saying, he strode briskly over the graves and out of the churchyard, leaving Thomas to follow as fast as suited his unwieldy strength. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Meantime another conversation was going on in one of the gigs, as itbore two of the company from the place of tombs, which will serve alittle for the purposes of this history. One of the twain was a cousinof the deceased, already incidentally mentioned as taking somedirection in the matter of refreshment. His name was no less thanRobert Bruce. The other was called Andrew Constable, and was a worthyelder of the kirk. 

"Weel, Robert, " began the latter, after they had jogged on in silencefor half a mile or so, "what's to be done wi' little Annie Anderson andher Auntie Meg, noo that the douce man's gane hame, an' left themtheroot, as't war?"

"They canna hae that muckle to the fore efter the doctor an' a' 'ssattled for. "

"It's no to be thought. It's lang sin' ever he wrought a day's darg(contracted from 'daywerk'). "

"Jeames Dow luikit weel after the farmin', though. "

"Nae doot. He's a guid servant that, to ony man he ca's master. Butthere canna be muckle siller to the fore. "

A pause followed. 

"What think ye noo, Andrew?" recommenced Bruce. "Ye're weel kent for anhonest an' a langheided man. Do ye think that folk wad expec' onythingo' me gin the warst cam to the warst?"

"Weel, Robert, I dinna think there's muckle guid in luikin' to whatfowk micht or micht not expec' o' ye. "

"That's jist what I was thinkin' mysel'; for, ye see, I hae a sma'family o' my ain to haud chowin' already. "

"Nae doot--nae doot. But--"

"Ay, ay; I ken what ye wad say. I maunna a'thegither disregaird whatfowk think, 'cause there's the chop (shop); an' gin I ance got--no tosay an ill name, but jist the wind o' no being sae considerate as Imicht hae been, there's no sayin' but twa or three micht gang by mydoor, and across to Jamie Mitchell's yonner. "

"Do ye what's richt, Robert Bruce, and sae defy fowk and fairy. "

"Na, na, that winna _aye_ work. A body maun tak' care o' their ain, else wha's to do't?"

"Weel, " rejoined Andrew with a smile, for he understood Bruce wellenough, although he pretended to have mistaken his meaning--"weel, ginthe bairnie falls to you, nae doot ye maun take chairge o' her. "

"I dinna mean Jeames Anderson's bairns--I mean my ain bairns. "

"Robert, whatever way ye decide, I houp it may be sic a deceesion aswill admit o' yer castin' yer care upo' _Him_. "

"I ken a' aboot that, Andrew. But my opeenion upo' that text is jistthis--that ilka vessel has to haud the fill o' 't, and what rins owermay be committed to Him, for ye can haud it no langer. Them that winnatak tent (care) 'll tak scathe. It's a sweer (lazy) thochtless way togang to the Almichty wi' ilka fash. Whan I'm driven to ane mair, thatane sall aye be Him. Ye min' the story about my namesake and thespidder?"

"Ay, weel eneuch, " answered Andrew. 

But he did not proceed to remark that he could see no connectionbetween that story and the subject in hand, for Bruce's question didnot take him by surprise, it being well understood that he was in thehabit of making all possible and some impossible references to hisgreat namesake. Indeed, he wished everybody to think, though he seldomventured to assert it plainly, that he was lineally descended from theking. Nor did Andrew make further remark of any sort with regard to thefate of Annie or the duty of Bruce, for he saw that his companionwanted no advice--only some talk, and possibly some sympathy with hisperplexity as to what the world might think of him. But with thisperplexity Andrew could accord him very little sympathy indeed; for hecould not take much interest in the buttressing of a reputation whichhe knew to be already quite undermined by widely-reported acts of pettymeanness and selfishness. Nor was this fact much to be wondered at, ifhis principles were really those which he had so openly advocated. Indeed, Andrew knew well that it would be a bad day for poor Annie whenshe came under Bruce's roof, and therefore sincerely hoped that AuntieMeg might find some way of managing so as to avoid parting with thechild; for he knew, too, that, though her aunt was fierce and hard, shehad yet a warm spot somewhere about her heart. 

Margaret Anderson had known perfectly well for some time that she andAnnie must part before long. The lease of the farm would expire at theclose of the autumn of next year; and as it had been rather a losingaffair for some time, she had no inclination to request a renewal. Whenher brother's debts should be paid, there would not remain, even afterthe sale of the stock, more than a hundred and fifty pounds. Forherself, she believed she must go into service--which would hurt herpride more than it would alter her position, for her hands had done farmore of the necessary labour than those of the maid who assisted her. Indeed, in her proudest mood, she would have welcomed death rather thanidleness. What was to become of Annie she did not yet see. 

Meantime there remained for the child just a year more of the nativefarm, with all the varieties of life which had been so dear to her. Auntie Meg did not spare to put her in mind of the coming change; butit seemed to Annie so long in coming that it never would come. Theimpression was worn off by the daily attempt to deepen it, she gaveherself up to the childish pleasures within her reach, without thinkingof their approaching loss. 

CHAPTER V. 

And why should Annie think of the future? The future was not: thepresent was--and full of delights. If she did not receive muchtenderness from auntie, at least she was not afraid of her. Thepungency of her temper was but as the salt and vinegar which broughtout the true flavour of the other numberless pleasures around her. Wereher excursions far afield, perched aloft on Dowie's shoulder, andholding on by the top of his head, or clinging to his back with herarms round his neck, at all the less delightful that auntie wasscolding at home? They would have been less delightful if she hadthought of the future; but she thought only of the present joy; orrather she took it as it came, and let it play upon her, withoutthinking about it at all. And if she was late for one of her meals, forAnnie had no very correct sense of the lapse of time, and auntie haddeclared she should go fasting, it was yet not without her connivancethat rosy-faced Betty got the child the best of everything that was athand, and put cream in her milk, and butter on her oat cake, Anniemanaging to consume everything with satisfaction, notwithstanding thehurdy-gurdy accompaniment of her aunt's audible reflections. AndBrownie was always friendly; ever ready on any serious emergency, whenauntie's temper was still less placid than usual, to yield a corner ofher manger for a refuge to the child. And the cocks and hens, even thepeacock and the turkey-cock, knew her perfectly, and would come whenshe called them, if not altogether out of affection for her, at leastout of hope in her bounty; and she had not yet arrived at the painfulwisdom of beginning to question motives--a wisdom which misleads morethan it guides. She loved _them_, and that was enough for her. And shewould ride the horses to water, sitting sideways on their broad backslike a barefooted lady; for Dowie had such respect for his littlemistress, as he called her, that he would never let her get astride"like a laddie, " however much she wanted to do so. And when the morningwas wet, and the sound of the flails came to her from the barn, shewould watch for the moment when her aunt's back would be turned, andthen scurry across the yard, like a mouse to its hole; for auntie'sfirst impulse was always to oppose whatever Annie desired. Once in thebarn, she would bury herself like a mole in the straw, and listen tothe unfailing metronome of the flails, till she would fall so fastasleep as to awake only when her uncomfortable aunt, believing that atlast the awful something or other _had_ happened to the _royt_ lassie, dragged her out ignominiously by the heels. But the _royt_ lassie wasone of the gentlest of girls, what adventurousness she had being theresult of faith, and not of hardihood. 

And then came the delights of the harvest-field--soon to become greatgolden splendours to the memory. With the reapers she would remain frommorning till night, sharing in their meals, and lightening their labourwith her gentle frolic. Every day, after the noon-tide meal, she wouldgo to sleep on the shady side of a _stook_, upon two or three sheaveswhich Dowie would lay down for her in a choice spot. Indeed the littlemistress was very fond of sleep, and would go to sleep anywhere; thishabit being indeed one of her aunt's chief grounds of complaint. Forbefore hay-time, for instance, when the grass was long in the fields, if she came upon any place that took her fancy, she would tumble downat once, and show that she loved it by going to sleep upon it. Then itwas no easy task to find her amidst the long grass that closed overher, as over a bird in its nest. But the fact was, this habit indicateda feebleness of constitution, to which sleep itself was the bestrestorative. And in the harvest-field, at least, no harm could come ofit; for Dooie, as she always called him, watched her like a mother; sothat sometimes when she awoke, she would find a second stook of tensheaves, with a high-uplifted crowning pair above, built at rightangles to the first, to shelter her from the sun which had peered roundthe corner, and would soon have stared her awake. 

The only discomfort of the harvest-field was, that the sharp stubbleforced her to wear shoes. But when the corn had all been carried home, and the potatoes had been dug up and heaped in warm pits against thewinter, and the mornings and evenings grew cold, and, though stillfriendly to strong men and women, were rather too keen for delicatelittle Annie--she had to put on both shoes and stockings, which she didnot like at all. 

So with "gentle gliding, " through a whole winter of ice and snow, through a whole spring of promises tardily fulfilled, through a summerof glory, and another autumn of harvest joy, the day drew on when theymust leave the farm. And still to Annie it seemed as far off as ever. 

CHAPTER VI. 

One lovely evening in October, when the shadows were falling from thewestern sun, and the light that made them was as yellow as a marigold, and a keen little wind was just getting ready to come out and blow themoment the sun would be out of sight, Annie, who was helping to fastenup the cows for the night, drawing iron chains round their soft necks, saw a long shadow coming in at the narrow entrance of the yard. It camein and in; and was so long in coming in, that she began to feel as ifit was something not quite _cannie_, and to fancy herself frightened. But, at length, she found that the cause of the great shadow was only alittle man; and that this little man was no other than her father'scousin, Robert Bruce. Alas! how little a man may cast a great shadow!

He came up to Annie, and addressed her in the smoothest voice he couldfind, fumbling at the same time in his coat-pocket. 

"Hoo are ye the nicht dawtie? Are ye verra weel? An' hoo's yer auntie?"

He waited for no reply to any of these questions, but went on. 

"See what I hae brocht ye frae the chop. "

So saying, he put into her hand about half-a-dozen _sweeties_, screwedup in a bit of paper. With this gift he left her, and walked on to theopen door of the house, which, as a cousin, he considered himselfprivileged to enter unannounced even by a knock. He found the mistressof it in the kitchen, superintending the cooking of the supper. 

"Hoo are ye the nicht, Marget?" he said, still in a tone ofconciliatory smoothness, through which, however, he could not prevent acertain hardness from cropping out plentifully. "Ye're busy as usual, Isee. Weel, the hand o' the diligent maketh rich, ye ken. "

"That portion o' the Word maun be o' leemited application, I doot, "returned Marget, as, withdrawing her hand from her cousin's, she turnedagain to the pot hanging over the fire. "No man daurs to say that myhan' has not been the han' o' the diligent; but Guid kens I'm nane thericher. "

"We maunna repine, Marget. Richt or wrang, it's the Lord's will. "

"It's easy to you, Robert Bruce, wi' yer siller i' the bank, to speikthat gait til a puir lone body like me, that maun slave for my breadwhan I'm no sae young as I micht be. No that I'm like to dee o' auldage either. "

"I haena sae muckle i' the bank as some folk may think; though whatthere is is safe eneuch. But I hae a bonny business doun yonner, and itmicht be better yet. It's jist the land o' Goshen, only it wants awheen mair tap-dressin'. "

"Tak it frae the bank, than, Robert. "

"The bank! said ye, Marget? I canna do that. "

"And what for no?"

"'Cause I'm jist like the hens, Marget. Gin they dinna see ae egg i'the nest, they hae no hert to lay anither. I daurna meddle wi' thebank. "

"Weel, lat sit than; an' lay awa' at yer leisur'. Hoo's the mistress?"

"No that weel, and no that ill. The faimily's rather sair upo' her. ButI canna haud her oot o' the chop for a' that. She's like mysel'--shewad aye be turnin' a bawbee. But what are ye gaein to do yersel', Marget?"

"I'm gaein to my uncle and aunt--auld John Peterson and his wife. They're gey and frail noo, and they want somebody to luik efter them. "

"Than ye're weel provided for; Praise be thankit! Marget. "

"Ow, ay; nae doot, " replied Marget, with bitterness, of which Brucetook no notice. 

"And what's to come o' the bairnie?" pursued he. 

"I maun jist get some dacent auld body i' the toon to tak' her in, andlat her gang to the schuil. It's time. The auld fowk wadna pit up wi'her a week. "

"And what'll that cost ye, Marget?"

"I dinna ken. But the lassie's able to pay for her ain upbringin'. "

"It's no far 'at a hunner and fifty'll gang i' thae times, woman. An'it's a pity to tak frae the prencipal. She'll be merryin' some day. "

"Ow, 'deed, maybe. Bairns will be fules. "

"Weel, end na ye pit it oot at five per cent. , and there wad aye besomething comin' o' 't? That wad be seven pun' ten i' the year, an' thebairnie micht amaist--no freely but nigh-han'--be broucht up upo'that. "

Margaret lifted her head and looked at him. 

"An' wha wad gie five per cent. For her bit siller, whan he can get itfrae the bank, on guid security, for four an' a half?"

"Jist mysel', Marget. The puir orphan has naebody but you and me toluik till; an' I wad willin'ly do that muckle for her. I'll tell yewhat--I'll gie her five per cent. For her siller; and for the bitinterest, I'll tak her in wi' my ain bairns, an' she s' hae bit and supwi' them, an' gang to the school wi' them, and syne--efter a bit--we'llsee what comes neist. "

To Margaret this seemed a very fair offer. It was known to all that theBruce children were well-enough dressed for their station, and lookedwell-fed; and although Robert had the character of being somewhat mean, she did not regard that as the worst possible fault, or one likely tooperate for the injury of the child. So she told her cousin that shewould think about it; which was quite as much as he could haveexpected. He took his leave all but satisfied that he had carried hispoint, and not a little uplifted with his prospects. 

For was it not a point worth carrying--to get both the money and theowner of it into his own hands? Not that he meant conscious dishonestyto Annie. He only rejoiced to think that he would thus satisfy anyexpectations that the public might have formed of him, and would enjoybesides a splendid increase of capital for his business; while he hopedto keep the girl upon less than the interest would come to. And then, if anything should happen to her--seeing she was not over vigorous--theresult was worth waiting for; whereas--if she throve--he had sonsgrowing up, one of whom might take a fancy to the heiress, and wouldhave facilities for marrying her, &c. &c. ; for Grocer Robert was asdeep in his foresight and scheming as King Robert, the crowning triumphof whose intellect, in the eyes of his descendant, was the strewing ofthe caltrops on the field of Bannockburn. 

But James Dow was _ill-pleased_ when he heard of the arrangement--whichwas completed in due time. "For, " said he, "I canna bide that Bruce. He's a naisty mean cratur. He wadna fling a bane till a dog, afore hehad ta'en a pyke at it himsel'. " He agreed, however, with his mistress, that it would be better to keep Annie in ignorance of her destiny aslong as possible; a consideration which sprung from the fact that heraunt, now that she was on the eve of parting with her, felt a littledelicate growth of tenderness sprouting over the old stone wall of heraffection for the child, owing its birth, in part, to the doubt whethershe would be comfortable in her new home. 

CHAPTER VII. 

A day that is fifty years off comes as certainly as if it had been inthe next week; and Annie's feeling of infinite duration did not stopthe sand-glass of Old Time. The day arrived when everything was to besold by public _roup_. A great company of friends, neighbours, andacquaintances gathered; and much drinking of whisky-punch went on inthe kitchen as well as in the room where, a few months before, thesolemn funeral-assembly had met. 

Little Annie speedily understood what all the bustle meant: that theday of desolation so long foretold by the Cassandra-croak of her aunt, had at length actually arrived, and that all the things she knew sowell were vanishing from her sight for ever. 

She was in the barn when the sound of the auctioneer's voice in thecorn-yard made her look over the half-door and listen. Gradually thetruth dawned upon her; and she burst into tears over an old rake whichshe had been accustomed to call hers, because she had always dragged itat hay-making. Then wiping her eyes hastily--for, partly from heraunt's hardness, she never could bear to be seen crying, even when achild--she fled to Brownie's stall, and burying herself in the manger, began weeping afresh. After a while, the fountain of tears was for thetime exhausted, and she sat disconsolately gazing at the old cowfeeding away, as if food were everything and a _roup_ nothing at all, when footsteps approached the _byre_, and, to her dismay, two men, whomshe did not know, came in, untied Brownie, and actually led her awayfrom before her eyes. She still stared at the empty space where Browniehad stood, --stared like a creature stranded by night on the low coastof Death, before whose eyes in the morning the sea of Life is visiblyebbing away. At last she started up. How could she sit there withoutBrownie! Sobbing so that she could not breathe, she rushed across theyard, into the crowded and desecrated house, and up the stair to herown little room, where she threw herself on the bed, buried her eyes inthe pillow, and, overcome with grief, fell fast asleep. 

When she woke in the morning, she remembered nothing of Betty'sundressing and putting her to bed. The dreadful day that was goneseemed only a dreadful dream, that had left a pain behind it. But whenshe went out, she found that yesterday would not stay amongst herdreams. Brownie's stall was empty. The horses were all gone, and manyof the cattle. Those that remained looked like creatures forgotten. Thepigs were gone, and most of the poultry. Two or three favourite henswere left, which auntie was going to take with her. But of all theliving creatures she had loved, not one had been kept for Annie. Herlife grew bitter with the bitterness of death. 

In the afternoon, her aunt came up to her room, where she sat intearful silence, and telling her that she was going to take her intothe town, proceeded, without further explanation, to put all her littlepersonal effects into an old hair-trunk, which Annie called her own. Along with some trifles that lay about the room, she threw into thebottom of the box about a dozen of old books, which had been on thechest of drawers since long before Annie could remember. She, poorchild, let her do as she pleased, and asked no questions; for theshadow in which she stood was darkening, and she did not care what camenext. For an hour the box stood on the floor like a coffin, and thenBetty came, with red eyes and a red nose, and carried it downstairs. Then auntie came up again, dressed in her Sunday clothes. She put onAnnie's best frock and bonnet--adorning the victim for sacrifice--atleast, so Annie's face would have suggested--and led her down to thedoor. There stood a horse and cart. In the cart was some straw, and asack stuffed with hay. As auntie was getting into the cart, Bettyrushed out from somewhere upon Annie, caught her up, kissed her in avehement and disorderly manner, and before her mistress could turnround in the cart, gave her into James Dow's arms, and vanished withstrange sounds of choking. Dowie thought to put her in with a kiss, forhe dared not speak; but Annie's arms went round his neck, and she clungto him sobbing--clung till she roused the indignation of auntie, at thefirst sound of whose voice, Dowie was free, and Annie lying in thecart, with her face buried in the straw. Dowie then mounted in front, with his feet on the shaft; the horse--one Annie did not know--startedoff gently; and she was borne away helpless to meet the unknown. 

And the road was like the going. She had often been upon it before, butit had never looked as it did now. The first half-mile went throughfields whose crops were gone. The stubble was sticking through thegrass, and the potato stalks, which ought to have been gathered andburnt, lay scattered about all over the brown earth. Then came twomiles of moorland country, high, and bleak, and barren, with hillocksof peat in all directions, standing beside the black holes whence theyhad been dug. These holes were full of dark water, frightful to lookat; while along the side of the road went deep black ditches half-fullof the same dark water. There was no danger of the cart getting intothem, for the ruts were too deep to let the wheels out; but it joltedso dreadfully from side to side, as it crawled along, that Annie wasafraid every other moment of being tilted into one of the frightfulpools. Across the waste floated now and then the cry of a bird, butother sound there was none in this land of drearihead. Next came somescattered and ragged fields, the skirts of cultivation, which seemed todraw closer and closer together, while the soil grew richer and morehopeful, till, after two miles more, they entered the first stragglingprecincts of the grey market-town. 

By this time the stars were shining clear in the cold, frosty sky, andcandles or train-oil lamps were burning in most of the houses; for allthese things took place long before gas had been heard of in thosequarters. A few faces were pressed close to the window-panes as thecart passed; and some rather untidy women came to the house-doors tolook. And they spoke one to another words which, though inaudiblethrough the noise of the cart, were yet intelligible enough to Annie, with her own forebodings to interpret the expression of their faces. 

"That'll be little Annie Anderson, " they said. "She's gaein hame tobide wi' her cousin, Robert Bruce, up i' the Wast Wynd. Puir weelassie!"

For, on the way, Annie had been informed of her destination. 

But she was too miserable already, because of leaving her old home, tocare much to what new one she was going. Had it not been for theabsorption of this grief, she could not have been indifferent to theprospect of going to live with her cousin, although her dislike to himhad never assumed a more active form than that of wishing to get awayfrom him, as often as he came near her. 

The cart stopped at Bruce's shop-door. It looked a heavy door, althoughthe upper half was of glass--in small panes. Dowie got down and wentinto the shop; and before he returned Annie had time to make somelistless observations. The house was a low one, although of twostories, built of grey stone, and thatched. The heavy door was betweentwo windows belonging to the shop, in each of which burned a singletallow candle, revealing to the gaze of Annie, in all the enhancingmystery of candlelight, what she could not but regard as a perfect mineof treasures. For besides calico and sugar, and all the multifariousstock in the combined trades of draper and grocer, Robert Bruce soldpenny toys, and halfpenny picture-books, and all kinds of confectionerywhich had been as yet revealed to the belated generations of Glamerton. 

But she had not to contemplate these wonders long from the outside; forBruce came to the door, and, having greeted his cousin and helped herdown, turned to take Annie. Dowie had been before him, however, and nowheld the pale child silent in his arms. He carried her into the shop, and set her down on a sack that stood outside the counter, leaningagainst it. He then went back to his horse's head. 

The sack made no bad seat, for it was half-full of turnip-seed; andupon it Annie sat, and drearily surveyed the circumstances. 

Auntie was standing in the middle of the shop. Bruce was holding thecounter open, and inviting her to enter. 

"Ye'll come in and tak a cup o' tay, efter yer journey, Marget?" saidhe. 

"Na, I thank ye, Robert Bruce. Jeames and I maun jist turn and gae hameagain. There's a hantle to look efter yet, and we maunna neglec' oorwark. The hoose-gear's a' to be roupit the morn. "

Then turning to Annie, she said:

"Noo, Annie, lass, ye'll be a guid bairn, and do as ye're tell't. An'min' and no pyke the things i' the chop. "

A smile of peculiar import glimmered over Bruce's face at the sound ofthis injunction. Annie made no reply, but stared at Mr Bruce, and satstaring. 

"Good-bye to ye, Annie!" said her aunt, and roused her a little fromher stupor. 

She then gave her a kiss--the first, as far as the child knew, that shehad ever given her--and went out. Bruce followed her out, and Dowiecame in. He took her up in his arms, and said:

"Good-bye to ye, my bonnie bairn. Be a guid lass, and ye'll be ta'encare o'. Dinna forget that. Min' and say yer prayers. "

Annie kissed him with all her heart, but could not reply. He set herdown again, and went out. She heard the harness rattle, and the cart gooff. She was left sitting on the sack. 

Presently Mr Bruce came in, and passing behind his counter, proceededto make an entry in a book. It could have been no order from poor, homeless Margaret. It was, in fact, a memorandum of the day and thehour when Annie was set down on that same sack--so methodical was he!And yet it was some time before he seemed to awake to the remembranceof the presence of the child. Looking up suddenly at the pale, wearything, as she sat with her legs hanging lifelessly down the side of thesack, he said--pretending to have forgotten her--

"Ow, bairn, are ye there yet?"

And going round to her, he set her on the floor, and leading her by thehand through the mysterious gate of the counter, and through a doorbehind it, called in a sharp decided tone:

"Mother, ye're wanted!"

Thereupon a tall, thin, anxious-looking woman appeared, wiping herhands in her apron. 

"This is little Miss Anderson, " said Bruce, "come to bide wi's. Gie hera biscuit, and tak' her up the stair till her bed. "

As it was the first, so it was the last time he called her _Miss_Anderson, at least while she was one of his household. --Mrs Bruce tookAnnie by the hand in silence, and led her up two narrow stairs, into asmall room with a skylight. There, by the shine of the far-off stars, she undressed her. But she forgot the biscuit; and, for the first timein her life, Annie went supperless to bed. 

She lay for a while trying to fancy herself in Brownie's stall amongthe grass and clover, and so get rid of the vague fear she felt atbeing in a strange place without light, for she found it unpleasant notto know what was next her in the dark. But the fate of Brownie and ofeverything she had loved came back upon her; and the sorrow drove awaythe fear, and she cried till she could cry no longer, and then sheslept. It is by means of sorrow, sometimes, that He gives his belovedsleep. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

She woke early, rose, and dressed herself. But there was no water forher to wash with, and she crept down-stairs to look for help in thisher first need. Nobody, however, was awake. She looked long andwistfully at the house-door, but seeing that she could not open it, shewent back to her room. If she had been at home, she would soon have hada joyous good-morrow from the burst of fresh wind meeting her as shelifted the ready latch, to seek the companionship of yet earlier risersthan herself; but now she was as lonely as if she had anticipated thehour of the resurrection, and was the little only one up of the buriedmillions. All that she had left of that home was her box, and she wouldhave betaken herself to a desolate brooding over its contents; but ithad not been brought up, and neither could she carry it up herself, norwould she open it in the kitchen where it stood. So she sat down on theside of her bed, and gazed round the room. It was a cheerless room. Athome she had had chequered curtains to her bed: here there were none ofany kind; and her eyes rested on nothing but bare rafters and boards. And there were holes in the roof and round the floor, which she did notlike. They were not large, but they were dreadful. For they were black, nor did she know where they might go to. And she grew very cold. 

At length she heard some noise in the house, and in her present moodany human noise was a sound of deliverance. It grew; was presentlyenriched by the admixture of baby-screams, and the sound of theshop-shutters being taken down; and at last footsteps approached herdoor. Mrs Bruce entered, and finding her sitting dressed on her bed, exclaimed:

"Ow! ye call dress yersel! can ye?"

"Ay, weel that, " answered Annie, as cheerily as she could. "But, " sheadded, "I want some water to wash mysel' wi'. "

"Come doon to the pump, than, " said Mrs Bruce. 

Annie followed her to the pump, where she washed in a tub. She then randripping into the house for a towel, and was dried by the hands of MrsBruce in her dirty apron. --This mode of washing lasted till the firsthoar-frost, after which there was a basin to be had in the kitchen, with plenty of water and not much soap. 

By this time breakfast was nearly ready, and in a few minutes more, MrsBruce called Mr Bruce from the shop, and the children from the yard, and they all sat round the table in the kitchen--Mr Bruce to his teaand oat-cake and butter--Mrs Bruce and the children to badly-madeoatmeal porridge and sky-blue milk. This quality of the milk wasremarkable, seeing they had cows of their own. But then they sold milk. And if any customer had accused her of watering it, Mrs Bruce's bestanswer would have been to show how much better what she sold was thanwhat she retained; for she put twice as much water in what she used forher own family--with the exception of the portion destined for herhusband's tea, whose two graces were long and strong enough for abetter breakfast. But then his own was good enough. 

There were three children, two boys with great jaws--the elder ratherolder than Annie--and a very little baby. After Mr Bruce had prayed forthe blessing of the Holy Spirit upon their food, they gobbled downtheir breakfasts with all noises except articulate ones. When they hadfinished--that is, eaten everything up--the Bible was brought; a psalmwas sung, after a fashion not very extraordinary to the ears of Annie, or, indeed, of any one brought up in Scotland; a chapter was read--ithappened to tell the story of Jacob's speculations in the money-marketof his day and generation; and the _exercise_ concluded with a prayerof a quarter of an hour, in which the God of Jacob especially wasinvoked to bless the Bruces, His servants, in their basket and in theirstore, and to prosper the labours of that day in particular. The prayerwould have been longer, but for the click of the latch of theshop-door, which brought it to a speedier close than one might havesupposed even Mr Bruce's notions of decency would have permitted. Andalmost before the _Amen_ was out of his month, he was out of thekitchen. 

When he had served the early customer, he returned, and sitting down, drew Annie towards him--between his knees, in fact, and addressed herwith great solemnity. 

"Noo, Annie, " said he, "ye s' get the day to play yersel'; but ye maungang to the school the morn. We can hae no idle fowk i' this hoose, saewe maun hae nae words aboot it. "

Annie was not one to make words about that or anything. She was onlytoo glad to get away from him. Indeed the prospect of school, afterwhat she had seen of the economy of her home, was rather enticing. Soshe only answered, "Verra weel, sir. Will I gang the day?"

Whereupon, finding her so tractable, Mr Bruce added, in the tone of oneconferring a great favour, and knowing that he did so, "Ye can come into the shop for the day, and see what's gaein on. Whanye're a muckle woman, ye may be fit to stan' ahin' the coonter some dayyersel'--wha kens?"

Robert Bruce regarded the shop as his Bannockburn, where all hisenemies, namely customers, were to be defeated, that he might beenriched with their spoils. It was, therefore, a place of so greatinterest in his eyes, that he thought it must be interesting toeverybody else. And, indeed, the permission did awake some ill-groundedexpectations in the mind of Annie. 

She followed him into the shop, and saw quite a fabulous wealth of goodthings around her; of which, however, lest she should put forth herhand and take, the militant eyes of Robert Bruce never ceased watchingher, with quick-recurring glances, even while he was cajoling somecustomer into a doubtful purchase. 

Long before dinner-time arrived, she was heartily sick of the monotonyof buying and selling in which she had no share. Not even apicture-book was taken down from the window for her to look at; so thatshe soon ceased to admire even the picture-books--a natural result ofthe conviction that they belonged to a sphere above her reach. MrBruce, on the other hand, looked upon them as far below the notice ofhis children, although he derived a keen enjoyment from thetransference, by their allurements, of the half-pence of other childrenfrom their pockets into his till. 

"Naisty trash o' lees, " he remarked, apparently for Annie's behoof, ashe hung the fresh bait up in his window, after two little urchins, with_bawbees_ to spend, had bought a couple of the radiant results ofliterature and art combined. "Naisty trash o' lees--only fit for dirrtyladdies and lassies. "

He stood on the watch in his shop like a great spider that atechildren; and his windows were his web. 

They dined off salt herrings and potatoes--much better fare than badporridge and watered milk. Robert Bruce the younger, who inherited hisfather's name and disposition, made faces at Annie across the table asoften as he judged it prudent to run the risk of discovery; but Anniewas too stupefied with the awful change to mind it much, and indeedrequired all the attention she had at command, for the arrest ofherring bones on their way to her throat. 

After dinner, business was resumed in the shop, with at least theresemblance of an increase of vigour, for Mrs Bruce went behind thecounter, and gave her husband time to sit down at the desk to writeletters and make out bills. Not that there was much of either sort ofclerkship necessary; but Bruce, like Chaucer's Man of Law, was so fondof business, that he liked to seem busier than he was. As it happenedto be a half-holiday, Annie was sent with the rest of the children intothe garden to play up and down the walks. 

"An' min', " said Bruce, "an' haud oot ower frae the dog. "

In the garden Annie soon found herself at the mercy of those who hadnone. 

It is marvellous what an amount of latent torment there is in boys, ready to come out the moment an object presents itself. It is notexactly cruelty. The child that tears the fly to pieces does notrepresent to himself the sufferings the insect undergoes; he merelyyields to an impulse to disintegrate. So children, even ordinarily goodchildren, are ready to tease any child who simply looks teasable, andso provokes the act. Now the Bruces were not good children, as wasnatural; and they despised Annie because she was a girl, and becauseshe had no self-assertion. If she had shown herself aggressivelydisagreeable, they would have made some attempt to conciliate her; butas it was, she became at once the object of a succession of spitefulannoyances, varying in intensity with the fluctuating invention of thetwo boys. At one time they satisfied themselves with making grimaces ofas insulting a character as they could produce; at another they rose tothe rubbing of her face with dirt, or the tripping up of her heels. Their persecution bewildered her, and the resulting stupefaction was akind of support to her for a time; but at last she could endure it nolonger, being really hurt by a fall, and ran crying into the shop, where she sobbed out, "Please, sir, they winna lat me be. "

"Dinna come into the chop wi' yer stories. Mak' it up amo' yersels. "

"But they winna mak' it up. "

Robert Bruce rose indignant at such an interruption of his highcalling, and went out with the assumption of much parental grandeur. Hewas instantly greeted with a torrent of assurances that Annie hadfallen, and then laid the blame upon them; whereupon he turned sternlyto her, and said--

"Annie, gin ye tell lees, ye'll go to hell. "

But paternal partiality did not prevent him from reading them also alesson, though of a quite different tone. 

"Mind, boys, " he said, in a condescending whine, "that poor Annie hasneither father nor mither; an' ye maun be kind till her. "

He then turned and left them for the more important concernswithin-doors; and the persecution recommenced, though in a somewhatmitigated form. The little wretches were perfectly unable to abstainfrom indulging in a pleasure of such intensity. Annie had indeed fallenupon evil days. 

I am thus minute in my description of her first day, that my reader, understanding something similar of many following days, may be able togive due weight to the influence of other events, when, in due time, they come to be recorded. But I must not conclude the account withoutmentioning something which befell her at the close of the same day, andthreatened to be productive of yet more suffering. 

After _worship_, the boys crawled away to bed, half-asleep already; or, I should rather say, only half-awake from their prayers. Annielingered. 

"Can ye no tak' aff yer ain claes, as weel as pit them on, Annie?"asked Mrs Bruce. 

"Ay, weel eneuch. Only I wad sair like a bittie o' can'le, " was Annie'strembling reply, for she had a sad foreboding instinct now. 

"Can'le! Na, na, bairn, " answered Mrs Bruce. "Ye s' get no can'le here. Ye wad hae the hoose in a low (flame) aboot oor lugs (ears). I cannaaffoord can'les. Ye can jist mak' a can'le o' yer han's, and fin (feel)yer gait up the twa stairs. There's thirteen steps to the firs, andtwal to the neist. "

With choking heart, but without reply, Annie went. 

Groping her way up the steep ascent, she found her room without anydifficulty. As it was again a clear, starlit night, there was lightenough for her to find everything she wanted; and the trouble at herheart kept her imagination from being as active as it would otherwisehave been, in recalling the terrible stories of ghosts and dead peoplewith which she was far too familiar. She soon got into bed, and, as aprecautionary measure, buried her head under the clothes before shebegan to say her prayers, which, under the circumstances, she hadthought she might be excused for leaving till she had lain down. Buther prayers were suddenly interrupted by a terrible noise of scramblingand scratching and scampering in the very room beside her. 

"I tried to cry oot, " she said afterwards, "for I kent 'at it wasrottans; but my tongue booed i' my mou' for fear, and I cudna speak aeword. "

The child's fear of rats amounted to a frenzied horror. She dared notmove a finger. To get out of bed with those creatures running about theroom was as impossible as it was to cry out. But her heart did what hertongue could not do--cried out with a great and bitter cry to one whowas more ready to hear than Robert and Nancy Bruce. And what her heartcried was this:

"O God, tak care o' me frae the rottans. "

There was no need to send an angel from heaven in answer to this littleone's prayer: the cat would do. Annie heard a scratch and a mew at thedoor. The rats made one frantic scramble and were still. 

"It's pussy!" she cried, recovering the voice for joy that had failedher for fear. 

Fortified by her arrival, and still more by the feeling that she was adivine messenger sent to succour her because she had prayed, she sprangout of bed, darted across the room, and opened the door to let her in. A few moments and she was fast asleep, guarded by God's angel, the cat, for whose entrance she took good care ever after to leave the doorajar. 

There are ways of keeping the door of the mind also, ready as it is tofall to, ajar for the cat. 

CHAPTER IX. 

"Noo, Annie, pit on yer bonnet, an' gang to the schuil wi' the lave(rest); an' be a good girrl. "

This was the Bruce's parting address to Annie, before he left thekitchen for the shop, after breakfast and worship had been dulyobserved; and having just risen from his knees, his voice, as hestooped over the child, retained all the sanctity of its lastoccupation. It was a quarter to ten o'clock, and the school was somefive minutes distant. 

With a flutter of fearful hope, Annie obeyed. She ran upstairs, madeherself as tidy, as she could, smoothed her hair, put on her bonnet, and had been waiting a long time at the door when her companions joinedher. It was very exciting to look forward to something that might notbe disagreeable. 

As they went, the boys got one on each side of her in a rather sociablemanner. But they had gone half the distance and not a word had beenspoken, when Robert Bruce, junior, opened the conversation abruptly. 

"Ye'll get it!" he said, as if he had been brooding upon the fact forsome time, and now it had broken out. 

"What'll I get?" asked Annie timidly, for his tone had already filledher with apprehension. 

"Sic lickins, " answered the little wretch, drawing back his lips tillhis canine teeth were fully disclosed, as if he gloated in acarnivorous sort of way over the prospect. "Wonna she, Johnnie?"

"Ay wull she, " answered Johnnie, following his leader with confidence. 

Annie's heart sank within her. The poor little heart was used tosinking now. But she said nothing, resolved, if possible, to avoid alloccasion for "getting it. "

Not another word was spoken before they reached the school, the door ofwhich was not yet open. A good many boys and a few girls wereassembled, waiting for the master, and filling the lane, at the end ofwhich the school stood, with the sound of voices fluctuating through avery comprehensive scale. In general the school-door was opened a fewminutes before the master's arrival, but on this occasion no onehappened to have gone to his house to fetch the key, and the scholarshad therefore to wait in the street. None of them took any notice ofAnnie; so she was left to study the outside of the school. It was along, low, thatched building, of one story and a garret, with fivewindows to the lane, and some behind, for she could see light through. It had been a weaving-shop originally, full of hand-looms, when thetrade in linen was more prosperous than it was now. From the thatchsome of the night's frost was already dripping in slow clear drops. Past the door, which was in a line with the windows, went a gutter, thewaters of which sank through a small grating a few steps further on. But there was no water running in it now. 

Suddenly a boy cried out: "The maister's comin'!" and instantly thenoise sunk to a low murmur. Looking up the lane, which roseconsiderably towards the other end, Annie saw the figure of thedescending dominie. He was dressed in what seemed to be black, but wasin reality gray, almost as good as black, and much more thrifty. Hecame down the hill swinging his arms, like opposing pendulums, in amanner that made the rapid pace at which he approached like a long slowtrot. With the door-key in his hand, already pointed towards thekey-hole, he went right through the little crowd, which cleared a widepath for him, without word or gesture of greeting on either side. Imight almost say he swooped upon the door, for with one hand on thekey, and the other on the latch, he seemed to wrench it open the momenthe touched it. In he strode, followed at the heels by the troop ofboys, big and little, and lastly by the girls--last of all, at a shortdistance, by Annie, like a motherless lamb that followed the flock, because she did not know what else to do. She found she had to go downa step into a sunk passage or lobby, and then up another step, througha door on the left, into the school. There she saw a double row ofdesks, with a clear space down the middle between the rows. Eachscholar was hurrying to his place at one of the desks, where, as hearrived, he stood. The master already stood in solemn posture at thenearer end of the room on a platform behind his desk, prepared tocommence the extempore prayer, which was printed in a kind of blottedstereotype upon every one of their brains. Annie had hardly succeededin reaching a vacant place among the girls when he began. The boys wereas still as death while the master prayed; but a spectator might easilyhave discovered that the chief good some of them got from the ceremonywas a perfect command of the organs of sound; for the restraint waslimited to those organs; and projected tongues, deprived of theirnatural exercise, turned themselves, along with winking eyes, contortedfeatures, and a wild use of hands and arms, into the means oftelegraphic despatches to all parts of the room, throughout theceremony. The master, afraid of being himself detected in the attemptto combine prayer and vision, kept his "eyelids screwed togethertight, " and played the spy with his ears alone. The boys and girls, understanding the source of their security perfectly, believed that theeyelids of the master would keep faith with them, and so disportedthemselves without fear in the delights of dumb show. 

As soon as the prayer was over they dropped, with no little noise andbustle, into their seats. But presently Annie was rudely pushed out ofher seat by a hoydenish girl, who, arriving late, had stood outside thedoor till the prayer was over, and then entered unperceived during thesubsequent confusion. Some little ones on the opposite form, however, liking the look of her, and so wishing to have her for a companion, made room for her beside them. The desks were double, so that the tworows at each desk faced each other. 

"Bible-class come up, " were the first words of the master, ringingthrough the room, and resounding awfully in Annie's ears. 

A moment of chaos followed, during which all the boys and girls, considered capable of reading the Bible, were arranging themselves inone great crescent across the room in front of the master's desk. Eachread a verse--neither more nor less--often leaving the half of asentence to be taken up as a new subject in a new key; thus pervertingwhat was intended as an assistance to find the truth into a means ofhiding it--a process constantly repeated, and with far more seriousresults, when the words of truth fall, not into the hands of theincapable, but under the protection of the ambitious. 

The chapter that came in its turn was one to be pondered over by theearnest student of human nature, not one to be blundered over by boyswho had still less reverence for humanity than they had for Scripture. It was a good thing that they were not the sacred fountains of the NewTestament that were thus dabbled in--not, however, that the latter wereconsidered at all more precious or worthy; as Saturday and the ShorterCatechism would show. 

Not knowing the will of the master, Annie had not dared to stand upwith the class, although she could read very fairly. A few momentsafter it was dismissed she felt herself overshadowed by an awfulpresence, and, looking up, saw, as she had expected, the face of themaster bending down over her. He proceeded to question her, but forsome time she was too frightened to give a rational account of heracquirements, the best of which were certainly not of a kind to beappreciated by the master, even if she had understood them herselfsufficiently to set them out before him. For, besides her aunt, who hadtaught her to read, and nothing more, her only instructors had beenNature, with her whole staff, including the sun, moon, and wind; thegrass, the corn, Brownie the cow, and her own faithful subject, Dowie. Still, it was a great mortification to her to be put into thespelling-book, which excluded her from the Bible-class. She was alsocondemned to follow with an uncut quill, over and over again, a singlestraight stroke, set her by the master. Dreadfully dreary she found it, and over it she fell fast asleep. Her head dropped on her outstretchedarm, and the quill dropped from her sleeping fingers--for when Annieslept she all slept. But she was soon roused by the voice of themaster. "Ann Anderson!" it called in a burst of thunder to her ear; andshe awoke to shame and confusion, amidst the titters of those aroundher. 

Before the morning was over she was called up, along with some childrenconsiderably younger than herself, to read and spell. The master stoodbefore them, armed with a long, thick strap of horse-hide, prepared bysteeping in brine, black and supple with constant use, and cut intofingers at one end, which had been hardened in the fire. 

Now there was a little pale-faced, delicate-looking boy in the class, who blundered a good deal. Every time he did so the cruel serpent ofleather went at him, coiling round his legs with a sudden, hissingswash. This made him cry, and his tears blinded him so that he couldnot even see the words which he had been unable to read before. But hestill attempted to go on, and still the instrument of torture wentswish-swash round his little thin legs, raising upon them, no doubt, plentiful blue wales, to be revealed, when he was undressed for thenight, to the indignant eyes of pitying mother or aunt, who would yetsend him back to the school the next morning without fail. 

At length either the heart of the master was touched by the sight ofhis sufferings and repressed weeping, or he saw that he was compellingthe impossible; for he stayed execution, and passed on to the next, whowas Annie. 

It was no wonder that the trembling child, who could read very fairly, should yet, after such an introduction to the ways of school, failutterly in making anything like coherence of the sentence before her. What she would have done, had she been left to herself, would have beento take the little boy in her arms and cry too. As it was, shestruggled mightily with her tears, and yet she did not read to muchbetter purpose than the poor boy, who was still busy wiping his eyeswith his sleeves, alternately, for he never had had a handkerchief. Butbeing a new-comer, and a girl to boot, and her long frock affording nofacilities for this kind of incentive to learning, she escaped for thetime. 

It was a dreadful experience of life, though, that first day at school. Well might the children have prayed with David--"Let us fall now intothe hand of the Lord, for his mercies are great; and let us not fallinto the hand of man. " And well might the children at many anotherschool respond with a loud _Amen_!

At one o'clock they were dismissed, and went home to dinner, to returnat three. 

In the afternoon she was set to make figures on a slate. She madefigures till her back ached. The monotony of this occupation wasrelieved only by the sight of the execution of criminal law uponvarious offending boys; for, as must be already partially evident, themaster was a hard man, with a severe, if not an altogether crueltemper, and a quite savage sense of duty. The punishment was mostly inthe form of _pandies_, --blows delivered with varying force, butgenerally with the full swing of the _tag_, as it was commonly called, thrown over the master's shoulder, and brought down with the wholestrength of his powerful right arm upon the outstretched hand of theculprit. But there were other modes of punishment, of which therestraints of art would forbid the description, even if it werepossible for any writer to conquer his disgust so far as to attempt it. 

Annie shivered and quaked. Once she burst out crying, but managed tochoke her sobs, if she could not hide her tears. 

A fine-looking boy, three or four years older than herself, whose opencountenance was set off by masses of dark brown hair, was called up toreceive chastisement, merited or unmerited as the case might be; forsuch a disposition as that of Murdoch Malison must have been more thanordinarily liable to mistake. Justice, according to his idea, consistedin vengeance. And he was fond of justice. He did not want to punish theinnocent, it is true; but I doubt whether the discovery of a boy'sinnocence was not a disappointment to him. Without a word ofexpostulation or defence, the boy held out his hand, with his arm atfull length, received four stinging blows upon it, grew very red in theface, gave a kind of grotesque smile, and returned to his seat with thesuffering hand sent into retirement in his trowsers-pocket. Annie'sadmiration of his courage as well as of his looks, though perhapsunrecognizable as such by herself, may have had its share with her pityin the tears that followed. Somehow or other, at all events, she madeup her mind to bear more patiently the persecutions of the littleBruces, and, if ever her turn should come to be punished, as no doubtit would, whether she deserved it or not, to try to take the whippingas she had seen Alec Forbes take it. Poor Annie! If it should come tothat--nervous organizations are so different!

At five, the school was dismissed for the day, not without anotherextempore prayer. A succession of jubilant shouts arose as the boysrushed out into the lane. Every day to them was a cycle of strife, suffering, and deliverance. Birth and death, with the life-strugglebetween, were shadowed out in it--with this difference, that the God ofa corrupt Calvinism, in the person of Murdoch Malison, ruled thatworld, and not the God revealed in the man Christ Jesus. And most ofthem having felt the day more or less a burden, were now going home toheaven for the night. 

Annie, having no home, was amongst the few exceptions. Dispirited andhopeless--a terrible condition for a child--she wondered how AlecForbes could be so merry. But he had had his evil things, and they wereover; while hers were all about her still. She had but one comfortleft--that no one would prevent her from creeping up to her owndesolate garret, which was now the dreary substitute for Brownie'sstall. Thither the persecuting boys were not likely to follow her. Andif the rats were in that garret, so was the cat; or at least the catknew the way to it. There she might think in peace about some thingsabout which she had never before seemed to have occasion to think. 

CHAPTER X. 

Thus at home, if home it could be called, and at school, Annie's dayspassed--as most days pass--with family resemblance and individualdifference wondrously mingled. She became interested in what she had tolearn, if not from the manner in which it was presented to hercomprehension, yet from the fact that she had to learn it. Happily orunhappily, too, she began to get used to the sight of the penalsuffering of her schoolfellows. Nor had anything of the kind as yetvisited her; for it would have been hard for even a more savage masterthan Mr Malison to find occasion, now that the first disablinginfluences had passed away, to punish the nervous, delicate, anxiouslittle orphan, who was so diligent, and as quiet as a mouse that fearsto awake a sleeping cat. She had a scared look too, that might havemoved the heart of Malison even, if he had ever paid the leastattention to the looks of children. For the absence of humancompanionship in bestial forms; the loss of green fields, free to heras to the winds of heaven, and of country sounds and odours; and analmost constant sense of oppression from the propinquity of one oranother whom she had cause to fear, were speedily working sad effectsupon her. The little colour she had died out of her cheek. Her facegrew thin, and her blue eyes looked wistful and large out of theirsulken cells. Not often were tears to be seen in them now, and yet theylooked well acquainted with tears--like fountains that had been fullyesterday. She never smiled, for there was nothing to make her smile. 

But she gained one thing by this desolation: the thought of her deadfather came to her, as it had never come before; and she began to lovehim with an intensity she had known nothing of till now. Her mother haddied at her birth, and she had been her father's treasure; but in thelast period of his illness she had seen less of him, and the blank leftby his death had, therefore, come upon her gradually. Before she knewwhat it was, she had begun to forget. In the minds of children thegrass grows very quickly over their buried dead. But now she learnedwhat death meant, or rather what love had been; not, however, as anadded grief: it comforted her to remember how her father had loved her;and she said her prayers the oftener, because they seemed to gosomewhere near the place where her father was. She did not think of herfather being where God was, but of God being where her father was. 

The winter was drawing nearer too, and the days were now short andcold. A watery time began, and for many days together the rain keptfalling without intermission. I almost think Annie would have died, butfor her dead father to think about. On one of those rainy days, however, she began to find that it is in the nature of good things tocome in odd ways. It had rained the whole day, not tamely anddrizzingly, but in real earnest, dancing and rebounding from the pools, and raising a mist by the very "crash of water-drops. " Now and then theschool became silent, just to listen to the wide noise made by the busycataract of the heavens, each drop a messenger of good, a sweetreturning of earth's aspirations, in the form of Heaven's _Amen_! Butthe boys thought only of the fun of dabbling in the torrents as theywent home; or the delights of net-fishing in the swollen and muddyrivers, when the fish no longer see their way, but go wandering aboutin perplexity, just as we human mortals do in a thick fog, whether ofthe atmosphere or of circumstance. 

The afternoon was waning. It was nearly time to go; and still the rainwas pouring and plashing around. In the gathering gloom there had beenmore than the usual amount of wandering from one part of the school toanother, and the elder Bruce had stolen to a form occupied by somelittle boys, next to the one on which Annie sat with her back towardsthem. If it was not the real object of his expedition, at least he tookthe opportunity to give Annie a spiteful dig with his elbow; which, operating even more powerfully than he had intended, forced from her aninvoluntary cry. Now the master indulged in an occasional refinement ofthe executive, which consisted in this: he threw the _tawse_ at theoffender, not so much for the sake of hurting--although that, being anot infrequent result, may be supposed to have had a share in theintention--as of humiliating; for the culprit had to bear theinstrument of torture back to the hands of the executioner. He threwthe tawse at Annie, half, let us suppose, in thoughtless cruelty, halfin evil jest. It struck her rather sharply, before she had recoveredbreath after the blow Bruce had given her. Ready to faint with pain andterror, she rose, pale as death, and staggered up to the master, carrying the tawse with something of the same horror she would havefelt had it been a snake. With a grim smile, he sent her back to herseat. The moment she reached it her self-control gave way, and sheburst into despairing, though silent tears. The desk was still shakingwith her sobs, and some of the girls were still laughing at her grief, when a new occurrence attracted their attention. Through the noise ofthe falling rain a still louder rushing of water was heard, and theears and eyes of all sought the source of the sound. Even Annie turnedher wet cheeks and overflowing eyes languidly towards the door. MrMalison went and opened it. A flood of brown water was pouring into thesunk passage already described. The grating by which the rain-torrentthat flowed past the door should have escaped, had got choked, thestream had been dammed back, and in a few moments more the room itselfwould be flooded. Perceiving this, the master hastily dismissed hispupils. 

There could be no better fun for most of the boys and some of thegirls, than to wade through the dirty water. Many of the boys dashedthrough it at once, shoes and all; but some of the boys, and almost allthe girls, took off their shoes and stockings. When Annie got a peep ofthe water, writhing and tumbling in the passage, it looked so ugly, that she shrunk from fording it, especially if she must go in with herbare feet. She could not tell what might be sweeping about in thatfilthy whirlpool. She was still looking at it as it kept rising, inpale perplexity and dismay, with the forgotten tears still creepingdown her checks, when she was caught up from behind by a boy, who, withhis shoes and stockings in one hand, now seated her on the other arm. She peeped timidly round to see who it was, and the brave brown eyes ofAlec Forbes met hers, lighted by a kind, pitying smile. In that smilethe cloudy sky of the universe gently opened, and the face of Godlooked out upon Annie. It gave her, for the moment, all that she hadbeen dying for want of for many weeks--weeks long as years. She couldnot help it--she threw her arms round Alec Forbes's neck, laid her wetcheek against his, and sobbed as if her heart would break. She did notcare for the Bruces, or the rats, or even the schoolmaster now. Alecclasped her tighter, and vowed in his heart that if ever that bruteMalison lifted the tag to her, he would fly at his throat. He wouldhave carried her all the way home, for she was no great weight; but assoon as they were out of the house Annie begged him to set her down soearnestly, that he at once complied, and, bidding her good night, ranhome barefoot through the flooded roads. 

The Bruces had gone on with the two umbrellas, one of which, more toher discomfort than protection, Annie had shared in coming to theschool; so that she was very wet before she got home. But no notice wastaken of the condition she was in; the consequence of which was asevere cold and cough, which however, were not regarded as anyobstacles to her going to school the next day. 

That night she lay awake for a long time, and when at last she fellasleep, she dreamed that she took Alec Forbes home to see herfather--out the street and the long road; over the black moor, andthrough the fields; in at the door of the house, and up the stair toher father's room, where he lay in bed. And she told him how kind Alechad been to her, and how happy she was going to be now. And her fatherput his hand out of the bed, and laid it on Alec's head, and said:"Thank ye, Alec for being kind to my poor Annie. " And then she cried, and woke crying--strange tears out of dreamland, half of delicioussorrow and half of trembling joy. 

With what altered feelings she seated herself after the prayer, nextday, and glanced round the room to catch a glimpse of her new friend!There he was, radiant as usual. He took no notice of her, and she hadnot expected that he would. But it was not long before he found out, now that he was interested in her, that her cousins were by no meansfriendly to her; for their seats were not far from the girl's quarter, and they took every sheltered opportunity of giving her a pinch or ashove, or of making vile grimaces at her. 

In the afternoon, while she was busy over an addition sum which wasmore than usually obstinate, Robert came stealthily behind her, and, licking his hand, watched his opportunity, and rubbed the sum from herslate. The same moment he received a box on the ear, that no doubtfilled his head with more noises than that of the impact. He yelledwith rage and pain, and, catching sight of the administrator of justiceas he was returning to his seat, bawled out in a tone of fiercecomplaint: "Sanny Forbes!"

"Alexander Forbes! come up, " responded the voice of the master. Forbesnot being a first-rate scholar, was not a favourite with him, for MrMalison had no sense for what was fine in character or disposition. Hadthe name been that of one of his better Latin scholars, the cry ofBruce would most likely have passed unheeded. 

"Hold up your hand, " he said, without requesting or waiting for anexplanation. 

Alec obeyed. Annie gave a smothered shriek, and, tumbling from herseat, rushed up to the master. When she found herself face to face withthe tyrant, however, not one word could she speak. She opened hermouth, but throat and tongue refused their offices, and she stoodgasping. The master stared, his arm arrested in act to strike, and hisface turned over his left shoulder, with all the blackness of his angerat Forbes lowering upon Annie. He stood thus for one awful moment, thenmotioning her aside with a sweep of his head, brought down the tawseupon the hand which Alec had continued to hold outstretched, with thevehemence of accumulated wrath. Annie gave a choking cry, and Alec, soviolent was the pain, involuntarily withdrew his hand. But instantly, ashamed of his weakness, he presented it again, and received theremainder of his punishment without flinching. The master then turnedto Annie; and finding her still speechless, gave her a push that nearlythrew her on her face, and said, "Go to your seat, Ann Anderson. The next time you do that I will punishyou severely. "

Annie sat down, and neither sobbed nor cried. But it was days beforeshe recovered from the shock. Once, long after, when she was readingabout the smothering of the princes in the Tower, the whole of thephysical sensations of those terrible moments returned upon her, andshe sprang from her seat in a choking agony. 

CHAPTER XI. 

For some time neither of the Bruces ventured even to make a wry face ather in school; but their behaviour to her at home was only so much theworse. 

Two days after the events recorded, as Annie was leaving the kitchen, after worship, to go up to bed, Mr Bruce called her. 

"Annie Anderson, " he said, "I want to speak to ye. "

Annie turned, trembling. 

"I see ye ken what it's aboot, " he went on, staring her full in thepale face, which grew paler as he stared. "Ye canna luik me i' theface. Whaur's the candy-sugar an' the prunes? I ken weel eneuch whaurthey are, and sae do ye. "

"I ken naething aboot them, " answered Annie, with a sudden revival ofenergy. 

"Dinna lee, Annie. It's ill eneuch to steal, without leein'. "

"I'm no leein', " answered she, bursting into tears of indignation. "Whasaid 'at I took them?"

"That's naething to the pint. Ye wadna greit that gait gin ye warinnocent. I never missed onything afore. And ye ken weel eneuch there'san ee that sees a' thing, and ye canna hide frae hit. "

Bruce could hardly have intended that it was by inspiration from onhigh that he had discovered the thief of his sweets. But he thought itbetter to avoid mentioning that the informer was his own son Johnnie. Johnnie, on his part, had thought it better not to mention that he hadbeen incited to the act by his brother Robert. And Robert had thoughtit better not to mention that he did so partly to shield himself, andpartly out of revenge for the box on the ear which Alec Forbes hadgiven him. The information had been yielded to the inquisition of theparent, who said with truth that he had never missed anything before;although I suspect that a course of petty and cautious pilfering had atlength passed the narrow bounds within which it could be concealed fromthe lynx eyes inherited from the kingly general. Possibly a biliousattack, which confined the elder boy to the house for two or threedays, may have had something to do with the theft; but if Bruce had anysuspicions of the sort, he never gave utterance to them. 

"I dinna want to hide frae 't, " cried Annie. "Guid kens, " she went onin desperation, "that I wadna touch a grain o' saut wantin' leave. "

"It's a pity, Annie, that some fowk dinna get their ain share o' MrMalison's tards. " (_Tards_ was considered a more dignified word than_tag_. ) "I dinna like to lick ye mysel', 'cause ye're ither fowk'sbairn; but I can hardly haud my han's aff o' ye. "

It must not be supposed from this speech that Robert Bruce everventured to lay his hands on his own children. He was too much afraidof their mother, who, perfectly submissive and sympathetic in ordinary, would have flown into the rage of a hen with chickens if even her ownhusband had dared to chastise one of _her_ children. The shop might bemore Robert's than hers, but the children were more hers than Robert's. 

Overcome with shame and righteous anger, Annie burst out in the midstof fresh tears:

"I wish Auntie, wad come an tak me awa'! It's an ill hoose to be in. "

These words had a visible effect upon Bruce. He expected a visit fromMarget Anderson within a day or two; and he did not know what theeffect of the representations of Annie might be. The use of her moneyhad not been secured to him for any lengthened period--Dowie, anxiousto take all precautions for his little mistress, having consulted afriendly lawyer on the subject, lest she should be left defenceless inthe hands of a man of whose moral qualities Dowie had no exaltedopinion. The sale having turned out better than had been expected, thesum committed to Bruce was two hundred pounds, to lose which now wouldbe hardly less than ruin. He thought it better, therefore, not doubtingAnnie to be the guilty person, to count the few lumps of sugar he mightlose, as an additional trifle of interest, and not quarrel with hiscreditor for extorting it. So with the weak cunning of his kind, hewent to the shop, and bringing back a bit of sugar-candy, about thesize of a pigeon's egg, said to the still weeping child:

"Dinna greit, Annie. I canna bide to see ye greitin'. Gin ye want abittie o' sugar ony time, jist tell me, an' dinna gang helpin'yoursel'. That's a'. Hae. "

He thrust the lump into Annie's hand; but she dropped it on the floorwith disgust, and rushed up-stairs to her bed as fast as the darknesswould let her: where, notwithstanding her indignation, she was soonfast asleep. 

Bruce searched for the sugar-candy which she had rejected, until hefound it. He then restored it to the drawer whence he had takenit--which he could find in the dark with perfect ease--resolving as hedid so, to be more careful in future of offending little AnnieAnderson. 

When the day arrived upon which he expected Marget's visit, that beinga Saturday, Bruce was on the watch the whole afternoon. From hisshop-door he could see all along the street, and a good way beyond it;and being very quick-sighted, he recognized Marget at a great distanceby her shawl, as she sat in a slow-nearing cart. 

"Annie!" he called, opening the inner door, as he returned behind thecounter. 

Annie, who was up-stairs in her own room, immediately appeared. 

"Annie, " he said, "rin oot at the back door, and through the yard, andower to Laurie Lumley's, and tell him to come ower to me direckly. Dinna come back withoot him. There's a guid bairn!"

He sent her upon this message, knowing well enough that the man hadgone into the country that day, and that there was no one at his housewho would be likely to know where he had gone. He hoped, therefore, that she would go and look for him in the town, and so be absent duringher aunt's visit. 

"Weel, Marget, " he said, with his customary greeting, in which theforeign oil sought to overcome the home-bred vinegar, "hoo are ye theday?"

"Ow! nae that ill, " answered Marget with a sigh. 

"And hoo's Mr and Mistress Peterson?"

"Brawly. Hoo's Annie comin' on?"

"Nae that ill. She's some royt (riotous) jist. "

He thought to please her by the remark, because she had been in thehabit of saying so herself. But distance had made Annie dearer; and heraunt's nose took fire with indignation, as she replied:

"The lassie's weel eneuch. _I_ saw naething o' the sort aboot her. Ginye canna guide her, that's _your_ wyte. "

Bruce was abashed, but not confounded. He was ready in a moment. 

"I never kent ony guid come o' bein' ower sair upo' bairns, " said he. "She's as easy guidit as a coo gaein' hame at nicht, only ye maun jistlat her ken that ye're there, ye ken. "

"Ow! ay, " said Marget, a little nonplussed in her turn. 

"Wad ye like to see her?"

"What ither did I come for?"

"Weel, I s' gang and luik for her. "

He went to the back door, and called aloud: "Annie, yer auntie's hereand wants to see ye. "

"She'll be here in a minute, " he said to Marget, as he re-entered theshop. 

After a little more desultory conversation, he pretended to besurprised that she she did not make her appearance, and going once moreto the door, called her name several times. He then pretended to searchfor her in the garden and all over the house, and returned with thenews that she was nowhere to be seen. 

"She's feared that ye're come to tak her wi' ye, and she's run awa ootaboot some gait. I'll sen' the laddies to luik for her. "

"Na, na, never min'. Gin she disna want to see me, I'm sure I neednawant to see her. I'll awa doon the toon, " said Margaret, her facegrowing very red as she spoke. 

She bustled out of the shop, too angry with Annie to say farewell toBruce. She had not gone far, however, before Annie came running out ofa narrow close, almost into her aunt's arms. But there was no refugefor her there. 

"Ye little limmer!" cried Margaret, seizing her by the shoulder, "whatgart ye rin awa'? I dinna want ye, ye brat!"

"I didna rin awa', Auntie. "

"Robert Bruce cried on ye to come in, himsel'. "

"It wis himsel' that sent me to Laurie Lumley's to tell him to cometill him direckly. "

Margaret could not make "head or tail" of it. But as Annie had nevertold her a lie, she could not doubt her. So taking time to think aboutit, she gave her some rough advice and a smooth penny, and went away onher errands. She was not long in coming to the conclusion that Brucewanted to sunder her and the child; and this offended her so much, thatshe did not go near the shop for a long time. Thus Annie was forsaken, and Bruce had what he wanted. 

He needed not have been so full of scheming, though. Annie never said aword to her aunt about their treatment of her. It is one of the marvelsin the constitution of children, how much they will bear withoutcomplaining. Parents and guardians have no right to suppose that all iswell in the nursery or school-room, merely from the fact that thechildren do not complain. Servants and tutors may be cruel, andchildren will be silent--partly, I presume, because they forget sosoon. 

But vengeance of a sort soon overtook Robert Bruce the younger; for theevil spirit in him, derived from no such remote ancestor as the king, would not allow him a long respite from evil-doing, even in school. Heknew Annie better than his father, that she was not likely to complainof anything, and that the only danger lay in the chance of beingdiscovered in the deed. One day when the master had left the room toconfer with some visitor at the door, he spied Annie in the act oftying her shoe. Perceiving, as he believed, at a glance, that AlecForbes was totally unobservant, he gave her an ignominious push frombehind, which threw her out on her face in the middle of the floor. ButAlec did catch sight of him in the very deed, was down upon him in amoment, and, having already proved that a box on the ear was of nolasting effect, gave him a downright good thrashing. He howledvigorously, partly from pain, partly in the hope that the sameconsequences as before would overtake Forbes; and therefore was stillhowling when Mr Malison re-entered. 

"Robert Bruce, come up, " bawled he, the moment he opened the door. 

And Robert Bruce went up, and notwithstanding his protestations, received a second, and far more painful punishment from the master, who, perhaps, had been put out of temper by his visitor. But there isno good in speculating on that or any other possibility in the matter;for, as far at least as the boys could see, the master had no fixedprinciple as to the party on whom the punishment should fall. Punishment, in his eyes, was perhaps enough in itself. If he wascapable of seeing that _punishment_, as he called it, falling on thewrong person, was not _punishment_, but only _suffering_, certainly hehad not seen the value of the distinction. 

If Bruce howled before, he howled tenfold now, and went home howling. Annie was sorry for him, and tried to say a word of comfort to him; buthe repelled her advances with hatred and blows. As soon as he reachedthe shop he told his father that Forbes had beaten him without hishaving even spoken to him, which was as correct as it was untrue, andthat the master had taken Forbes's part, and _licked_ him over again, of which latter assertion there was proof enough on his person. Robertthe elder was instantly filled with smouldering wrath, and from thatmoment hated Alec Forbes. For, like many others of low nature, he hadyet some animal affection for his children, combined with an endlessamount of partisanship on their behalf, which latter gave him a fullright to the national motto of Scotland. Indeed, for nothing in theworld but money, would he have sacrificed what seemed to him theirinterests. 

A man must learn to love his children, not because they are his, butbecause they are _children_, else his love will be scarcely a betterthing at last than the party-spirit of the faithful politician. I doubtif it will prove even so good a thing. 

From this hatred to Alec Forbes came some small consequences at length. But for the present it found no outlet save in sneers and prophetichints of an "ill hinner en'. "

CHAPTER XII. 

In her inmost heart Annie dedicated herself to the service of AlecForbes. Nor was it long before she had an opportunity of helping him. 

One Saturday the master made his appearance in black instead of whitestockings, which was regarded by the scholars as a bad omen; and fullywere their prognostications justified, on this occasion, at least. Thejoy of the half-holiday for Scotch boys and girls has a terrible weightlaid in the opposite scale--I mean the other half of the day. Thisweight, which brings the day pretty much on a level with all otherdays, consists in a free use of the Shorter Catechism. This, of course, made them hate the Catechism, though I am not aware that that was ofany great consequence, or much to be regretted. For my part, I wish thespiritual engineers who constructed it had, after laying the grandestfoundation-stone that truth could afford them, glorified God by goingno further. Certainly many a man would have enjoyed Him sooner, if ithad not been for their work. But, alas! the Catechism was not enough, even of the kind. The tormentors of youth had gone further, andprovided what they called Scripture proofs of the various assertions ofthe Catechism; a support of which it stood greatly in need. Alas! Isay, for the boys and girls who had to learn these proofs, called textsof Scripture, but too frequently only morsels torn bleeding andshapeless from "the lovely form of the Virgin Truth!" For these tasks, combined with the pains and penalties which accompanied failure, taughtthem to dislike the Bible as well as the Catechism, and that was amatter of altogether different import. 

Every Saturday, then, Murdoch Malison's pupils had to learn so manyquestions of the Shorter Catechism, with proofs from Scripture; andwhoever failed in this task was condemmed to imprisonment for theremainder of the day, or, at least, till the task should beaccomplished. The imprisonment was sometimes commuted forchastisement--or finished off with it, when it did not suit theconvenience of the master to enforce the full term of a school-day. Upon certain Saturdays, moreover, one in each month, I think, arepetition was required of all the questions and proofs that had been, or ought to have been, learned since the last observance of the samesort. 

Now the day in question was one of these of accumulated labour, andAlec Forbes only succeeded in bringing proof of his inability for thetask, and was in consequence condemned "to be keepit in"--a trial hardenough for one whose chief delights were the open air and the activeexertion of every bodily power. 

Annie caught sight of his mortified countenance, the expression ofwhich, though she had not heard his doom, so filled her with concernand indignation, that--her eyes and thoughts fixed upon him, at theother end of the class--she did not know when her turn came, butallowed the master to stand before her in bootless expectation. He didnot interrupt her, but with a refinement of cruelty that ought to havedone him credit in his own eyes, waited till the universal silence hadat length aroused Annie to self-consciousness and a sense ofannihilating confusion. Then, with a smile on his thin lips, but alowering thunder-cloud on his brow, he repeated the question:

"What doth every sin deserve?"

Annie, bewildered, and burning with shame at finding herself the coreof the silence--feeling is if her poor little spirit stood there nakedto the scoffs and jeers around--could not recall a word of the answergiven in the Catechism. So, in her bewilderment, she fell back on hercommon sense and experience, which, she ought to have known, hadnothing to do with the matter in hand. 

"What doth every sin deserve?" again repeated the tyrant. 

"A lickin', " whimpered Annie, and burst into tears. 

The master seemed much inclined to consider her condemned out of herown mouth, and give her a whipping at once; for it argued more thanignorance to answer _a whipping_, instead of _the wrath and curse ofGod_, &c. , &c. , as plainly set down in the Scotch Targum. Butreflecting, perhaps, that she was a girl, and a little one, and thatalthough it would be more gratification to him to whip her, it might beequal suffering to her to be _kept in_, he gave that side wave of hishead which sealed the culprit's doom, and Annie took her place amongthe condemned, with a flutter of joy at her heart that Alec Forbeswould not be left without a servant to wait upon him. A few more boysmade up the unfortunate party, but they were all little ones, and sothere was no companion for Forbes, who evidently felt the addeddegradation of being alone. The hour arrived; the school was dismissed;the master strode out, locking the door behind him; and the defaulterswere left alone, to chew the bitter cud of ill-cooked Theology. 

For some time a dreary silence reigned. Alec sat with his elbows on hisdesk, biting his nails, and gnawing his hands. Annie sat dividing hersilent attention between her book and Alec. The other boys were, orseemed to be, busy with their catechisms, in the hope of getting out assoon as the master returned. At length Alec took out his knife, andbegan, for very vacancy, to whittle away at the desk before him. WhenAnnie saw that, she crept across to his form, and sat down on the endof it. Alec looked up at her, smiled, and went on with his whittling. Annie slid a little nearer to him, and asked him to hear her say hercatechism. He consented, and she repeated the lesson perfectly. 

"Now let me hear you, Alec, " she said. 

"Na, thank ye, Annie. I canna say't. And I wonna say't for a' thedominies in creation. "

"But he'll lick ye, Alec; an' I 'canna bide it, " said Annie, the tearsbeginning to fill her eyes. 

"Weel, I'll try--to please you, Annie, " said Alec, seeing that thelittle thing was in earnest. 

How her heart bounded with delight! That great boy, so strong and sobrave, trying to learn a lesson to please her!

But it would not do. 

"I canna min' a word o' 't, Annie. I'm dreidfu' hungry, forbye. I wasin a hurry wi' my brakfast the day. Gin I had kent what was comin', Iwad hae laid in a better stock, " he added, laughing rather drearily. 

As he spoke he looked up; and his eyes wandered from one window toanother for a few moments after he had ceased speaking. 

"Na; it's no use, " he resumed at last. "I hae eaten ower muckle forthat, ony gait. "

Annie was as pitiful over Alec's hunger as any mother over her child's. She felt it pure injustice that he should ever be hungry. But, unableto devise any help, she could only say, "I dinna ken what ye mean, Alec. "

"Whan I was na bigger than you, Annie, I could win oot at a less holethan that, " answered he, and pointed to the open wooden pane in anupper corner of one the windows; "but I hae eaten ower muckle sinsyne. "

And he laughed again; but it was again an unsuccessful laugh. 

Annie sprang to her feet. 

"Gin ye could win throu that hole ance, I can win throu't noo, Alec. Jist haud me up a bit. Ye _can_ lift me, ye ken. "

And she looked up at him shyly and gratefully. 

"But what will ye do when ye _are_ oot, Annie?"

"Rin hame, and fess a loaf wi' me direckly. "

"But Rob Bruce'll see yer heid atween yer feet afore he'll gie ye aloaf, or a mou'fu' o' cakes either; an' it's ower far to rin to mymither's. Murdoch wad be back lang or that. "

"Jist help me oot, an' lea' the lave to me, " said Annie, confidently. "Gin I dinna fess a loaf o' white breid, never lippen (trust) to meagain. "

The idea of the bread, always a rarity and consequent delicacy toScotch country boys, so early in the century as the date of my story, was too much for Alec's imagination. He jumped up, and put his head outof one of those open panes to reconnoitre. He saw a woman approachingwhom he knew. 

"I say, Lizzie, " he called. 

The woman stopped. 

"What's yer wull, Maister Alec?"

"Jist stan' there an' pu' this lassie oot. We're a' keepit inthegither, and nearhan' hungert. "

"The Lord preserve 's! I'll gang for the key. "

"Na, na; _we_ wad hae to pay for that. Tak her oot--that's a' we want. "

"He's a coorse crayter--that maister o' yours. I wad gang to see himhangt. "

"Bide a wee; that'll come in guid time, " said Alec, pseudo-prophetically. 

"Weel I s' hae a pu' at the legs o' him, to help him to jeedgement; forhe'll be the deith o' ane or twa o' ye afore lang. "

"Never min' Murder Malison. Will ye tak oot the bit lassie?"

"Od will I! Whaur is she?"

Alec jumped down and held her up to the open pane, not a foot square. He told her to put her arms through first. Then between them they gother head through, whereupon Lizzie caught hold of her--so low was theschool-room--and dragged her out, and set her on her feet. But alas, awindow was broken in the process!

"Noo, Annie, " cried Alec, "never min' the window. Rin. "

She was off like a live bullet. 

She scampered home prepared to encounter all dangers. The worst of themall to her mind was the danger of not succeeding, and of so breakingfaith with Alec. She had sixpence of her own in coppers in herbox, --the only difficulty was to get into the house and out againwithout being seen. By employing the utmost care and circumspection, she got in by the back or house door unperceived, and so up to herroom. In a moment more the six pennies were in her hand, and she in thestreet; for she did not use the same amount of precaution in gettingout again, not minding discovery so much now, if she could only have afair start. No one followed her, however. She bolted into a baker'sshop. 

"A saxpenny-loaf, " she panted out. 

"Wha wants it?" asked the baker's wife. 

"There's the bawbees, " answered Annie, laying them on the counter. 

The baker's wife gave her the loaf, with the biscuit which, from timeimmemorial, had always graced a purchase to the amount of sixpence; andAnnie sped back to the school like a runaway horse to his stable. 

As she approached, out popped the head of Alec Forbes. He had beenlistening for the sound of her feet. She held up the loaf as high asshe could, and he stretched down as low as he could, and so their handsmet on the loaf. 

"Thank ye, Annie, " said Alec with earnestness. "I shanna forget this. Hoo got ye't?"

"Never ye min' that. I didna steal't, " answered Annie. "But I maun winin again, " she added, suddenly awaking to that difficult necessity, andlooking up at the window above her head. 

"I'm a predestined idiot!" said Alec, with an impious allusion to theShorter Catechism, as he scratched his helpless head. "I never thochto' that. "

It was clearly impossible. 

"Ye'll catch't, " said one of the urchins to Annie, with his noseflattened against the window. 

The roses of Annie's face turned pale, but she answered stoutly, "Weel! I care as little as the lave o' ye, I'm thinkin'. "

By this time the "idiot" had made up his mind. He never could make upany other than a bull-headed mind. 

"Rin hame, Annie, " he said; "and gin Murder offers to lay a finger o'ye upo' Monday, _I'll_ murder him. Faith! I'll kill him. Rin hame aforehe comes and catches ye at the window. "

"No, no, Alec, " pleaded Annie. 

"Haud yer tongue, " interrupted Alec, "and rin, will ye?"

Seeing he was quite determined, Annie, though loath to leave him, andin terror of what was implied in the threats he uttered against themaster and might be involved in the execution of them, obeyed him andwalked leisurely home, avoiding the quarters in which there was achance of meeting her gaoler. 

She found that no one had observed her former visit; the only remarksmade being some _goody_ ones about the disgrace of being kept in. 

When Mr Malison returned to the school about four o'clock, he found allquiet as death. The boys appeared totally absorbed in _committing_ theShorter Catechism, as if the Shorter Catechism was a sin, which perhapsit was not. But, to his surprise, which he pretended to be considerablygreater than it really was, the girl was absent. 

"Where is Ann Anderson?" were the first words he condescended to utter. 

"Gane hame, " cried two of the little prisoners. 

"Gone home!" echoed the master in a tone of savage incredulity;although not only was it plain that she was gone, but he must haveknown well enough, from former experience, how her escape had beeneffected. 

"Yes, " said Forbes; "it was me made her go. I put her out at thewindow. And I broke the window, " he added, knowing that it must soon befound out, "but I'll get it mended on Monday. "

Malison turned as white as a sheet with venomous rage. Indeed, thehopelessness of the situation had made Alec speak with too muchnonchalance. 

Anxious to curry favour, the third youngster now called out, "Sandy Forbes gart her gang an' fess a loaf o' white breid. "

Of this bread, the wretched informer had still some of the crumbssticking to his jacket--so vitiating is the influence of a reign ofterror. The bread was eaten, and the giver might be betrayed in thehope of gaining a little favour with the tyrant. 

"Alexander Forbes, come up. "

Beyond this point I will not here prosecute the narrative. 

Alec bore his punishment with great firmness, although there were fewbeholders, and none of them worth considering. After he had spent hiswrath, the master allowed them all to depart without further referenceto the Shorter Catechism. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Sunday following was anything but a day of repose for Annie--shelooked with such frightful anticipation to the coming Monday. Nor wasthe assurance with which Alec Forbes had sent her away, and which shewas far from forgetting, by any means productive of unmingledconsolation; for, in a conflict with such a power of darkness as MrMalison, how could Alec, even if sure to be victorious as any knight ofold story, come off without injury terrible and not to be contemplated!Yet, strange to tell--or was it really strange?--as she listened to theevening sermon, a sermon quietly and gently enforcing the fate of theungodly, it was not with exultation at the tardy justice that wouldovertake such men as Murdock Malison or Robert Bruce, nor yet with pityfor their fate, that she listened; but with anxious heart-aching fearfor her friend, the noble, the generous Alec Forbes, who withstoodauthority, and was therefore in danger of hell-fire. About her owndoom, speculation was uninteresting. 

The awful morning dawned. When she woke, and the thought of what shehad to meet came back on her, though it could hardly be said to havebeen a moment absent all night long, she turned, not metaphorically, but physically sick. Yet breakfast time would come, and worship did notfail to follow, and then to school she must go. There all went on asusual for some time. The Bible-class was called up, heard, anddismissed; and Annie was beginning to hope that the whole affair wassomehow or other wrapt up and laid by. She had heard nothing of Alec'sfate after she had left him imprisoned, and except a certain stoninessin his look, which a single glance discovered, his face gave no sign. She dared not lift her eyes from the spelling-book before her, to lookin the direction of the master. No murderer could have felt more keenlyas if all the universe were one eye, and that eye fixed on him, thanAnnie. 

Suddenly the awful voice resounded through the school, and the words ituttered--though even after she heard them it seemed too terrible to betrue--were, "Ann Anderson, come up. "

For a moment she lost consciousness--or at least memory. When sherecovered herself, she found herself standing before the master. Hisvoice seemed to have left two or three unanswered questions somewherein her head. What they were she had no idea. But presently he spokeagain, and, from the tone, what he said was evidently the repetition ofa question--probably put more than once before. 

"Did you, or did you not, go out at the window on Saturday?"

She did not see that Alec Forbes had left his seat, and was slowlylessening the distance between them and him. 

"Yes, " she answered, trembling from head to foot. 

"Did you, or did you not, bring a loaf of bread to those who were keptin?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Where did you get it?"

"I bought it, sir. "

"Where did you get the money?"

Of course every eye in the school was fixed upon her, those of hercousins sparkling with delight. 

"I got it oot o' my ain kist, sir. "

"Hold up your hand. "

Annie obeyed, with a most pathetic dumb terror pleading in her face. 

"Don't touch her, " said Alec Forbes, stepping between the executionerand his victim. "You know well enough it was all my fault. I told youso on Saturday. "

Murder Malison, as the boys called him, turned with the tawse over hisshoulder, whence it had been on the point of swooping upon Annie, andanswered him with a hissing blow over his down-bent head, followed by asuccession of furious blows upon every part of his person, as ittwisted and writhed and doubled; till, making no attempt at resistance, he was knocked down by the storm, and lay prostrate under the fiercelashes, the master holding him down with one foot, and laying on withthe whole force of the opposite arm. At length Malison stopped, exhausted, and turning, white with rage, towards Annie, who was almostin a fit with agony, repeated the order:

"Hold up your hand. "

But as he turned Alec bounded to his feet, his face glowing, and hiseyes flashing, and getting round in front, sprang at the master'sthroat, just as the tawse was descending. Malison threw him off, andlifting his weapon once more, swept it with a stinging lash round hishead and face. Alec, feeling that this was no occasion on which toregard the rules of fair fight, stooped his head, and rushed, like aram, or a negro, full tilt against the pit of Malison's stomach, anddoubling him up, sent him with a crash into the peat fire which wasglowing on the hearth. In the attempt to save himself, he thrust hishand right into it, and Alec and Annie were avenged. 

Alec rushed to drag him off the fire; but he was up before he reachedhim. 

"Go home!" he bawled to the scholars generally, and sat down at hisdesk to hide his suffering. 

For one brief moment there was silence. Then a tumult arose, ashouting, and holloing, and screeching, and the whole school rushed tothe door, as if the devil had been after them to catch the hindmost. Strange uproar invaded the ears of Glamerton--strange, that is, ateleven o'clock in the forenoon of Monday--the uproar of jubilantfreedom. 

But the culprits, Annie and Alec, stood and stared at the master, whoseface was covered with one hand, while the other hung helpless at hisside. Annie stopped partly out of pity for the despot, and partlybecause Alec stopped. Alec stopped because he was the author of thesituation--at least he never could give any better reason. 

At length Mr Malison lifted his head, and made a movement towards hishat. He started when he saw the two standing there. But the moment helooked at them their courage failed them. 

"Rin, Annie!" said Alec. 

Away she bolted, and he after her, as well as he could, which was notwith his usual fleetness by any means. When Annie had rounded a corner, not in the master's way home, she stopped, and looked back for Alec. Hewas a good many paces behind her; and then first she discovered thecondition of her champion. For now that the excitement was over, hecould scarcely walk, and evidence in kind was not wanting that fromhead to foot he must be one mass of wales and bruises. He put his handon her shoulder to help him along, and made no opposition to heraccompanying him as far as the gate of his mother's garden, which wasnearly a mile from the town, on the further bank of one of the riverswatering the valley-plain in which Glamerton had stood for hundreds ofyears. Then she went slowly home, bearing with her the memory of thesmile which, in spite of pain, had illuminated his tawse-waled cheeks, as she took her leave. 

"Good-bye, dear Alec!" she had said. 

"Good-bye, Annie dear, " he had answered, with the smile; and she hadwatched him crawl into the house before she turned away. 

When she got home, she saw at once, from the black looks of the Bruce, that the story, whether in its trite shape or not, had arrived beforeher. 

Nothing was said, however, till after worship; when Bruce gave her along lecture, as impressive as the creature was capable of making it, on the wickedness and certain punishment of "takin' up wi' ill loonslike Sandy Forbes, wha was brakin' his mither's hert wi' his baadbehaviour. " But he came to the conclusion, as he confided to his wifethat night, that the lassie "was growin' hardent already;" probablyfrom her being in a state of too great excitement from the events ofthe day to waste a tear upon his lecture; for, as she said in thehearing of the rottans, when she went up to bed, she "_didna care aflee for't_. " But the moment she lay down she fell to weeping bitterlyover the sufferings of Alec. She was asleep in a moment after, however. If it had not been for the power of sleeping that there was in thechild, she must long before now have given way to the hostileinfluences around her, and died. 

There was considerable excitement about the hearths of Glamerton, generally, in consequence of the news of the master's defeat carriedhome by the children. For, although it was amazing how little of thedoings at school the children were in the habit of reporting--solittle, indeed, that this account involved revelations of the characterand proceedings of Mr Malison which appeared to many of the parentsquite incredible--the present occurrence so far surpassed the ordinary, and had excited the beholders so much, that they could not be quietabout it. Various were the judgments elicited by the story. Thereligious portion of the community seemed to their children to sidewith the master; the worldly--namely, those who did not profess to beparticularly religious--all sided with Alec Forbes; with the exceptionof a fish-cadger, who had one son, the plague of his life. 

Amongst the religious, there was, at least, one exception, too; but hehad no children of his own, and had a fancy for Alec Forbes. Thatexception was Thomas Crann, the stone-mason. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Thomas Crann was building a house; for he was both contractor--in asmall way, it is true, not undertaking to do anything without theadvance of a good part of the estimate--and day-labourer at his ownjob. Having arrived at the point in the process where the assistance ofa carpenter was necessary, he went to George Macwha, whom he found athis bench, planing. This bench was in a work-shop, with two or threemore benches in it, some deals set up against the wall, a couple of redcart-wheels sent in for repair, and the tools and materials of histrade all about. The floor was covered with shavings, or _spales_, asthey are called by northern consent, which a poor woman was busygathering into a sack. After a short and gruff greeting on the part ofCrann, and a more cordial reply from Macwha, who ceased his labour toattend to his visitor, they entered on the business-question, whichhaving been carefully and satisfactorily discussed, with the aid ofvarious diagrams upon the half-planed deal, Macwha returned to hiswork, and the conversation took a more general scope, accompanied bythe sounds of Macwha's busy instrument. 

"A terrible laddie, that Sandy Forbes!" said the carpenter, with a sortof laugh in the _whishk_ of his plane, as he threw off a splendid_spale_. "They say he's lickit the dominie, and 'maist been the deid o'him. "

"I hae kent waur laddies nor Sandy Forbes, " was Thomas's curt reply. 

"Ow, deed ay! I ken naething agen the laddie. Him an' oor Willie's uncothrong. "

To this the sole answer Thomas gave was a grunt, and a silence of a fewseconds followed before he spoke, reverting to the point from whichthey had started. 

"I'm no clear but Alec micht hae committed a waur sin than thrashin'the dominie. He's a dour crater, that Murdoch Malison, wi' his fairface and his picket words. I doot the bairns hae the warst o' 't ingeneral. And for Alec I hae great houpes. He comes o' a guid stock. Hisfather, honest man, was ane o' the Lord's ain, although he didna mak'sic a stan' as, maybe, he ought to hae dune; and gin his mither hasbeen jist raither saft wi' him, and gi'en him ower lang a tether, he'llcome a' richt afore lang, for he's worth luikin efter. "

"I dinna richtly unnerstan' ye, Thamas. "

"I dinna think the Lord 'll tyne the grip o' his father's son. He's noconvertit yet, but he's weel worth convertin', for there's guid stuffin him. "

Thomas did not consider how his common sense was running away with histheology. But Macwha was not the man to bring him to book on thatscore. His only reply lay in the careless _whishk whashk_ of his plane. Thomas resumed:

"He jist wants what ye want, Gleorge Macwha. "

"What's that, Thamas?" asked George, with a grim attempt at a smile, asif to say: "I know what's coming, but I'm not going to mind it. "

"He jist wants to be weel shaken ower the mou' o' the pit. He maunsmell the brunstane o' the everlastin' burnin's. He's nane o' yer saftbuirds, that ye can sleek wi' a sweyp o' yer airm; he's a bluewhunstane that's hard to dress, but, anes dressed, it bides the weatherbonnie. I like to work upo' hard stane mysel. Nane o' yer saftfreestane, 'at ye cud cut wi' a k-nife, for me!"

"Weel, I daursay ye're richt, Thamas. "

"And, forbye, they say he took a' his ain licks ohn said a word, andflew at the maister only whan he was gaein to lick the puir orphanlassie--Jeames Anderson's lassie, ye ken. "

"Ow! ay. It's the same tale they a' tell. I hae nae doobt it'scorreck. "

"Weel, lat him tak it, than, an' be thankfu'! for it's no more than wasweel waured (spent) on him. "

With these conclusive words, Thomas departed. He was no sooner out ofthe shop, than out started, from behind the deal boards that stoodagainst the wall, Willie, the eldest hope of the house of Macwha, adusky-skinned, black-eyed, curly-headed, roguish-looking boy, AlecForbes's companion and occasional accomplice. He was more mischievousthan Alec, and sometimes led him into unforeseen scrapes; but wheneveranything extensive had to be executed, Alec was always the leader. 

"What are ye hidin' for, ye rascal?" said his father. "What mischeefhae ye been efter noo?"

"Naething by ordinar', " was Willie's cool reply. 

"What garred ye hide, than?"

"Tam Crann never sets ee upo' me, but he misca's me, an' I dinna liketo be misca'd, mair nor ither fowk. "

"Ye get nae mair nor ye deserve, I doobt, " returned George. "Here, takthe chisel, and cut that beadin' into len'ths. "

"I'm gaein' ower the water to speir efter Alec, " was the excusatoryrejoinder. 

"Ay, ay! pot and pan!--What ails Alec noo?"

"Mr Malison's nearhan' killed him. He hasna been at the schuil this twadays. "

With these words Willie bolted from the shop, and set off at fullspeed. The latter part of his statement was perfectly true. 

The day after the fight, Mr Malison came to the school as usual, butwith his arm in a sling. To Annie's dismay, Alec did not make hisappearance. 

It had of course been impossible to conceal his corporal condition fromhis mother; and the heart of the widow so yearned over the suffering ofher son, though no confession of suffering escaped Alec's lips, thatshe vowed in anger that he should never cross the door of that schoolagain. For three or four days she held immovably to her resolution, much to Alec's annoyance, and to the consternation of Mr Malison, whofeared that he had not only lost a pupil, but made an enemy. For MrMalison had every reason for being as smooth-faced with the parents ashe always was: he had ulterior hopes in Glamerton. The clergyman wasgetting old, and Mr Malison was a licentiate of the Church; andalthough the people had no direct voice in the filling of the pulpit, it was very desirable that a candidate should have none but friends inthe parish. 

Mr Malison made no allusion whatever to the events of Monday, andthings went on as usual in the school, with just one exception: for awhole week the tawse did not make its appearance. This was owing inpart at least to the state of his hand; but if he had ever wished to befreed from the necessity of using the lash, he might have derived hopefrom the fact that somehow or other the boys were during this week noworse than usual. I do not pretend to explain the fact, and beg leaveto refer it to occult meteorological influences. 

As soon as school was over on that first day of Alec's absence, Anniedarted off on the road to Howglen, where he lived, and never droppedinto a walk till she reached the garden-gate. Fully conscious of theinferiority of her position, she went to the kitchen door. The door wasopened to her knock before she had recovered breath enough to speak. The servant, seeing a girl with a shabby dress, and a dirty bonnet, from underneath which hung disorderly masses of hair--they would have_glinted_ in the eye of the sun, but in the eye of the maid they lookedonly dusky and disreputable--for Annie was not kept so tidy on theinterest of her money as she had been at the farm--the girl, I say, seeing this, and finding besides, as she thought, that Annie hadnothing to say, took her for a beggar, and returning into the kitchen, brought her a piece of oat-cake, the common dole to the youngmendicants of the time. Annie's face flushed crimson, but she saidgently, having by this time got her runaway breath a little more undercontrol, "No, I thank ye; I'm no a beggar. I only wanted to ken hoo Alec was theday. "

"Come in, " said the girl, anxious to make some amends for her blunder, "and I'll tell the mistress. "

Annie would gladly have objected, contenting herself with the maid'sown account; but she felt rather than understood that there would besomething undignified in refusing to face Alec's mother; so shefollowed the maid into the kitchen, and sat down on the edge of awooden chair, like a perching bird, till she should return. 

"Please, mem, here's a lassie wantin' to ken hoo Maister Alec is theday, " said Mary, with the handle of the parlour door in her hand. 

"That must be little Annie Anderson, mamma, " said Alec, who was lyingon the sofa very comfortable, considering what he had to lie upon. 

It may be guessed at once that Scotch was quite discouraged at home. 

Alec had told his mother all about the affair; and some of her friendsfrom Glamerton, who likewise had sons at the school, had called andgiven their versions of the story, in which the prowess of Alec mademore of than in his own account. Indeed, all his fellow-scholars exceptthe young Bruces, sung his praises aloud; for, whatever the degree oftheir affection for Alec, every one of them hated the master--aterrible thought for him, if he had been able to appreciate it; but Ido not believe he had any suspicion of the fact that he was the centreof converging thoughts of revengeful dislike. So the mother was proudof her boy--far prouder than she was willing for him to see: indeed, she put on the guise of the offended proprieties as much as she couldin his presence, thus making Alec feel like a culprit in hers, whichwas more than she intended, or would have liked, could she have peepedinto his mind. So she could not help feeling some interest in Annie, and some curiosity to see her. She had known James Anderson, herfather, and he had been her guest more than once when he had calledupon business. Everybody had liked him; and this general approbationwas owing to no lack of character, but to his genuine kindness ofheart. So Mrs Forbes was prejudiced in Annie's favour--but far more byher own recollections of the father, than by her son's representationsof the daughter. 

"Tell her to come up, Mary, " she said. 

So Annie, with all the disorganization of school about her, was shown, considerably to her discomfort, into Mrs Forbes's dining-room. 

There was nothing remarkable in the room; but to Annie's eyes it seemedmagnificent, for carpet and curtains, sideboard and sofa, were luxuriesaltogether strange to her eyes. So she entered very timidly, and stoodtrembling and pale--for she rarely blushed except when angry--close tothe door. But Alec scrambled from the sofa, and taking hold of her byboth hands, pulled her up to his mother. 

"There she is, mamma!" he said. 

And Mrs Forbes, although her sense of the fitness of things was notgratified at seeing her son treat with such familiarity a girl soneglectedly attired, yet received her kindly and shook hands with her. 

"How do you do, Annie?" she said. 

"Quite well, I thank ye, mem, " answered Annie, showing in her voicethat she was owerawed by the grand lady, yet mistress enough of hermanners not to forget a pretty modest courtesy as she spoke. 

"What's gaein' on at the school the day, Annie?" asked Alec. 

"Naething by ordidar, " answered Annie, the sweetness of her tonescontrasting with the roughness of the dialect. "The maister's a hantlequaieter than usual. I fancy he's a' the better behaved for's bruntfingers. But, oh, Alec!"

And here the little maiden burst into a passionate fit of crying. 

"What's the matter, Annie, " said Mrs Forbes, as she drew her nearer, genuinely concerned at the child's tears. 

"Oh! mem, ye didna see hoo the maister lickit him, or ye wad haegrutten yersel'. "

Tears from some mysterious source sprang to Mrs Forbes's eyes. But atthe moment Mary opened the door, and said--

"Here's Maister Bruce, mem, wantin' to see ye. "

"Tell him to walk up, Mary. "

"Oh! no, no, mem; dinna lat him come till I'm out o' this. He'll tak'me wi' him, " cried Annie. 

Mary stood waiting the result. 

"But you must go home, you know, Annie, " said Mrs Forbes, kindly. 

"Ay, but no wi' _him_, " pleaded Annie. 

From what Mrs Forbes knew of the manners and character of Bruce, shewas not altogether surprised at Annie's reluctance. So, turning to themaid, she said--

"Have you told Mr Bruce that Miss Anderson is here?"

"Me tell him! No, mem. What's _his_ business?"

"Mary, you forget yourself. "

"Weel, mem, I canna bide him. "

"Hold your tongue, Mary, " said her mistress, hardly able to restrainher own amusement, "and take the child into my room till he is gone. But perhaps he knows you are here, Annie?"

"He canna ken that, mem. He jumps at things whiles, though, sharpeneuch. "

"Well, well! We shall see. "

So Mary led Annie away to the sanctuary of Mrs Forbes's bed-room. 

But the Bruce was not upon Annie's track at all. His visit wants a fewwords of explanation. 

Bruce's father had been a faithful servant to Mr Forbes's father, whoheld the same farm before his son, both having been what are calledgentlemen-farmers. The younger Bruce, being anxious to set up a shop, had, for his father's sake, been assisted with money by the elderForbes. This money he had repaid before the death of the old man, whohad never asked any interest for it. More than a few years had notpassed before Bruce, who had a wonderful capacity for petty business, was known to have accumulated some savings in the bank. Now the youngerForbes, being considerably more enterprising than his father, had spentall his capital upon improvements--draining, fencing, and suchlike--when a younger brother, to whom he was greatly attached, appliedto him for help in an emergency, and he had nothing of his own withinhis reach wherewith to aid him. In this difficulty he bethought him ofBruce, to borrow from whom would not involve the exposure of the factthat he was in any embarrassment, however temporary--an exposure veryundesirable in a country town like Glamerton. 

After a thorough investigation of the solvency of Mr Forbes, and aproper delay for consideration besides, Bruce supplied him with ahundred pounds upon personal bond, at the usual rate of interest, for acertain term of years. Mr Forbes died soon after, leaving his affairsin some embarrassment in consequence of his outlay. Mrs Forbes had paidthe interest of the debt now for two years; but, as the rent of thefarm was heavy, she found this additional trifle a burden. She had goodreason, however, to hope for better times, as the farm must soonincrease its yield. Mr Bruce, on his part, regarded the widow withsomewhat jealous eyes, because he very much doubted whether, when theday arrived, she would be able to pay him the money she owed him. Thatday was, however, not just at hand. It was this diversion of hisresources, and not the moral necessity for a nest-egg, as he hadrepresented the case to Margaret Anderson, which had urged him to showhospitality to Annie Anderson and her little fortune. 

So neither was it anxiety for the welfare of Alec that induced him tocall on Mrs Forbes. Indeed if Malison had killed him outright, he wouldhave been rather pleased than otherwise. But he was in the habit ofreminding the widow of his existence by all occasional call, especiallywhen the time approached for the half-yearly payment of the interest. And now the report of Alec's condition gave him a suitable pretext forlooking in upon his debtor, without, as he thought, appearing toogreedy after his money. 

"Weel, mem, hoo are ye the day?" said he, as he entered, rubbing hishands. 

"Quite well, thank you, Mr Bruce. Take a seat. "

"An' hoo's Mr Alec?"

"There he is to answer for himself, " said Mrs Forbes, looking towardsthe sofa. 

"Hoo are ye, Mr Alec, efter a' this?" said Bruce, turning towards him. 

"Quite well, thank you, " answered Alec, in a tone that did notaltogether please either of the listeners. 

"I thocht ye had been raither sair, sir, " returned Bruce, in an acidtone. 

"I've got a wale or two, that's all, " said Alec. 

"Weel, I houp it'll be a lesson to ye. "

"To Mr Malison, you should have said, Mr Bruce. I am perfectlysatisfied, for my part. "

His mother was surprised to hear him speak like a grown man, as well asannoyed at his behaviour to Bruce, in whose power she feared they mightone day find themselves to their cost. But she said nothing. Bruce, likewise, was rather nonplussed. He grinned a smile and was silent. 

"I hear you have taken James Anderson's daughter into your family now, Mr Bruce. "

"Ow, ay, mem. There was nobody to luik efter the bit lassie; sae, though I cud but ill affoord it, wi' my ain sma' faimily comin' up, Iwas jist in a mainner obleeged to tak' her, Jeames Anderson bein' acousin o' my ain, ye ken, mem. "

"Well, I am sure it was very kind of you and Mrs Bruce. How does thechild get on?"

"Middlin', mem, middlin'. She's jist some ill for takin' up wi' loons. "

Here he glanced at Alec, with an expression of successful spite. Hecertainly had the best of it now. 

Alec was on the point of exclaiming "That's a lie, " but he had prudenceenough to restrain himself, perceiving that the contradiction wouldhave a better chance with his mother if he delayed its utterance tillafter the departure of Bruce. So, meantime, the subject was notpursued. A little desultory conversation followed, and the visitordeparted, with a laugh from between his teeth as he took leave of Alec, which I can only describe as embodying an _I told you so_ sort ofsatisfaction. 

Almost as soon as he was out of the house the parlour-door opened, andMary brought in Annie. Mrs Forbes's eyes were instantly fixed on herwith mild astonishment, and something of a mother's tenderness awoke inher heart towards the little maid-child. What would she not have givenfor such a daughter! During Bruce's call, Mary had been busy with thechild. She had combed and brushed her thick brown hair, and, taken withits exceeding beauty, had ventured on a stroke of originality no onewould have expected of her: she had left it hanging loose on hershoulders. Any one would think such an impropriety impossible to aScotchwoman. But then she had been handling the hair, and contact withanything alters so much one's theories about it. If Mary had found itso, instead of making it so, she would have said it was "no dacent. "But the hair gave her its own theory before she had done with it, andthis was the result. She had also washed her face and hands and neck, made the best she could of her poor, dingy dress, and put one of herown Sunday collars upon her. 

Annie had submitted to it all without question; and thus adorned, Maryintroduced her again to the dining-room. Before Mrs Forbes had time todiscover that she was shocked, she was captivated by the pale, patientface, and the longing blue eyes, that looked at her as if the childfelt that she ought to have been her mother, but somehow they hadmissed each other. They gazed out of the shadows of the mass of darkbrown wavy hair that fell to her waist, and there was no more any needfor Alec to contradict Bruce's calumny. But Mrs Forbes was speedilyrecalled to a sense of propriety by observing that Alec too was staringat Annie with a mingling of amusement, admiration, and respect. 

"What have you been about, Mary?" she said, in a tone of attemptedreproof. "You have made a perfect fright of the child. Take her away. "

When Annie was once more brought back, with her hair restored to itsnet, silent tears of mortification were still flowing down hercheeks. --When Annie cried, the tears always rose and flowed without anysound or convulsion. Rarely did she sob even. --This completed theconquest of Mrs Forbes's heart. She drew the little one to her, andkissed her, and Annie's tears instantly ceased to rise, while MrsForbes wiped away those still lingering on her face. Mary then went toget the tea, and Mrs Forbes having left the room for a moment torecover that self-possession, the loss of which is peculiarlyobjectionable to a Scotchwoman, Annie was left seated on a footstoolbefore the bright fire, the shadows from which were now dancing aboutthe darkening room, and Alec lay on the sofa looking at her. There wasno great occasion for his lying on the sofa, but his mother desired it, and Alec had at present no particular objection. 

"I wadna like to be gran' fowk, " mused Annie aloud, for getting thatshe was not alone. 

"We're no gran' fowk, Annie, " said Alec. 

"Ay are ye, " returned Annie, persistently. 

"Weel, what for wadna ye like it?"

"Ye maun be aye feared for blaudin' things. "

"Mamma wad tell ye a different story, " rejoined Alec laughing. "There'snaething here to blaud (spoil). "

Mrs Forbes returned. Tea was brought in. Annie comported herself like alady, and, after tea, ran home with mingled feelings of pleasure andpain. For, notwithstanding her assertion that she would not like to be"gran' fowk, " the kitchen fire, small and dull, the smelling shop, andher own dreary garret-room, did not seem more desirable from her peepinto the warmth and comfort of the house at Howglen. 

Questioned as to what had delayed her return from school, she told thetruth; that she had gone to ask after Alec Forbes, and that they hadkept her to tea. 

"I tauld them that ye ran efter the loons!" said Bruce triumphantly. Then stung with the reflection that _he_ had not been asked to stay totea, he added: "It's no for the likes o' you, Annie, to gang togentlefowk's hooses, makin' free whaur ye're no wantit. Sae dinna latme hear the like again. "

But it was wonderful how Bruce's influence over Annie, an influence ofdistress, was growing gradually weaker. He could make her uncomfortableenough; but as to his opinion of her, she had almost reached the pointof not caring a straw for that. And she had faith enough in Alec tohope that he would defend her from whatever Bruce might have saidagainst her. 

Whether Mary had been talking in the town, as is not improbable, aboutlittle Annie Anderson's visit to her mistress, and so the story of thehair came to be known, or not, I cannot tell; but it was a notablecoincidence that a few days after, Mrs Bruce came to the back-door, with a great pair of shears in her hand, and calling Annie, said:

"Here, Annie! Yer hair's ower lang. I maun jist clip it. It's giein yesair een. "

"There's naething the maitter wi' my een, " said Annie gently. 

"Dinna answer back. Sit doon, " returned Mrs Bruce, leading her into thekitchen. 

Annie cared very little for her hair, and well enough remembered thatMrs Forbes had said it made a fright of her; so it was with no greatreluctance that she submitted to the operation. Mrs Bruce chopped itshort off all round. As, however, this permitted what there was of itto fall about her face, there being too little to confine in the usualprison of the net, her appearance did not bear such marks ofdeprivation, or, in other and Scotch words, "she didna luik saedockit, " as might have been expected. 

Her wavy locks of rich brown were borne that night, by the careful handof Mrs Bruce, to Rob Guddle, the barber. Nor was the hand less carefulthat brought back their equivalent in money. With a smile to herhusband, half loving and half cunning, Mrs Bruce dropped the amountinto the till. 

CHAPTER XV. 

Although Alec Forbes was not a boy of quick receptivity as far as bookswere concerned, and therefore was no favourite with Mr Malison, he wasnot by any means a common or a stupid boy. His own eyes could teach himmore than books could, for he had a very quick observation of thingsabout him, both in what is commonly called nature and in humanity. Heknew all the birds, all their habits, and all their eggs. Not a boy inGlamerton could find a nest quicker than he, or when found treated itwith such respect. For he never took young birds, and seldom more thanhalf of the eggs. Indeed he was rather an uncommon boy, having, alongwith more than the usual amount of activity even for a boy, atenderness of heart altogether rare in boys. He was as familiar withthe domestic animals and their ways of feeling and acting as Annieherself. Anything like cruelty he detested; and yet, as occasion willshow, he could execute stern justice. With the world of men around him, he was equally conversant. He knew the characters of the simple peoplewonderfully well; and _took to_ Thomas Crann more than to any one else, notwithstanding that Thomas would read him a long lecture sometimes. Tothese lectures Alec would listen seriously enough, believing Thomas tobe right; though he could never make up his mind to give any afterattention to what he required of him. 

The first time Alec met Thomas after the affair with the dominie, wason the day before he was to go back to school; for his mother hadyielded at last to his entreaties. Thomas was building an addition to awater-mill on the banks of the Glamour not far from where Alec lived, and Alec had strolled along thither to see how the structure was goingon. He expected a sharp rebuke for his behaviour to Mr Malison, butsomehow he was not afraid of Thomas, and was resolved to face it out. The first words Thomas uttered, however, were:

"Weel, Alec, can ye tell me what was the name o' King Dawvid's mither?"

"I can_not_, Thomas, " answered Alec. "What was it?"

"Fin' ye that oot. Turn ower yer Bible. Hae ye been back to the schoolyet?"

"No. I'm gaein the morn. "

"Ye're no gaein to strive wi' the maister afore nicht, are ye?"

"I dinna ken, " answered Alec. "Maybe he'll strive wi' me. --But ye ken, Thomas, " he continued, defending himself from what he supposed Thomaswas thinking, "King Dawvid himsel' killed the giant. "

"Ow! ay; a' richt. I'm no referrin' to that. Maybe ye did verra richt. But tak care, Alec--" here Thomas paused from his work, and turningtowards the boy with a trowelful of mortar in his hand, spoke veryslowly and solemnly--"tak ye care that ye beir no malice against themaister. Justice itsel, " dune for the sake o' a private grudge, willbunce back upo' the doer. I hae little doobt the maister'll be thebetter for't; but gin ye be the waur, it'll be an ill job, Alec, myman. "

"I hae no ill-will at him, Thomas. "

"Weel, jist watch yer ain hert, and bewaur ye o' that. I wad coonsel yeto try and please him a grainie mair nor ordinar'. It's no that easy tothe carnal man, but ye ken we ought to crucify the auld man, wi' hisaffections and lusts. "

"Weel, I'll try, " said Alec, to whom it was not nearly so difficult asThomas imagined. His _man_ apparently was not very old yet. 

And he did try; and the master seemed to appreciate his endeavours, andto accept them as a peace-offering, thus showing that he really was thebetter for the punishment he had received. 

It would be great injustice to Mr Malison to judge him by the feelingof the present day. It was the custom of the time and of the country touse the tawse unsparingly; for _law_ having been, and still, in a greatmeasure, being, the highest idea generated of the divine by theordinary Scotch mind, it must be supported, at all risks even, by meansof the leather strap. In the hands of a wise and even-tempered man, noharm could result from the use of this instrument of justice; but inthe hands of a fierce-tempered and therefore changeable man, of smallmoral stature, and liable to prejudices and offence, it became themeans of unspeakable injury to those under his care; not the least ofwhich was the production, in delicate natures, of doubt and hesitancy, sometimes deepening into cowardice and lying. 

Mr Malison had nothing of the childlike in himself, and consequentlynever saw the mind of the child whose person he was assailing with abattery of excruciating blows. A _man_ ought to be able to endure griefsuffering wrongfully, and be none the worse; but who dares demand thatof a child? Well it is for such masters that even they are judged bythe heart of a father, and not by the law of a king, that worst of allthe fictions of an ignorant and low theology. And if they must receivepunishment, at least it will not be the heartless punishment which theyinflicted on the boys and girls under their law. 

Annie began to be regarded as a protegee of Alec Forbes, and as Alecwas a favourite with most of his schoolfellows, and was feared where hewas not loved, even her cousins began to look upon her with somethinglike respect, and mitigate their persecutions. But she did nottherefore become much more reconciled to her position; for the habitsand customs of her home were distasteful to her, and its wholeatmosphere uncongenial. Nor could it have been otherwise in any housewhere the entire anxiety was, first, to make money, and next, not tospend it. The heads did not in the least know that they were unkind toher. On the contrary, Bruce thought himself a pattern of generosity ifhe gave her a scrap of string; and Mrs Bruce, when she said toinquiring gossips "The bairn's like ither bairns--she's weel eneuch, "thought herself a pattern of justice or even of forbearance. But bothwere jealous of her, in relation to their own children; and when MrsForbes sent for her one Saturday, soon after her first visit, theyhardly concealed their annoyance at the preference shown her by one whowas under such great obligation to the parents of other children everyway superior to her whose very presence somehow or other made themuncomfortable. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The winter drew on--a season as different from the summer in thosenorthern latitudes, as if it belonged to another solar system. Cold andstormy, it is yet full of delight for all beings that can either romp, sleep, or think it through. But alas for the old and sickly, in poorhomes, with scanty food and firing! Little children suffer too, thoughthe gift of forgetfulness does for them what the gift of faith does fortheir parents--helps them over many troubles, besides tingling fingersand stony feet. There would be many tracks of those small feet in themorning snow, leading away across the fresh-fallen clouds from thehouse and cottage doors; for the barbarity of _morning-school_, thatis, an hour and a half of dreary lessons before breakfast, was in fulloperation at Glamerton. 

The winter came. One morning, all the children awoke, and saw a whiteworld around them. Alec jumped out of bed in delight. It was a sunny, frosty morning. The snow had fallen all night, with its own silence, and no wind had interfered with the gracious alighting of the featherywater. Every branch, every twig, was laden with its sparkling burden ofdown-flickered flakes, and threw long lovely shadows on the smoothfeatureless dazzle below. Away, away, stretched the outspread glory, the only darkness in it being the line of the winding river. All thesnow that fell on it vanished, as death and hell shall one day vanishin the fire of God. It flowed on, black through its banks of white. Away again stretched the shine to the town, where every roof had thesheet that was let down from heaven spread over it, and the streets laya foot deep in yet unsullied snow, soon, like the story of the ages, tobe trampled, soiled, wrought, and driven with human feet, till, atlast, God's strong sun would wipe it all away. 

From the door opening into this fairy-land, Alec sprang into theuntrodden space, as into a new America. He had discovered a world, without even the print of human foot upon it. The keen air made himhappy; and the face of nature, looking as peaceful as the face of adead man dreaming of heaven, wrought in him jubilation and leaping. Hewas at the school door before a human being had appeared in the streetsof Glamerton. Its dwellers all lay still under those sheets of snow, which seemed to hold them asleep in its cold enchantment. 

Before any of his fellows made their appearance, he had kneaded andpiled a great heap of snowballs, and stood by his pyramid, prepared forthe offensive. He attacked the first that came, and soon there was atroop of boys pelting away at him. But with his store of balls at hisfoot, he was able to pay pretty fairly for what he received; till, thatbeing exhausted, he was forced to yield the unequal combat. By-and-bythe little ones gathered, with Annie amongst them; but they kept aloof, for fear of the flying balls, for the boys had divided into two equalparties, and were pelting away at each other. At length the woman whohad charge of the school-room, having finished lighting the fire, opened the door, and Annie, who was very cold, made a run for it, during a lull in the fury of the battle. 

"Stop, " cried Alec; and the balling ceased, that Annie, followed by afew others, might pass in safety through the midst of the combatants. One boy, however, just as Annie was entering, threw a ball after her. He missed her, but Alec did not miss him; for scarcely was the ball outof his hand when he received another, right between his eyes. Over hewent, amidst a shout of satisfaction. 

When the master appeared at the top of the lane the fight came to aclose; and as he entered the school, the group round the fire broke upand dispersed. Alec, having entered close behind the master, overtookAnnie as she went to her seat, for he had observed, as she ran into theschool, that she was lame--indeed limping considerably. 

"What's the maitter wi' ye, Annie?" he said. "What gars ye hirple?"

"Juno bitet me, " answered Annie. 

"Ay! Verra weel!" returned Alec, in a tone that had more meaning thanthe words. 

Soon after the Bible-class was over, and they had all taken theirseats, a strange quiet stir and excitement gradually arose, like thefirst motions of a whirlpool at the turn of the tide. The master becameaware of more than the usual flitting to and fro amongst the boys, justlike the coming and going which preludes the swarming of bees. But ashe had little or no constructive power, he never saw beyond thesymptoms. They were to him mere isolated facts, signifying presentdisorder. 

"John Morison, go to your seat, " he cried. 

John went. 

"Robert Rennie, go to your seat. "

Robert went. And this continued till, six having been thus passed by, and a seventh appearing three forms from his own, the master, whoseldom stood it so long, could stand it no longer. The _tag_ wasthrown, and a _licking_ followed, making matters a little better fromthe master's point of view. 

Now I will try to give, from the scholars' side, a peep of what passed. 

As soon as he was fairly seated, Alec said in a low voice across thedouble desk to one of the boys opposite, calling him by his nickname, "I say, Divot, do ye ken Juno?"

"Maybe no!" answered Divot. "But gin I dinna, my left leg dis. "

"I thocht ye kent the shape o' her teeth, man. Jist gie Scrumpie therea dig i' the ribs. "

"What are ye efter, Divot? I'll gie ye a cloot o' the lug, " growledScrumpie. 

"Hoot man! The General wants ye. "

_The General_ was Alec's nickname. 

"What is't, General?"

"Do ye ken Juno?"

"Hang the bitch! I ken her ower weel. She took her denner aff o' ane o'my hips, ae day last year. "

"Jist creep ower to Cadger there, and speir gin he kens Juno. Maybehe's forgotten her. "

Cadger's reply was interrupted by the interference of the master, but apantomimic gesture conveyed to the General sufficient assurance of theretentiveness of Cadger's memory in regard to Juno and her favours. Such messages and replies, notwithstanding more than one licking, keptpassing the whole of the morning. 

Now Juno was an animal of the dog kind, belonging to Robert Brace. Shehad the nose and the legs of a bull-dog, but was not by any meansthorough-bred, and her behaviour was worse than her breed. She was agreat favourite with her master, who ostensibly kept her chained in hisback-yard for the protection of his house and property. But she was notby any means popular with the rising generation. For she was given tobiting, with or without provocation, and every now and then she gotloose--upon sundry of which occasions she had bitten boys. Complainthad been made to her owner, but without avail; for he only professedgreat concern, and promised she should not get loose again, whichpromise had been repeatedly broken. Various vows of vengeance had beenmade, and forgotten. But now Alec Forbes had taken up the cause ofhumanity and justice: for the brute had bitten Annie, and _she_ couldhave given no provocation. 

It was soon understood throughout the school that war was to be madeupon Juno, and that every able-bodied boy must be ready when called outby the General. The minute they were dismissed, which, at this seasonof the year, took place at three o'clock, no interval being given fordinner, because there was hardly any afternoon, the boys gathered in aknot at the door. 

"What are ye gaein' to do, General?" asked one. 

"Kill her, " answered Alec. 

"What way?"

"Stane her to death, loons, like the man 'at brak the Sabbath. "

"Broken banes for broken skins--eh? Ay!"

"The damned ill-faured brute, to bite Annie Anderson!"

"But there's nae stanes to be gotten i' the snaw, General, " saidCadger. 

"Ye gomeril! Ye'll get mair stanes nor ye'll carry, I doobt, up o' theside o' the toll-road yonner. Naething like road-metal!"

A confused chorus of suggestions and exclamations now arose, in themidst of which Willie Macwha, whose cognomen was Curly-pow, came up. Hewas not often the last in a conspiracy. His arrival had for the momenta sedative effect. 

"Here's Curly! Here's Curly!"

"Weel, is't a' sattled?" asked he. 

"She's condemned, but no execute yet, " said Grumpie. 

"Hoo are we to win at her?" asked Cadger. 

"That's jist the pint, " said Divot. 

"We canna weel kill her in her ain yard, " suggested Houghie. 

"Na. We maun bide our time, an' tak her when she's oot aboot, " said theGeneral. 

"But wha's to ken that? an' hoo are we to gather?" asked Cadger, whoseemed both of a practical and a despondent turn of mind. 

"Noo, jist haud yer tongues, an' hearken to me, " said Alec. 

The excited assembly was instantly silent. 

"The first thing, " began Alec, "is to store plenty o' ammunition. "

"Ay, ay, General. "

"Haud yer tongues. --Whaur had we best stow the stanes, Curly?"

"In oor yard. They'll never be noticed there. "

"That'll do. Some time the nicht, ye'll a' carry what stanes ye canget--an' min' they're o' a serviceable natur'--to Curly's yard. He'llbe o' the ootluik for ye. An, ' I say, Curly, doesna your riggin-staneowerluik the maist o' the toon?"

"Ay, General. "

"Ye can see our hoose frae't--canna ye?"

"Ay. "

"Weel, ye jist buy a twa three blue lichts. Hae ye ony bawbees?"

"Deil ane, General. "

"Hae than, there's fower an' a bawbee for expenses o' the war. "

"Thank ye, General. "

"Ye hae an auld gun, haena' ye?"

"Ay have I; but she's nearhan' the rivin'. "

"Load her to the mou', and lat her rive. We'll may be hear't. But haudweel oot ower frae her. Ye can lay a train, ye ken. "

"I s' tak care o' that, General. "

"Scrumpie, ye bide no that far frae the draigon's den. Ye jist keep yeree--nae the crookit ane--upo' her ootgoins an' incomins; or raither, yeluik efter her comin oot, an' we'll a' luik efter her gaein in again. Jist mak a regiment o' yer ain to watch her, and bring ye word o' herproceedins. Ye can easy luik roun the neuk o' the back-yett, an' nobodybe a hair the wiser. As sune as ever ye spy her lowse i' the yard beaff wi' ye to Willie Macwha. Syne, Curly, ye fire yer gun, and burn theblue lichts o' the tap o' the hoose; and gin I see or hear the signal, I'll be ower in seven minutes an' a half. Ilka ane o' ye 'at hears, maun luik efter the neist; and sae we'll a' gether at Curly's. Fess yerbags for the stanes, them 'at has bags. "

"But gin ye dinna see or hear, for it's a lang road, General?"interposed Cadger. 

"Gin I'm no at your yard, Curly, in saiven minutes an' a half, sen'Linkum efter me. He's the only ane o' ye 'at can rin. It's a' that hecan do, but he does't weel. --Whan Juno's ance oot, she's no in a hurryin again. "

The boys separated and went home in a state of excitement, whichprobably, however, interfered very little with their appetites, seeingit was moderated in the mean time by the need and anticipation of theirdinners. 

The sun set now between two and three o'clock, and there were longforenights to favour the plot. Perhaps their hatred of the dog wouldnot have driven them to such extreme measures, even although she hadbitten Annie Anderson, had her master been a favourite, or evengenerally respected. But Alec knew well enough that the townsfolk werenot likely to sympathize with Bruce on the ill-treatment of his cur. 

When the dinner and the blazing fire had filled him so full of comfortthat he was once more ready to encounter the cold, Alec could stay inthe house no longer. 

"Where are you going, Alec?" said his mother. 

"Into the garden, mamma. "

"What can you want in the garden--full of snow?"

"It's just the snow I want, mamma. It won't keep. "

And, in another moment, he was under the clear blue night-heaven, withthe keen frosty air blowing on his warm cheek, busy with a wheelbarrowand a spade, slicing and shovelling in the snow. He was building a hutof it, after the fashion of the Esquimaux hut, with a very thickcircular wall, which began to lean towards its own centre as soon as itbegan to rise. This hut he had pitched at the foot of a flag-staff onthe green-�_lawn_ would be too grand a word for the hundred square feetin front of his mother's house, though the grass which lay beneath thesnowy carpet was very green and lovely grass, smooth enough for anylawn. In summer Alec had quite revelled in its greenness and softness, as he lay on it reading the _Arabian Nights_ and the Ettrick Shepherd'sstories: now it was "white with the whiteness of what is dead;" for isnot the snow just dead water? The flag-staff he had got George Macwhato erect for him, at a very small outlay; and he had himself fitted itwith shrouds and a cross-yard, and signal halliards; for he had alwaysa fancy for the sea, and boats, and rigging of all sorts. And he had agreat red flag, too, which he used to hoist on special occasions-�onmarket-days and such like; and often besides when a good wind blew. Andvery grand it looked, as it floated in the tide of the wind. 

Often he paused in his work, and turned-�and oftener without raisinghimself he glanced towards the town; but no signal burned from theridge of Curly's house, and he went on with his labour. When called into tea, he gave a long wistful look townwards, but saw no sign. Outagain he went, but no blue fire rejoiced him that night with the newsthat Juno was ranging the streets; and he was forced to go to bed atlast, and take refuge from his disappointment in sleep. 

The next day he strictly questioned all his officers as to the mannerin which they had fulfilled their duty, and found no just cause ofcomplaint. 

"In future, " he said to Curly, with the importance of one who had theaffairs of boys and dogs upon his brain�-so that his style rose intoEnglish�-"in future, Curly, you may always know I am at home when yousee the red flag flying from my flag-staff. "

"That's o' sma' service, General, i' the lang forenichts. A body cannasee freely so far. "

"But Linkum wad see't fleein', lang or he wan to the yett (gate). "

"It wad flee nae mair nor a deid deuke i' this weather. It wad befrozen as stiff's a buird. "

"Ye gowk! Do ye think fowk wash their flags afore they hing them oot, like sarks or sheets? Dinna ye be ower clever, Curly, my man. "

Whereupon Curly shut up. 

******

"What are you in such a state about, Alec?" asked his mother. 

"Nothing very particular, mamma, " answered Alec, ashamed of his want ofself-command. 

"You've looked out at the window twenty times in the last half-hour, "she persisted. 

"Curly promised to burn a blue light, and I wanted to see if I couldsee it. "

Suspecting more, his mother was forced to be content with this answer. 

But that night was also passed without sight or sound. Juno kept safein her barrel, little thinking of the machinations against her in thewide snow-covered country around. Alec finished the Esquimaux hut, andthe snow falling all night, the hut looked the next morning as if ithad been there all the winter. As it seemed likely that a long spell ofwhite weather had set in, Alec resolved to extend his original plan, and carry a long snow passage, or covered vault, from thelattice-window of a small closet, almost on a level with the ground, tothis retreat by the flag-staff. He was hard at work in the execution ofthis project, on the third night, or rather late afternoon: they calledit _forenight_ there. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

"What can that be, mem, awa ower the toon there?" said Mary to hermistress, as in passing she peeped out of the window, the blind ofwhich Alec had drawn up behind the curtain. 

"What is it, Mary?"

"That's jist what I dinna ken, mem. It canna be the rory-bories, asAlec ca's them. It's ower blue. --It's oot. --It's in agin. --It's nocanny. --And, preserves a'! it's crackin' as weel, " cried Mary, as thesubdued sound of a far-off explosion reached her. 

This was of course no other than the roar of Curly's gun in the act ofbursting and vanishing; for neither stock, lock, nor barrel was everseen again. It left the world like a Norse king on his fire-ship. But, at the moment, Alec was too busy in the depths of his snow-vault tohear or see the signals. 

By-and-by a knock came to the kitchen door, Mary went and opened it. 

"Alec's at hame, I ken, " said a rosy boy, almost breathless with pastspeed and present excitement. 

"Hoo ken ye that, my man?" asked Mary. 

"'Cause the flag's fleein'. Whaur is he?"

"Gin ye ken sae muckle aboot him already, ye can jist fin' him toyersel'!"

"The bick's oot!" panted Linkum. 

But Mary shut the door. 

"Here's a job!" said Linkum to himself. "I canna gang throu a steekitdoor. And there's Juno wi' the rin o' the haill toun. Deil tak her!"

But at the moment he heard Alec whistling a favourite tune, as heshovelled away at the snow. 

"General!" cried Linkum, in ecstasy. 

"Here!" answered Alec, flinging his spade twenty feet from him, andbolting in the direction of the call. "Is't you, Linkum?"

"She's oot, General. "

"Deil hae her, gin ever she wins in again, the curst worryin' brute!Did ye gang to Curly?"

"Ay did I. He fired the gun, and brunt three blue lichts, and waitedseven minutes and a half; and syne he sent me for ye, General. "

"_Con_foon' 't, " cried Alec, and tore through shrubbery and hedge, thenearest way to the road, followed by Linkum, who even at full speed wasnot a match for Alec. Away they flew like the wind, along thewell-beaten path to the town, over the footbridge that crossed theGlamour, and full speed up the hill to Willie Macwha, who, with a dozenor fifteen more, was anxiously waiting for the commander. They all hadtheir book-bags, pockets, and arms filled with stones lately broken formending the turnpike road, mostly granite, but partly whinstone andflint. One bag was ready filled for Alec. 

"Noo, " said the General, in the tone of Gideon of old, "gin ony o' yebe fleyt at the brute, jist gang hame. "

"Ay! ay! General. "

But nobody stirred, for those who were afraid had slunk away the momentthey saw Alec coming up the hill, like the avenger of blood. 

"Wha's watchin' her?"

"Doddles, Gapy, and Goat. "

"Whaur was she last seen?"

"Takin' up wi' anither tyke on the squaure. "

"Doddles 'll be at the pump, to tell whaur's the ither twa and thetyke. "

"Come along, then. This is hoo ye're to gang. We maunna a' gangthegither. Some o' ye--you three--doon the Back Wynd; you sax, up LuckyHunter's Close; and the lave by Gowan Street; an' first at the pumpbides for the lave. "

"Hoo are we to mak the attack, General?"

"I'll gie my orders as the case may demand, " said Alec. 

And away they shot. 

The muffled sounds of the feet of the various companies as theythundered past upon the snow, roused the old wives dozing over theirknitting by their fires of spent oak-bark; and according to her temperwould be the remark with which each startled dame turned again to herformer busy quiescence:--"Some mischeef o' the loons!" "Some ploy o'the laddies!" "Some deevilry o' thae rascals frae Malison's school!"

They reached the square almost together, and found Doddles at the pump;who reported that Juno had gone down the inn-yard, and Gapey and Goatwere watching her. Now she must come out to get home again, for therewas no back-way; so by Alec's orders they dispersed a little to avoidobservation, and drew gradually between the entrance of the inn-yard, and the way Juno would take to go home. 

The town was ordinarily lighted at night with oil lamps, but moonlightand snow had rendered them for some time unnecessary. 

"Here she is! Here she is!" cried several at once in a hissing whisperof excitement. "Lat at her!"

"Haud still!" cried Alec. "Bide till I tell ye. Dinna ye see there'sLang Tam's dog wi' her, an' he's done naething. Ye maunna punish theinnocent wi' the guilty. "

A moment after the dogs took their leave of each other, and Juno went, at a slow slouching trot, in the direction of her own street. 

"Close in!" cried Alec. 

Juno found her way barred in a threatening manner, and sought to passmeekly by. 

"Lat at her, boys!" cried the General. 

A storm of stones was their answer to the order; and a howl of rage andpain burst from the animal. She turned; but found that she was thecentre of a circle of enemies. 

"Lat at her! Haud at her!" bawled Alec. 

And thick as hail the well-aimed stones flew from practised hands;though of course in the frantic rushes of the dog to escape, not halfof them took effect. She darted first at one and then at another, snapping wildly, and meeting with many a kick and blow in return. 

The neighbours began to look out at their shop-doors and their windows;for the boys, rapt in the excitement of the sport, no longer laid anyrestraint upon their cries. Andrew Constable, the clothier, from hisshop-door; Rob Guddle, the barber, from his window, with his faceshadowed by Annie's curls; Redford, the bookseller, from the top of thestairs that led to his shop; in short, the whole of the shopkeepers onthe square of Glamerton were regarding this battle of odds. Thehalf-frozen place looked half-alive. But none of the good folks caredmuch to interfere, for flying stones are not pleasant to encounter. Andindeed they could not clearly make out what was the matter. --In aminute more, a sudden lull came over the hubbub. They saw all the groupgather together in a murmuring knot. 

The fact was this. Although cowardly enough now, the brute, infuriatedwith pain, had made a determined rush at one of her antagonists, and ashort hand-to-teeth struggle was now taking place, during which thestoning ceased. 

"She has a grip o' my leg, " said Alec quietly; "and I hae a grip o' herthroat. Curly, pit yer han' i' my jacket-pooch, an' tak' oot a bittowie ye'll fin' there. "

Curly did as he was desired, and drew out a yard and a half ofgarden-line. 

"Jist pit it wi' ae single k-not roon' her neck, an' twa three o' yetak' a haud at ilka en', and pu' for the life o' ye!"

They hauled with hearty vigour, Juno's teeth relaxed their hold ofAlec's calf; in another minute her tongue was hanging out her mouth, and when they ceased the strain she lay limp on the snow. With a shoutof triumph, they started off at full speed, dragging the brute by theneck through the street. Alec essayed to follow them; but found his legtoo painful; and was forced to go limping home. 

When the victors had run till they were out of breath, they stopped toconfer; and the result of their conference was that in solemn silencethey drew her home to the back gate, and finding all still in the yard, deputed two of their company to lay the dead body in its kennel. 

Curly and Linkum drew her into the yard, tumbled her into her barrel, which they set up on end, undid the string, and left Juno lying neckand tail together in ignominious peace. 

"Before Alec reached home his leg had swollen very much, and was sopainful that he could hardly limp along; for Juno had taken no passingsnap, but a great strong mouthful. He concealed his condition from hismother for that night; but next morning his leg was so bad, that therewas no longer a possibility of hiding the fact. To tell a lie wouldhave been so hard for Alec, that he had scarcely any merit in nottelling one. So there was nothing for it but confession. His motherscolded him to a degree considerably beyond her own sense of the wrong, telling him he would get her into disgrace in the town as the mother ofa lawless son, who meddled with other people's property in a way littlebetter than stealing. 

"I fancy, mamma, a loun's legs are aboot as muckle his ain property asthe tyke was Rob Bruce's. It's no the first time she's bitten half adizzen legs that were neither her ain nor her maister's. "

Mrs Forbes could not well answer this argument; so she took advantageof the fact that Alec had, in the excitement of self-defence, lapsedinto Scotch. 

"Don't talk so vulgarly to me, Alec, " she said; "keep that for yourill-behaved companions in the town. "

"They are no worse than I am, mamma. _I_ was at the bottom of it. "

"I never said they were, " she answered. 

But in her heart she thought if they were not, there was little amisswith them. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Alec was once more condemned to the sofa, and Annie had to miss him, and wonder what had become of him. She always felt safe when Alec wasthere, and when he was not she grew timid; although whole days wouldsometimes pass without either speaking to the other. But before themorning was over she learned the reason of his absence. 

For about noon, when all was tolerably harmonious in the school, thedoor opened, and the face of Robert Bruce appeared, with gleaming eyesof wrath. 

"Guid preserve's!" said Scrumpie to his next neighbour. "Sic a hidin'as we s' a' get! Here's Rob Bruce! Wha's gane and tell't him?"

But some of the gang of conspirators, standing in a class near thedoor, stared in horror. Amongst them was Curly. His companions declaredafterwards that had it not been for the strength of the curl, his hairwould have stood upright. For, following Bruce, led in fact by astring, came an awful apparition--Juno herself, a pitiable mass ofcaninity--looking like the resuscitated corpse of a dog that had beennine days buried, crowded with lumps, and speckled with cuts, going onthree legs, and having her head and throat swollen to a size pastrecognition. 

"She's no deid efter a'! Deil tak' her! for he's in her, " said Doddles. 

"We haena killed her eneuch, " said Curly. 

"I tell't ye, Curly! Ye had little ado to lowse the tow. She wad ha'been as deid afore the mornin' as Lucky Gordon's cat that ye cuttit theheid aff o', " said Linkum. 

"Eh! but she luiks bonnie!" said Curly, trying to shake off his dismay. "Man, we'll hae't a' to do ower again. Sic fun!"

But he could not help looking a little rueful when Linkum expressed awish that they were themselves well through with their share of thekilling. 

And now the storm began to break. The master had gone to the door andshaken hands with his visitor, glancing a puzzled interrogation at themiserable animal in the string, which had just shape enough left toshow that it was a dog. 

"I'm verra sorry, Maister Malison, to come to you wi' my complaints, "said Bruce; "but jist luik at the puir dumb animal! She cudna comehersel', an' sae I bude to bring her. Stan' still, ye brute!"

For Juno having caught sight of some boy-legs, through a corner of oneeye not quite _bunged up_, began to tug at the string with feebleearnestness-�no longer, however, regarding the said legs as made fordogs to bite, but as fearful instruments of vengeance, in league withstones and cords. So the straining and pulling was all homewards. Buther master had brought her as chief witness against the boys, and shemust remain where she was. 

"Eh, lass!" he said, hauling her back by the string; "gin ye had butthe tongue o' the prophet's ass, ye wad sune pint out the rascals thatmisguided and misgrugled ye that gait. But here's the just judgethat'll gie ye yer richts, and that wi'oot fee or reward. --Mr Malison, she was ane o' the bonniest bicks ye cud set yer ee upo'--"

A smothered laugh gurgled through the room. 

-�"till some o' your loons--nae offence, sir--I ken weel eneuch they'reno yours, nor a bit like ye--some o' your peowpils, sir, hae jist ca'd(driven) the sowl oot o' her wi' stanes. "

"Whaur does the sowl o' a bitch bide?" asked Goat, in a whisper, of hisneighbour. 

"De'il kens, " answered Gapey; "gin it binna i' the boddom o' RobBruce's wame. "

The master's wrath, ready enough to rise against boys and all theirworks, now showed itself in the growing redness of his face. This wasnot one of his worst passions--in them, he grew white--for the injuryhad not been done to himself. 

"Can you tell me which of them did it?"

"No, sir. There maun hae been mair nor twa or three at it, or she wadhae worried them. The best-natered beast i' the toon!"

"William Macwha, " cried Malison. 

"Here, sir. "

"Come up. "

Willie ascended to the august presence. He had made up his mind that, seeing so many had known all about it, and some of them had turnedcowards, it would be of no service to deny the deed. 

"Do you know anything about this cruelty to the poor dog, William?"said the master. 

Willie gave a Scotchman's answer, which, while evasive, was yet answerand more. 

"She bet me, sir. "

"When? While you were stoning her?"

"No, sir. A month ago. "

"Ye're a leein' vratch, Willie Macwha, as ye weel ken i' yer ainconscience!" cried Bruce. "She's the quaietest, kin'list beast 'at everwas wholpit. See, sir; jist luik ye here. She'll lat me pit my han' inher mou', an' tak' no more notice nor gin it was her ain tongue. "

Now whether it was that the said tongue was still swollen and painful, or that Juno, conscious of her own ill deserts, disapproved of thewhole proceeding, I cannot tell; but the result of this proof of hertemper was that she made her teeth meet through Bruce's hand. 

"Damn the bitch!" he roared, snatching it away with the blood beginningto flow. 

A laugh, not smothered this time, billowed and broke through the wholeschool; for the fact that Bruce should be caught swearing, added to theyet more delightful fact that Juno had bitten her master, wasaltogether too much. 

"Eh! isna't weel we didna kill her efter a'?" said Curly. 

"Guid doggie!" said another, patting his own knee, as if to entice herto come and be caressed. 

"At him again, Juno!" said a third. 

"I'll gie her a piece the neist time I see her, " said Curly. 

Bruce, writhing with pain, and mortified at the result of his ocularproof of Juno's incapability of biting, still more mortified at havingso far forgotten himself as to utter an oath, and altogetherdiscomfited by the laughter, turned away in confusion. 

"It's a' their wyte, the baad boys! She never did the like afore. Theyhae ruined her temper, " he said, as he left the school, following Juno, which was tugging away at the string as if she had been a blind man'sdog. 

"Well, what have you to say for yourself, William?" said Malison. 

"She began 't, sir. "

This best of excuses would not, however, satisfy the master. Thepunishing mania had possibly taken fresh hold upon him. But he wouldput more questions first. 

"Who besides you tortured the poor animal?"

Curly was silent. He had neither a very high sense of honour, nor anyprinciples to come and go upon; but he had a considerable amount ofdevotion to his party, which is the highest form of conscience to befound in many. 

"Tell me their names, sir?"

Curly was still silent. 

But a white-headed urchin, whom innumerable whippings, not bribes, hadcorrupted, cried out in a wavering voice:

"Sanny Forbes was ane o' them; an' he's no here, 'cause Juno worriedhim. "

The poor creature gained little by his treachery; for the smallest ofthe conspirators fell on him when school was over, and gave him athrashing, which he deserved more than ever one of Malison's. 

But the effect of Alec's name on the master was talismanic. He changedhis manner at once, sent Curly to his seat, and nothing more was heardof Juno or her master. 

The opposite neighbours stared across, the next morning, in bewilderedastonishment, at the place where the shop of Robert Bruce had been wontto invite the public to enter and buy. Had it been possible for anavalanche to fall like a thunderbolt from the heavens, they would havesupposed that one had fallen in the night, and overwhelmed the house. Door and windows were invisible, buried with the rude pavement in frontbeneath a mass of snow. Spades and shovels in boys' hands had been busyfor hours during the night, throwing it up against the house, the doorhaving first been blocked up with a huge ball, which they had rolled insilence the whole length of the long street. 

Bruce and his wife slept in a little room immediately behind the shop, that they might watch over their treasures; and Bruce's first movementin the morning was always into the shop to unbolt the door and takedown the shutters. His astonishment when he looked upon a blank wall ofsnow may be imagined. He did not question that the whole town wassimilarly overwhelmed. Such a snow-storm had never been heard ofbefore, and he thought with uneasy recollection of the oath he haduttered in the school-room; imagining for a moment that the whole ofGlamerton lay overwhelmed by the divine wrath, because he had, underthe agony of a bite from his own dog, consigned her to a quarter wheredogs and children are not admitted. In his bewilderment, he calledaloud:

"Nancy! Robbie! Johnnie! We're a' beeriet alive!"

"Preserve's a', Robert! what's happent?" cried his wife, rushing fromthe kitchen. 

"I'm no beeriet, that I ken o', " cried Robert the younger, enteringfrom the yard. 

His father rushed to the back-door, and, to his astonishment andrelief, saw the whole world about him. It was a private judgment, then, upon him and his shop. And so it was--a very private judgment. Probablyit was the result of his meditations upon it, that he never aftercarried complaints to Murdoch Malison. 

Alec Forbes had nothing to do with this revenge. But Bruce alwaysthought he was at the bottom of it, and hated him the more. He dislikedall _loons_ but his own; for was not the spirit of _loons_ the veryantipodes to that of money-making? But Alec Forbes he hated, for he wasthe very antipode to Robert Bruce himself. Mrs Bruce always followedher husband's lead, being capable only of two devotions--the one to herhusband and children, the other to the shop. --Of Annie they highly andrighteously disapproved, partly because they had to feed her, andpartly because she was friendly with Alec. This disapproval rose intodislike after their sons had told them that it was because Juno hadbitten her that the boys of the school, with Alec for a leader, hadserved her as they had. But it was productive of no disadvantage toher; for it could not take any active form because of the money-bondbetween them, while its negative operation gave rise chiefly toneglect, and so left her more at liberty, to enjoy herself as she couldafter her own fashion. 

For the rest of Juno's existence, the moment she caught sight of a boyshe fled as fast as her four bow-legs would carry her, not daring evento let her tail stick out behind her, lest it should afford a handleagainst her. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

When Annie heard that Alec had been bitten she was miserable. She knewhis bite must be worse than hers, or he would not be kept at home. Might she not venture to go and see him again? The modesty of amaidenly child made her fear to intrude; but she could not constrainher feet from following the path to his house. And as it was very dusk, what harm could there be in going just inside the gate, and on to thegreen? Through the parlour windows she saw the fire burning bright, anda shadow moving across the walls and the ceiling; but she could notmake up her mind to knock at the door, for she was afraid of MrsForbes, notwithstanding her kindness. So she wandered on--for herethere was no dog--wondering what that curious long mound of snow, withthe round heap at the end, by the flag-staff, could be? What could Alechave made it for? Examining it closely all along, she came to the endof it next the house, and looking round, saw that it was hollow. Without a moment's thought, for she had no fear of Alec, she entered. The passage was dark, but she groped her way, on and on, till she cameto the cell at the end. Here a faint ghostly light glimmered; for Alechad cleared a small funnel upwards through the roof, almost to theoutside, so that a thin light filtered through a film of snow. Thislight being reflected from the white surface of the cave, showed it allthrobbing about her with a faint bluish white, ever and anon whelmed inthe darkness and again glimmering out through its folds. She seatedherself on a ledge of snow that ran all round the foundation. It wasnot so cold here as in the outer air, where a light frosty wind wasblowing across the world of snow. And she had not sat long, before, according to her custom when left to herself, she fell fast asleep. 

Meantime Alec, his mother having gone to the town, was sitting alone, finishing, by the light of the fire, the last of a story. At length thedreariness of an ended tale was about him, and he felt the inactivityto which he had been compelled all day no longer tolerable. He would goand see how his snow-chamber looked by candlelight. His mother had toldhim not to go out; but that, he reasoned, could hardly be called goingout, when there was not more than a yard of open air to cross. So hegot a candle, was out of the window in a moment, notwithstanding hislameness, and crept through the long vault of snow towards the inmostrecess. As he approached the end he started. Could he believe his eyes?A figure was there--motionless--dead perhaps. He went on--he wentin--and there he saw Annie, leaning against the white wall, with herwhite face turned up to the frozen ceiling. She might have been thefrost-queen, the spirit that made the snow, and built the hut, anddwelt in it; for all the powers that vivify nature must be children. The popular imagination seems to have caught this truth, for all thefairies and gnomes and goblins, yes, the great giants too, are onlydifferent sizes, shapes, and characters of children. But I havewandered from Alec's thoughts into my own. He knew it was Annie, and nostrange creature of the elements. And if he had not come, she mighthave slept on till her sleep was too deep for any voice of the world torouse her. 

It was, even then, with difficulty that he woke her. He took hold ofher hands, but she did not move. He sat down, took her in his arms, spoke to her--got frightened and shook her, but she would not open hereyes. Her long dark eyelashes sloped still upon her white cheek, likethe low branches of a cedar upon the lawn at its foot. But he knew shewas not dead yet, for he could feel her heart beating. At length shelifted her eyelids, looked up in his face, gave a low happy laugh, likethe laugh of a dreaming child, and was fast asleep again in a moment. 

Alec hesitated no longer. He rose with her in his arms, carried herinto the parlour, and laid her down on the rug before the fire, with asofa-pillow under her head. There she might have her sleep out. WhenMrs Forbes came home she found Alec reading, and Annie sleeping by thefireside. Before his mother had recovered from her surprise, and whileshe was yet staring at the lovely little apparition, Alec had the firstword. 

"Mamma!" he said, "I found her sleeping in my snow hut there; and if Ihad not brought her in, she would have been dead by this time. "

"Poor little darling!" thought Mrs Forbes; but she was Scotch, andtherefore she did not say it. But she stooped, and drew the child backfrom the fire, lest she should have her face scorched, and after makingthe tea, proceeded to put off her bonnet and shawl. By the time she hadgot rid of them, Annie was beginning to move, and Alec rose to go toher. 

"Let her alone, " said his mother. "Let her come to herself by degrees. Come to the table. "

Alec obeyed. They could see that Annie had opened her eyes, and laystaring at the fire. What was she thinking about? She had fallen asleepin the snow-hut, and here she was by a bright fire!

"Annie, dear, come to your tea, " were the first words she heard. Sherose and went, and sat down at the table with a smile, taking it all asthe gift of God, or a good dream, and never asking how she had come tobe so happy. 

CHAPTER XX. 

The spirit of mischief had never been so thoroughly aroused in theyouth of Glamerton as it was this winter. The snow lay very deep, whilealmost every day a fresh fall added to its depth, and this renderedsome of their winter-amusements impossible; while not many of them hadthe imagination of Alec Forbes to suggest new ones. At the same timethe cold increased, and strengthened their impulses to muscularexertion. 

"Thae loons are jist growin' perfect deevils, " said Charlie Chapman, the wool-carder, as he bolted into his own shop, with the remains of asnowball melting down the back of his neck. "We maun hae anitherconstable to haud them in order. "

The existing force was composed of one long-legged, short-bodied, middle-aged man, who was so slow in his motions, apparently from theweight of his feet, which were always dragging behind him, that theboys called him Stumpin' Steenie (dim. For "Stephen"), and stood in nomore awe of him than they did of his old cow--which, her owner being awidower, they called _Mrs Stephen_--when she went up the street, hardlyable to waddle along for the weight of her udder. So there was somelittle ground for the wool-carder's remark. How much a second constablewould have availed, however, is doubtful. 

"I never saw sic widdiefows!" (gallows-birds), chimed in a farmer'swife who was standing in the shop. "They had a tow across the Wast Wyndi' the snaw, an' doon I cam o' my niz, as sure's your name's CharlesChapman--and mair o' my legs oot o' my coats, I doobt, than wasa'thegither to my credit. "

"I'm sure ye can hae no rizzon to tak' shame o' your legs, gude wife, "was the gallant rejoinder; to which their owner replied, with a laugh:

"They warna made for public inspection, ony gait. "

"Hoot! hoot! Naebody saw them. I s' warran' ye didna lie lang! But thaeloons--they're jist past a'! Heard ye hoo they saired Rob Bruce?"

"Fegs! they tell me they a' but buried him alive. "

"Ow! ay. But it's a later story, the last. "

"It's a pity there's no a dizzen or twa o' them in Awbrahawm'sboasom. --What did they till him neist?"

Here Andrew Constable dropped in, and Chapman turned towards him withthe question:

"Did _ye_ hear, Mr Constable, what the loons did to Robert Bruce thenicht afore last?"

"No. What was that? They hae a spite at puir Rob, I believe. "

"Weel, it didna look a'thegither like respeck, I maun alloo. --I wasstannin' at the coonter o' his shop waitin' for an unce o' sneeshin';and Robert he was servin' a bit bairnie ower the coouter wi' apennyworth o' triacle, when, in a jiffey, there cam' sic a blast, an' areek fit to smore ye, oot o' the bit fire, an' the shop was fu' o'reek, afore ye could hae pitten the pint o' ae thoom upo' the pint o'the ither. 'Preserve's a'!' cried Rob; but or he could say anitherword, butt the house, scushlin in her bauchles, comes Nancy, rinnin', an' opens the door wi' a scraich: 'Preserve's a'!' quo' she, 'Robert, the lum's in a low!' An' fegs! atween the twa reeks, to sunder them, there was nothing but Nancy hersel. The hoose was as fu' as it cudhaud, frae cellar to garret, o' the blackest reek 'at ever crap oot o'coal. Oot we ran, an' it was a sicht to see the crater wi' his langneck luikin' up at the chimleys. But deil a spark cam' oot o' them--orreek either, for that maitter. It was easy to see what was amiss. Theloons had been o' the riggin, and flung a han'fu' o' blastin' powtherdown ilka smokin' chimley, and syne clappit a divot or a truf upo' themou' o' 't. Deil ane o' them was in sicht, but I doobt gin ony o' themwas far awa'. There was naething for't but get a ladder, and jist gangup an' tak aff the pot-lids. But eh! puir Robert was jist rampin' wi'rage! No 'at he said muckle, for he daur hardly open his mou' forsweerin'; and Robert wadna sweer, ye ken; but he was neither to haudnor bin'. "

"What laddies war they, Charles, do ye ken?" asked Andrew. 

"There's a heap o' them up to tricks. Gin I haena the rheumateesescrewin' awa' atween my shoothers the nicht it wonna be their fau'ts;for as I cam' ower frae the ironmonger's there, I jist got a ba' i' thehow o' my neck, 'at amaist sent me howkin' wi' my snoot i' the snaw. And there it stack, and at this preceese moment it's rinnin' doon thesma' o' my back as gin 't war a burnie doon a hillside. We maun haemair constables!"

"Hoot! toot! Charles. Ye dinna want a constable to dry yer back. Gangto the gudewife wi' 't, " said Andrew, "she'll gie ye a dry sark. Na, na. Lat the laddies work it aff. As lang's they haud their han's fraewhat doesna belang to them, I dinna min' a bit ploy noo and than. They'll noo turn oot the waur men for a pliskie or twa. "

The fact was, none of the boys would have dreamed of interfering withAndrew Constable. Everybody respected him; not because he was an elderof the kirk, but because he was a good-tempered, kindly, honest man; orto sum up all in one word--_a douce chield_--by which word _douce_ isindicated every sort of propriety of behaviour--a virtue greatlyesteemed by the Scotch. This adjective was universally applied toAndrew. 

While Alec was confined to the house, he had been busy inventing allkinds of employments for the period of the snow. His lessons neveroccupied much of his thoughts, and no pains having yet been taken todiscover in what direction his tastes inclined him, he had of course tocater for himself. The first day of his return, when school was over, he set off rejoicing in his freedom, for a ramble through the snow, still revolving what he was to do next; for he wanted some steadyemployment with an end in view. In the course of his solitary walk, hecame to the Wan Water, the other river that flowed through the widevalley--and wan enough it was now with its snow-sheet over it! As hestood looking at its still, dead face, and lamenting that the snow laytoo deep over the ice to admit of skating, by a sudden reaction, asummer-vision of the live water arose before him; and he thought howdelightful it would be to go sailing down the sparkling ripples, withthe green fields all about him, and the hot afternoon sun over hishead. That would be better even than scudding along it on his skates. His next thought was at once an idea and a resolve. Why should he notbuild a boat? He _would_ build a boat. He would set about itdirectly. --Here was work for the rest of the winter!

His first step must be to go home and have his dinner; his next--toconsult George Macwha, who had been a ship-carpenter in his youth. Hewould run over in the evening before George should have dropped work, and commit the plan to his judgment. 

In the evening, then, Alec reached the town, on his way to GeorgeMacwha. It was a still lovely night, clear and frosty, with--yes, therewere--millions of stars overhead. Away in the north, the streamers wereshooting hither and thither, with marvellous evanescence andre-generation. No dance of goblins could be more lawless in itsgrotesqueness than this dance of the northern lights in their etherealbeauty, shining, with a wild ghostly changefulness and feebleness, allcolours at once; now here, now there, like a row of slenderorgan-pipes, rolling out and in and along the sky. Or they might havebeen the chords of some gigantic stringed instrument, which chordsbecame visible only when mighty hands of music struck their keys andset them vibrating; so that, as the hands swept up and down the Titanickey-board, the chords themselves seemed to roll along the heavens, though in truth some vanished here and others appeared yonder. Up anddown they darted, and away and back--and always in the direction he didnot expect them to take. He thought he heard them crackle, and he stoodstill to listen; but he could not be sure that it was not the snowsinking and _crisping_ beneath his feet. All around him was still as aworld too long frozen: in the heavens alone was there motion. Therethis entrancing dance of colour and shape went on, wide beneath, andtapering up to the zenith! Truly there was revelry in heaven! One mighthave thought that a prodigal son had just got home, and that the musicand the dancing had begun, of which only the far-off rhythmic shinecould reach the human sense; for a dance in heaven might well showitself in colour to the eyes of men. --Alec went on till the lights fromthe windows of the town began to throw shadows across the snow. Thestreet was empty. From end to end nothing moved but an occasionalshadow. As he came near to Macwha's shop, he had to pass a row ofcottages which stood with their backs to a steep slope. Here too allwas silent as a frozen city. But when he was about opposite the middleof the row, he heard a stifled laugh, and then a kind of muffled soundas of hurrying steps, and, in a moment after, every door in the row wastorn open, and out bolted the inhabitants--here an old woman, haltingon a stick as she came, there a shoemaker, with last and awl in hishands, here a tailor with his shears, and there a whole family ofseveral trades and ages. Every one rushed into the middle of the road, turned right round and looked up. Then arose such a clamour of tongues, that it broke on the still air like a storm. 

"What's ado, Betty?" asked Alec of a decrepit old creature, bent almostdouble with rheumatism, who was trying hard to see something or otherin the air or on the roof of her cottage. 

But before she could speak, the answer came in another form, addressingitself to his nose instead of his ears. For out of the cottages floatedclouds of smoke, pervading the air with a variety of scents--of burningoak-bark, of burning leather-cuttings, of damp fire-wood and peat, ofthe cooking of red herrings, of the boiling of porridge, of the bakingof oat-cake, &c. , &c. Happily for all the inhabitants, "thae deevils o'loons" had used no powder here. 

But the old woman, looking round when Alec spoke, and seeing that hewas one of the obnoxious school-boys, broke out thus:

"Gang an' tak the divot (turf) aff o' my lum, Alec, there's a goodlaad! Ye sudna play sic tricks on puir auld bodies like me, nearbrackin' in twa wi' the rheumateeze. I'm jist greetin' wi' the reek i'my auld een. "

And as she spoke she wiped her eyes with her apron. 

Alec did not wait to clear himself of an accusation so gently put, butwas on the roof of Luckie Lapp's cottage before she had finished herappeal to his generosity. He took the "divot aff o' her lum" andpitched it half way down the brae, at the back of the cottage. Then hescrambled from one chimney to the other, and went on pitching the sodsdown the hill. At length two of the inhabitants, who had climbed up atthe other end of the row, met him, and taking him for a repentantsinner at best, made him prisoner, much to his amusement, and broughthim down, protesting that it was too bad of gentle-folk's sons topersecute the poor in that way. 

"I didn't do it, " said Alec. 

"Dinna lee, " was the curt rejoinder. 

"I'm no leein'. "

"Wha did it, than?"

"I can guiss; an' it shanna happen again, gin I can help it. "

"Tell's wha did it, than. "

"I wonno say names. "

"He's ane o' them. "

"The foul thief tak him! I s' gie him a hidin', " said a burly sutor(shoemaker) coming up. "Thae loons are no to be borne wi' ony langer. "

And he caught Alec by the arm. 

"I didn't do it, " persisted Alec. 

"Wha killed Rob Bruce's dog?" asked the sutor, squeezing Alec's arm topoint the question. 

"I did, " answered Alec; "and I will do yours the same guid turn, gin heworries bairns. "

"And quite richt, too!" said the sutor's wife. "Lat him gang, Donal. I'll be boun' he's no ane o' them. "

"Tell's a' aboot it, than. Hoo cam ye up there?"

"I gaed up to tak the divot aff o' Lucky Lapp's lum. Spier at her. Anceup I thocht I micht gie the lave o' ye a gude turn, and this is a' Iget for't. "

"Weel, weel! Come in and warm ye, than, " said the shoemaker, convincedat last. 

So Alec went in and had a chat with them, and then went on to GeorgeMacwha's. 

The carpenter took to his scheme at once. Alec was a fair hand at allsorts of tool-work; and being on the friendliest terms with Macwha, itwas soon arranged that the keel should be laid in the end of theworkshop, and that, under George's directions, and what help Williechose to render, Alec should build his boat himself. Just as theyconcluded these preliminaries, in came Willie, wiping some traces ofblood from his nose. He made a pantomimic gesture of vengeance at Alec. 

"What hae ye been efter noo, laddie?" asked his father. 

"Alec's jist gien me a bluidy nose, " said Willie. 

"Hoo cam' that aboot? Ye weel deserved it, I hae nae doobt. Jist giehim anither whan he wants it, Alec. "

"What do ye mean, Curly?" asked Alec in amazement. 

"Yon divot 'at ye flang aff o' Luckie Lapp's riggin', " said Curly, "cam' richt o' the back o' my heid, as I lay o' the brae, and dang theblude oot at my niz. That's a'. --Ye'll preten' ye didna see me, naedoobt. "

"I say, Curly, " said Alec, putting his arm round his shoulders, andleading him aside, "we maun hae nae mair o' this kin' o' wark. It's adam't shame! Do ye see nae differ atween chokin' an ill-faured tyke an'chokin' a puir widow's lum?"

"'Twas only for fun. "

"It's ill fun that baith sides canna lauch at, Curly. "

"Rob Bruce wasna lauchin' whan he brocht the bick to the schuil, noryet whan he gaed hame again. "

"That was nae fun, Curly. That was doonricht earnest. "

"Weel, weel, Alec; say nae mair aboot it. "

"No more I will. But gin I was you, Curly, I wad tak Lucky a seck o'spales the morn. "

"I'll tak them the nicht, Alec. --Father, hae ye an auld seck ony gait?"

"There's ane up i' the laft. What want ye wi' a seck?"

But Curly was in the loft almost before the question had left hisfather's lips. He was down again in a moment, and on his knees fillingthe sack with shavings and all the chips he could find. 

"Gie's a han' up wi't, Alec, " he said. 

And in a moment more Curly was off to Widow Lapp with his bag offiring. 

"He's a fine chield that Willie o' yours, George, " said Alec to thefather. "He only wants to hae a thing weel pitten afore him, an' hejist acts upo' 't direckly. 

"It's weel he maks a cronie o' you, Alec. There's a heap o' mischeef inhim. Whaur's he aff wi thae spells?"

Alec told the story, much to the satisfaction of George, who couldappreciate the repentance of his son; although he was "nane o' the uncoguid" himself. From that day he thought more of his son, and of Alec aswell. 

"Noo, Curly, " said Alec, as soon as he re-appeared with the empty sack, "yer father's gaein to lat me big a boat, an' ye maun help me. "

"What's the use o' a boat i' this weather?" said Curly. 

"Ye gomeril!" returned his father; ye never luik an inch afore the pinto' yer ain neb. Ye wadna think o' a boat afore the spring; an' haith!the summer wad be ower, an' the water frozen again, afore ye had itbiggit. Luik at Alec there. He's worth ten o' you. 

"I ken that ilka bit as weel's ye do, father. Jist set's aff wi' 't, father. "

"I canna attend till't jist i' the noo; but I s' set ye aff wi' 't themorn's nicht. "

So here was an end to the troubles of the townsfolks from the _loons_, and without any increase of the constabulary force; for Curly beingwithdrawn, there was no one else of sufficiently inventive energy totake the lead, and the loons ceased to be dangerous to the peace of thecommunity. Curly soon had both his head and his hands quite occupiedwith boat-building. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Every afternoon, now, the moment dinner was over, Alec set off for theworkshop, and did not return till eight o'clock, or sometimes later. Mrs Forbes did not at all relish this change in his habits; but she hadthe good sense not to interfere. 

One day he persuaded her to go with him, and see how the boat wasgetting on. This enticed her into some sympathy with his new pursuit. For there was the boat--a skeleton it is true, and not nearly ready yetfor the clothing of its planks, or its final skin of paint--yet anundeniable boat to the motherly eye of hope. And there were Alec andWillie working away before her eyes, doing their best to fulfil thepromise of its looks. A little quiet chat she had with George Macwha, in which he poured forth the praises of her boy, did not a little, aswell, to reconcile her to his desertion of her. 

"Deed, mem, " said George, whose acquaintance with Scripture was neitherextensive nor precise, "to my mind he's jist a fulfilment o' theprophecee, 'An auld heid upo' young shouthers;' though I canna richtlymin' whilk o' the lesser prophets it is that conteens 't. "

But Mrs Forbes never saw a little figure, lying in a corner, half-buried in wood-shavings, and utterly unconscious of her presence, being fast asleep. 

This was, of course, Annie Anderson, who having heard of the newoccupation of her hero, had, one afternoon, three weeks before MrsForbes's visit, found herself at George's shop door, she hardly knewhow. It seemed to her that she had followed her feet, and they hadtaken her there before she knew where they were going. Peeping in, shewatched Alec and Willie for some time at their work, without venturingto show herself. But George, who came up behind her as she stood, andperceived her interest in the operations of the boys, took her by thehand, and led her in, saying kindly:

"Here's a new apprentice, Alec. She wants to learn boat-biggin. "

"Ou! Annie, is that you, lassie? Come awa', " said Alec. "There's a fineheap o' spales ye can sit upo', and see what we're aboot. "

And so saying he seated her on the shavings, and half-buried her withan armful more to keep her warm. 

"Put to the door, Willie, " he added. "She'll be cauld. She's noworkin', ye see. "

Whereupon Willie shut the door, and Annie found herself verycomfortable indeed. There she sat, in perfect contentment, watching theprogress of the boat--a progress not very perceptible to herinexperienced eyes, for the building of a boat is like the building ofa city or the making of a book: it turns out a boat at last. But aftershe had sat for a good while in silence, she looked up at Alec, andsaid:

"Is there naething I can do to help ye, Alec?"

"Naething, Annie. Lassies canna saw or plane, ye ken. Ye wad tak' affyer ain lugs in a jiffey. "

Again she was silent for a long time; and then, with a sigh, she lookedup and said:

"Alec, I'm so cauld!"

"I'll bring my plaid to row ye in the morn's nicht. "

Annie's heart bounded for joy; for here was what amounted to an expressinvitation for to-morrow. 

"But, " Alec went on, "come wi' me, and we'll sune get ye warm again. Gie's yer han'. "

Annie gave Alec her hand; and he lifted her out of her heap of spales, and led her away. She never thought of asking where he was leading her. They had not gone far down the _close_, when a roaring sound fell uponher ear, growing louder and louder as they went on; till, turning asharp corner, there they saw the smithy fire. The door of the smithywas open, and they could see the smith at work some distance off. Thefire glowed with gathered rage at the impudence of the bellows blowingin its face. The huge smith, with one arm flung affectionately over theshoulder of the insulting party, urged it to the contest; while hestirred up the other to increased ferocity, by poking a piece of ironinto the very middle of it. How the angry glare started out of it andstared all the murky _smiddy_ in the face, showing such gloomy holesand corners in it, and such a lot of horse-shoes hung up close to theroof, ready to be fitted for unbelievable horse-wear; and making thesmith's face and bare arms glow with a dusky red, like hot metal, as ifhe were the gnome-king of molten iron. Then he stooped, and took upsome coal dust in a little shovel, and patted it down over the fire, and blew stronger than ever, and the sparks flew out with the rage ofthe fire. Annie was delighted to look at it; but there was a certainfierceness about the whole affair that made her shrink from goingnearer; and she could not help feeling a little afraid of the giantsmith in particular, with his brawny arms that twisted and torturediron bars all day long, --and his black angry-looking face, that seemedfor ever fighting with fire and stiff-necked metal His very look intothe forge-fire ought to have been enough to put it out of countenance. Perhaps that was why it was so necessary to keep blowing and poking atit. Again he stooped, caught up a great iron spoon, dipped it into atub of water, and poured the spoonful on the fire--a fresh insult, atwhich it hissed and sputtered, like one of the fiery flying serpents ofwhich she had read in her Bible--gigantic, dragon-like creatures to herimagination--in a perfect insanity of fury. But not the slightestmotion of her hand lying in Alec's, indicated reluctance, as he led herinto the shop, and right up to the wrathful man, saying:

"Peter Whaup, here's a lassie 'at's 'maist frozen to deid wi' cauld. Will ye tak' her in and lat her stan' by your ingle-neuk, and warmhersel'?"

"I'll do that, Alec. Come in by, my bairn. What ca' they ye?"

"Annie Anderson. "

"Ow, ay! I ken a' aboot ye weel eneuch. Ye can lea' her wi' me, Alec;I'll luik efter her. "

"I maun gang back to my boat, Annie, " said Alec, then, apologetically, "but I'll come in for ye again. "

So Annie was left with the smith, of whom she was not the least afraid, now that she had heard him speak. With his leathern apron, caught up inboth hands, he swept a space on the front of the elevated hearth of theforge, clear of cinders and dust, and then, having wiped his hands onthe same apron, lifted the girl as tenderly as if she had been a baby, and set her down on this spot, about a yard from the fire, on a levelwith it; and there she sat, in front of the smith, looking at the fireand the smith and the work he was about, in turns. He asked her a greatmany questions about herself and the Bruces, and her former life athome; and every question he asked he put in a yet kindlier voice. Sometimes he would stop in the middle of blowing, and lean forward withhis arm on the handle of the bellows, and look full in the child's facetill she had done answering him, with eyes that shone in the firelightas if the tears would have gathered, but could not for the heat. 

"Ay! ay!" he would say, when she had answered him, and resume hisblowing, slowly and dreamily. For this terrible smith's heart was justlike his fire. He was a dreadful fellow for fighting and quarrellingwhen he got a drop too much, which was rather too often, if the truthmust be told; but to this little woman-child his ways were as soft andtender as a woman's: he could burn or warm. 

"An' sae ye likit bein' at the ferm best?" he said. 

"Ay. But ye see my father deid--"

"I ken that, my bairn. The Lord haud a grip o' ye!"

It was not often that Peter Whaup indulged in a pious ejaculation. Butthis was a genuine one, and may be worth recording for the sake ofAnnie's answer:

"I'm thinkin' he hauds a grip o' us a', Mr Whaup. "

And then she told him the story about the rats and the cat; for hardlya day passed just at this time without her not merely recalling it, butreflecting upon it. And the smith drew the back of his hand across bothhis eyes when she had done, and then pressed them both hard with thethumb and forefinger of his right hand, as if they ached, while hisother arm went blowing away as if nothing was the matter but plenty ofwind for the forge-fire. Then he pulled out the red-hot _gad_, or ironbar, which he seemed to have forgotten ever since Annie came in, and, standing with his back to her to protect her from the sparks, put it onhis anvil, and began to lay on it, as if in a fury; while the sparksflew from his blows as if in mortal terror of the angry man that waspelting at the luminous glory laid thus submissive before him. In fact, Peter was attempting to hammer out more things than one, upon that_study_ of his; for in Scotland they call a smith's anvil a study, sothat he ranks with other artists in that respect. Then, as if anxiousto hear the child speak yet again, he said, putting the iron once morein the fire, and proceeding to rouse the wrath of the coals:

"Ye kent Jeames Dow, than?"

"Ay; weel that. I kent Dooie as weel as Broonie. "

"Wha was Broonie?"

"Ow! naebody but my ain coo. "

"An' Jeames was kin' to ye?"

To this question no reply followed; but Peter, who stood looking ather, saw her lips and the muscles of her face quivering an answer, which if uttered at all, could come only in sobs and tears. 

But the sound of approaching steps and voices restored her equanimity, and a listening look gradually displaced the emotion on hercountenance. Over the half-door of the shop appeared two men, eachbearing on his shoulder the socks (shares) of two ploughs, to besharpened, or set. The instant she saw them she tumbled off her perch, and before they had got the door opened was half way to it, crying, "Dooie! Dooie!" Another instant and she was lifted high in Dowie'sarms. 

"My little mistress!" exclaimed he, kissing her. "Hoo cam ye here?"

"I'm safe eneuch here, Dooie; dinna be fleyt. I'll tell ye a' aboot it. Alec's in George Macwha's shop yonner. "

"And wha's Alec?" asked Dowie. 

Leaving them now to their private communications, I will relate, forthe sake of its result, what passed between James Dow's companion andthe smith. 

"The last time, " said the youth, "that ye set my sock, Peter Whaup, yeturned it oot jist as saft's potty, and it wore oot raither suner. "

"Hoot! man, ye mistak. It wasna the sock. It was the heid that cam'ahin' 't, and kentna hoo to haud it aff o' the stanes. "

"Ha! ha! ha! My heid's nae sae saft's yer ain. It's no rosten a' daylike yours, till it's birstled (scorched) and sung (singed) like asheep's. Jist gie me a haud o' the taings, an' I s' set my sock to myain min'. "

Peter gave up the tongs at once, and the young fellow proceeded to putthe share in the fire, and to work the bellows. 

"Ye'll never mak ony thing o' 't that gait, " said Peter, as he took thetongs from his hand, and altered the position of the share for him. "Yewad hae 'it black upo' ae side and white upo' the ither. Noo ca (drive)steady, an' dinna blaw the fire aff o' the forge. "

But when it came to the anvil part of the work, Peter found so manyfaults with the handling and the execution generally, that at lengththe lad threw down the tongs with a laugh and an oath intermingled, saying:

"Ye can mak' potty o' 't yersel, than, Peter. --Ye jist min' me o' theWaesome Carl. "

"What's that o' 't, Rory, man?"

"Ow! naething but a bit sang that I cam' upo' the ither day i' the neuko' an auld newspaper. "

"Lat's hear't, " said Peter. "Sing't, Rory. Ye're better kent for a guidsang than for settin' socks. "

"I canna sing 't, for I dinna ken the tune o' 't. I only got a glimp'o' 't, as I tell ye, in an auld news. "

"Weel, say't, than. Ye're as weel kent for a guid memory, as a guidsang. "

Without more preamble, Rory repeated, with appropriate gesture, THE WAESOME CARL. 

 There cam a man to oor toon-en', An' a waesome carl was he; Wi' a snubbert nose, an' a crookit mou', An' a cock in his left ee. And muckle he spied, and muckle he spak'; But the burden o' his sang Was aye the same, and ower again: There's nane o' ye a' but's wrang. Ye're a' wrang, and a' wrang, And a'thegither a' wrang; There's no a man aboot the town, But's a'thegither a' wrang. 

 That's no the gait to bake the breid, Nor yet to brew the yill; That's no the gait to haud the pleuch, Nor yet to ca the mill. That's no the gait to milk the coo, Nor yet to spean the calf; Nor yet to fill the girnel-kist-- Ye kenna yer wark by half. Ye're a' wrang, &c. 

 The minister was na fit to pray, And lat alane to preach; He nowther had the gift o' grace, Nor yet the gift o' speech. He mind 't him o' Balaam's ass, Wi' a differ ye may ken: The Lord he open'd the ass's mou' The minister open'd 's ain. He's a' wrang, &c. 

 The puir precentor cudna sing, He gruntit like a swine; The verra elders cudna pass The ladles till his min'. And for the rulin' elder's grace, It wasna worth a horn; He didna half uncurse the meat, Nor pray for mair the morn. He's a' wrang, &c. 

 And aye he gied his nose a thraw, And aye he crookit his mou'; And aye he cockit up his ee, And said, "Tak' tent the noo. " We leuch ahint oor loof (palm), man, And never said him nay: And aye he spak'--jist lat him speik! And aye he said his say: Ye're a' wrang, &c. 

 Quo' oor guidman: "The crater's daft; But wow! he has the claik; Lat's see gin he can turn a han' Or only luik and craik. It's true we maunna lippen till him-- He's fairly crack wi' pride; But he maun live, we canna kill him-- Gin he can work, he s' bide. " He was a' wrang, &c. 

 "It's true it's but a laddie's turn, But we'll begin wi' a sma' thing; There's a' thae weyds to gather an' burn-- An' he's the man for a' thing. " We gaed oor wa's, and loot him be, To do jist as he micht; We think to hear nae mair o' him, Till we come hame at nicht; But we're a' wrang, &c. 

 For, losh! or it was denner-time, The lift (firmament) was in a low; The reek rase up, as it had been Frae Sodom-flames, I vow. We ran like mad; but corn and byre War blazin'--wae's the fell!�- As gin the deil had broucht the fire, To mak' anither hell. 'Twas a' wrang, &c. 

 And by the blaze the carl stud, Wi's han's aneath his tails; And aye he said--"I tauld ye sae, An' ye're to blame yersels. It's a' your wite (blame), for ye're a' wrang-- Ye'll maybe own't at last: What gart ye burn thae deevilich weyds, Whan the win' blew frae the wast? Ye're a' wrang, and a' wrang, And a'thegither a' wrang; There's no a man in a' the warl' But's a'thegither a' wrang. "

Before the recitation was over, which was performed with considerablespirit and truth, Annie and Dowie were listening attentively, alongwith Alec, who had returned to take Annie back, and who now joinedloudly in the applause which followed the conclusion of the verses. 

"Faith, that was a chield to haud oot ower frae, " said Alec to Rory. "And ye said the sang weel. Ye sud learn to sing't though. "

"Maybe I may, some day; gin I cud only get a grainie saut to pit upo'the tail o' the bird that kens the tune o' 't. What ca' they you, noo?"

"Alec Forbes, " answered the owner of the name. 

"Ay, " interposed Annie, addressing herself to Dowie, who still held herin his arms; "this is Alec, that I tell't ye aboot. He's richt guid tome. Alec, here's Dooie, 'at I like better nor onybody i' the warl'. "

And she turned and kissed the bronzed face, which was a clean face, notwithstanding the contrary appearance given to it by a beard of threedays' growth, which Annie's kiss was too full of love to mind. 

Annie would have been yet more ready to tell Dowie and Alec each whothe other was, had she not been occupied in her own mind with adiscovery she had made. For had not those verses given evident delightto the company--Alec among the rest? Had he not applauded loudest ofall?--Was there not here something she could do, and so contribute tothe delight of the workmen, Alec and Willie, and thus have her part inthe boat growing beneath their hands? She would then be no longer atolerated beholder, indebted to their charity for permission to enjoytheir society, but a contributing member of the working community--ifnot working herself, yet upholding those that wrought. The germ of allthis found itself in her mind that moment, and she resolved before nextnight to be able to emulate Rory. 

Dowie carried her home in his arms, and on the way she told him allabout the kindness of Alec and his mother. He asked her many questionsabout the Bruces; but her patient nature, and the instinctive feelingthat it would make Dowie unhappy, withheld her from representing thediscomforts of her position in strong colours. Dowie, however, had hisown thoughts on the matter. 

"Hoo are ye the nicht, Mr Dow?" said Robert, who treated him with oilyrespect, because he was not only acquainted with all Annie's affairs, but was a kind of natural, if not legal, guardian of her and herproperty. "And whaur did ye fa' in wi' this stray lammie o' oors?"

"She's been wi' me this lang time, " answered Dow, declining, withScotch instinct, to give an answer, before he understood all the driftof the question. A Scotchman would always like the last question first. 

"She's some ill for rinnin' oot, " said Bruce, with soft words addressedto Dow, and a cutting look flung at Annie, "withoot speirin' leave, andwe dinna ken whaur she gangs; and that's no richt for lass-bairns. "

"Never ye min' her, Mr Bruce, " replied Dow. "I ken her better nor you, no meanin' ony offence, seein' she was i' my airms afore she was a weekauld. Lat her gang whaur she likes, and gin she does what she sudna do, I'll tak a' the wyte o' 't. "

Now there was no great anxiety about Annie's welfare in the mind of Mror Mrs Bruce. The shop and their own children, chiefly the formeroccupied their thoughts, and the less trouble they had from thepresence of Annie, the better pleased they were--always provided theycould escape the censure of neglect. Hence it came that Annie'sabsences were but little inquired into. All the attention they did showher, seemed to them to be of free grace and to the credit of theircharity. 

But Bruce did not like the influence that James Dow had with her; andbefore they retired for the night, he had another lecture ready forAnnie. 

"Annie, " he said, "it's no becomin' for ane i' your station to be saefamiliar. Ye'll be a young leddy some day, and it's no richt to tak upwi' servan's. There's Jeames Doo, jist a labourin' man, and aneath yourstation a'thegether, and he taks ye up in's airms, as gin ye war abairn o' 's ain. It's no proaper. "

"I like Jamie Doo better nor onybody i' the haill warl, " said Annie, "excep'--"

Here she stopped short. She would not expose her heart to the gaze ofthat man. 

"Excep' wha?" urged Bruce. 

"I'm no gaein to say, " returned Annie firmly. 

"Ye're a camstairie (perverse) lassie, " said Bruce, pushing her awaywith a forceful acidity in the combination of tone and push. 

She walked off to bed, caring nothing for his rebuke. For since Alec'skindness had opened to her a well of the water of life, she had almostceased to suffer from the ungeniality of her guardians. She forgot themas soon as she was out of their sight. And certainly they were nicer toforget than to remember. 

CHAPTER XVIII. [sic, should be XXII. ]

As soon as she was alone in her room she drew from her pocket a parcelcontaining something which Dowie had bought for her on their way home. When undone it revealed two or three tallow candles, a precious presentin view of her hopes. But how should she get a light--for this was longbefore lucifer matches had risen even upon the horizon of Glamerton?There was but one way. 

She waited, sitting on the edge of her bed, in the cold and darkness, until every sound in the house had ceased. Then she stepped cautiouslydown the old stair, which would crack now and then, use what care andgentleness she might. 

It was the custom in all the houses of Glamerton to _rest_ the fire;that is, to keep it gently alive all night by the help of a _truff_, orsod cut from the top of a peat-moss--a coarse peat in fact, more looseand porous than the peat proper--which they laid close down upon thefire, destroying almost all remaining draught by means of coal-dust. Tothis sealed fountain of light the little maiden was creeping throughthe dark house, with one of her _dips_ in her hand--the pitcher withwhich she was about to draw from the fountain. 

And a pretty study she would have made for any child-loving artist, when, with her face close to the grate, her mouth puckered up to doduty as the nozzle of a pair of bellows, one hand holding a twistedpiece of paper between the bars, and the other buttressing the wholeposition from the floor, she blew at the live but reluctant fire, aglow spreading at each breath over her face, and then fading as thebreath ceased, till at last the paper caught, and lighting it up fromwithout with flame, and from within with the shine of success, made thelovely child-countenance like the face of one that has found the truthafter the search of weary days. 

Thus she lighted her candle, and again with careful steps she made herway to her own room. Setting the candle in a hole in the floor, left bythe departure of a resinous knot, she opened her box, in which lay thefew books her aunt had thrown into it when she left her old home. Shehad not yet learned to care much about books; but one of these had nowbecome precious in her eyes, because she knew it contained poems thather father had been fond of reading. She soon found it--a volume bysome Scotch poet of little fame, whose inward commotions had generatedtheir own alleviation in the harmonies of ordered words in which theyembodied themselves. In it Annie searched for something to learn beforethe following night, and found a ballad the look of which she liked, and which she very soon remembered as one she had heard her fatherread. It was very cold work to learn it at midnight, in winter, and ina garret too; but so intent was she, that before she went to bed, shehad learned four or five verses so thoroughly that she could repeatthem without thinking of what came next, and these she kept saying overand over again even in her dreams. 

As soon as she woke in the dark morning she put her hand under herpillow to feel the precious volume, which she hoped would be the bondto bind her yet more closely to the boat and its builders. She took itto school in her pocket, learning the whole way as she went, and takinga roundabout road that her cousins might not interrupt her. She keptrepeating and peeping every possible moment during school hours, andthen all the way home again. So that by the time she had had herdinner, and the gauzy twilight had thickened to the "blanket of thedark, " she felt quite ready to carry her offering of "the song thatlightens toil, " to George Macwha's workshop. 

How clever they must be, she thought, as she went along, to make such abeautiful thing as the boat was now growing to! And she felt in herheart a kind of love for the look of living grace that the little craftalready wore. Indeed before it was finished she had learned to regardit with a feeling of mingled awe, affection, and admiration, and thelittle boat had made for itself a place in her brain. 

When she entered, she found the two boys already in busy talk; andwithout interrupting them by a word, she took her place on the heap ofshavings which had remained undisturbed since last night. After theimmediate consultation was over, and the young carpenters had settledto their work--not knowing what introduction to give to her offering, she produced it without any at all. The boys did not know what to makeof it at first, hearing something come all at once from Annie's lipswhich was neither question nor remark, and broke upon the silence likean alien sound. But they said nothing--only gave a glance at each otherand at her, and settled down to listen and to work. Nor did they speakone word until she had finished the ballad. 

 "THE LAST WOOING, "

said Annie, all at once, and went on:

 "O lat me in, my bonny lass! It's a lang road ower the hill; And the flauchterin' snaw began to fa', As I cam by the mill. "

 "This is nae change-hoose, John Munro, And ye needna come nae mair: Ye crookit yer mou', and lichtlied me, Last Wednesday, at the fair. "

 "I lichtlied ye!" "Aboon the glass. " "Foul-fa' the ill-faured mouth That made the leein' word to pass, By rowin' 't (wrapping) in the truth. 

 The fac' was this: I dochtna bide To hear yer bonnie name, Whaur muckle mous war opened wide Wi' lawless mirth and shame. 

 And a' I said was: 'Hoot! lat sit; She's but a bairn, the lass. ' It turned the spait (flood) o' words a bit, And loot yer fair name pass. "

 "Thank ye for naething, John Munro! My name can gang or bide; It's no a sough o' drucken words Wad turn my heid aside. "

 "O Elsie, lassie o' my ain! The drift is cauld and strang; O tak me in ae hour, and syne I'll gather me and gang. "

 "Ye're guid at fleechin' (wheedling), Jock Munro. For ye heedna fause and true: Gang in to Katie at the Mill, She lo'es sic like as you. "

 He turned his fit; he spak nae mair. The lift was like to fa'; And Elsie's heart grew grit and sair (big and sore), At sicht o' the drivin' snaw. 

 She laid her doun, but no to sleep, For her verra heart was cauld; And the sheets war like a frozen heap O' snaw aboot her faul'd. 

 She rase fu' ear'. And a' theroot Was ae braid windin' sheet; At the door-sill, or winnock-lug (window-corner), Was never a mark o' feet. 

 She crap a' day aboot the hoose, Slow-fittit and hert-sair, Aye keekin' oot like a frichtit moose, -- But Johnnie cam nae mair!

 When saft the thow begud to melt Awa' the ghaistly snaw, Her hert was safter nor the thow, Her pride had ta'en a fa. '

 And she oot ower the hill wad gang, Whaur the sun was blinkin' bonnie, To see his auld minnie (mother) in her cot, And speir aboot her Johnnie. 

 But as alang the hill she gaed, Through snaw und slush and weet, She stoppit wi' a chokin' cry-- 'Twas Johnnie at her feet. 

 His heid was smoored aneath the snaw, But his breist was maistly bare; And 'twixt his breist and his richt han', He claisp't a lock o' hair. 

 'Twas gowden hair: she kent it weel. Alack, the sobs and sighs! The warm win' blew, the laverock flew, But Johnnie wadna rise. 

 The spring cam ower the wastlin (westward) hill, And the frost it fled awa'; And the green grass luikit smilin' up, Nane the waur for a' the snaw. 

 And saft it grew on Johnnie's grave, Whaur deep the sunshine lay; But, lang or that, on Elsie's heid The gowden hair was gray. 

George Macwha, who was at work in the other end of the shop when shebegan, had drawn near, chisel in hand, and joined the listeners. 

"Weel dune, Annie!" exclaimed he, as soon as she had finished�-feelingvery shy and awkward, now that her experiment had been made. But shehad not long to wait for the result. 

"Say't ower again, Annie, " said Alec, after a moment's pause. 

Could she have wished for more?

She did say it over again. 

"Eh, Annie! that's rale bonnie. Whaur did ye get it?" he asked. 

"In an auld buikie o' my father's, " answered she. 

"Is there ony mair in't like it?"

"Ay, lots. "

"Jist learn anither, will ye, afore the morn's nicht?"

"I'll do that, Alec. "

"Dinna ye like it, Curly?" asked Alec, for Curly had said nothing. 

"Ay, fegs! (faith)" was Curly's emphatic and uncritical reply. 

Annie therefore learned and repeated a few more, which, if not receivedwith equal satisfaction, yet gave sufficient pleasure to the listeners. They often, however, returned to the first, demanding it over and overagain, till at length they knew it as well as she. 

Hut a check was given for a while to these forenight meetings. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

A rapid thaw set in, and up through the vanishing whiteness dawned thedark colours of the wintry landscape. For a day or two the soft wetsnow lay mixed with water over all the road. After that came mire anddirt. But it was still so far off spring, that nobody cared to bereminded of it yet. So when, after the snow had vanished, a hard blackfrost set in, it was welcomed by the schoolboys at least, whatever theold people and the poor people, and especially those who were both oldand poor, may have thought of the change. Under the binding power ofthis frost, the surface of the slow-flowing Glamour and of the swifterWan-Water, were once more chilled and stiffened to ice, which every daygrew thicker and stronger. And now, there being no coverlet of snowupon it, the boys came out in troops, in their iron-shod shoes andtheir clumsy skates, to skim along those floors of delight that thewinter had laid for them. To the fishes the ice was a warm blanket castover them to keep them from the frost. But they must have been dismayedat the dim rush of so many huge forms above them, as if another riverwith other and awful fishes had buried theirs. Alec and Willie lefttheir boat--almost for a time forgot it--repaired their skates, joinedtheir school-fellows, and shot along the solid water with the banksflying past them. It was strange to see the banks thus from the middlesurface of the water. All was strange about them; and the delight ofthe strangeness increased the delight of the motion, and sent the bloodthrough their veins swift as their flight along the frozen rivers. 

For many afternoons and into the early nights, Alec and Curly held onthe joyful sport, and Annie was for the time left lonely. But she wasneither disconsolate nor idle. The boat was a sure pledge for them. Tothe boat and her they must return. She went to the shop still, now andthen, to see George Macwha, who, of an age beyond the seduction of iceand skates, kept on steadily at his work. To him she would repeat aballad or two, at his request, and then go home to increase her stock. This was now a work of some difficulty, for her provision of candleswas exhausted, and she had no money with which to buy more. The lastcandle had come to a tragical end. For, hearing steps approaching herroom one morning, before she had put it away in its usual safety in herbox, she hastily poked it into one of the holes in the floor and forgotit. When she sought it at night, it was gone. Her first dread was thatshe had been found out; but hearing nothing of it, she concluded atlast that her enemies the _rottans_ had carried it off and devoured it. 

"Deil choke them upo' the wick o' 't!" exclaimed Curly, when she toldhim the next day, seeking a partner in her grief. 

But a greater difficulty had to be encountered. It was not long beforeshe had exhausted her book, from which she had chosen the right poemsby insight, wonderfully avoiding by instinct the unsuitable, withoutknowing why, and repelled by the mere tone. 

She thought day and night where additional _pabulum_ might be procured, and at last came to the resolution of applying to Mr Cowie theclergyman. Without consulting any one, she knocked on an afternoon atMr Cowie's door. 

"Cud I see the minister?" she said to the maid. 

"I dinna ken. What do you want?" was the maid's reply. 

But Annie was Scotch too, and perhaps perceived that she would have buta small chance of being admitted into the minister's presence if shecommunicated the object of her request to the servant. So she onlyreplied, "I want to see himsel', gin ye please. "

"Weel, come in, and I'll tell him. What's yer name?"

"Annie Anderson"

"Whaur do ye bide?"

"At Mr Bruce's, i' the Wast Wynd. "

The maid went, and presently returning with the message that she was to"gang up the stair, " conducted her to the study where the ministersat--a room, to Annie's amazement, filled with books from the top tothe bottom of every wall. Mr Cowie held out his hand to her, and said, "Well, my little maiden, what do you want?"

"Please, sir, wad ye len' me a sang-buik?"

"A psalm-book?" said the minister, hesitatingly, supposing he had notheard aright, and yet doubting if this could be the correction of hisauricular blunder. 

"Na, sir; I hae a psalm-buik at hame. It's a sang-buik that I want thelen' o'. "

Now the minister was one of an old school--a very worthy kind-heartedman, with nothing of what has been called _religious experience_. Buthe knew what some of his Lord's words meant, and amongst them certainwords about little children. He had a feeling likewise, of moreinstinctive origin, that to be kind to little children was an importantbranch of his office. So he drew Annie close to him, as he sat in hiseasy-chair, laid his plump cheek against her thin white one, and saidin the gentlest way:

"And what do you want a song-book for, dawtie?"

"To learn bonnie sangs oot o', sir. Dinna ye think they're the bonniestthings in a' the warl', --sangs, sir?"

For Annie had by this time learned to love ballad-verse aboveeverything but Alec and Dowie. 

"And what kind o' sangs do ye like?" the clergyman asked, instead ofreplying. 

"I like them best that gar ye greit, sir. "

At every answer, she looked up in his face with her open clear blueeyes. And the minister began to love her not merely because she was achild, but because she was this child. 

"Do ye sing them?" he asked, after a little pause of pleased gazinginto the face of the child. 

"Na, na; I only say them. I dinna ken the tunes o' them. "

"And do you say them to Mr Bruce?"

"Mr Bruce, sir! Mr Bruce wad say I was daft. I wadna say a sang to him, sir, for--for--for a' the sweeties i' the shop. "

"Well, who do you say them to?"

"To Alec Forbes and Willie Macwha. They're biggin a boat, sir; and theylike to hae me by them, as they big, to say sangs to them. And I likeit richt weel. "

"It'll be a lucky boat, surely, " said the minister, "to rise to thesound of rhyme, like some old Norse war-ship. "

"I dinna ken, sir, " said Annie, who certainly did not know what hemeant. 

Now the minister's acquaintance with any but the classic poets was verysmall indeed; so that, when he got up and stood before hisbook-shelves, with the design of trying what he could do for her, hecould think of nobody but Milton. 

So he brought the _Paradise Lost_ from its place, where it had not beendisturbed for years, and placing it before her on the table, for it wasa quarto copy, asked her if that would do. She opened it slowly andgently, with a reverential circumspection, and for the space of aboutfive minutes, remained silent over it, turning leaves, and tasting, andturning, and tasting again. At length, with one hand resting on thebook, she turned to Mr Cowie, who was watching with much interest and alittle anxiety the result of the experiment, and said gently andsorrowfully:

"I dinna think this is the richt buik for me, sir. There's nae sangin't that I can fin' out. It gangs a' straucht on, and never turns orhalts a bit. Noo ye see, sir, a sang aye turns roun', and begins again, and afore lang it comes fairly to an en', jist like a day, sir, whan wegang to oor beds an' fa' asleep. But this hauds on and on, and there'sno end till't ava (at all). It's jist like the sun that 'never tiresnor stops to rest. '"

"'But round the world he shines, '" said the clergyman, completing thequotation, right good-humouredly, though he was somewhat bewildered;for he had begun to fall a-marvelling at the little dingy maiden, withthe untidy hair and dirty frock, who had thoughts of her own, and wouldnot concede the faculty of song to the greatest of epic poets. 

Doubtless if he had tried her with some of the short poems at the endof the _Paradise Regained_, which I doubt if he had ever even read, shewould at least have allowed that they were not devoid of song. But itwas better perhaps that she should be left free to follow her owninstincts. The true teacher is the one who is able to guide thoseinstincts, strengthen them with authority, and illuminate them withrevelation of their own fundamental truth. The best this good ministercould do was not to interfere with them. He was so anxious to help her, however, that, partly to gain some minutes for reflection, partly toget the assistance of his daughters, he took her by the hand, and ledher to the dining-room, where tea was laid for himself and his twogrown-up girls. She went without a thought of question or a feeling ofdoubt; for however capable she was of ordering her own way, nothingdelighted her more than blind submission, wherever she felt justifiedin yielding it. It was a profound pleasure to her not to know what wascoming next, provided some one whom she loved did. So she sat down totea with the perfect composure of submission to a superior will. Itnever occurred to her that she had no right to be there; for had notthe minister himself led her there? And his daughters were very kindand friendly. In the course of the meal, Mr Cowie having told them thedifficulty he was in, they said that perhaps they might be able to findwhat she wanted, or something that might take the place of it; andafter tea, one of them brought two volumes of ballads of all sorts, some old, some new, some Scotch, some English, and put them intoAnnie's hands, asking her if that book would do. The child eagerlyopened one of the volumes, and glanced at a page: It sparkled with theright ore of ballad-words. The Red, the colour always of delight, grewin her face. She closed the book as if she could not trust herself tolook at it while others were looking at her, and said with a sigh:

"Eh, mem! Ye wonna lippen them _baith_ to me?"

"Yes, I will, " said Miss Cowie. "I am sure you will take care of them. "

"_That--I--will_, " returned Annie, with an honesty and determination ofpurpose that made a great impression upon Mr Cowie especially. And sheran home with a feeling of richness of possession such as she had neverbefore experienced. 

Her first business was to scamper up to her room, and hide the precioustreasures in her _kist_, there to wait all night, like the buried dead, for the coming morning. 

When she confessed to Mr Bruce that she had had tea with the minister, he held up his hands in the manner which commonly expresses amazement;but what the peculiar character or ground of the amazement might beremained entirely unrevealed, for he said not a word to elucidate thegesture. 

The next time Annie went to see the minister it was on a very differentquest from the loan of a song-book. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

One afternoon, as Alec went home to dinner, he was considerablysurprised to find Mr Malison leaning on one of the rails of thefoot-bridge over the Glamour, looking down upon its frozen surface. There was nothing supernatural or alarming in this, seeing that, afterschool was over, Alec had run up the town to the saddler's, to get anew strap for one of his skates. What made the fact surprising was, that the scholars so seldom encountered the master anywhere except inschool. Alec thought to pass, but the moment his foot was on the bridgethe master lifted himself up, and faced round. 

"Well, Alec, " he said, "where have _you_ been?"

"To get a new strap for my skatcher, " answered Alec. 

"You're fond of skating--are you, Alec?"

"Yes, sir. "

"I used to be when I was a boy. Have you had your dinner?"

"No, sir. "

"Then I suppose your mother has not dined, either?"

"She never does till I go home, sir. "

"Then I won't intrude upon her. I did mean to call this afternoon. "

"She will be very glad to see you, sir. Come and take a share of whatthere is. "

"I think I had better not, Alec. "

"Do, sir. I am sure she will make you welcome. "

Mr Malison hesitated. Alec pressed him. He yielded; and they went alongthe road together. 

I shall not have to show much more than half of Mr Malison's life--theschool half, which, both inwardly and outwardly, was very differentfrom the other. The moment he was out of the school, the moment, thatis, that he ceased for the day to be responsible for the moral andintellectual condition of his turbulent subjects, the wholecharacter--certainly the whole deportment--of the man changed. He wasnow as meek and gentle in speech and behaviour as any mother could havedesired. 

Nor was the change a hypocritical one. The master never interfered, oronly upon the rarest occasions when pressure from without was broughtto bear upon him, as in the case of Juno, with what the boys did out ofschool. He was glad enough to accept utter irresponsibility for thatportion of his time; so that between the two parts of the day, as theypassed through the life of the master, there was almost as littleconnection as between the waking and sleeping hours of a somnambulist. 

But, as he leaned over the rail of the bridge, whither a rare impulseto movement had driven him, his thoughts had turned upon Alec Forbesand his antagonism. Out of school, he could not help feeling that theboy had not been very far wrong, however subversive of authority hisbehaviour had been; but it was not therefore the less mortifying tothink how signally he had been discomfited by him. And he was compelledmoreover to acknowledge to himself that it was a mercy that Alec wasnot the boy to follow up his advantage by heading--not a party againstthe master, but the whole school, which would have been ready enough tofollow such a victorious leader. So there was but one way of settingmatters right, as Mr Malison had generosity enough left in him toperceive; and that was, to make a friend of his adversary. Indeed thereis that in the depths of every human breast which makes areconciliation the only victory that can give true satisfaction. Norwas the master the only gainer by the resolve which thus arose in hismind the very moment before he felt Alec's tread upon the bridge. 

They walked together to Howglen, talking kindly the whole way; to whichtalk, and most likely to which kindness between them, a little incidenthad contributed as well. Alec had that day rendered a passage of Virgilwith a remarkable accuracy, greatly pleasing to the master, who, however, had no idea to what this isolated success was attributable. Iforget the passage; but it had reference to the setting of sails, andAlec could not rest till he had satisfied himself about its meaning;for when we are once interested in anything, we want to see it neareras often as it looms in sight. So he had with some difficulty clearedaway the mists that clung about the words, till at length he beheld andunderstood the fact embodied in them. 

Alec had never had praise from Mr Malison before--at least none thathad made any impression on him--and he found it very sweet. And throughthe pleasure dawned the notion that perhaps he might be a scholar afterall if he gave his mind to it. In this he was so far right: a fairscholar he might be, though a learned man he never could be, withoutdeveloping an amount of will, and effecting a degree of self-conquest, sufficient for a Jesuit, --losing at the same time not only what he wasespecially made for knowing, but, in a great measure, what he wasespecially made for being. Few, however, are in danger of going sogrievously against the intellectual impulses of their nature: far moreare in danger of following them without earnestness, or if earnestly, then with the absorption of an eagerness only worldly. 

Mrs Forbes, seeing the pleasure expressed on Alec's countenance, received Mr Malison with more than the usual cordiality, forgettingwhen he was present before her eyes what she had never failed to thinkof with bitterness when he was only present to her mind. 

As soon as dinner was over Alec rushed off to the river, leaving hismother and the master together. Mrs Forbes brought out thewhisky-bottle, and Mr Malison, mixing a tumbler of toddy, filled awine-glass for his hostess. 

"We'll make a man of Alec some day yet, " said he, giving anill-considered form to his thoughts. 

"'Deed!" returned Mrs Forbes, irritated at the suggestion of anydifficulty in the way of Alec's ultimate manhood, and perhaps glad ofthe opportunity of speaking her mind--"'Deed! Mr Malison, ye made abonnie munsie (monsieur) o' him a month ago. It wad set ye weel to tryyer hand at makin' a man o' him noo. "

Had Alec been within hearing, he would never have let his mother forgetthis speech. For had not she, the immaculate, the reprover, fallenherself into the slough of the vernacular? The fact is, it is easier tospeak the truth in a _patois_, for it lies nearer to the simplerealities than a more conventional speech. 

I do not however allow that the Scotch is a _patois_ in the ordinarysense of the word. For had not Scotland a living literature, and that ahigh one, when England could produce none, or next to none--I mean inthe fifteenth century? But old age, and the introduction of a morepolished form of utterance, have given to the Scotch all the otheradvantages of a _patois_, in addition to its own directness andsimplicity. 

For a moment the dominie was taken aback, and sat reddening over histoddy, which, not daring even to taste it, he went on stirring with histoddy-ladle. For one of the disadvantages of a broken life is, thatwhat a person may do with a kind of conscience in the one part, hefeels compelled to blush for in the other. The despotism exercised inthe school, even though exercised with a certain sense of justice andright, made the autocrat, out of school, cower before the parents ofhis helpless subjects. And this quailing of heart arose not merely fromthe operation of selfish feelings, but from a deliquium that fell uponhis principles, in consequence of their sudden exposure to a more openatmosphere. But with a sudden perception that his only chance was tothrow himself on the generosity of a woman, he said:

"Well, ma'am, if you had to keep seventy boys and girls quiet, and hearthem their lessons at the same time, perhaps you would find yourself indanger of doing in haste what you might repent at leisure. "

"Weel, weel, Mr Malison, we'll say nae mair aboot it. My laddie's nanethe waur for't noo; and I hope ye will mak a man o' him some day, as yesay. "

"He translated a passage of Virgil to-day in a manner that surprisedme. "

"Did he though? He's not a dunce, I know; and if it weren't for thatstupid boat he and William Macwha are building, he might be made ascholar of, I shouldn't wonder. George should have more sense thanencourage such a waste of time and money. He's always wanting somethingor other for the boat, and I confess I can't find in my heart to refusehim, for, whatever he may be at school, he's a good boy at home, MrMalison. "

But the schoolmaster did not reply at once, for a light had dawned uponhim: this then was the secret of Alec's translation--a secret in goodsooth worth his finding out. One can hardly believe that it should havebeen to the schoolmaster the first revelation of the fact that apractical interest is the strongest incitement to a theoreticalacquaintance. But such was the case. He answered after a moment'spause--

"I suspect, ma'am, on the contrary, that the boat, of which I had heardnothing till now, was Alec's private tutor in the passage of Virgil towhich I have referred. "

"I don't understand you, Mr Malison. "

"I mean, ma'am, that his interest in his boat made him take an interestin those lines about ships and their rigging. So the boat taught him totranslate them. "

"I see, I see. "

"And that makes me doubt, ma'am, whether we shall be able to make himlearn anything to good purpose that he does not take an interest in. "

"Well, what _do_ you think he is fit for, Mr Malison? I should like himto be able to be something else than a farmer, whatever he may settledown to at last. "

Mrs Forbes thought, whether wisely or not, that as long as she was ableto manage the farm, Alec might as well be otherwise employed. And shehad ambition for her son as well. But the master was able to make nodefinite suggestion. Alec seemed to have no special qualification forany profession; for the mechanical and constructive faculties had alonereached a notable development in him as yet. So after a long talk, hismother and the schoolmaster had come no nearer than before to adetermination of what he was fit for. The interview, however, restoreda good understanding between them. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

It was upon a Friday night that the frost finally broke up. A day ofwintry rain followed, dreary and depressing. But the two boys, AlecForbes and Willie Macwha, had a refuge from the _ennui_ commonlyattendant on such weather, in the prosecution of their boat-building. Hence it came to pass that in the early evening of the followingSaturday, they found themselves in close consultation in GeorgeMacwha's shop, upon a doubtful point involved in the resumption oftheir labour. But they could not settle the matter without reference tothe master of the mystery, George himself, and were, in the mean time, busy getting their tools in order--when he entered, in conversationwith Thomas Crann the mason, who, his bodily labours being quiteinterrupted by the rain, had the more leisure apparently to bring hismental powers to bear upon the condition of his neighbours. 

"It's a sod pity, George, " he was saying as he entered, "that a manlike you wadna, ance for a', tak thoucht a bit, and consider the en' o'a' thing that the sun shines upo'. "

"Hoo do ye ken, Thamas, that I dinna tak thoucht?"

"Will ye say 'at ye _div_ tak thoucht, George?"

"I'm a bit o' a Protestant, though I'm nae missionar; an' I'm noinclined to confess, Thamas--meanin' no ill-will to _you_ for a' that, ye ken, " added George, in a conciliatory tone. 

"Weel, weel. I can only say that I hae seen no signs o' a savin'seriousness aboot ye, George. Ye're sair ta'en up wi' the warl'. "

"Hoo mak' ye that oot? Ye big hooses, an' I mak' doors to them. Andthey'll baith stan' efter you an' me's laid i' the mouls. --It's weelkent forbye that ye hae a bit siller i' the bank, and I hae none. "

"Not a bawbee hae I, George. I can pray for my daily breid wi' anhonest hert; for gin the Lord dinna sen' 't, I hae nae bank to fa' backupo'. "

"I'm sorry to hear 't, Thamas, " said George. --"But Guid guide 's!" heexclaimed, "there's the twa laddies, hearkenin' to ilka word 'at wesay!"

He hoped thus, but hoped in vain, to turn the current of theconversation. 

"A' the better for that!" persisted Thomas. "They need to be remin't aswell as you and me, that the fashion o' this warld passeth away. Alec, man, Willie, my lad, can ye big a boat to tak' ye ower the river o'Deith?--Na, ye'll no can do that. Ye maun gae through that watshod, Idoobt! But there's an ark o' the Covenant that'll carry ye safe owerthat and a waur flood to boot--and that's the flood o' God's wrathagainst evil-doers. --'Upon the wicked he shall rain fire andbrimstone--a furious tempest. '--We had a gran' sermon upo' the ark o'the Covenant frae young Mr Mirky last Sabbath nicht. What for will naye come and hear the Gospel for ance and awa' at least, George Macwha?Ye can sit i' my seat. "

"I'm obleeged to ye, " answered George; "but the muckle kirk does weeleneuch for me. And ye ken I'm precentor, noo, forbye. "

"The muckle kirk!" repeated Thomas, in a tone of contempt. "What get yethere but the dry banes o' morality, upo' which the win' o' the wordhas never blawn to pit life into the puir disjaskit skeleton. Come yeto oor kirk, an' ye'll get a rousin', I can tell ye, man. Eh! man, ginye war ance convertit, ye wad ken hoo to sing. It's no great singin''at _ye_ guide. "

Before the conversation had reached this point another listener hadarrived: the blue eyes of Annie Anderson were fixed upon the speakerfrom over the half-door of the workshop. The drip from the thatch-eaveswas dropping upon her shabby little shawl as she stood, but she wasutterly heedless of it in the absorption of hearkening to Thomas Crann, who talked with authority, and a kind of hard eloquence of persuasion. 

I ought to explain here that the _muckle kirk_ meant the parish church;and that the religious community to which Thomas Crann belonged was oneof the first results of the propagation of English Independency inScotland. These Independents went commonly by the name of _Missionars_in all that district; a name arising apparently from the fact that theywere the first in the neighbourhood to advocate the sending ofmissionaries to the heathen. The epithet was, however, always used witha considerable admixture of contempt. 

"Are ye no gaein to get a minister o' yer ain, Thamas?" resumed George, after a pause, still wishing to turn the cart-wheels of theconversation out of the deep ruts in which the stiff-necked Thomasseemed determined to keep them moving. 

"Na; we'll bide a bit, and try the speerits. We're no like you--forcedto lat ower (swallow) ony jabble o' lukewarm water that's been stan'in'i' the sun frae year's en' to year's en', jist because the p�tronpleases to stick a pump intil 't an' ca' 't a well o' salvation. We'llken whaur the water comes frae. We'll taste them a', and cheeseaccordin'. "

"Weel, I wadna like the trouble nor yet the responsibility. "

"I daursay not. "

"Na. Nor yet the shame o' pretennin' to jeedge my betters, " addedGeorge, now a little nettled, as was generally the result at last ofThomas's sarcastic tone. 

"George, " said Thomas solemnly, "nane but them that has the speerit canken the speerit. "

With these words, he turned and strode slowly and gloomily out of theshop--no doubt from dissatisfaction with the result of his attempt. 

Who does not see that Thomas had a hold of something to which Georgewas altogether a stranger? Surely it is something more to stand withMoses upon Mount Sinai, and see the back of God through ever so manyfolds of cloudy darkness, than be sitting down to eat and drink, orrising up to play about the golden calf, at the foot of the mountain. And that Thomas was possessed of some divine secret, the heart of childAnnie was perfectly convinced; the tone of his utterance having agreater share in producing this conviction than anything he had said. As he passed out, she looked up reverently at him, as one to whom deepthings lay open, Thomas had a kind of gruff gentleness towards childrenwhich they found very attractive; and this meek maiden he could notthreaten with the vials of wrath. He laid his hard heavy hand kindly onher head, saying:

"Ye'll be ane o' the Lord's lambs, will ye no? Ye'll gang into the foldefter him, will ye no?"

"Ay will I, " answered Annie, "gin He'll lat in Alec and Curly too. "

"Ye maun mak nae bargains wi' him; but gin they'll gang in, he'll nohaud them oot. "

And away, somewhat comforted, the honest stonemason strode, through thedarkness and the rain, to his own rather cheerless home, where he hadneither wife nor child to welcome him. An elderly woman took care ofhis house, whose habitual attitude towards him was one half of awe andhalf of resistance. The moment he entered, she left the room where shehad been sitting, without a word of welcome, and betook herself to thekitchen, where she prepared his plate of porridge or bowl of brose. With this in one hand, and a jug of milk in the other, she soonreturned, placing them like a peace-offering on the table before him. Having completed the arrangement by the addition of a horn spoon from acupboard in the wall, she again retired in silence. The moment shevanished Thomas's blue bonnet was thrown into a corner, and with foldedhands and bent head he prayed a silent prayer over his homely meal. 

By this time Alec and Curly, having received sufficient instructionfrom George Macwha, were in full swing with their boat-building. Butthe moment Thomas went, Alec, had taken Annie to the forge to get herwell-dried, before he would allow her to occupy her old place in theheap of spales. 

"Wha's preachin' at the missionar-kirk the morn, Willie?" asked theboy's father, For Willie knew everything that took place in Glamerton. 

"Mr Broon, " answered Curly. 

"He's a guid man that, ony gait, " returned his father. "There's naemony like him. I think I'll turn missionar mysel', for ance and awa', and gang and hear him the morn's nicht. "

At the same instant Annie entered the shop, her face glowing with theheat of the forge and the pleasure of rejoining her friends. Herappearance turned the current, and no more was said about themissionar-kirk. --Many minutes did not pass before she had begun torepeat to the eager listeners one of the two new poems which she hadgot ready for them from the book Miss Cowie had lent her. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Whatever effect the remonstrances of Thomas might or might not haveupon the rest, Annie had heard enough to make her want to go to themissionar-kirk. For was it not plain that Thomas Crann knew somethingthat she did not know? and where could he have learned it but at thesaid kirk? There must be something going on there worth looking into. Perhaps there she might learn just what she needed to know; for, happyas she was, she would have been much happier had it not been for asomething--she could neither describe nor understand it--which alwaysrose between her and the happiness. She did not lay the blame oncircumstances, though they might well, in her case, have borne a partof it. Whatever was, to her was right; and she never dreamed ofrebelling against her position. For she was one of those simplecreatures who perceive at once that if they are to set anything rightfor themselves or other people, they must begin with their own selves, their inward being and life. So without knowing that George Macwhaintended to be there, with no expectation of seeing Alec or Curly, andwithout having consulted any of the Bruce family, she found herself, afew minutes after the service had commenced, timidly peering throughthe inner door of the chapel, and starting back, with mingled shynessand awe, from the wide solemnity of the place. Every eye seemed to havedarted upon her the moment she made a chink of light between the doorand its post. How spiritually does every child-nature feel thesolemnity of the place where people, of whatever belief or whateverintellectual rank, meet to worship God! The air of the temple belongsto the poorest meeting-room as much as to the grandest cathedral. Andwhat added to the effect on Annie was, that the reputation of Mr Brownhaving drawn a great congregation to hear him preach that evening, she, peeping through the door, saw nothing but live faces; whereas MrCowie's church, to which she was in the habit of going, though muchlarger, was only so much the more empty. She withdrew in dismay to goup into the gallery, where, entering from behind, she would see fewerfaces, and might creep unperceived into the shelter of a pew; for shefelt "little better than one of the wicked" in having arrived late. Soshe stole up the awful stair and into the wide gallery, as a chiddendog might steal across the room to creep under the master's table. Notdaring to look up, she went with noiseless difficulty down a steep stepor two, and perched herself timidly on the edge of a seat, beside anold lady, who had kindly made room for her. When she ventured to lifther eyes, she found herself in the middle of a sea of heads. But shesaw in the same glance that no one was taking any notice of her, whichdiscovery acted wonderfully as a restorative. The minister was reading, in a solemn voice, a terrible chapter of denunciation out of theprophet Isaiah, and Annie was soon seized with a deep listening awe. The severity of the chapter was, however, considerably mollified by thegentleness of the old lady, who put into her hand a Bible, smellingsweetly of dried starry leaves and southernwood, in which Anniefollowed the reading word for word, feeling sadly condemned if shehappened to allow her eyes to wander for a single moment from the book. After the long prayer, during which they all stood--a posture certainlymore reverential than the sitting which so commonly passes forkneeling--and the long psalm, during which they all sat, the sermonbegan; and again for a moment Annie ventured to look up, feelingprotected from behind by the back of the pew, which reached high aboveher head. Before her she saw no face but that of the minister, betweenwhich and her, beyond the front of the gallery, lay a gulfy space, where, down in the bottom, sat other listening souls, with upturnedfaces and eyes, unseen of Annie, all their regards converging upon thecountenance of the minister. He was a thin-faced cadaverous man, with aself-severe saintly look, one to whom religion was clearly a reality, though not so clearly a gladness, one whose opinions�vaguehalf-monstrous embodiments of truth--helped to give him a consciousnessof the life which sprung from a source far deeper than hisconsciousness could reach. I wonder if one will ever be able tounderstand the worship of his childhood--that revering upward lookwhich must have been founded on a reality, however much afterexperience may have shown the supposed grounds of reverence to beuntenable. The moment Annie looked in the face of Mr Brown, shesubmitted absolutely; she enshrined him and worshipped him with anawful reverence. Nor to the end of her days did she lose this feelingtowards him. True, she came to see that he was a man of ordinarystature, and that some of the religious views which he held in commonwith his brethren were dishonouring of God, and therefore could not beelevating to the creature. But when she saw these and other like facts, they gave her no shock--they left the reflex of the man in her mindstill unspotted, unimpaired. How could this be? Simply because theyleft unaltered the conviction that this man believed in God, and thatthe desire of his own heart brought him into some real, howeverundefinable, relation to him who was yet nearer to him than that desireitself, and whose presence had caused its birth. 

He chose for his text these words of the Psalmist: "The wicked shall beturned into hell, and all the nations that forget God. " His sermon wasless ponderous in construction and multitudinous in division thanusual; for it consisted simply of answers to the two questions: "Whoare the wicked?" and "What is their fate?" The answer to the formerquestion was, "The wicked are those that forget God;" the answer to thelatter, "The torments of everlasting fire. " Upon Annie the sermonproduced the immediate conviction that she was one of the wicked, andthat she was in danger of hell-fire. The distress generated by theearlier part of the sermon, however, like that occasioned by thechapter of prophecy, was considerably mitigated by the kindness of anunknown hand, which, appearing occasionally over her shoulder frombehind, kept up a counteractive ministration of peppermint lozenges. But the representations grew so much in horror as the sermon approachedits end, that, when at last it was over, and Annie drew one long breathof exhaustion, hardly of relief, she became aware that the peppermintlozenge which had been given her a quarter of an hour before, was lyingstill undissolved in her mouth. 

What had added considerably to the effect of the preacher's words, wasthat, in the middle of the sermon, she had, all at once, caught sightof the face of George Macwha diagonally opposite to her, his eyeslooking like ears with the intensity of his listening. Nor did therather comical episode of the snuffing of the candles in the leastinterfere with the solemnity of the tragic whole. The gallery waslighted by three _coron�_ of tallow candles, which, persisting ingrowing long-nosed and dim-sighted, had, at varying periods, accordingas the necessity revealed itself to a certain half-witted individual ofthe congregation, to be _snodded_ laboriously. Without losing a wordthat the preacher uttered, Annie watched the process intently. Whatmade it ludicrous was, that the man, having taken up his weapon withthe air of a pious executioner, and having tipped the chandeliertowards him, began, from the operation of some occult sympathy, to openthe snuffers and his own mouth simultaneously; and by the time theblack devouring jaws of the snuffers had reached their full stretch, his own jaws had become something dragonlike and hideous tobehold--when both shut with a convulsive snap. Add to this that he waslong-sighted and often missed a candle several times before hesucceeded in snuffing it, whereupon the whole of the opening andshutting process had to be repeated, sometimes with no other resultthan that of snuffing the candle out, which had then to be pulled fromits socket and applied to the next for re-illumination. But nothingcould be farther from Annie's mood than a laugh or even a smile, thoughshe gazed as if she were fascinated by the snuffers, which weredreadfully like one of the demons in a wood-cut of the Valley of theShadow of Death in the _Pilgrim's Progress_ without boards, which hadbelonged to her father. 

When all had ceased--when the prayer, the singing, and the finalbenediction were over, Annie crept out into the dark street as if intothe Outer Darkness. She felt the rain falling upon something hot, butshe hardly knew that it was her own cheeks that were being wetted bythe heavy drops. Her first impulse was to run to Alec and Curly, puther arms about their necks, and entreat them to flee from the wrath tocome. But she could not find them to-night. She must go home. Forherself she was not much afraid; for there was a place where prayer washeard as certainly as at the mercy-seat of old--a little garret roomnamely, with holes in the floor, out of which came rats; but with adoor as well, in at which came the prayed-for cat. 

But alas for poor Annie and her chapel-going! As she was creepingslowly up from step to step in the dark, the feeling came over her thatit was no longer against rats, nor yet against evil things dwelling inthe holes and corners of a neglected human world, that she had to pray. A spiritual terror was seated on the throne of the universe, and wascalled God--and to whom should she pray against it? Amidst thedarkness, a deeper darkness fell. 

She knelt by her bedside, but she could not lift up her heart; for wasshe not one of them that forget God? and was she not therefore wicked?and was not God angry with her every day? Was not the fact that shecould not pray a certain proof that she was out of God's favour, andcounted unworthy of his notice?

But there was Jesus Christ: she would cry to him. But did she believein him? She tried hard to convince herself that she did; but at lastshe laid her weary head on the bed, and groaned in her young despair. At the moment a rustling in the darkness broke the sad silence with athrob of terror. She started to her feet. She was exposed to all therats in the universe now, for God was angry with her, and she could notpray. With a stifled scream she darted to the door, and half tumbleddown the stair in an agony of fear. 

"What gars ye mak sic a din i' the hoose o' the Sawbath nicht?"screamed Mrs Bruce. 

But little did Annie feel the reproof. And as little did she know thatthe dreaded rats had this time been the messengers of God to drive herfrom a path in which lies madness. 

She was forced at length to go to bed, where God made her sleep andforget him, and the rats did not come near her again that night. 

Curly and Alec had been in the chapel too, but they were not of atemperament to be disturbed by Mr Brown's discourse. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Little as Murdoch Malison knew of the worlds of thought andfeeling--Annie's among the rest--which lay within those young faces andforms assembled the next day as usual, he knew almost as little of themysteries that lay within himself. 

Annie was haunted all day with the thought of the wrath of God. Whenshe forgot it for a moment, it would return again with a sting ofactual physical pain, which seemed to pierce her heart. Before schoolwas over she had made up her mind what to do. 

And before school was over Malison's own deed had opened his own eyes, had broken through the crust that lay between him and the vision of hisown character. 

There is not to be found a more thorough impersonation of his owntheology than a Scotch schoolmaster of the rough old-fashioned type. His pleasure was law, irrespective of right or wrong, and the reward ofsubmission to law was immunity from punishment. He had his favouritesin various degrees, whom he chose according to inexplicable directionsof feeling ratified by "the freedom of his own will. " These found iteasy to please him, while those with whom he was not primarily pleased, found it impossible to please him. 

Now there had come to the school, about a fortnight before, twounhappy-looking little twin orphans, with white thin faces, and bonesin their clothes instead of legs and arms, committed to the mercies ofMr Malison by their grandfather. Bent into all the angles of agrasshopper, and lean with ancient poverty, the old man tottered awaywith his stick in one hand, stretched far out to support his stoopingframe, and carried in the other the caps of the two forsaken urchins, saying, as he went, in a quavering, croaking voice, "I'll jist tak them wi' me, or they'll no be fit for the Sawbath aboona fortnicht. They're terrible laddies to blaud (spoil) their claes!"

Turning with difficulty when he had reached the door, he added:

"Noo ye jist gie them their whups weel, Master Mailison, for ye kenthat he that spareth the rod blaudeth the bairn. "

Thus authorized, Malison certainly did "gie them their whups weel. "Before the day was over they had both lain shrieking on the floor underthe torture of the lash. And such poor half-clothed, half-fed creaturesthey were, and looked so pitiful and cowed, that one cannot helpthinking it must have been for his own glory rather than their goodthat he treated them thus. 

But, in justice to Malison, another fact must be mentioned, which, although inconsistent with the one just recorded, was in perfectconsistency with the theological subsoil whence both sprang. Afterabout a week, during which they had been whipt almost every day, theorphans came to school with a cold and a terrible cough. Then hisobservant pupils saw the man who was both cruel judge and cruelexecutioner, feeding his victims with liquorice till their faces werestained with its exuberance. 

The old habits of severity, which had been in some measure intermitted, had returned upon him with gathered strength, and this day Anne was tobe one of the victims. For although he would not dare to whip her, hewas about to incur the shame of making this day, pervaded as it was, through all its spaces of time and light, with the fumes of the sermonshe had heard the night before, the most wretched day that Anne's sadlife had yet seen. Indeed, although she afterwards passed many moresorrowful days, she never had to pass one so utterly miserable. Thespirits of the pit seemed to have broken loose and filled MurdochMalison's school-room with the stench of their fire and brimstone. 

As she sat longing for school to be over, that she might follow a planwhich had a glimmer of hope in it, stupified with her labouringthoughts, and overcome with wretchedness, she fell fast asleep. She wasroused by a smart blow from the taws, flung with unerring aim at theback of her bare bended neck. She sprang up with a cry, and, totteringbetween sleep and terror, proceeded at once to take the leather snakeback to the master. But she would have fallen in getting over the formhad not Alec caught her in his arms. He re-seated her, and taking thetaws from her trembling hand, carried it himself to the tyrant. Uponhim Malison's fury, breaking loose, expended itself in a dozen blows onthe right hand, which Alec held up without flinching. As he walked tohis seat, burning with pain, the voice of the master sounded behindhim; but with the decree it uttered, Alec did not feel himself atliberty to interfere. 

"Ann Anderson, " he bawled, "stand up on the seat. "

With trembling limbs, Annie obeyed. She could scarcely stand at first, and the form shook beneath her. For some time her colour keptalternating between crimson and white, but at last settled into adeadly pallor. Indeed, it was to her a terrible punishment to beexposed to the looks of all the boys and girls in the school. The elderBruce tried hard to make her see one of his vile grimaces, but, feelingas if every nerve in her body were being stung with eyes, she neverdared to look away from the book which she held upside down before herown sightless eyes. --This pillory was the punishment due to fallingasleep, as hell was the punishment for forgetting God; and there shehad to stand for a whole hour. 

"_What a shame! Damn that Malison!_" and various other subduedexclamations were murmured about the room; for Annie was a favouritewith most of the boys, and yet more because she was the General'ssweetheart, as they said; but these ebullitions of popular feeling weretoo faint to reach her ears and comfort her isolation and exposure. Worst of all, she had soon to behold, with every advantage of position, an outbreak of the master's temper, far more painful than she had yetseen, both from its cruelty and its consequences. 

A small class of mere children, amongst whom were the orphan Truffeys, had been committed to the care of one of the bigger boys, while themaster was engaged with another class. Every boy in the latter hadalready had his share of _pandies_, when a noise in the children'sclass attracting the master's attention, he saw one of the Truffeys hitanother boy in the face. He strode upon him at once, and putting noquestion as to provocation, took him by the neck, fixed it between hisknees, and began to lash him with hissing blows. In his agony, thelittle fellow contrived to twist his head about and get a mouthful ofthe master's leg, inserting his teeth in a most canine and praiseworthymanner. The master caught him up, and dashed him on the floor. Therethe child lay motionless. Alarmed, and consequently cooled, Malisonproceeded to lift him. He was apparently lifeless; but he had onlyfainted with pain. When he came to himself a little, it was found thathis leg was hurt. It appeared afterwards that the knee-cap was greatlyinjured. Moaning with pain, he was sent home on the back of a bigparish scholar. 

At all this Anne stared from her pillory with horror. The feeling thatGod was angry with her grew upon her; and Murdoch Malison became for atime inseparably associated with her idea of God, frightfullybewildering all her aspirations. 

The master still looked uneasy, threw the _tag_ into his desk, and beatno one more that day. Indeed, only half an hour of school-time wasleft. As soon as that was over, he set off at a swinging pace for theold grandfather's cottage. 

What passed there was never known. The other Truffey came to school thenext day as usual, and told the boys that his brother was in bed. Inthat bed he lay for many weeks, and many were the visits the masterpaid him. This did much with the townsfolk to wipe away his reproach. They spoke of the affair as an unfortunate accident, and pitied theschoolmaster even more than the sufferer. 

When at length the poor boy was able to leave his bed, it becameapparent that, either through unskilful treatment, or as theunavoidable result of the injury, he would be a cripple for life. 

The master's general behaviour was certainly modified by thisconsequence of his fury; but it was some time before the full reactionarrived. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

When Annie descended from her hateful eminence, just before the finalprayer, it was with a deeper sense of degradation than any violence ofthe tawse on her poor little hands could have produced. Nor could theattentions of Alec, anxiously offered as soon as they were out ofschool, reach half so far to console her as they might once havereached; for such was her sense of condemnation, that she dared nottake pleasure in anything. Nothing else was worth minding tillsomething was done about that. The thought of having God against hertook the heart out of everything. --As soon as Alec left her, she walkedwith hanging head, pale face, and mournful eyes, straight to Mr Cowie'sdoor. 

She was admitted at once, and shown into the library, where theclergyman sat in the red dusky glow of the firelight, sipping a glassof wine, and looking very much like an ox-animal chewing the cud; forthe meditation in which the good man indulged over his wine was seldomworthy of being characterized otherwise than as mental rumination. 

"Well, Annie, my dear, come away, " said he, "I am glad to see you. Howdoes the boat get on?"

Deeply touched by a kindness which fell like dew upon the parchingmisery of the day, Annie burst into tears. Mr Cowie was greatlydistressed. He drew her between his knees, laid his cheek against hers, as was his way with children, and said with soothing tenderness:

"Walawa! what's the matter with my dawtie?"

After some vain attempts at speech, Annie succeeded in giving thefollowing account of the matter, much interrupted with sobs and freshoutbursts of weeping. 

"Ye see, sir, I gaed last nicht to the missionar kirk to hear Mr Broon. And he preached a gran' sermon, sir. But I haena been able to bidemysel' sin' syne. For I doobt I'm ane o' the wicked 'at God hates, andI'll never win' to haven at a', for I canna help forgettin' him whiles. An' the wicked'll be turned into hell, and a' the nations that forgetGod. That was his text, sir. And I canna bide it. "

In the bosom of the good man rose a gentle indignation against theschismatics who had thus terrified and bewildered that sacred being, amaid-child. But what could he say? He thought for a moment, and betookhimself, in his perplexity, to his common sense. 

"You haven't forgotten your father, have you, Annie?" said he. 

"I think aboot him maist ilka day, " answered Annie. 

"But there comes a day now and then when you don't think much abouthim, does there not?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Do you think he would be angry with his child because she was so muchtaken up with her books or her play---"

"I never play at onything, sir. "

"Well--with learning songs to say to Alec Forbes and Willie Macwha--doyou think he would be angry that you didn't think about him that day, especially when you can't see him?"

"'Deed no, sir. He wadna be sae sair upo' me as that. "

"What would he say, do you think?"

"Gin Mr Bruce war to cast it up till me, he wad say: 'Lat alane thelassie. She'll think aboot me the morn--time eneuch. '"

"Well, don't you think your Father in heaven would say the same?"

"Maybe he micht, sir. But ye see my father was my ain father, and wadmak' the best o' me. "

"And is not God kinder than your father?"

"He canna weel be that, sir. And there's the Scripter!"

"But he sent his only Son to die for us. "

"Ay--for the eleck, sir, " returned the little theologian. 

Now this was more than Mr Cowie was well prepared to meet, forcertainly this terrible doctrine was perfectly developed in the creedof the Scotch Church; the assembly of divines having sat upon theScripture egg till they had hatched it in their own likeness. Poor MrCowie! There were the girl-eyes, blue, and hazy with tearful questions, looking up at him hungrily. --O starving little brothers and sisters!God does love you, and all shall be, and therefore is, well. --But theminister could not say this, gladly as he would have said it if hecould; and the only result of his efforts to find a suitable reply wasthat he lost his temper--not with Annie, but with the doctrine ofelection. 

"Gang ye hame, Annie, my bairn, " said he, talking Scotch now, "anddinna trouble yer heid about election, and a' that. It's no' a cannydoctrine. No mortal man could ever win at the boddom o' 't. I'mthinkin' we haena muckle to do w' 't. Gang hame, dawtie, and say yerprayers to be preserved frae the wiles o' Sawtan. There 's a sixpenceto ye. "

His kind heart was sorely grieved that all it could give was money. Shehad asked for bread, and he had but a stone, as he thought, to giveher. So he gave it her with shame. He might however have reversed thewords of St Peter, saying, "Spiritual aid I have none, but such as Ihave give I thee;" and so offered her the sixpence. But, for my part, Ithink the sixpence had more of bread in it than any theology he mighthave been expected to have at hand; for, so given, it was the symboland the sign of love, which is the heart of the divine theology. 

Annie, however, had a certain Scotchness in her which made her drawback from the offer. 

"Na, thank ye, sir, " she said; "I dinna want it. "

"Will ye no tak' it to please an auld man, bairn?"

"Deed will I, sir, I wad do a hantle mair nor that to please you. "

And again the tears filled her blue eyes as she held out herhand--receiving in it a shilling which Mr Cowie, for more relief to hisown burdened heart, had substituted for the sixpence. 

"It's a shillin', sir!" she said, looking up at him with the coin lyingon her open palm. 

"Weel, what for no? Is a shillin' no a saxpence?"

"Ay, sir. It's twa. "

"Weel, Annie, " said the old man, suddenly elevated into prophecy forthe child's need--for he had premeditated nothing of the sort--"maybewhan God offers us a saxpence, it may turn oot to be twa. Good nicht, my bairn. "

But Mr Cowie was sorely dissatisfied with himself. For not only did heperceive that the heart of the child could not be thus satisfied, buthe began to feel something new stirring in his own bosom. The fact wasthat Annie was further on than Mr Cowie. She was a child looking aboutto find the face of her Father in heaven: he was but one of God'sbabies, who had been lying on his knees, receiving contentedly andhappily the good things he gave him, but never looking up to find theeyes of him from whom the good gifts came. And now the heart of the oldman, touched by the motion of the child's heart--yearning after herFather in heaven, and yet scarcely believing that he could be so goodas her father on earth--began to stir uneasily within him. And he wentdown on his knees and hid his face in his hands. 

But Annie, though not satisfied, went away comforted. After such a dayof agony and humiliation, Mr Cowie's kiss came gracious withrestoration and blessing. It had something in it which was not in MrBrown's sermon. And yet if she had gone to Mr Brown, she would havefound him kind too--very kind; but solemnly kind--severely kind; hislong saintly face beaming with religious tenderness--not humancordiality; and his heart full of interest in her spiritual condition, not sympathy with the unhappiness which his own teaching had produced;nay, rather inclined to gloat over this unhappiness as the sign ofgrace bestowed and an awakening conscience. 

But notwithstanding the comfort Mr Cowie had given her--the best hehad, poor man!--Annie's distress soon awoke again. To know that shecould not be near God in peace and love without fulfilling certainmental conditions--that he would not have her just as she was now, filled her with an undefined but terribly real misery, only the moredistressing that it was vague with the vagueness of the dismal negationfrom which it sprung. 

It was not however the strength of her love to God that made herunhappy in being thus barred out from him. It was rather the check thusgiven to the whole upward tendency of her being, with its multitude ofundefined hopes and longings now drawing nigh to the birth. It was inher ideal self rather than her conscious self that her misery arose. And now, dearly as she loved Mr Cowie, she began to doubt whether heknew much about the matter. He had put her off without answering herquestions, either because he thought she had no business with suchthings, or because he had no answer to give. This latter possibly addednot a little to her unhappiness, for it gave birth to a fearful doubtas to the final safety of kind Mr Cowie himself. 

But there was one man who knew more about such secret things, she fullybelieved, than any man alive; and that man was Thomas Crann. Thomas wasa rather dreadful man, with his cold eyes, high shoulders, and wheezingbreath; and Annie was afraid of him. But she would have encountered theterrors of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, as surely as the Pilgrim, to get rid of the demon nightmare that lay upon her bosom, crushing thelife out of her heart. So she plucked up courage, like Christian ofold, and resolved to set out for the house of the Interpreter. Judging, however, that he could not yet be home from his work, she thought itbetter to go home herself first. 

After eating a bit of oat cake, with a mug of blue milk for _kitchie_(Latin "obsonium"), she retired to her garret and waited drearily, butdid not try to pray. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

It was very dark by the time she left the house, for the night wasdrizzly; but she knew the windings of Glamerton almost as well as theway up her garret-stair. Thomas's door was half open, and a light wasshining from the kitchen. She knocked timidly. At the same moment sheheard the voice of Thomas from the other end of this house, whichconsisted only of a _but and a ben_. In the ben-end (the inneroriginally, hence better room) there was no light: Thomas often sat inthe dark. 

"Jean, come ben to worship, " he cried roughly. 

"Comin', Thamas, " answered Jean. 

Again Annie knocked, but again without result. Her knock was toogentle. After a moment's pause, dreading that the intended prayersmight interfere with her project, she knocked yet again; but a secondtime her knock was overwhelmed in the gruff call of Thomas, soundingyet more peremptory than before. 

"Jean, come ben to worship. "

"Hoot, Thamas, hae patience, man. I canna come. "

"Jean, come ben to worship direckly. "

"I'm i' the mids' o' cleanin' the shune. I hae dooble wark o' Mononday, ye ken. "

"The shune can bide. "

"Worship can bide. "

"Haud yer tongue. The shune can bide. "

"Na, na; they canna bide. "

"Gin ye dinna come ben this minute, I'll hae worship my lane. "

Vanquished by the awful threat, Jean dropped the shoe she held, andturned her apron; but having to pass the door on her way to theben-end, she saw Annie standing on the threshold, and stopped with astart, ejaculating:

"The Lord preserve's, lassie!"

"Jean, what are ye sweerin' at?" cried Thomas, angrily. 

"At Annie Anderson, " answered Jean simply. 

"What for are ye sweerin' at _her_? I'm sure she's a douce lassie. Whatdoes the bairn want?"

"What do ye want, Annie?"

"I want to see Thomas, gin ye please, " answered Annie. 

"She wants to see you, Thomas, " screamed Jean; remarking in a lowervoice, "He's as deef's a door-nail, Annie Anderson. "

"Lat her come in, than, " bawled Thomas. 

"He's tellin' ye to come in, Annie, " said Jean, as if she had beeninterpreting his words. But she detained her nevertheless to askseveral unimportant questions. At length the voice of Thomas rousingher once more, she hastened to introduce her. 

"Gang in there, Annie, " she said, throwing open the door of the darkroom. The child entered and stood just within it, not knowing evenwhere Thomas sat. But a voice came to her out of the gloom:

"Ye're no feared at the dark, are ye, Annie? Come in. "

"I dinna ken whaur I'm gaein. "

"Never min' that. Come straucht foret. I'm watchin' ye. "

For Thomas had been sitting in the dark till he could see in it (which, however, is not an invariable result), while out of the little lightAnnie had come into none at all But she obeyed the voice, and wentstraight forward into the dark, evidently much to the satisfaction ofThomas, who seizing her arm with one hand, laid the other, horny andheavy, on her head, saying:

"Noo, my lass, ye'll ken what faith means. Whan God tells ye to ganginto the mirk, gang!"

"But I dinna like the mirk, " said Annie. 

"No human sowl _can_, " responded Thomas. "Jean, fess a can'ledireckly. "

Now Thomas was an enemy to everything that could be, justly orunjustly, called _superstition_; and this therefore was not the answerthat might have been expected of him. But he had begun with thesymbolic and mystical in his reception of Annie, and perhaps there wassomething in the lovely childishness of her unconscious faith (whileshe all the time thought herself a dreadful unbeliever) that keptThomas to the simplicities of the mystical part of his nature. Besides, Thomas's mind was a rendezvous for all extremes. In him they met, andshowed that they met by fighting all day long. If you knocked at hisinner door, you never could tell what would open it to you--alldepending on what happened to be _uppermost_ in the wrestle. 

The candle was brought and set on the table, showing two or threegeranium plants in the window. Why her eyes should have fixed uponthese, Annie tried to discover afterwards, when she was more used tothinking. But she could not tell, except it were that they were soscraggy and wretched, half drowned in the darkness, and half blanchedby the miserable light, and therefore must have been very like her ownfeelings, as she stood before the ungentle but not unkind stone-mason. 

"Weel, lassie, " said he, when Jean had retired, "what do ye want wi'me?"

Annie burst into tears again. 

"Jean, gae butt the hoose direckly, " cried Thomas, on the mere chanceof his attendant having lingered at the door. And the sound of herretreating footsteps, though managed with all possible care, immediately justified his suspicion. This interruption turned Annie'stears aside, and when Thomas spoke next, she was able to reply. 

"Noo, my bairn, " he said, "what's the maitter?"

"I was at the missionar kirk last nicht, " faltered Annie. 

"Ay! And the sermon took a grip o' ye?--Nae doot, nae doot. Ay. Ay. "

"I canna help forgettin' _him_, Thomas. "

"But ye maun try and no forget him, lassie. "

"Sae I do. But it's dour wark, and 'maist impossible. "

"Sae it maun aye be; to the auld Aidam impossible; to the youngChristian a weary watch. "

Hope began to dawn upon Annie. 

"A body micht hae a chance, " she asked with meditative suggestion, "allooin' 'at she did forget him whiles?"

"Nae doot, lassie. The nations that forget God are them that dinnacare, that never fash their heids, or their herts aither, aboothim--them that were never called, never chosen. "

Annie's trouble returned like a sea-wave that had only retired togather strength. 

"But hoo's a body to ken whether she _be_ ane o' the elec'?" she said, quaking. 

"That's a hard maitter. It's no needfu' to ken't aforehan'. Jist latthat alane i' the mean time. "

"But I canna lat it alane. It's no for mysel' aither a'thegither. Could_ye_ lat it alane, Thomas?"

This home-thrust prevented any questioning about the second clause ofher answer. And Thomas dearly loved plain dealing. 

"Ye hae me there, lassie. Na, I cudna lat it alane. An' I never did latit alane. I plaguit the Lord nicht an' day till he loot me ken. "

"I tried hard last nicht, " said Annie, "but the rottans war ower monyfor me. "

"Sawtan has mony wiles, " said the mason reflectively. 

"Do ye think they warna rottans?' asked Annie. 

"Ow! nae doot. I daursay. "

"'Cause, gin I thocht they war only deils, I wadna care a buckie(periwinkle) for them. "

"It's muckle the same what ye ca' them, gin they ca you frae the throneo' grace, lassie. "

"What am I to do than, Thomas?"

"Ye maun haud at it, lassie, jist as the poor widow did wi' the unjustjudge. An' gin the Lord hears ye, ye'll ken ye're ane o' the elec', forit's only his own elec' that the Lord dis hear. Eh! lassie, little yeken aboot prayin' an' no faintin'. "

Alas for the parable if Thomas's theories were to be carried out in itsexposition! For they would lead to the conclusion that the Lord and theunjust judge were one and the same person. But it is our divineaspirations and not our intellectual theories that need to be carriedout. The latter may, nay must in some measure, perish; the former willbe found in perfect harmony with the divine Will; yea, true thoughfaint echoes of that Will--echoes from the unknown caves of our deepesthumanity, where lies, yet swathed in darkness, the divine image. 

To Thomas's words Annie's only reply was a fixed gaze, which heanswered thus, resuming his last words:

"Ay, lassie, little ye ken aboot watchin' and prayin'. Whan it pleasedthe Lord to call me, I was stan'in' my lane i' the mids' o' apeat-moss, luikin' wast, whaur the sun had left a reid licht ahin him, as gin he had jist brunt oot o' the lift, an' hadna gane doon ava. An'it min'd me o' the day o' jeedgment. An' there I steid and luikit, tillthe licht itsel' deid oot, an' naething was left but a gray sky an' afeow starns intil't. An' the cloods gethered, an' the lift grew blackan' mirk; an' the haill countryside vainished, till I kent no moreaboot it than what my twa feet could answer for. An' I daurna muv forthe fear o' the pits o' water an' the walleen (well-eyes--quagmire-springs)on ilka han'. The lee-lang nicht I stood, or lay, or kneeled upo' myk-nees, cryin' to the Lord for grace. I forgot a' aboot election, an'cried jist as gin I could gar him hear me by haudin' at him. An' i' themornin', whan the licht cam', I faund that my face was to the risin'sun. And I crap oot o' the bog, an' hame to my ain hoose. An' ilka body'at I met o' the road took the tither side o' 't, and glowert at me asgin I had been a ghaist or a warlock. An' the bairns playin' aboot thedoors ran in like rabbits whan they got sicht o' me. An' I begud tothink 'at something fearsome had signed me for a reprobate; an' I jistclosed my door, and gaed to my bed, and loot my wark stan', for wha cudwark wi' damnation hingin' ower his heid? An' three days gaed ower me, that nothing passed my lips but a drap o' milk an' water. An' o' thefourth day, i' the efternoon, I gaed to my wark wi' my heid swimmin'and my hert like to brak for verra glaidness. I _was_ ane o' thechosen. ["]

"But hoo did ye fin' that oot, Thomas?" asked Annie, trembling. 

"Weel, lassie, " answered Thomas, with solemn conviction in every tone, "it's my firm belief that, say what they like, there is, and there canbe, but _one_ way o' comin' to the knowledge o' that secret. "

"And what's that?" entreated Annie, whose life seemed to hang upon hislips. 

"Jist this. Get a sicht o' the face o' God. --It's my belief, an' a' theminnisters in creation'll no gar me alter my min', that no man can geta glimp' o' the face o' God but ane o' the chosen. I'm no sayin' 'at aman's no ane o' the elec' that hasna had that favour vouchsaufed to_him_; but this I _do_ say, that he canna ken his election wi'oot that. Try ye to get a sicht o' the face o' God, lassie: syne ye'll ken and beat peace. Even Moses himsel' cudna be saitisfeed wi'oot that. "

"What is't like, Thomas?" said Annie, with an eagerness which awe madevery still. 

"No words can tell that. It's all in the speerit. Whan ye see't ye'llken't. There's no fear o' mistakin' _that_. "

Teacher and scholar were silent. Annie was the first to speak. She hadgained her quest. 

"Am I to gang hame noo, Thomas?"

"Ay, gang hame, lassie, to yer prayers. But I doobt it's dark. I'llgang wi' ye. --Jean, my shune!"

"Na, na; I could gang hame blinlins, " remonstrated Annie. 

"Haud yer tongue. I'm gaein hame wi' ye, bairn. --Jean, my shune!"

"Hoot, Thamas! I've jist cleaned them, " screeched Jean from the kitchenat the second call. 

"Fess them here direckly. It's a jeedgment on ye for sayin' worship cudbide better nor the shune. "

Janet brought them and put them down sulkily. In another minute thegreat shoes, full of nails half an inch broad, were replaced on thetired feet, and with her soft little hand clasped in the great hornyhand of the stonemason, Annie trotted home by his side. With Scotchcaution, Thomas, as soon as they entered the shop, instead of takingleave of Annie, went up to the counter, and asked for an "unce o'tobawco, " as if his appearance along with Annie were merely accidental;while Annie, with perfect appreciation of the reticence, ran throughthe gap in the counter. 

She was so far comforted and so much tired, that she fell asleep at herprayers by the bedside. Presently she awoke in terror. It was Pussyhowever that had waked her, as she knew by the green eyes lamping in acorner. But she closed her prayers rather abruptly, clambered into bed, and was soon fast asleep. 

And in her sleep she dreamed that she stood in the darkness of the samepeat-moss which had held Thomas and his prayers all the night long. Shethought she was _kept in_ there, till she should pray enough to getherself out of it. And she tried hard to pray, but she could not. Andshe fell down in despair, beset with the terrors of those frightfulholes full of black water which she had seen on her way to Glamerton. But a hand came out of the darkness, laid hold of hers, and lifting herup, led her through the bog. And she dimly saw the form that led her, and it was that of a man who walked looking upon the earth. And shetried to see his face, but she could not, for he walked ever a littlebefore her. And he led her home to the old farm. And her father came tothe door to meet them. And he looked just the same as in the old happydays, only that his face was strangely bright. And with the joy ofseeing her father she awoke to a gentle sorrow that she had not seenalso the face of her deliverer. 

The next evening she wandered down to George Macwha's, and found thetwo boys at work. She had no poetry to give them, no stories to tellthem, no answer to their questions as to where she had been the nightbefore. She could only stand in silence and watch them. The skeleton ofthe boat grew beneath their hands, but it was on the workers and not ontheir work that her gaze was fixed. For her heart was burning withinher, and she could hardly restrain herself from throwing her arms abouttheir necks and imploring them to seek the face of God. Oh! if she onlyknew that Alec and Curly were of the elect! But they only could findthat out. There was no way for her to peer into that mystery. All shecould do was to watch their wants, to have the tool they needed nextready to their hand, to clear away the spales from before the busyplane, and to lie in wait for any chance of putting to her littlestrength to help. Perhaps they were not of the elect! She wouldminister to them therefore--oh, how much the more tenderly!

"What's come ower Annie?" said the one to the other when she had gone. 

But there was no answer to be found to the question. Could they haveunderstood her if she had told them what had come over her?

CHAPTER XXX. 

And so the time went on, slow-paced, with its silent destinies Anniesaid her prayers, read her Bible, and tried not to forget God. Ah!could she only have known that God never forgot her, whether she forgothim or not, giving her sleep in her dreary garret, gladness even inMurdoch Malison's school-room, and the light of life everywhere! He wasnow leading on the blessed season of spring, when the earth would bealmost heaven enough to those who had passed through the fierceness ofthe winter. Even now, the winter, old and weary, was halting awaybefore the sweet approaches of the spring--a symbol of that eternalspring before whose slow footsteps Death itself, "the winter of ourdiscontent, " shall vanish. Death alone can die everlastingly. 

I have been diffuse in my account of Annie's first winter at school, because what impressed her should impress those who read her history. It is her reflex of circumstance, in a great measure, which makes thathistory. In regard to this portion of her life, I have little more tosay than that by degrees the school became less irksome to her; thatshe grew more interested in her work; that some of the reading-bookscontained extracts which she could enjoy; and that a taste for readingbegan to wake in her. If ever she came to school with her lessonunprepared, it was because some book of travel or history had hadattractions too strong for her. And all that day she would go aboutlike a guilty thing, oppressed by a sense of downfall and neglectedduty. 

With Alec it was very different. He would often find himself in asimilar case; but the neglect would make no impression on hisconscience; or if it did, he would struggle hard to keep down the senseof dissatisfaction which strove to rise within him, and enjoy himselfin spite of it. 

Annie, again, accepted such as her doom, and went about gently unhappy, till neglect was forgotten in performance. There is nothing that canwipe out wrong but right. 

And still she haunted George Macwha's workshop, where the boat soonbegan to reveal the full grace of its lovely outlines. Of all the worksof man's hands, except those that belong to Art, a boat is theloveliest, and, in the old sense of the word, the _liveliest_. Why isthis? Is it that it is born between Wind and Water?--Wind the father, ever casting himself into multitudinous shapes of invisible tides, taking beauteous form in the sweep of a "lazy-paced cloud, " orembodying a transient informing freak in the waterspout, which he drawsinto his life from the bosom of his mate;--Water, the mother, visibleshe, sweeping and swaying, ever making and ever unmade, the veryessence of her being--beauty, yet having no form of her own, and yetagain manifesting herself in the ceaseless generation of passing forms?If the boat be the daughter of these, the stable child of visible andinvisible subtlety, made to live in both, and shape its steady coursebetween their varying and conflicting forces--if her Ideal was modelledbetween the flap of airy pinions and the long ranging flow of theserpent water, how could the lines of her form fail of grace?

Nor in this case were the magic influences of verse wanting to mouldand model a boat which from prow to stern should be lovely andfortunate. As Pandemonium

 "Rose like an exhalation, with the sound Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet, "

so the little boat grew to the sound of Annie's voice uttering notRunic Rhymes, but old Scotch ballads, or such few sweet English poems, of the new revelation, as floated across her way, and folded theirbutterfly wings in her memory. 

I have already said that reading became a great delight to her. MrCowie threw his library, with very little restriction, open to her; andbooks old and new were all new to her. She carried every fresh one homewith a sense of riches and a feeling of _upliftedness_ which I can illdescribe. She gloated over the thought of it, as she held it tight inher hand, with feelings resembling, and yet how unlike, those of JohnnyBruce when he crept into his rabbits' barrel to devour the pennyworthof _plunky_ (a preparation of treacle and flour) which his brotherwould else have compelled him to share. Now that the days were longer, she had plenty of time to read; for although her so-called guardiansmade cutting remarks upon her idleness, they had not yet compelled herto nursing or needlework. If she had shown the least inclination toeither, her liberty would have been gone from that moment; but, withthe fear of James Dow before their eyes, they let her alone. As to herdoing anything in the shop, she was far too much of an alien to beallowed to minister in the lowliest office of that sacred temple ofMammon. So she read everything she could lay her hands upon; and asoften as she found anything peculiarly interesting, she would take thebook to the boat, where the boys were always ready to listen towhatever she brought them. And this habit made her more dircerning[sic] and choice. 

Before I leave the school, however, I must give one more scene out ofits history. 

One mid-day in spring, just as the last of a hail-shower was passingaway, and a sickly sunbeam was struggling out, the schoolroom-dooropened, and in came Andrew Truffey, with a smile on his worn face, which shone in touching harmony with the watery gleam of the sunbetween the two hail-storms--for another was close at hand. He swunghimself in on the new pivot of his humanity, namely his crutch, whichevery one who saw him believed at once he was never more to go without, till he sank wearied on the road to the grave, and had to be carriedthe rest of the way. He looked very long and deathly, for he had grownmuch while lying in bed. 

The master rose hurriedly from his desk, and advanced to meet him. Adeep stillness fell upon the scholars. They dropped all their work, andgazed at the meeting. The master held out his hand. With awkwardnessand difficulty Andrew presented the hand which had been holding thecrutch; and, not yet thoroughly used to the management of it, staggeredin consequence and would have fallen. But the master caught him in hisarms and carried him to his old seat beside his brother. 

"Thank ye, sir, " said the boy with another gleamy smile, through whichhis thin features and pale, prominent eyes told yet more plainly of sadsuffering--all the master's fault, as the master knew. 

"Leuk at the dominie, " said Curly to Alec. "He's greitin'. "

For Mr Malison had returned to his seat and had laid his head down onthe desk, evidently to hide his emotion. 

"Haud yer tongue, Curly. Dinna leuk at him, " returned Alec. "He's sorryfor poor Truffey. "

Every one behaved to the master that day with marked respect. And fromthat day forward Truffey was in universal favour. 

Let me once more assert that Mr Malison was not a bad man. Themisfortune was, that his notion of right fell in with his naturalfierceness; and that, in aggravation of the too common feeling withwhich he had commenced his relations with his pupils, namely, that theywere not only the natural enemies of the master, but therefore of alllaw, theology had come in and taught him that they were in their ownnature bad--with a badness for which the only set-off he knew or couldintroduce was blows. Independently of any remedial quality that mightbe in them, these blows were an embodiment of justice; for "every sin, "as the catechism teaches, "deserveth God's wrath and curse both in thislife and that which is to come. " The master therefore was only aco-worker with God in every pandy he inflicted on his pupils. 

I do not mean that he reasoned thus, but that such-like were theprinciples he had to act upon. And I must add that, with all hisbrutality, he was never guilty of such cruelty as one reads ofoccasionally as perpetrated by English schoolmasters of the presentday. Nor were the boys ever guilty of such cruelty to their fellows asis not only permitted but excused in the public schools of England. Thetaws, likewise, is a far less cruel instrument of torture than thecane, which was then unknown in that region. 

And now the moderation which had at once followed upon the accident wasconfirmed. Punishment became less frequent still, and where it was yetinflicted for certain kinds and degrees of offence, its administrationwas considerably less severe than formerly; till at length the boyssaid that the master never put on black stockings now, except when hewas "oot o' white anes. " Nor did the discipline of the school suffer inconsequence. If one wants to make a hard-mouthed horse more responsiveto the rein, he must relax the pressure and friction of the bit, andmake the horse feel that he has got to hold up his own head. If therider supports himself by the reins, the horse will pull. 

But the marvel was to see how Andrew Truffey haunted and dogged themaster. He was as it were a conscious shadow to him. There was no hourof a holiday in which Truffey could not tell precisely where the masterwas. If one caught sight of Andrew, _hirpling_ down a passage, orleaning against a corner, he might be sure the master would pass withina few minutes. And the haunting of little Truffey worked so on hisconscience, that, if the better nature of him had not asserted itselfin love to the child, he would have been compelled to leave the place. For think of having a visible sin of your own, in the shape of alame-legged boy, peeping at you round every other corner!

But he did learn to love the boy; and therein appeared the divinevengeance--ah! how different from human vengeance!--that the outbreakof unrighteous wrath reacted on the wrong-doer in shame, repentance, and love. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

At length the boat was calked, tarred, and painted. 

One evening as Annie entered the workshop, she heard Curly cry, "Here she is, Alec!"

and Alec answer, "Let her come. I'm just done. "

Alec stood at the stern of the boat, with a pot in one hand, and apaint-brush in the other; and, when Annie came near, she discovered toher surprise, and not a little to her delight, that he was justfinishing off the last E of "THE BONNIE ANNIE. "

"There, " said he, "that's her name. Hoo de ye like it, Annie?"

Annie was too much pleased to reply. She looked at it for a while witha flush on her face: and then turning away, sought her usual seat onthe heap of spales. 

How much that one winter, with its dragons and its heroes, itsboat-building and its rhymes, its discomforts at home and itsconsolations abroad, its threats of future loss, and comforts ofpresent hope, had done to make the wild country child into a thoughtfullittle woman!

Now who should come into the shop at the moment but Thomas Crann!--thevery man of all men not to be desired on the occasion; for the boys hadcontemplated a certain ceremony of christening, which they dared notcarry out in the presence of the stone-mason; without which, however, George Macwha was very doubtful whether the little craft would prove alucky one. --By common understanding they made no allusion to thematter, thus postponing it for the present. 

"Ay! ay! Alec, " said Thomas; "sae yer boat's bigget at last!"

He stood contemplating it for a moment, not without some hardlyperceptible signs of admiration, and then said:

"Gin ye had her out upon a muckle water, do ye think ye wad jump ootower the side o' her, gin the Saviour tauld ye, Alec Forbes?"

"Ay wad I, gin I war richt sure he wantit me. "

"Ye wad stan' an' parley wi' him, nae doot?"

"I bude (behoved) to be richt sure it was his ain sel', ye ken, an'that he did call me. "

"Ow ay, laddie! That's a' richt. Weel, I houp ye wad. I aye had guidhoups o' ye, Alec, my man. But there may be sic a thing as loupin' intothe sea o' life oot o' the ark o' salvation; an' gin ye loup in whan hedoesna call ye, or gin ye getna a grip o' his han', whan he does, ye'resure to droon, as sure's ane o' the swine that ran heedlong in andperished i' the water. "

Alec had only a dim sense of his meaning, but he had faith that it wasgood, and so listened in respectful silence. Surely enough of sacred aswell as lovely sound had been uttered over the boat to make herfaithful and fortunate!

The hour arrived at length when _The Bonnie Annie_ was to be launched. It was one of a bright Saturday afternoon, in the month of May, full ofa kind of tearful light, which seemed to say: "Here I am, but I goto-morrow!" Yet though there might be plenty of cold weather to come, though the hail might; fall in cart-loads, and the snow might lie thickfor a day or two, there would be no more frozen waters, and the boughswould be bare and desolate no more. A few late primroses were peepingfrom the hollows damp with moss and shadow along the banks, and thetrees by the stream were in small young leaf. There was a light windfull of memories of past summers and promises for the new one at hand, one of those gentle winds that blow the eyes of the flowers open, thatthe earth may look at the heaven. In the midst of this baby-waking ofthe world, the boat must glide into her new life. 

Alec got one of the men on the farm to _yoke a horse_ to bring the boatto the river. With the help of George she was soon placed in the cart, and Alec and Curly got in beside her. The little creature looked verymuch like a dead fish, as she lay jolting in the hot sun, with a motionirksome to her delicate sides, her prow sticking awkwardly over thehorse's back, and her stern projecting as far beyond the cart behind. Thus often is the human boat borne painfully to the stream on whichthereafter it shall glide contentedly through and out of the world. 

When they had got about half-way, Alec said to Curly:

"I wonner what's come o' Annie, Curly? It wad be a shame to lainch theboat wantin' her. "

"Deed it wad. I s' jist rin and luik after her, an' ye can luik efterthe boat. "

So saying, Curly was out of the cart with a bound. Away he ran over afield of potatoes, straight as the crow flies, while the cart wentslowly on towards the Glamour. 

"Whaur's Annie Anderson?" he cried, as he burst into Robert Bruce'sshop. 

"What's _your_ business?" asked the Bruce--a question which evidentlylooked for no answer. 

"Alec wants her. "

"Weel, he will want her, " retorted Robert, shutting his jaws with asnap, and grinning a smileless grin from ear to ear, like the steelclasp of a purse. By such petty behaviour he had long ago put himselfon an equality with the young rascals generally, and he was no matchfor them on their own level. 

Curly left the shop at once, and went round by the close into thegarden, where he found Annie loitering up and down with the baby in herarms, and looking very weary. This was in fact the first time she hadhad to carry the baby, and it fatigued her dreadfully. Till now MrsBruce had had the assistance of a ragged child, whose father owed themmoney for groceries: he could not pay it, and they had taken hisdaughter instead. Long ago, however, she had slaved it out, and had atlength gone back to school. The sun was hot, the baby was heavy, andAnnie felt all arms and back--they were aching so with the unaccustomeddrudgery. She was all but crying when Curly darted to the gate, hisface glowing with his run, and his eyes sparkling with excitement. 

"Come, Annie, " cried he; "we're gaein' to lainch the boat. "

"I canna, Curly; I hae the bairn to min'. "

"Tak the bairn in til 'ts mither. "

"I daurna. "

"Lay't doon o' the table, an' rin. "

"Na, na, Curly; I cudna do that. Puir little crater!"

"Is the beastie heavy?" asked Curly, with deceitful interest. 

"Dreadfu'. "

"Lat's try. "

"Ye'll lat her fa'. "

"Deed no. I'm no sae fusionless (pithless). Gie's a haud o' her. "

Annie yielded her charge; but no sooner had Curly possession of thebaby, than he bounded away with her out of the garden into the backyard adjoining the house. Now in this yard, just opposite thekitchen-window, there was a huge sugar-cask, which, having beenconverted into a reservoir, stood under a spout, and was at this momenthalf full of rain-water. Curly, having first satisfied himself that MrsBruce was at work in the kitchen, and therefore sure to see him, mounted a big stone that lay beside the barrel, and pretended to lowerthe baby into the water, as if trying how much she would endure withequanimity. In a moment, he received such a box on the ear that, had henot been prepared for it, he would in reality have dropped the childinto the barrel. The same moment the baby was in its mother's arms, andCurly sitting at the foot of the barrel, nursing his head, andpretending to suppress a violent attack of weeping. The angry mothersped into the house with her rescued child. 

No sooner had she disappeared than Curly was on his feet scudding backto Annie, who had been staring over the garden-gate in utterbewilderment at his behaviour. She could no longer resist hisentreaties: off she ran with him to the banks of the Glamour, wherethey soon came upon Alec and the man in the act of putting the boat onthe slip, which, in the present instance, was a groove hollowed out ofa low part of the bank, so that she might glide in more gradually. 

"Hurrah! There's Annie!" cried Alec. --"Come awa', Annie. Here's a glasso' whisky I got frae my mither to kirsten the boat. Fling't at the nameo' her. "

Annie did as she was desired, to the perfect satisfaction of allpresent, particularly of the long, spare, sinewy farm-servant, who hadcontrived, when Alec's back was turned, to swallow the whisky andsubstitute Glamour water, which no doubt did equally well for thepurposes of the ceremony. Then with a gentle push from all, the _BonnieAnnie_, slid into the Glamour, where she lay afloat in contented grace, as unlike herself in the cart as a swan waddling wearily to the wateris unlike the true swan-self when her legs have no longer to supporther weight, but to oar her along through the friendly upholdingelement. 

"Isna she bonnie?" cried Annie in delight. 

And indeed she was bonnie, in her green and white paint, lying like agreat water-beetle ready to scamper over the smooth surface. Alecsprang on board, nearly upsetting the tiny craft. Then he held it by abush on the bank while Curly handed in Annie, who sat down in thestern. Curly then got in himself, and Alec and him seized each an oar. 

But what with their inexperience and the nature of the channel, theyfound it hard to get along. The river was full of great stones, makingnarrow passages, so that, in some parts, it was not possible to row. They knew nothing about the management of a boat, and were no more atease than if they had been afloat in a tub. Alec being stronger in thearms than Curly, they went round and round for some time, as if in awhirlpool, with a timeless and grotesque spluttering and sprawling. Atlast they gave it up in weariness, and allowed the _Bonnie Annie_ tofloat along the stream, taking care only to keep her off the rocks. Past them went the banks--here steep and stony, but green with mosswhere little trickling streams found their way into the channel; therespreading into low alluvial shores, covered with lovely grass, starredwith daisies and buttercups, from which here and there rose a willow, whose low boughs swept the water. A little while ago, they had skateddown its frozen surface, and had seen a snowy land shooting past them;now with an unfelt gliding, they floated down, and the green meadowsdreamed away as if they would dream past them for ever. --Suddenly, asthey rounded the corner of a rock, a great roar of falling water burston their ears, and they started in dismay, "The sluice is up!" cried Alec. "Tak' to yer oar, Curly. "

Along this part of the bank, some twenty feet above them, ran amill-race, which a few yards lower down communicated by means of asluice with the river. This sluice was now open, for, from the laterains, there was too much water; and the surplus rushed from the raceinto the Glamour in a foaming cataract. Annie seeing that the boys wereuneasy, got very frightened, and, closing her eyes, sat motionless. Louder and louder grew the tumult of the waters, till their soundseemed to fall in a solid thunder on her brain. The boys tried hard torow against the stream, but without avail. Slowly and surely it carriedthem down into the very heart of the boiling fall; for on this sidealone was the channel deep enough for the boat, and the banks were toosteep and bare to afford any hold. At last, the boat drifting sternforemost, a torrent of water struck Annie, and tumbled into the boat asif it would beat out the bottom of it. Annie was tossed about in fiercewaters, and ceased to know anything. When she came to herself, she wasin an unknown bed, with the face of Mrs Forbes bending anxiously overher. She would have risen, but Mrs Forbes told her to lie still, whichindeed Annie found much more pleasant. 

As soon as they got under the fall the boat had filled and foundered. Alec and Curly could swim like otters, and were out of the pool atonce. As they went down, Alec had made a plunge to lay hold of Annie, but had missed her. The moment he got his breath, he swam again intothe boiling pool, dived, and got hold of her; but he was so stupefiedby the force of the water falling upon him and beating him down, thathe could not get out of the raging depth--for here the water was manyfeet deep--and as he would not leave his hold of Annie, was in dangerof being drowned. Meantime Curly had scrambled on shore and climbed upto the mill-race, where he shut down the sluice hard. In a moment thetumult had ceased, and Alec and Annie were in still water. In a momentmore he had her on the bank, apparently lifeless, whence he carried herhome to his mother in terror. She immediately resorted to one or two ofthe usual restoratives, and was presently successful. 

As soon as she had opened her eyes, Alec and Curly hurried off to getout their boat. They met the miller in an awful rage; for the suddenonset of twice the quantity of water on his overshot wheel, had set hismachinery off as if it had been bewitched, and one old stone, which hadlost its iron girdle, had flown in pieces, to the frightful danger ofthe miller and his men. 

"Ye ill-designed villains!" cried he at a venture, "what gart ye closethe sluice? I s' learn ye to min' what ye're aboot. Deil tak' ye forrascals!"

And he seized one in each brawny hand. 

"Annie Anderson was droonin' aneath the waste-water, " answered Curlypromptly. 

"The Lord preserve 's!" said the miller, relaxing his hold "Hoo wasthat? Did she fa' in?"

The boys told him the whole story. In a few minutes more the back-fallwas again turned off, and the miller was helping them to get their boatout. The _Bonnie Annie_ was found uninjured. Only the oars andstretchers had floated down the stream, and were never heard of again. 

Alec had a terrible scolding from his mother for getting Annie intosuch mischief. Indeed Mrs Forbes did not like the girl's being so muchwith her son; but she comforted herself with the probability that byand by Alec would go to college, and forget her. Meantime, she was verykind to Annie, and took her home herself, in order to excuse herabsence, the blame of which she laid entirely on Alec, not knowing thatthereby she greatly aggravated any offence of which Annie might havebeen guilty. Mrs Bruce solemnly declared her conviction that a judgmenthad fallen upon her for Willie Macwha's treatment of her baby. 

"Gin I hadna jist gotten a glimp o' him in time, he wad hae drooned thebonny infant afore my verra een. It's weel waured on them!"

It did not occur to her that a wet skin was so very moderate apunishment for child-murder, that possibly there had been no connectionbetween them. 

This first voyage of the _Bonnie Annie_ may seem a bad beginning; but Iam not sure that most good ends have not had such a bad beginning. Perhaps the world itself may be received as a case in point. Alec andCurly went about for a few days with a rather subdued expression. Butas soon as the boat was refitted, they got George Macwha to go withthem for cockswain; and under his instructions, they made rapidprogress in rowing and sculling. Then Annie was again their companion, and, the boat being by this time fitted with a rudder, had severallessons in steering, in which she soon became proficient. Many amoonlight row they had on the Glamour; and many a night after Curly andAnnie had gone home, would Alec again unmoor the boat, and drop downthe water alone, letting the banks go dreaming past him--not alwayssure that he was not dreaming himself, and would not suddenly awake andfind himself in his bed, and not afloat between heaven and earth, withthe moon above and the moon below him. I think it was in these seasonsthat he began first to become aware of a certain stillness pervadingthe universe like a law; a stillness ever being broken by the cries ofeager men, yet ever closing and returning with gentleness not to berepelled, seeking to infold and penetrate with its own healing theminds of the noisy children of the earth. But he paid little heed tothe discovery then, for he was made for activity, and in activity hefound his repose. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

My story must have shown already that, although several years youngerthan Alec, Annie had much more character and personality than he. Alechad not yet begun to look realities in the face. The very nobility andfearlessness of his nature had preserved him from many such actions asgive occasion for looking within and asking oneself whereto things aretending. Full of life and restless impulses to activity, all that couldproperly be required of him as yet was that the action into which herushed should be innocent, and if conventionally mischievous, yetactually harmless. Annie, comfortless at home, gazing all about her tosee if there was a rest anywhere for her, had been driven by theoutward desolation away from the window of the world to that otherwindow that opens on the regions of silent being where God is, and intowhich when his creatures enter, or even look, the fountain of theirlife springs aloft with tenfold vigour and beauty. Alec, whose home washappy, knew nothing of that sense of discomfort which is sometimes theherald of a greater need. But he was soon to take a new start in hisintellectual relations; nor in those alone, seeing the change was theresult of a dim sense of duty. The fact of his not being a scholar tothe mind of Murdoch Malison, arose from no deficiency of intellectual_power_, but only of intellectual _capacity_--for the indefiniteenlargement of which a fitting excitement from without is alonerequisite. 

The season went on, and the world, like a great flower afloat in space, kept opening its thousandfold blossom. Hail and sleet were things lostin the distance of the year--storming away in some far-off region ofthe north, unknown to the summer generation. The butterflies, withwings looking as if all the flower-painters of fairyland had wipedtheir brushes upon them in freakful yet artistic sport, came forth inthe freedom of their wills and the faithful ignorance of their minds. The birds, the poets of the animal creation--what though they never getbeyond the lyrical!--awoke to utter their own joy, and awake like joyin others of God's children. The birds grew silent, because theirhistory laid hold upon them, compelling them to turn their words intodeeds, and keep eggs warm, and hunt for worms. The butterflies died ofold age and delight. The green life of the earth rushed up in corn tobe ready for the time of need. The corn grew ripe, and therefore weary, hung its head, died, and was laid aside for a life beyond its own. Thekeen sharp old mornings and nights of autumn came back as they had comeso many thousand times before, and made human limbs strong and humanhearts sad and longing. Winter would soon be near enough to stretch outa long forefinger once more, and touch with the first frosty shiversome little child that loved summer, and shrunk from the cold. 

One evening in early autumn, when the sun, almost on the edge of thehorizon, was shining right in at the end of one of the principalstreets, filling its whole width with its glory of molten roses, allthe shopkeepers were standing in their doors. Little groups of countrypeople, bearing a curious relation to their own legs, were going invarious directions across the square. Loud laughter, very much likeanimal noises, now and then invaded the ear; but the sound only rippledthe wide lake of the silence. The air was perfumed with the scent ofpeat fires and the burning of weeds and potato-tops. There was nofountain to complete the harmony, but the intermittent gushes from thespout of the great pump in the centre of the square were no badsubstitute. At all events, they supplied the sound of water, withoutwhich Nature's orchestra is not full. 

Wattie Sim, the watchmaker, long and lank, with grey bushy eyebrowsmeeting over his nose, wandered, with the gait of a heedless pair ofcompasses, across from his own shop to Redford the bookseller's, atwhose door a small group was already gathered. 

"Well, Wattie, " said Captain Clashmach, "how goes the world with you?"

"Muckle the same's wi' yersel', Captain, and the doctor there, "answered Wattie with a grin. "Whan the time's guid for ither fowk, it'sbut sae sae for you and me. I haena had a watch come in for a haill ook(week). "

"Hoo de ye accoont for that, Mr Sim?" asked a shoemaker who stood nearwithout belonging to the group. 

"It's the ile, man, the ile. Half the mischeef o' watches is the ile. "

"But I don't see, " said the doctor, "how that can be, Sim. "

"Weel, ye see, sir, " answered Wattie--and the words seemed somehow tohave come tumbling silently down over the ridge of his nose, before hecaught them in his mouth and articulated them--"ye see, sir, watches isdelicat things. They're not to be traitet like fowk's insides wi'onything 'at comes first. Gin I cud jist get the middle half-pint ooto' the hert o' a hogsheid o' sperm ile, I wad I sud keep a' yer watchesgaein like the verra universe. But it wad be an ill thing for me, yeken. Sae maybe a' thing's for the best efter a'. --Noo, ye see, i' thishet weather, the ile keeps fine an' saft, and disna clog thewarks. --But losh preserves a'! What's that?"

Staring up the street towards the sunset, which coloured all theirfaces a red bronze, stood a group of townsfolk, momently increasing, from which, before Wattie's party could reach it, burst a generalexplosion of laughter. It was some moments, however, before theyunderstood what was the matter, for the great mild sun shone full intheir eyes. At length they saw, as if issuing from the huge heavy orb, a long dark line, like a sea-serpent of a hundred joints, coming downthe street towards them, and soon discovered that it was a slowprocession of animals. First came Mistress Stephen, Stumpin Steenie thepoliceman's cow, with her tail at full stretch behind her. To the endof her tail was tied the nose of Jeames Joss the cadger's horse--agaunt sepulchral animal, which age and ill-treatment had taught to moveas if knees and hocks were useless refinements in locomotion. He hadjust enough of a tail left to tie the nose of another cow to; and so, by the accretion of living joints, the strange monster lengthened outinto the dim fiery distance. 

When Mrs Stephen reached the square, she turned to lead her traindiagonally across it, for in that direction lay her home. Moved by thesame desire, the cadger's horse wanted to go in exactly the oppositedirection. The cow pulled the one way, and the horse pulled the other;but the cow, having her head free, had this advantage over the horse, which was fast at both ends. So he gave in, and followed his less nobleleader. Cow after horse, and horse after cow, with a majority of cows, followed, to the number of twenty or so; after which the joints beganto diminish in size. Two calves were at the tail of the last cow, alittle Highland one, with a sheep between them. Then came a goatbelonging to Charles Chapman the wool-carder, the only goat in theplace, which as often as the strain on his own tail slackened, made abutt at that of the calf in front of him. Next came a diminishingstring of disreputable dogs, to the tail of the last of which wasfastened the only cat the inventors of this novel pastime had been ableto catch. At her tail followed--alas!--Andrew Truffey's white rabbit, whose pink eyes, now fixed and glazed, would no more delight theimagination of the poor cripple; and whose long furry hind legs wouldnever more bang the ground in sovereign contempt, as he dared pursuit;for the dull little beast, having, with the stiffneckedness of fear, persisted in pulling against the string that tied him to the tail ofWidow Wattles's great tom-cat, was now trailed ignominiously upon hisside, with soiled fur and outstretched neck--the last joint, and onlydead one, of this bodiless tail. 

Before Mistress Stephen had reached her home, and just as the last linkof the chain had appeared on the square, the mirth was raised to a yethigher pitch by the sudden rush of several women to the rescue, who hadalready heard the news of the ignominious abduction of their honoured_kye_, and their shameful exposure to public ridicule. Each made forher own four-footed property. 

"Guid preserve's, Hawkie! are ye come to this?" cried Lucky Lapp, asshe limped, still and ever lame with rheumatism, towards the thirdmember of the procession. "Gin I had the loon that did it, " she wenton, fumbling, with a haste that defeated itself, at the knot that boundHawkie's nose to the tail of the cadger's horse--"gin I had the loon'at did it, I wad ding the sowl oot o' his wame, the villain!"

"Losh! it's my ain cat, as weel's my ain coo. " screamed Lucky Wattlesin twofold indignation. "Gin I cud but redd (comb) the scoonrel's heidwi' your cleuks, Baudrons!" she added, as she fondled the catpassionately, "he wadna be in sic a doom's hurry to han'le ye again, Is' wad (wager). "

By this time Stumpin' Steenie, having undone his cow's tail, wasleading her home amid shouts of laughter. 

"Pit her i' the lock-up, Steenie. She's been takin' up wi' ill loons, "screeched an urchin. 

"Haud yer ill tongue, or I s' tak' you up, ye rascal, " bawled Steenie. 

"Ye'll hae to saiddle Mistress Stephen afore ye can catch me, Stumpin'Steenie!"

Steenie, inflamed with sudden wrath, forsook the cow, and made anelephantine rush at the offender, who vanished in the crowd, and thusbetrayed the constable to another shout of laughter. 

While the laugh was yet ringing, the burly figure of the stonemasonappeared, making his way by the momentum of great bulk and slow motionto the front of the crowd. Without a word to any one, he drew a knifefrom his pocket, and proceeded to cut every cord that bound thehelpless animals, the people staring silent all the while. 

It was a sight to see how the dogs scampered off in the delight oftheir recovered freedom. But the rabbit lay where the cat had left him. Thomas took it with some sign of tenderness, and holding it up in hishuge hand, put the question to the crowd in general. 

"Wha's aucht this?"

"It's cripple Truffey's?" piped a shrill little voice. 

"Tell him 'at I'll account for't, " rejoined Thomas, and putting theanimal in his pocket, departed. 

He took the nearest way to George Macwha's workshop, where he foundAlec and Curly, as he had expected, busy or appearing to be busy aboutsomething belonging to their boat. They looked considerably hotter, however, than could be accounted for by their work. This confirmedThomas's suspicions. 

"A fine ploy yon for a young gentleman, Alec!" said he. 

"What ploy, Thomas?" asked Alec, with attempted innocence. 

"Ye ken weel eneuch what ploy I mean, man. "

"Weel, supposin' I do--there's nae that muckle hairm dune, to mak' awark aboot, surely, Thomas. "

"Ca' ye that no hairm?" rejoined Thomas, pulling the dead rabbit out ofhis pocket, and holding it up by the ears. "Ca' ye that no hairm?" herepeated. 

Alec stared in dismay. Thomas well knew his regard for animals, and hadcalculated upon it. 

"Luik at the puir thing wi' its bonny reid een closed for ever! It's amercy to think 'at there's no lemin' and lowin' (blazing and flaming)future in store for hit, puir mappy (bunny)!"

"Hoot, hoot, Thamas, man! Isna that bein' richteous overmuch, as oorminister wad say?"

The question came in the husky voice of Peter Whaup, the blacksmith, who was now discovered leaning in over the half-door of the shop. 

"And wha's _your_ minister, Peter, my man?" retorted Thomas, with someacrimony. 

"Mr Cooie, as ye weel ken, Thamas. "

"I thoucht as muckle. The doctrine savours o' the man, Peter. There'sno fear o' him or ony o' his followers bein' richteous over-much. "

"Weel, ye ken, that's naething but a rabbit i' yer han'. It wad haebeen worried some day. Hoo cam' 't by 'ts deith?"

"I didna mean to kill't. 'Twas a' for fun, ye ken, " said Alec, addressing Thomas. 

"There's a heap o' fun, " answered Thomas with solemnity, "that carriesdeith i' the tail o' 't. Here's the puir cripple laddie's rabbit asdeid's a herrin', and him at hame greetin' his een oot, I daursay. "

Alec caught up his cap and made for the door. 

"I'll gang and see him. Curly, wha has ony rabbits to sell?"

"Doddles's cleckit aboot a month ago. "

"Whaur does Doddles bide?"

"I'll lat ye see. "

The boys were hurrying together from the shop, when Thomas caught Alecby the arm. 

"Ye canna restore the rabbit, Alec. "

"Hoot! Thamas, ae rabbit's as guid's anither, " interposed the smith, ina tone indicating disapprobation, mingled with a desire to mollify. 

"Ay--to them 'at cares for neither. But there's sic a thing as a humanelection, as weel's a divine ane; an' ane's no the same's anither, anceit's a chosen ane. "

"Weel, I pity them 'at the Lord has no pity upo', " sighed the smith, with a passing thought of his own fits of drinking. 

"Gang ye and try him. He may hae pity upo' you--wha kens?" said Thomas, as he followed Alec, whom he had already released, out of the shop. 

"Ye see, Alec, " he resumed in a low voice, when they were in the openair--Curly going on before them, "it's time 'at ye was growin' a man, and pittin' awa' childish things. Yer mither 'll be depen'in' upo' you, or lang, to haud things gaein'; and ye ken gin ye negleck yer chance atthe school, yer time'll no come ower again. Man, ye sud try to dosomething for conscience-sake. Hae ye learnt yer lessons for the morn, noo?"

"No, Thomas. But I will. I'm jist gaein' to buy a pair o' rabbits toTruffey; and syne I'll gang hame. "

"There's a guid lad. Ye'll be a comfort till yer mither some day yet. "

With these words, Thomas turned and left them. 

There had been a growing, though it was still a vague sense, in Alec'smind, that he was not doing well; and this rebuke of Thomas Crannbrought it full into the light of his own consciousness. From that dayhe worked better. Mr Malison saw the change, and acknowledged it. Thisreacted on Alec's feeling for the master; and during the followingwinter he made three times the progress he had made in any winterpreceding. 

For the sea of summer ebbed away, and the rocky channels of the winterappeared, with its cold winds, its ghost-like mists, and the damps andshiverings that cling about the sepulchre in which Nature liessleeping. The boat was carefully laid up, across the rafters of thebarn, well wrapped in a shroud of tarpaulin. It was buried up in theair; and the Glamour on which it had floated so gaily, would soon beburied under the ice. Summer alone could bring them together again--theone from the dry gloom of the barn, the other from the cold seclusionof its wintry hebetude. 

Meantime Mrs Forbes was somewhat troubled in her mind as to what shouldbe done with Alec; and she often talked with the schoolmaster abouthim. Herself of higher birth, socially considered, than her husband, she had the ambition that her son should be educated for someprofession. Now in Scotland education is more easily got than almostanything else; and whether there might be room for the exercise of theprofession afterwards, was a matter of less moment to Mrs Forbes, seeing she was not at all willing that the farm which had been in herhusband's family for hundreds of years, should pass into the hands ofstrangers, and Alec himself had the strongest attachment to theancestral soil; for to be loved it is not necessary that land should befreehold. At length his increased diligence, which had not escaped herobservation, and was testified to by Mr Malison, confirmed herdetermination that he should at least go to college. He would be noworse a farmer for having an _A. M_. After his name; while thecurriculum was common to all the professions. So it was resolved that, in the following winter, he should _compete for a bursary_. 

The communication that his fate lay in that direction roused Alec stillmore. Now that an ulterior object rendered them attractive, he turnedhis attention to the classics with genuine earnestness; and, on acloudy day in the end of October, found himself on the box-seat of theRoyal Mail, with his trunk on the roof behind him, bound for a certaincity whose advantages are not confined to the possession of auniversity. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

After driving through long streets, brilliant with shops of endlessmarvel, the coachman pulled up for the last time. It was a dull drizzlyevening, with sudden windy gusts, and, in itself, dark as pitch. ButAlec descended, cold and wet, in a brilliant light which flowed fromthe door of the hotel as if it had been the very essence of itsstructure. A porter took charge of his box, hoisted it on his back, andled the way to the address he gave him. 

Notwithstanding the drizzle, and the angry rushes of the wind round thestreet-corners, the foot-pavements were filled with men and women, moving in different directions, like a double row of busy ants. Throughqueer short cuts that terribly bewildered the way, the porter led himto the house, and pushing the door open, went up two flights of stonestairs and knocked at a door on the landing. Alec was shown into a roomwhere a good fire was blazing away with a continuous welcome; and whenseated by it drinking his tea, he saw the whole world golden throughthe stained windows of his imagination. 

But his satisfaction gradually passed into a vague longing aftersomething else. Would human nature be more perfect were it capable ofbeing satisfied with cakes and ale? Alec felt as if he had got to theborders of fairy-land, and _something_ was going to happen. A doorwould open and admit him into the secret of the world. But the door wasso long in opening, that he took to unpacking his box; when, as hejumped up to thank his mother for some peculiar remembrance of hislikings, the whole affair suddenly changed to a rehearsal of death; andhis longings for the remainder of the night were towards the past. 

He rose in the morning with the feeling revived, that something intensewas going on all arouud. But the door into life generally opens behindus, and a hand is put forth which draws us in backwards. The solewisdom for man or boy who is haunted with the hovering of unseen wings, with the scent of unseen roses, and the subtle enticements of "melodiesunheard, " is _work_. If he follow any of those, they will vanish. Butif he work, they will come unsought, and, while they come, he willbelieve that there is a fairy-land, where poets find their dreams, andprophets are laid hold of by their visions. The idle beat their headsagainst its walls, or mistake the entrance, and go down into the darkplaces of the earth. 

Alec stood at the window, and peered down into the narrow street, through which, as in a channel between rocks burrowed into dwellings, ran the ceaseless torrent of traffic. He felt at first as if life atleast had opened its gates, and he had been transported into the midstof its drama. But in a moment the show changed, turning first into ameaningless procession; then into a chaos of conflicting atoms;re-forming itself at last into an endlessly unfolding coil, no break inthe continuity of which would ever reveal the hidden mechanism. For tono mere onlooker will Life any more than Fairy-land open its secret. Aman must become an actor before he can be a true spectator. 

Weary of standing at the window, he went and wandered about thestreets. To his country-bred eyes they were full of marvels--whichwould soon be as common to those eyes as one of the furrowed fields onhis father's farm. The youth who thinks the world his oyster, and opensit forthwith, finds no pearl therein. 

What is this _nimbus_ about the new? Is the marvel a mockery? Is theshine that of demon-gold? No. It is a winged glory that alights besidethe youth; and, having gathered his eyes to itself, flits away to afurther perch; there alights, there shines, thither entices. Withoutstretched hands the child of earth follows, to fall weeping at thefoot of the gray disenchanted thing. But beyond, and again beyond, shines the lapwing of heaven--not, as a faithless generation thinks, todelude like them, but to lead the seeker home to the nest of the glory. 

Last of all, Alec was forced to take refuge in his books. 

_The competition_ fell on the next day, and he gained a small bursary. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

As it happened, no one but Alec had come up from Glamerton that year. He did not know one of his fellow-students. There were very few in thefirst class indeed who had had any previous acquaintance with eachother. But before three days were over like had begun to draw to like, and opposites to their natural opposites. These mutual attractions, however, were considerably influenced by the social sphere, asindicated by style of dress, speech, and manners, in which each hadbeen accustomed to move. Some of the youths were of the lowliestorigin-�the sons of ploughmen and small country shopkeepers;shock-headed lads, with much of the looks and manners of year-oldbullocks, mostly with freckled faces and a certain generalirresponsiveness of feature, soon to vanish as the mental and nervousmotions became more frequent and rapid, working the stiff clay of theirfaces into a readier obedience to the indwelling plasticity. Some, onthe other hand, showed themselves at once the aristocracy of the class, by their carriage and social qualifications or assumptions. These werenot generally the best scholars; but they set the fashion in the cut oftheir coats, and especially in the style of their neckerchiefs. Most ofthem were of Highland families; some of them jolly, hearty fellows;others affected and presumptuous, evidently considering it beneath themto associate with the multitude. 

Alec belonged to a middle class. Well-dressed, he yet knew that hisclothes had a country air, and that beside some of the men he cut apoor figure in more than in this particular. For a certain superiorityof manner distinguished them, indicating that they had been accustomedto more of the outward refinements of life than he. Now let Alec oncefeel that a man was wiser and better than himself, and he wasstraightway incapable of envying him any additional superioritypossible--would, in a word, be perfectly willing that he should bothwear a better coat and be a better scholar than himself. But to any onewho did not possess the higher kind of superiority, he foolishly andenviously grudged the lower kinds of pre-eminence. To understand thisit must be remembered, that as yet he had deduced for himself noprinciples of action or feeling: he was only a boy well-made, withlittle goodness that he had in any way verified for himself. 

On the second day after the commencement of lectures, it was made knownto the first class that the Magistrand (fourth-class) Debating Societywould meet that evening. The meetings of this society, although underthe control of the magistrands, were open, upon equal terms in mostother respects, to the members of the inferior classes. They were heldin the Natural Philosophy class-room, at seven o'clock in the evening;and to the first meeting of the session Alec went with no littlecuriosity and expectation. 

It was already dark when he set out from his lodgings in the new town, for the gateway beneath the tower with that crown of stone which is theglory of the ancient borough gathered beneath it. Through narrowcrooked streets, with many dark courts on each side, he came to theopen road which connected the two towns. It was a starry night, duskyrather than dark, and full of the long sound of the distant sea-wavesfalling on the shore beyond the _links_. He was striding alongwhistling, and thinking about as nearly nothing as might be, when thefigure of a man, whose footsteps he had heard coming through the gloom, suddenly darkened before him and stopped. It was a little spare, slouching figure, but what the face was like, he could not see. 

"Whustlin'?" said the man, interrogatively. 

"Ay; what for no?" answered Alec cheerily. 

"Haud yer een aff o' rainbows, or ye'll brak' yer shins upo'gravestanes, " said the man, and went on, with a shuffling gait, hiseyes flashing on Alec, from under projecting brows, as he passed. 

Alec concluded him drunk, although drink would not altogether accountfor the strangeness of the address, and soon forgot him. The archechoed to his feet as he entered the dark quadrangle, across which aglimmer in the opposite tower guided him to the stairs leading up tothe place of meeting. He found the large room lighted by a chandelier, and one of the students seated as president in the professor's chair, while the benches were occupied by about two hundred students, most ofthe freshmen or _bejans_ in their red gowns. 

Various preliminary matters were discussed with an energy of utterance, and a fitness of speech, which would have put to shame the generalelocution of both the pulpit and the bar. At length, however, a certain_semi_ (second-classman, or more popularly _sheep_) stood up to givehis opinion on some subject in dispute, and attempting to speak toosoon after his dinner, for he was one of the more fashionable order, hemmed and stammered till the weariness of the assembly burst upon himin a perfect torrent of hisses and other animal exclamations. Among theloudest in this inarticulate protestation, were some of the red-gownedbejans, and the speaker kindled with wrath at the presumption of theyellow-beaks (becs jaunes: bejans), till, indignation bursting open thebarriers of utterance, he poured forth a torrent of sarcastic contempton the young clod-hoppers, who, having just come from herding theirfathers' cows, could express their feelings in no more suitablelanguage than that of the bovine animals which had been their principaland fit associates. As he sat down, his eyes rested with witheringscorn upon Alec Forbes, who instantly started to his feet amidst aconfusion of plaudits and hisses, but, finding it absolutely impossibleto speak so as to be heard, contented himself with uttering a sonorous_ba-a-a-a_, and instant dropped into his seat, all the other outcriesdissolving in shouts of laughter. In a moment he received a candle fullin the face; its companions went flying in all directions, and the roomwas in utter darkness. A scramble for the door followed; and amidststruggling, shouting, and swearing, the whole company rolled down thestair into the quadrangle, most of them without their caps, and somewith their new gowns torn from bottom to top. The night was hideouswith the uproar. In the descent, Alec received a blow on the head whichhalf stunned him; but he did not imagine that its severity was otherthan an accident of the crush. He made the best of his way home, andwent to bed. 

After this he was popular; and after this, as often as PatrickBeauchamp and he passed each other in walking up and down the arcade, Beauchamp's high curved upper lip would curve yet higher, and Alecwould feel with annoyance that he could not sustain the glance of hisgray eyes. 

Beauchamp was no great favourite even in his own set; for there is onekind of religion in which the more devoted a man is, the fewerproselytes he makes: the worship of himself. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

One morning, about two months from the beginning of the session, afterthe students had been reading for some time in the Greek class, theprofessor was seen, not unexpectedly to part of the assembly, to lookup at the ceiling with sudden discomposure. There had been a heavy fallof snow in the night, and one of the students, whose organ of humourhad gained at the expense of that of veneration, had, before thearrival of the professor, gathered a ball of the snow, and thrown itagainst the ceiling with such forceful precision, that it stuck rightover the centre of the chair. This was perhaps the first time that sucha trick had been dared in the first class, belonging more properly tothe advanced depravity of the second or third. When the air began toget warm, the snow began to drop upon the head of the old professor;and this was the cause of his troubled glance at the ceiling. But themoment he looked up, Alec, seeing what was the matter, and feeling allhis natural loyalty roused, sprang from his seat, and rushing out ofthe class-room, returned with a long broom which the sacrist had beenusing to clear foot-paths across the quadrangle. The professor left hischair, and Alec springing on the desk, swept the snow from the ceiling. He then wiped the seat with his handkerchief and returned to his place. The gratitude of the old man shone in his eyes. True, he would onlyhave had to send for the sacrist to rescue him; but here was anatonement for the insult, offered by one of the students themselves. 

"Thank you, Mr Forbes, " he stammered; "I am ek�ek�ek--exceedinglyobliged to you. "

The professor was a curious, kindly little man--lame, with a brown wig, a wrinkled face, and a long mouth, of which he only made use of thehalf on the right side to stammer out humorous and often wittysayings--at least so they appeared to those who had grace enough torespect his position and his age. As often as reference is made in myhearing to Charles Lamb and his stutter, up comes the face of dear oldProfessor Fraser, and I hear him once more stammering out some joke, the very fun of which had its source in kindliness. Somehow the stutternever interfered with the point of the joke: that always came with arush. He seemed, while hesitating on some unimportant syllable, to bearranging what was to follow and strike the blow. 

"Gentlemen, " he continued upon this occasion, "the Scripture saysyou're to heap c-c-c-coals of fire on your enemy's head. When you areto heap drops of water on your friend's w-w-wig, the Scripture doesn'tsay. "

The same evening Alec received a note from him asking him to breakfastwith him the following morning, which was Saturday, and consequently aholiday. It was usual with the professors to invite a dozen or so ofthe students to breakfast on Saturdays, but on this occasion Alec wasthe sole guest. 

As soon as he entered the room, Mr Fraser hobbled to meet him, withoutstretched hand of welcome, and a kindly grin on his face. 

"Mr Forbes, " he said, "I h-h-hope well of you; for you can respect anold man. I'm very glad to see you. I hope you've brought an appetitewith you. Sit down. Always respect old age, Mr Forbes. You'll be oldyourself some day--and you won't like it any more than I do. I've hadmy young days, though, and I mustn't grumble. "

And here he smiled; but it was a sad smile, and a tear gathered in thecorner of one of his old eyes. He caught up a globular silver tea-pot, and began to fill the tea-cups. Apparently the reflection of his ownface in the tea-pot was too comical to resist, for the old manpresently broke into what was half a laugh and half a grin, and, without in any way accounting for it, went on talking quite merrily forthe rest of the meal. 

"My mother told me, " said Alec at length, "in a letter I had from heryesterday, that your brother, sir, had married a cousin of hers. "

"What! what! Are you a son of Mr Forbes of Howglen?"

"Yes, sir. "

"You young rascal! Why didn't your mother send you to me?"

"She didn't like to trouble you, I suppose, sir. "

"People like me, that haven't any relations, must make the most of therelations they have. I am in no danger of being troubled that way. You've heard of my poor brother's death?"

"No, sir. "

"He died last year. He was a clergyman, you know. When you come up nextsession, I hope to show you his daughter--your cousin, you know. She iscoming to live with me. People that don't marry don't deserve to havechildren. But I'm going to have one after all. She's at school now. What do you think of turning to, Mr Forbes?"

"I haven't thought much about it yet, sir. "

"Ah! I daresay not. If I were you, I would be a doctor. If you'rehonest, you're sure to do some good. I think you're just the man for adoctor now--you respect your fellow-men. You don't laugh at old age, MrForbes. "

And so the kind garrulous old man went on, talking about everythingexcept Greek. For that he had no enthusiasm. Indeed, he did not knowenough to have, by possibility, any feeling about it. What he did know, however, he taught well, and very conscientiously. 

This was the first time that Alec's thoughts had been turned towards aprofession. The more he thought about it the better he liked the ideaof being a doctor; till at length, after one or two talks about it withMr Fraser, he resolved, notwithstanding that the session wasconsiderably advanced, to attend the anatomical course for the rest ofit. The Greek and Latin were tolerably easy to him, and it would be somuch time gained if he entered the first medical class at once. He neednot stand the examination except he liked, and the fee was not by anymeans large. His mother was more than satisfied with the proposal, and, although what seemed a trifle to Alec was of some consequence to her, she sent him at once the necessary supplies. Mr Fraser smoothed the wayfor him with the professor, and he was soon busy making up his distanceby a close study of the class-books. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

The first day of his attendance in the dissecting-room was a memorableone, and had memorable consequences. He had considerable misgivingsabout the new experience he had to meet, and sought, by theconcentration of his will, to prepare himself to encounter theinevitable with calmness, and, if possible, with seeming indifference. But he was not prepared after all for the disadvantage of entering acompany already hardened to those peculiarities of the position forwhich a certain induration is as desirable as unavoidable. 

When he entered the room, he found a group already gathered. He drewtimidly towards the table on the other side, not daring to glance atsomething which lay upon it--"white with the whiteness of what isdead;" and, feeling as if all the men were looking at him, as indeedmost of them were, kept staring, or trying to stare, at other things inthe room. But all at once, from an irresistible impulse, he facedround, and looked at the table. 

There lay the body of a woman, with a young sad face, beautiful inspite of a terrible scar on the forehead, which indicated too plainlywith what brutal companions she had consorted. Alec's lip quivered, andhis throat swelled with a painful sensation of choking. He turned away, and bit his lip hard to keep down his emotion. 

The best quality he possessed was an entire and profound reverence forwomen. Indignation even was almost quelled in the shock he received, when one of the students, for the pleasure of sneering at hisdiscomposure, and making a boast of his own superiority to suchweakness, uttered a brutal jest. In vain the upturned face made itswhite appeal to the universe: a laugh billowed the silence about itshead. 

But no rudeness could hurt that motionless heart--no insult bring ablush on that pale face. The closed eyes, the abandoned hands seemedonly to pray:

"Let me into the dark--out of the eyes of those men!"

Alec gave one sob in the vain effort to master the conflicting emotionsof indignation and pity. It reverberated in the laugh which burst fromthe students of the healing art. Almost quenched in the laugh he heardone word however, in the same voice which had made the jest--a voice heknew well enough--that of Patrick Beauchamp. His face blazed up; hiseyes flashed; and he had made one step forward, when he was arrested bythe still face of the dead woman, which, ghostly as the morning moon, returned no glow in the red sunlight of his wrath; and in reverence herestrained his anger. In another moment, the professor arrived. 

During the lecture and accompanying demonstrations. Alec was deaf andblind from burning rage; in the midst of which, however, he almostforgot his own wrong in regarding that done to the dead. He became, inhis own eyes, the champion of one whom nature and death had united torender defenceless. From the verge of a gulf more terrible than thegrave, her cry had reached him, and he would rise to avenge her. 

As soon as they came out, he walked up to Beauchamp. 

"You called me a spoony, " he said through his set teeth. 

"I did, " answered Beauchamp, with an admirable drawl of indifference. 

Alec replied with a blow; whereupon Beauchamp knocked him down. But hewas up in a moment; and, although his antagonist was both older andbigger, the elasticity of his perfect health soon began to tell. Therewas little science between them, and what there was lay on Beauchamp'sside; yet he defended himself more and more feebly, for his wind hadsoon given way. At length, after receiving a terrible blow on themouth, Beauchamp dropped his arms and turned his back; and Alec, aftersome hesitation, let him go without the parting kick which he wastempted to give him, and which he had so well deserved. 

The men dispersed without remark, ashamed of themselves, and admiringthe bumpkin--most of them were gentlemen enough for that; while each ofthe combatants retired unaccompanied to his own lodging--Alec with ablack eye, which soon passed through yellow back to its own naturalhue, and Beauchamp with a cut, the scar of which deepened the sneer onhis upper lip, and was long his evil counsellor from the confessionalof the mirror. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

The encounter fortunately took place upon a Friday, so that thecombatants had both Saturday and Sunday, with the deodand of a slightfine for being absent from chapel, to recover appearances. Alec kept tothe house both days, and read hard at his medical and anatomical books. His landlady took charge of his eye, and ministered to it withassiduity and discretion, asking no questions, and courting noconfidences, only looking at him comically now and then out of graymotherly eyes, that might have been trusted with the universe. She knewthe ways of students. In the course of one of the dressings, she said:

"Ye'll be thinkin' lang (ennuy�), Mr Forbes, at haein' to bide i' thehoose wi' that blackamoor ee o' yours. Hoo dinna ye gang up the stairto Mr Cupples, and hae a lauch wi' him?"

"I didna ken ye had onybody up the stair. Wha's Mr Cupples?"

"Weel, he kens that best himsel! But he's a gey queer ane. He's aterrible scholar though, fowk says--gran' at the Greek, and rael bonnyon the mathewmawtics. Only ye maunna be fleyt (frightened) at him. "

"I'm easy fleyt, " said Alec, with a laugh. "But I wad like to see him. "

"Gang up, than, and chap at the garret door upo' yer left han'. "

"But what reason am I to gie him for disturbin' him?" asked Alec. 

"Ow nane ava. Jist tak' a moufu' o' Greek wi' ye to speir the richtmeanin' o', gin ye maun hae a rizzon. "

"That will do just first-rate, " said Alec; "for here I have beenpuzzling over a sentence for the last half hour with nobody but thisdim-sighted ghost of a Schrevelius to help me out with it. I'll godirectly. But I look such a blackguard with this game eye!"

The landlady laughed. 

"You'll sune forget that whan ye see Mr Cupples. "

To the dismay of his nurse, Alec pulled the bandage off his eye, andamidst her expostulations caught up his book, and rushing away, boundedup the garret stairs, which ascended outside the door of the _flat_. Atthe top, he found himself under the bare roof, with only boards andslates between him and the clouds. The landing was lighted by askylight, across which diligent and undisturbed spiders had woven theirwebs for years. He stood for a moment or two, puzzled as to which doorhe ought to assail, for all the doors about looked like closet-doors, leading into dingy recesses. At last, with the aid of his nose, he madeup his mind, and knocked. 

"Come in, " cried a voice of peculiar tone. It reminded Alec ofsomething he could not at all identify, which was not wonderful, seeingit was of itself, heard once before, that it reminded him. It was thesame voice which, as he walked to the debate, the first night, hadwarned him not to look at rainbows. 

He opened the door and entered. 

"What do you want?" said the voice, its source almost invisible in thethick fumes of genuine pigtail, through which it sent cross odours ofas genuine Glenlivat. 

"I want you to help me with a bit of Homer, if you please, MrCupples-�I'm not up to Homer yet. "

"Do ye think I hae naething ither to do than to grin' the grandur o' anauld haythen into spunemate for a young sinner like you?"

"Ye dinna ken what I'm like, Mr Cupples, " returned Alec, rememberinghis landlady's injunction not to be afraid of him. 

"Come athort the reek, and lat's luik at ye. "

Alec obeyed, and found the speaker seated by the side of a little fire, in an old easy-chair covered with horsehair; and while undergoing hisscrutiny, took his revenge in kind. Mr Cupples was a man who might havebeen of almost any age from five-and-twenty to fifty--at least, Alec'sexperience was insufficient for the task of determining to what decadeof human years he belonged. He was a little man, in a long blacktail-coat much too large, and dirty gray trousers. He had noshirt-collar visible, although a loose rusty stock revealed the wholeof his brown neck. His hair, long, thin, fair, and yet a good dealmingled with grey, straggled about over an uncommonly high forehead, which had somehow the neglected and ruinous look of an old bare towerno ivy had beautified. His ears stood far out from his great head. Hisnose refuses to be described. His lips were plentiful and loose; hischin was not worth mentioning; his eyes were rather large, beautifullyformed, bright, and blue. His hand, small, delicately shaped, anddirty, grasped, all the time he was examining Alec, a tumbler ofsteaming toddy; while his feet, in list slippers of different colours, balanced themselves upon the fender[. ]

"You've been fighting, you young rascal!" said Mr Cupples, in a tone ofauthority, the moment he had satisfied himself about Alec'scountenance. "That won't do. It's not respectable. "

And he gave the queerest unintelligible grin. 

Alec found himself strangely attracted to him, and impelled--a feelingnot unfrequent with him--to tell the truth, the whole truth, andnothing but the truth. 

"The world itself isn't the most respectable planet in the system, MrCupples, " said he; "and no honest inhabitant of it can be alwaysrespectable either. "

Mr Cupples chuckled and laughed groggily, muttering somewhere in hischest--

"You young dog! there's stuff in you!" Then composing himself a little, he said aloud: "Tell me all about it directly. "

Alec obeyed, and, not without emotion, gave Mr Cupples the wholehistory of the affair. 

"Damn you!" remarked Mr Cupples in a husky voice, as he held out atrembling hand to Alec, "you're one of the right sort. I'll do anythingfor you I can. Where's your Homer?"

So saying, he rose with care and went towards a cupboard in the corner. His pipe had been so far interrupted during their conversation, thatAlec was now able, by the light of the tallow candle, to see the littlegarret room, with its ceiling on one side sloping nearly to the floor, its walls begrimed with smoke, and the bare plaster covered withgrotesque pencil-drawings--caricatures of Homeric heroes in the guiseof schoolboys, polemic clergymen of the city in the garb of fish-wivesmilitant, and such like. A bed and a small chest of drawers stood underthe slope of the roof, and the rest of the room was occupied by apainted table covered with papers, and a chair or two. An oldbroadsword leaned against the wall in a corner. A half-open cupboardrevealed bottles, glasses, and a dry-looking cheese. To thecorresponding cupboard, on the other side of the fire, which had lost acorner by the descent of the roof, Mr Cupples now dragged his slippers, feeling in his waistcoat pocket, as he went, for the key. --There wasanother door still, partly sunk in the slope of the ceiling. 

When he opened the cupboard, a dusky glimmer of splendid bindingsfilling the whole recess, shone out upon the dingy room. From a shelfhe took a volume of Homer, bound in vellum, with red edges--a copy offar greater value than Alec had knowledge of books to understand--andclosing the door again, resumed his seat in the easy-chair. Havingfound the passage, he read it through aloud in a manner which madeHomer for the first time sound like poetry in Alec's ears, and almostrevealed the hidden significance. Then pouncing at once upon theshadowy word which was the key to the whole, he laid open theconstruction and meaning in one sentence of explanation. 

"Thank you! thank you!" exclaimed Alec. "I see it all now as plain asEnglish. "

"Stop, stop, my young bantam!" said Mr Cupples. "Don't think you'regoing to break into my privacy and get off with the booty so cheaply. Just you construe the whole sentence to me. "

Alec did so tolerably well; for the passage was only an easy extract, the class not having reached Homer yet. Mr Cupples put severalquestions to him, which gave him more insight into Greek than a week'swork in the class would have done, and ended with a small lecturesuggested by the passage, drinking away at his toddy all the time. Thelecture and the toddy ended together. Turning his head aside, where itlay back in the horse-hair chair, he said sleepily:

"Go away--I don't know your name. --Come and see me to-morrow night. I'mdrunk now. "

Alec rose, made some attempt at thanks, received no syllable of reply, and went out, closing the door behind him, and leaving Mr Cupples tohis dreams. 

His countenance had not made much approximation to respectabilitybefore the Monday. He therefore kept it as well as he could out of MrFraser's sight, to whom he did not wish to give explanations to theprejudice of any of his fellow-students. Mr Fraser, however, saw hisblack eye well enough, but was too discreet to ask questions, andappeared quite unaware of the transitory blemish. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Meantime, at Glamerton the winter passed very much like former wintersto all but three--Mrs Forbes, Annie Anderson, and Willie Macwha. Tothese the loss of Alec was dreary. So they were in a manner compelledto draw closer together. At school, Curly assumed the protectorship ofAnnie which had naturally devolved upon him, although there was nowcomparatively little occasion for its exercise; and Mrs Forbes, findingherself lonely in her parlour during the long _forenights_, got intothe habit of sending Mary at least three times a week to fetch her. This was not agreeable to the Bruce, but the kingly inheritor abode hishour; and Mrs Forbes had no notion of the amount of offence she gave bydoing so. 

That parlour at Howglen was to Annie a little heaven hollowed out ofthe winter. The warm curtains drawn, and the fire blazingdefiantly, --the angel with the flaming sword to protect their Paradisefrom the frost, it was indeed a contrast to the sordid shop, and therat-haunted garret. 

After tea they took it in turns to work and to read. Mrs Forbes hadnever sought to satisfy the religious public as to the state of hermind, and so had never been led astray into making frantic efforts torouse her own feelings; which is, in fact, to apply to them the hottestsearing iron of all, next to that of sin. Hence her emotional touchremained delicate, and what she could understand she could feel. Thegood books she liked best were stories of the Scotch Covenanters andWorthies, whose example, however much of stiff-neckedness may havemingled with their devotion, was yet the best that Annie could have, inasmuch as they were simply martyrs--men who would not say _yes_ whenthey ought to say _no_. Nor was Mrs Forbes too religious to enjoy therepresentation given of these Covenanters in _Old Mortality_. Herfeelings found nothing repulsive in the book, although she neverdiscovered the reason in the fact that Sir Walter's feelings were thesame as her own, whatever his opinions might be, and had given thechief colour and tone to the representation of his characters. Therewere more books in the house than was usual even in that of a_gentleman farmer_; and several of Sir Walter's novels, besides sometravels, and a little Scotch history, were read between them thatwinter. In poetry, Annie had to forage for herself. Mrs Forbes couldlend her no guiding hand in that direction. 

The bond between them grew stronger every day. Annie was to Mrs Forbesan outlet for her maternity, which could never have outlet enoughwithout a girl as well as a boy to love; and Annie, in consequence, wassurrounded by numberless holy influences, which, operating in a timewhen she was growing fast, had their full effect upon mind and bodyboth. In a condition of rapid change, the mass is more yielding andresponsive. One result in her was, that a certain sober grace, likethat of the lovely dull-feathered hen-birds, began to manifest itselfin her carriage and her ways. And this leads me to remark that heroutward and visible feathers would have been dull enough had not MrsForbes come to her aid with dresses of her own, which they remadebetween them; for it will easily be believed that no avoidable outlayremained unavoided by the Bruces. Indeed, but for the feeling that shemust be decent on Sundays, they would have let her go yet shabbier thanshe was when Mrs Forbes thus partially adopted her. Now that she waswarmly and neatly dressed, she began to feel and look more like thelady-child she really was. No doubt the contrast was very painful whenshe returned from Mrs Forbes's warm parlour to sleep in her own garret, with the snow on the roof, scanty clothing on the bed, and the rats inthe floor. But there are two sides to a contrast; and it is wonderfulalso how one gets through what one cannot get out of. 

A certain change in the Bruce-habits, leading to important results forAnnie, must now be recorded. 

Robert Bruce was making money, but not so fast as he wished. For hisreturns came only in small sums, although the profits were great. Hiscustomers were chiefly of the poorer classes of the town and theneighbourhood, who preferred his unpretending shop to the more showyestablishments of some of his rivals. A sort of _couthy_, _pauky_, confidentially flattering way that he had with them, pleased them, andcontributed greatly to keep them true to his counter. And as he knewhow to buy as well as how to sell, the poor people, if they had not theworth of their money, had at least what was good of its sort. But, as Ihave said, although he was making haste to be rich, he was notsucceeding fast enough. So he bethought him that the Missionar Kirk wasgetting "verra throng. "

A month or two before this time, the Missionars had made choice of avery able man for their pastor--a man of genuine and strong religiousfeeling, who did not allow his theology to interfere with the teachinggiven him by God's Spirit more than he could help, and who, if he hadbeen capable of making a party at all, would have made it with the pooragainst the rich. This man had gathered about him a large congregationof the lower classes of Glamerton; and Bruce had learned with someuneasiness that a considerable portion of his customers was to be foundin the Missionar Kirk on Sundays, especially in the evenings. For therewas a grocer amongst the Missionars, who, he feared, might draw some ofhis subjects away from their allegiance, seeing he must have a certainreligious influence of which Robert was void, to bring to bear uponthem. What therefore remained but that he too should join thecongregation? For then he would not only retain the old, but have achance of gaining new customers as well. So he took a week to thinkabout it, a Sunday to hear Mr Turnbull in order that the change mightnot seem too abrupt, and a pew under the gallery before the next Sundayarrived; in which, five minutes before the hour, he and his family wereseated, adding greatly to the consequence both of the place and ofhimself in the eyes of his Missionar customers. 

This change was a source of much pleasure to Annie. For although shefound the service more wearisome than good Mr Cowie's, lasting as itdid about three quarters of an hour longer and the sermon was notinvariably of a kind in which she could feel much interest, yet, occasionally, when Mr Turnbull was in his better moods, and testifiedof that which he had himself seen and known, the honest heart of themaiden recognized the truth, and listened absorbed. The young Bruces, for their parts, would gladly have gone to sleep, which would perhapshave been the most profitable use to which they could put the time; butthey were kept upright and in a measure awake, by the constantapplication, "spikewise, " of the paternal elbow, and the judiciousadministration, on the part of the mother, of the unfailing peppermintlozenges, to which in the process of ages a certain sabbaticalcharacter has attached itself. To Annie, however, no such ministrationextended, for it would have been downright waste, seeing she could keepawake without it. 

One bright frosty morning, the sermon happening to have no relation tothe light around or within them, but only to the covenant made withAbraham--such a legal document constituting the only reliableprotection against the character, inclinations, and duties of theAlmighty, whose uncovenanted mercies are of a very doubtfulnature--Annie, neither able to enter into the subject, nor to keep fromshivering with the cold, tried to amuse herself with gazing at onebrilliant sun-streak on the wall, which she had discovered to begradually shortening itself, and retreating towards the window by whichit had entered. Wondering how far it would have moved before the sermonwas over, and whether it would have shone so very bright if God hadmade no covenant with Abraham, she was earnestly watching it pass fromspot to spot, and from cobweb to cobweb, as if already it fled beforethe coming darkness of the long winter night, when she caught a glimpseof a very peculiar countenance turned in the same direction--that is, not towards the minister, but towards this travelling light. Shethought the woman was watching it as well as she, and wondered whethershe too was hoping for a plate of hot broth as soon as the sunbeam hadgone a certain distance--broth being the Sunday fare with theBruces--and, I presume, with most families in Scotland. The countenancewas very plain, seamed and scarred as if the woman had fallen into thefire when a child; and Annie had not looked at her two seconds, beforeshe saw that she was perfectly blind. Indeed she thought at first thatshe had no eyes at all; but as she kept gazing, fascinated with thestrangeness and ugliness of the face, she discovered that the eyelids, though incapable of separating, were inconstant motion, and that ashrunken eye-ball underneath each kept rolling and turning ever, as ifsearching for something it could not find. She saw too that there was alight on the face, a light which came neither from the sun in the sky, nor the sunbeam on the wall, towards which it was unconsciously turned. I think it must have been the heavenly bow itself, shining upon allhuman clouds--a bow that had shone for thousands of ages before everthere was an Abraham, or a Noah, or any other of our faithlessgeneration, which will not trust its God unless he swear that he willnot destroy them. It was the ugliest face. But over it, as over therugged channel of a sea, flowed the transparent waves of a heavenlydelight. 

When the service was over, almost before the words of the benedictionhad left the minister's lips, the people, according to Scotch habit, hurried out of the chapel, as if they could not possibly endure oneword more. But Annie, who was always put up to the top of the pew, because there, by reason of an intruding pillar, it required a painfultwist of the neck to see the minister, stood staring at the blind womanas she felt her way out of the chapel. There was no fear of putting herout by staring at her. When, at length, she followed her into the openair, she found her standing by the door, turning her sightless face onall sides, as if looking for some one and trying hard to open her eyesthat she might see better. Annie watched her, till, seeing her lipsmove, she knew, half by instinct, that she was murmuring, "The bairn'sforgotten me!" Thereupon she glided up to her and said gently:

"If ye'll tell me whaur ye bide, I s' tak ye hame. "

"What do they ca' _you_, bairn?" returned the blind woman, in a gruff, almost manlike voice, hardly less unpleasant to hear than her face wasto look at. 

"Annie Anderson, " answered Annie. 

"Ow, ay! I thoucht as muckle. I ken a' aboot ye. Gie's a haud o' yerhan'. I bide i' that wee hoosie down at the brig, atween the dam andthe Glamour, ye ken. Ye'll haud me aff o' the stanes?"

"Ay will I. " answered Annie confidently. 

"I could gang my lane, but I'm growin some auld noo, and I'm jistraither feared for fa'in'. "

"What garred ye think it was me--I never spak till ye afore?" askedAnnie, as they walked on together. 

"Weel, it's jist half guissin', an' half a kin' o' jeedgment--pittinthings thegither, ye ken, my bairn. Ye see, I kent a' the bairns thatcome to oor kirk weel eneuch already. I ken the word and amaist the fito' them. And I had heard tell 'at Maister Bruce was come to oor kirk. Sae when a lassie spak till me 'at I never saw afore, I jist a kin' o'kent 'at it bude to be yersel'. "

All this was spoken in the same harsh voice, full of jars, as if everdriving against corners, and ready to break into a hoarse whisper. Butthe woman held Annie's hand kindly, and yielded like a child to herguidance which was as careful as that of the angel that led Peter. 

It was a new delight to Annie to have some one to whom she a childcould be a kind of mother, towards whom she could fulfil a woman'shighest calling--that of _ministering unto_; and it was with somethingof a sacred pride that she led her safe home, through the snowystreets, and down the steep path that led from the level of the bridge, with its three high stone arches, to the little meadow where hercottage stood. Before they reached it, the blind woman, whose name wasTibbie (Isobel) Dyster, had put many questions to her, and withoutasking one indiscreet, had yet, by her gift for fitting and fusingthings in the retort of her own brain, come to a tolerably correctknowledge of her character, circumstances, and history. 

As soon as they entered the cottage, Tibbie was entirely at her ease. The first thing she did was to lift the kettle from the fire, and feelthe fire with her hands in order to find out in what condition it was. She would not allow Annie to touch it: she could not trust the creaturethat had nothing but eyes to guide her, with such a delicate affair. Her very hands looked blind and trying to see, as, with fine up-curvedtips, they went wandering over the tops of the live peats. Shere-arranged them, put on some fresh pieces, blew a little at them allastray and to no purpose, was satisfied, coughed, and sank upon achair, to put her bonnet off. Most women of her station wore only a_mutch_ or close cap, but Tibbie wore a bonnet with a brilliantly gayribbon, so fond was she of bright colours, although she had nothing butthe testimony of others, vague enough ere it succeeded in crossing thedark distances of her brain, as to the effect of those even with whichshe adorned her own person. Her room was very bare, but as clean as itwas possible for room to be. Her bed was in the wall which divided itfrom the rest of the house, and this one room was her whole habitation. The other half of the cottage was occupied by an old cripple, nearlybedridden, to whose many necessities Tibbie used to minister. The eyesof the one and the legs of the other worked in tolerable harmony; andif they had a quarrel now and then, it was no greater than gave a zestto their intercourse. These particulars, however, Annie did not learntill afterwards. 

She looked all about the room, and seeing no sign of any dinner forTibbie, was reminded thereby that her own chance had considerablydiminished. 

"I maun awa hame, " she said with a sigh. 

"Ay, lassie; they'll be bidin' their denner for ye. "

"Na, nae fear o' that, " answered Annie, adding with another littlesigh, "I doot there winna be muckle o' the broth to the fore or I winhame. "

"Weel jist bide, bairn, an' tak' a cup o' tay wi' me. It's a' 'at I haeto offer ye. Will ye bide?"

"Maybe I wad be i' yer gait, " objected Annie feebly. 

"Na, na; nae fear o' that. Ye'll read a bit to me efterhin. "

"Ay will I. "

And Annie stayed all the afternoon with Tibbie, and went home with theBruces after the evening service. This was the beginning of heracquaintance with Tibbie Dyster. 

It soon grew into a custom for Annie to take Tibbie home from thechapel--a custom which the Bruces could hardly have objected to, hadthey been so inclined. But they were not so inclined, for it saved thebroth--that is, each of them got a little more in consequence, andAnnie's absence was therefore a Sabbath blessing. 

Much as she was neglected at home, however, Annie was steadily gaininga good reputation in the town. Old men said she was a gude bairn, andold women said she was a douce lassie; while those who enjoyed findingfault more than giving praise, turned their silent approbation of Annieinto expressions of disapproval of the Bruces--"lattin' her gang like abeggar, as gin she was no kith or kin o' theirs, whan it's weel kentwhase heifer Rob Bruce is plooin' wi'. "

But Robert nevertheless grew and prospered all day, and dreamed atnight that he was the king, digging the pits for the English cavalry, and covering them again with the treacherous turf. Somehow the dreamnever went further. The field and the kingship would vanish and he onlyremain, the same Robert Bruce, the general dealer, plotting still, butin his own shop. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Responsive to Mr Cupples's last words uttered from the brink of the pitinto which his spirit was sinking, and probably forgotten straightway, Alec knocked at his door upon the Sunday evening, and entered. Thestrange creature was sitting in the same position as before, looking asif he had not risen since he spoke those words. But there was analteration in the place, a certain Sunday look about the room, whichAlec could not account for. The same caricatures jested from the walls;the same tumbler of toddy was steaming on the table amidst the samelitter of books and papers covered with the same dust and marked withthe same circles from the bottoms of wet tumblers and glasses. The samecutty-clay, of enviable blackness, reposed between the teeth of MrCupples. 

After he had been seated for a few moments, however, Alec all at oncediscovered the source of the reformation-look of the place: Mr Cuppleshad on a shirt-collar--clean and of imposing proportions. To this nodoubt was attached a shirt, but as there was no further sign of itspresence, it could not have affected the aspect of things. Although, however, this shirt-collar was no doubt the chief cause of the changeof expression in the room, Alec, in the course of the evening, discovered further signs of improvement in the local morals; one, thatthe hearth had been cleared of a great heap of ashes, and now lookedmodest and moderate as if belonging to an old maid's cottage, insteadof an old bachelor's garret; and another, that, upon the untidy table, lay an open book of divinity, a volume of Gurnall's _Christian Armour_namely, which I fear Mr Cupples had chosen more for its wit than itsdevotion. While making these discoveries, Alec chanced to observe--hewas quick-eyed--that some of the dusty papers on the table werescrawled over with the first amorphous appearance of metricalcomposition. These moved his curiosity; for what kind of poetry couldthe most unpoetic-looking Mr Cupples produce from that great head ofhis with the lanky colourless hair?--But meantime we must return to thecommencement of the interview. 

"Ony mair Greek, laddie?" asked Mr Cupples. 

"No, thank you, sir, " answered Alec. "I only came to see you. You toldme to come again to-night. "

"Did I? Well, it may stand. But I protest against being madeaccountable for anything that fellow Cupples may choose to say when I'mnot at home. "

Here he emptied his glass of toddy, and filled it again from thetumbler. 

"Shall I go away?" asked Alec, half bewildered. 

"No, no; sit still. You're a good sort of innocent, I think. I won'tgive you any toddy though. You needn't look so greedy at it. "

"I don't want any toddy, sir. I never drank a tumbler in my life. "

"For God's sake, " exclaimed Mr Cupples, with sudden energy, leaningforward in his chair, his blue eyes flashing on Alec--"for God's sake, never drink a drop. --Rainbows. Rainbows. "

These last two words were spoken after a pause, and in a tone ofsadness. Alec thought he was drunk again, and half rose to go. 

"Dinna gang yet, " said Mr Cupples, authoritatively. "Ye come at yer ainwill: ye maun gang at mine. --Gin I cud but get a kick at that fellowCupples! But I declare I canna help it. Gin I war God, I wad cure himo' drink. It's the verra first thing I wad do. "

Alec could not help being shocked at the irreverence of the words. Butthe solemnity of Mr Cupples's face speedily dissipated the feeling. Suddenly changing his tone, he went on:

"What's your name?"

"Alec Forbes. "

"Alec Forbes. I'll try to remember it. I seldom remember anybody'sname, though. I sometimes forget my own. What was the fellow's name youthrashed the other day?"

"Patrick Beauchamp. I did not mention it before. "

"The deevil it was!" exclaimed Mr Cupples, half-starting from his seat. "Did ye gie him a _richt_ thrashin'?"

"I think he had the worst of it. He gave in, any way. "

"He comes of a bad lot! I know all about them. They're from Strathspey, where my father came from--at least his father was. If the young fellowturns out well, it'll be a wonder. I'll tell you all about them. "

Mr Cupples here launched into a somewhat discursive account of PatrickBeauchamp's antecedents, indicating by its minuteness that there musthave been personal relations of some kind between them or theirfamilies. Perhaps he glanced at something of the sort when he said thatold Beauchamp was a hard man even for a lawyer. I will condense thestory from the more diffuse conversational narrative, interrupted byquestion and remark on the part of Alec, and give it the shape offormal history. 

Beauchamp's mother was the daughter of a Highland chief, whose pedigreewent back to an Irish king of date so remote that his existence wasdoubtful to every one not personally interested in the extraction. MrsBeauchamp had all the fierceness without much of the grace belonging tothe Celtic nature. Her pride of family, even, had not prevented herfrom revenging herself upon her father, who had offended her, byrunning away with a handsome W. S. , who, taken with her good looks, andflattered by the notion of overcoming her pride, had found aconjunction of circumstances favourable to the conquest. It was notlong, however, before both repented of the step. That her father shoulddisown her was not of much consequence in any point of view, but thatnobody in Edinburgh would admit her claims to distinction--which arosefrom the fact that they were so unpleasantly asserted that no one couldendure herself--did disgust her considerably; and her annoyance foundvent in abuse of her husband for having failed to place her in thesphere to which she had a just claim. The consequence was, that heneglected her; and she sat at home brooding over her wrongs, despisingand at length hating her husband, and meditating plans of revenge assoon as her child should be born. At length, within three months afterthe birth of Patrick, she found that he was unfaithful to her, andimmediately demanded a separate maintenance. To this her husband madeno further objection than policy required. But when she proceeded toimpose an oath upon him that he would never take her child from her, the heart of the father demurred. Whereupon she swore that, if ever hemade the attempt, she would poison the child rather than that he shouldsucceed. He turned pale as death, and she saw that she had gained herpoint. And, indeed, the woman was capable of anything to which she hadmade up her mind--a power over one's self and friends not desirableexcept in view of such an object as that of _Lady Macbeth_. But MrsBeauchamp, like her, considered it only a becoming strength of spirit, and would have despised herself if she had broken one resolution foranother indubitably better. So her husband bade her farewell, and madeno lamentation except over the probable result of such training as thechild must receive at the hands of such a mother. She withdrew to acountry town not far from the Moray Frith, where she might livecomfortably on her small income, be a person of some consideration, andreap all the advantages of the peculiar facilities which the placeafforded for the education of her boy, whom she would mould and modelafter her own heart. 

"So you see, Mr--I forget yer name--Forbes? yes, Forbes, if the rascaltakes after his mother, you have made a dangerous enemy, " said MrCupples, in conclusion. 

Alec laughed. 

"I advise you, " resumed Mr Cupples, "to keep a gleg ee in yer heid, though--seriously. A body may lauch ower aften. It winna do to gangglowerin' at rainbows. They're bonnie things, but they're naebrig-backs. Gin ye lippen to them, ye'll be i' the water in acat-loup. "

Alec was beginning to enter into the humour of the man. 

"I see something like poetry lying about the table, Mr Cupples, " saidhe, with a sly allusion to the _rainbows_. "Would you let me look atit?"

Mr Cupples glanced at him sharply; but replied immediately:

"Broken bits o' them! And the rainbows cast (lose colour) awfu', anceye tak' the key-stane oot o' them. Lat them sit up there, brigs(bridges) ower naething, wi' nae road upo' the tap o' them, like thestane brig o' Drumdochart efter the spate (flood). Haud yer han's andyer een aff o' them, as I tellt ye afore. --Ay, ay, ye can luik at thaescreeds gin ye like. Only dinna say a word to me aboot ony o' them. Andtak' warnin' by them yersel, never to write ae word o' poetry, to haudye frae rivin'. "

"Sma' fear o' that!" returned Alec, laughing. 

"Weel, I houp sae. --Ye can mak a kirk an' a mill o' them, gin ye like. They hae lain there lang eneuch. Noo, haud yer tongue. I'm gaein tofill my pipe again, afore I burn oot the dottle. I winna drink mair thenicht, cause it's the Sabbath, and I'm gaein to read my buik. "

So saving, he proceeded to get the _dottle_ out of his pipe, byknocking it on the hob; while Alec took up the paper that lay nearest. He found it contained a fragment of a poem in the Scotch language; and, searching amongst the rest of the scattered sheets, he soon got thewhole of it together. 

Now, although Alec had but little acquaintance with verse, he was able, thanks to Annie Anderson, to enjoy a ballad very heartily; and therewas something in this one which, associating itself in his mind withthe strange being before him, moved him more than he could account for. It was called

 TIME AND TIDE. 

 As I was walkin' on the strand, I spied an auld man sit On ane auld rock; and aye the waves Cam washin' to its fit. And aye his lips gaed mutterin', And his ee was dull and blae. As I cam near, he luik'd at me, But this was a' his say: "Robbie and Jeannie war twa bonnie bairns, And they played thegither upo' the shore: Up cam the tide 'tween the mune and the sterns, And pairtit the twa wi' an eerie roar. "

 What can the auld man mean, quo' I, Sittin' upo' the auld rock? The tide creeps up wi' moan and cry, And a hiss 'maist like a mock. The words he mutters maun be the en' O' a weary dreary sang-- A deid thing floatin' in his brain, That the tide will no lat gang. "Robbie and Jeannie war twa bonnie bairns, And they played thegither upo' the shore: Up cam the tide 'tween the mune and the sterns, And pairtit the twa wi' an eerie roar. "

 What pairtit them, auld man? I said; Did the tide come up ower strang? 'Twas a braw deith for them that gaed, Their troubles warna lang. Or was ane ta'en, and the ither left-- Ane to sing, ane to greet? It's sair, richt sair, to be bereft, But the tide is at yer feet. "Robbie and Jeannie war twa bonnie bairns, And they played thegither upo' the shore: Up cam the tide 'tween the mune and the sterns, And pairtit the twa wi' an eerie roar. "

 Maybe, quo' I, 'twas Time's gray sea, Whase droonin' 's waur to bide; But Death's a diver, seekin' ye Aneath its chokin' tide. And ye'll luik in ane anither's ee Triumphin' ower gray Time. But never a word he answered me, But ower wi' his dreary chime-- "Robbie and Jeannie war twa bonnie bairns, And they played thegither upo' the shore: Up cam the tide 'tween the mune and the sterns, And pairtit the twa wi' an eerie roar. "

 Maybe, auld man, said I, 'twas Change That crap atween the twa? Hech! that's a droonin' awfu' strange, Ane waur than ane and a'. He spak nae mair. I luik't and saw That the auld lips cudna gang. The tide unseen took him awa-- Left me to end his sang: "Robbie and Jeannie war twa bonnie bairns, And they played thegither upo' the shore: Up cam the tide 'tween the mune and the sterns, And tuik them whaur pairtin' shall be no more. "

Before he had finished reading, the refrain had become so familiar toAlec, that he unconsciously murmured the last, changed as it was fromthe preceding form, aloud. Mr Cupples looked up from Gurnall uneasily, fidgeted in his chair, and said testily:

"A' nonsense! Moonshine and rainbows! Haud yer tongue! The last line'sa' wrang. "

He then returned with a determined air to the consideration of his_Christian Armour_, while Alec, in whom the minor tone of the poem hadgreatly deepened the interest he felt in the writer, gazed at him in abewilderment like that one feels when his eyes refuse to take theirproper relation to the perspective before them. He could not get thoseverses and Mr Cupples into harmony. Not daring to make any observation, however, he sat with the last leaf still in his hand, and a reverentialstare upon his face, which at length produced a remarkable effect uponthe object of it. Suddenly lifting his eyes--

"What are ye glowerin' at me for?" he exclaimed, flinging his book fromhim, which, missing the table, fell on the floor on the further side ofit. "I'm neither ghaist nor warlock. Damn ye! gang oot, gin ye be gaunto stick me throu and throu wi' yer een, that gait. "

"I beg your pardon, Mr Cupples. I didn't mean to be rude, " said Alechumbly. 

"Weel, cut yer stick, I hae eneuch o' ye for ae nicht. I canna stan'glowerin' een, especially i' the heids o' idiots o' innocents likeyou. "

I am sorry to have to record what Alec learned from the landladyafterwards, that Mr Cupples went to bed that night, notwithstanding itwas the Sabbath, more drunk than she had ever known him. Indeed hecould not properly be said to have gone to bed at all, for he hadtumbled on the counter-pane in his clothes and clean shirt-collar;where she had found him fast asleep the next morning, with Gurnall's_Christian Armour_ terribly crumpled under him. 

"But, " said Alec, "what _is_ Mr Cupples?"

"That's a queston he cudna weel answer ye himsel', " was the reply. "Hedoes a heap o' things; writes for the lawyers whiles; buys and sellsqueer buiks; gies lessons in Greek and Hebrew--but he disna likethat--he canna bide to be contred, and laddies is gey contresome; helpsonybody that wants help i' the way o' figures--whan their buiks gangwrang ye ken, for figures is some ill for jummlin'. He's a kin' o'librarian at yer ain college i' the noo, Mr Forbes. The auld man'sdeid, and Mr Cupples is jist doin' the wark. They winna gie him theplace--'cause he has an ill name for drink--but they'll get as mucklewark oot o' him as gin they did, and for half the siller. The bodyhauds at onythiug weel eneuch a' day, but the minute he comes hame, ootcomes the tappit hen, and he jist sits doon and drinks till he turnsthe warl upo' the tap o' 'm. "

The next day, about noon, Alec went into the library, where he found MrCupples busy re-arranging the books and the catalogue, both of whichhad been neglected for years. This was the first of many visits to thelibrary, or rather to the librarian. 

There was a certain mazy sobriety of demeanour about Mr Cupples all daylong, as if in the presence of such serious things as books he wasbound to be upon his good behaviour, and confine his dissipation totaking snuff in prodigious quantities. He was full of information aboutbooks, and had, besides, opinions concerning them, which were alwaysready to assume quaint and decided expression. For instance: oneafternoon, Alec having taken up _Tristram Shandy_ and asked him whatkind of a book it was, the pro-librarian snatched it from his hands andput it on the shelf again, answering:

"A pailace o' dirt and impidence and speeeritual stink. The cleverdeevil had his entrails in his breest and his hert in his belly, andregairdet neither God nor his ain mither. His lauchter's no like thecracklin' o' thorns unner a pot, but like the nicherin' o' a deil ahin'the wainscot. Lat him sit and rot there!"

Asking him another day what sort of poet Shelley was, Alec received theanswer:

"A bonny cratur, wi' mair thochts nor there was room for i' the bitheid o' 'm. Consequently he gaed staiggerin' aboot as gin he had beentied to the tail o' an inveesible balloon. Unco licht heidit, but nomuckle hairm in him by natur'. "

He never would remain in the library after the day began to ebb. Themoment he became aware that the first filmy shadow had fallen from thecoming twilight, he caught up his hat, locked the door, gave the key tothe sacrist, and hurried away. 

The friendly relation between the two struck its roots deeper anddeeper during the session, and Alec bade him good-bye with regret. 

Mr Cupples was a baffled poet trying to be a humourist--baffled--not bythe booksellers or the public--for such baffling one need not have aprofound sympathy--but baffled by his own weakness, his incapacity forassimilating sorrow, his inability to find or invent a theory of theuniverse which should show it still beautiful despite of passing pain, of checked aspiration, of the ruthless storms that lay waste the Edensof men, and dissolve the high triumph of their rainbows. He had yet tolearn that through "the heartache and the thousand natural shocks thatflesh is heir to, " man becomes capable of the blessedness to which allthe legends of a golden age point. Not finding, when he most needed it, such a theory even in the New Testament--for he had been diligentlytaught to read it awry--Mr Cupples took to jesting and toddy; but, haunting the doors of Humour, never got further than the lobby. 

With regard to Patrick Beauchamp, as far as Alec could see, his dignityhad succeeded in consoling itself for the humiliation it had undergone, by an absolute and eternal renunciation of all knowledge of AlecForbes's existence. 

CHAPTER XL. 

Winter had begun to withdraw his ghostly troops, and Glamerton began togrow warmer. Not half so many cold feet dangled from the cold legs oflittle children in the torturing churches; not half so many coughs torethe chests of the poor old men and women as they stooped over theirlittle fires, with the blasts from door and window-sill in their anklesand the backs of their necks. Annie, who had been very happy all thetime, began to be aware of something more at hand. A flutter scarcelyrecognizable, as of the wings of awaking delight, would stir her littleheart with a sensation of physical presence and motion; she would findherself giving an involuntary skip as she walked along, and now andthen humming a bit of a psalm tune. A hidden well was throbbing in thechild's bosom. Its waters had been frozen by the winter; and thespring, which sets all things springing, had made it flow and swellafresh, soon to break bubbling forth. But her joy was gentle, for evenwhen she was merriest, it was in a sobor, _douce_, and maidenlyfashion, testifying that she had already walked with Sorrow, and wasnot afraid of her. 

Robert Bruce's last strategical move against the community had beentolerably successful, even in his own eyes; and he was consequently sofar satisfied with himself, that he could afford to be in good humourwith other people. Annie came in for a share of this humour; andalthough she knew him too well to have any regard for him, it was yet acomfort to her to be on such terms with him as not to have to dread abitter word every time she chanced to meet him. This comfort, however, stood on a sandy foundation; for the fact that an expected customer hadnot called upon the Saturday might be enough to set the acetousfermentation at work all the Sunday in the bosom of Robert Bruce. 

At length, one bright day in the end of March, Alec came home, not theworse to friendly eyes for having been at college. He seemed the samecheery, active youth as before. The chief differences apparent were, that he had grown considerably, and that he wore a coat. The hat, atthat time a necessary portion of the college costume, he had discarded, wearing his old cap in preference. There was likewise a certainindescribable alteration in tone and manner, a certain generalcrystallization and polish, which the same friends regarded as anindubitable improvement. 

The day after his arrival, crossing the square of Glamerton, he spied, in a group of men talking together, his old friend, Thomas Crann. Hewent up and shook hands with him, and with Andrew Constable, theclothier. 

"Has na he grown a lang chield?" said Andrew to Thomas, regarding Aleckindly. 

"Humph!" returned Thomas, "he'll jist need the langer coffin. "

Alec laughed; but Andrew said, "Hoot! hoot!"

Thomas and Alec walked away together. But scarcely a sentence had beenexchanged before the stonemason, with a delicacy of perception of whichhis rough manner and horny hands gave no indication, felt that a filmof separation had come between the youth and himself. Anxious to breakthrough it, he said abruptly, "Hoo's yer immortal pairt, Alec? Min' ye, there's a knowledge thatworketh deith. "

Alec laughed--not scornfully--but he laughed. 

"Ye may lauch, Alec, but it's a sair trowth, " said the mason. 

Alec held out his hand, for here their way diverged. Thomas shook itkindly, but walked away gloomy. Arrived at home, he shut to his door, and went down on his knees by his bedside. When Jean came with hissupper she found the door fast. 

In order to prepare for the mathematical studies of the following year, Alec went to the school again in the morning of most days, Mr Malisonbeing well able to render him all the assistance he required. The firsttime he made his appearance at the door, a silence as of death was thesign of his welcome; but a tumult presently arose, and discipline wasfor a time suspended. I am afraid he had a slight feeling ofcondescension, as he returned the kind greeting of his oldcompanions. --Raise a housemaid to be cook, and she will condescend tothe new housemaid. 

Annie sat still, staring at her book, and turning red and palealternately. But he took no notice of her, and she tried to be glad ofit. 

When school was over, however, he came up to her in the lane, andaddressed her kindly. 

But the delicate little maiden felt, as the rough stonemason had felt, that a change had passed over the old companion and friend. True, thechange was only a breath--a mere shadow. Yet it was a measureless gulfbetween them. Annie went to her garret that night with a sense of sadprivation. 

But her pain sprung from a source hardly so deep as that of thestonemason. For the change she found in Alec was chiefly of an externalkind, and if she had a vague feeling of a deeper change, it hadscarcely yet come up into her consciousness. When she saw the _younggentleman_ her heart sank within her. Her friend was lost; and a shapewas going about, as he did, looking awfully like the old Alec, who hadcarried her in his arms through the invading torrent. Nor was therewanting, to complete the bewilderment of her feeling, a certainadditional reverence for the apparition, which she must after allregard as a further development of the same person. 

Mrs Forbes never asked her to the house now, and it was well for herthat her friendship with Tibbie Dyster had begun. But as she saw Alecday after day at school, the old colours began to revive out of thefaded picture--for to her it was a faded picture, although newvarnished. And when the spring had advanced a little, the boat was gotout, and then Alec could not go rowing in the _Bonnie Annie_ withoutthinking of its godmother, and inviting her to join them. Indeed Curlywould not have let him forget her if he had been so inclined; for hefelt that she was a bond between him and Alec, and he loved Alec themore devotedly that the rift between their social positions had begunto show itself. The devotion of the schoolboy to his superior inschoolboy arts had begun to change into something like the devotion ofthe clansman to his chief--not the worst folly the world has known--infact not a folly at all, except it stop there: many enthusiasms arefollies only because they are not greater enthusiasms. And notunfrequently would an odd laugh of consciousness between Annie andCurly, unexpectedly meeting, reveal the fact that they were bothwatching for a peep or a word of Alec. 

In due time the harvest came; and Annie could no more keep fromhaunting the harvest than the crane could keep from flying south whenthe summer is over. She watched all the fields around Glamerton; sheknew what response each made to the sun, and which would first be ripefor the reaping; and the very day that the sickle was put in, there wasAnnie to see and share in the joy. How mysterious she thought thoselong colonnades of slender pillars, each supporting its own wavingcomet-head of barley! Or when the sun was high, she would lie down onthe ground, and look far into the little forest of yellow polishedoat-stems, stretching away and away into the unseen--alas, so soon tofall, and leave a naked commonplace behind! If she were only smallenough to go wandering about in it, what wonders might she notdiscover!--But I forget that I am telling a story, and not writing afairy-tale. --Unquestioned as uninvited, she was, as she had often beenbefore, one of the company of reapers, gatherers, binders, andstookers, assembled to collect the living gold of the earth from theearly fields of the farm of Howglen. Sadly her thoughts went back tothe old days when Dowie was master of the field, and she was Dowie'slittle mistress. Not that she met with anything but kindness--only itwas not the kindness she had had from Dowie. But the pleasure of beingonce more near Alec almost made up for every loss. And he was quitefriendly, although, she must confess, not quite so familiar as of old. But that did not matter, she assured herself. 

The labourers all knew her, and themselves took care that she shouldhave the portion of their food which her assistance had well earned, and which was all her wages. She never refused anything that wasoffered her, except money. That she had taken only once in herlife--from Mr Cowie, whom she continued to love the more dearly for it, although she no longer attended his church. 

But again the harvest was safely lodged, and the sad old age of theyear sank through rains and frosts to his grave. 

The winter came and Alec went. 

He had not been gone a week when Mrs Forbes's invitations re-commenced;and, as if to make up for the neglect of the summer, they were morefrequent than before. No time was so happy for Annie as the time shespent with her. She never dreamed of accusing her of fickleness orunevenness, but received whatever kindness she offered with gratitude. And, this winter, she began to make some return in the way of householdassistance. 

One day, while searching in the lumber-room for something for MrsForbes, she came upon a little book lying behind a box. It was damp andswollen and mouldy, and the binding was decayed and broken. The insidewas dingy and spotted with brown spots, and had too many �'s in it, asshe thought. Yet the first glance fascinated her. It had opened in themiddle of _L'Allegro_. Mrs Forbes found her standing spell-bound, reading the rhymed poems of the man whose blank-verse, two yearsbefore, she had declined as not what poetry ought to be. I have oftenseen a child refuse his food, and, after being compelled to eat onemouthful, gladly devour the whole. In like manner Annie, having oncetasted Milton's poetry, did not let it go till she had devoured eventhe _Paradise Lost_, of which when she could not make sense, she atleast made music�the chords of old John Milton's organ sounding throughhis son's poetry in the brain of a little Scotch lassie who never heardan organ in her life. 

CHAPTER XLI. 

"Hillo, bantam!" exclaimed Mr Cupples, to Alec entering his garretwithin an hour of his arrival in his old quarters, and finding the soulof the librarian still hovering in the steam of his tumbler, like oneof Swedenborg's damned over the odour of his peculiar hell. As he spokehe emptied the glass, the custom of drinking from which, instead offrom the tumbler itself--rendering it impossible to get drunk all atonce--is one of the atonements offered by the Scotch to their tutelargod--Propriety. --"Come awa'. What are ye stan'in' there for, as gin yewarna at hame, " he added, seeing that Alec lingered on the threshold. "Sit doon. I'm nae a'thegither sorry to see ye. "

"Have you been to the country, Mr Cupples?" asked Alec, as he took achair. 

"The country! Na, I haena been i' the country. I'm a toon-snail. Thecountry's for calves and geese. It's ower green for me. I like the graystanes--weel biggit, to haud oot the cauld. I jist reverse the opingono' the auld duke in Mr Shackspere;--for this my life

 'Find trees in tongues, its running brooks in books, Stones in sermons, ---'

and I canna gang on ony farther wi' 't. The last's true ony gait. Iwinna gie ye ony toddy though. "

"I dinna want nane. "

"That's richt. Keep to that negation as an anchor o' the soul, sure andsteadfast. There's no boddom to the sea ye'll gang doon in gin ye cutthe cable that hauds ye to that anchor. Here's to ye!"

And again Mr Cupples emptied his glass. 

"Hoo are ye prepared for yer mathematics?" he resumed. 

"Middlin' only, " answered Alec. 

"I was doobtin' that. Sma' preparation does weel eneuch for ProfessorFraser's Greek; but ye'll fin' it's anither story wi' the mathematics. Ye maun jist come to me wi' them as ye did wi' the Greek. "

"Thank you, Mr Cupples, " said Alec heartily. "I don't know how to repayyou. "

"Repay me! I want nae repayment. Only spier nae questons at me, andgang awa whan I'm drunk. "

After all his summer preparation, Alec was still behind in mathematics;for while, with a distinct object in view, he was capable ofmuch--without one, reading was a weariness to him. His medical studies, combining, as they did, in their anatomical branch, much to be learnedby the eye and the hand with what was to be learned from books, interested him more and more. 

One afternoon, intent upon a certain course of investigation, heremained in the dissecting room after the other students had gone, andworked away till it grew dark. He then lighted a candle, and worked on. The truth was unfolding itself gently and willingly. At last, feelingtired, he laid down his scalpel, dropped upon a wooden chair, and, coldas it was, fell fast asleep. When he awoke, the candle was _bobbing_ inits socket, alternately lighting and shadowing the dead man on thetable. Strange glooms were gathering about the bottles on the shelves, and especially about one corner of the room, where--but I must notparticularize too much. It must be remembered that he had awakedsuddenly, in a strange place, and with a fitful light. He confessed toMr Cupples that he had felt a little uncomfortable--not frightened, but_eerie_. He was just going to rise and go home, when, as he stretchedout his hand for his scalpel, the candle sunk in darkness, and he lostthe guiding glitter of the knife. At the same moment, he caught adoubtful gleam of two eyes looking in at him from one of the windows. That moment the place became insupportable with horror. The vague senseof an undefined presence turned the school of science into acharnel-house. He started up, hurried from the room, feeling as if hisfeet took no hold of the floor and his back was fearfully exposed, locked the door, threw the key upon the porter's table, and fled. Hedid not recover his equanimity till he found himself in the long narrowstreet that led to his lodgings, lighted from many little shop-windowsin stone gable and front. 

By the time he had had his tea, and learned a new proposition ofEuclid, the fright seemed to lie far behind him. It was not so far ashe thought, however, for he started to his feet when a sudden gust ofwind shook his windows. But then it was a still frosty night, and sucha gust was not to be expected. He looked out. Far above shone thestars. 

"How they sparkle in the frost!" he said, as if the frost reached them. But they did look like the essential life that makes snow-flakes andicy spangles everywhere--they were so like them, only they were offire. Even snow itself must have fire at the heart of it. --All wasstill enough up there. 

Then he looked down into the street, full of the comings and goings ofpeople, some sauntering and staring, others hastening along. Beauchampwas looking in at the window of a second-hand book-shop opposite. 

Not being able to compose himself again to his studies, he resolved, ashe had not called on Mr Fraser for some time, and the professor had notbeen at the class that day, to go and inquire after him now. 

Mr Fraser lived in the quadrangle of the college; but in the mood Alecwas in, nothing would do him so much good as a walk in the frost. Hewas sure of a welcome from the old man; for although Alec gave butlittle attention to Greek now, Mr Fraser was not at all dissatisfiedwith him, knowing that he was doing his best to make himself a gooddoctor. His friendliness towards him had increased; for he thought hesaw in him noble qualities; and now that he was an old man, hedelighted to have a youth near him with whose youthfulness he couldcome into harmonious contact. It is because the young cannot recognizethe youth of the aged, and the old will not acknowledge the experienceof the young, that they repel each other. 

Alec was shown into the professor's drawing-room. This was unusual. Theprofessor was seated in an easy-chair, with one leg outstretched beforehim. 

"Excuse me, Mr Forbes, " he said, holding out his left hand withoutrising. "I am laid up with the gout--I don't know why. The port wine mygrandfather drunk, I suppose. _I_ never drink it. I'm afraid it's oldage. And yon's my nurse. --Mr Forbes, your cousin, Kate, my dear. "

Alec started. There, at the other side of the fire, sat a girl, halfsmiling and half blushing as she looked up from her work. The candlesbetween them had hid her from him. He advanced, and she rose and heldout her hand. He was confused; she was perfectly collected, althoughthe colour rose a little more in her cheek. She might have been a yearolder than Alec. 

"So you are a cousin of mine, Mr Forbes!" she said, when they were allseated by the blazing fire--she with a piece of plain work in herhands, he with a very awkward nothing in his, and the professorcontemplating his swathed leg on the chair before him. 

"So your uncle says, " he answered, "and I am very happy to believe him. I hope we shall be good friends. "

Alec was recovering himself. 

"I hope we shall, " she responded, with a quick, shy, asking glance fromher fine eyes. 

Those eyes were worth looking into, if only as a study of colour. Theywere of many hues marvellously blended. I think grey and blue and brownand green were all to be found in them. Their glance rather discomposedAlec. He had not learned before that ladies' eyes are sometimes verydiscomposing. Yet he could not keep his from wandering towards them;and the consequence was that he soon lost the greater part of hissenses. After sitting speechless for some moments, and feeling as if hehad been dumb for as many minutes, he was seized by a horribleconviction that if he remained silent an instant longer, he would bedriven to do or say something absurd. So he did the latter at once bybursting out with the stupid question, "What are you working at?"

"A duster, " she answered instantly--this time without looking up. 

Now the said duster was of the finest cambric; so that Alec could nothelp seeing that she was making game of him. This banished his shyness, and put him on his mettle. 

"I see, " he said, "when I ask questions, you--"

"Tell lies, " she interposed, without giving him time even to hesitate;adding, "Does your mother answer all your questions, Mr Forbes?"

"I believe she does--one way or other. "

"Then it is sometimes the other way? Is she nice?"

"Who?" returned Alec, surprised into doubt. 

"Your mother. "

"She's the best woman in the world, " he answered with vehemence, almostshocked at having to answer such a question. 

"Oh! I beg your pardon, " returned Kate, laughing; and the laugh curledher lip, revealing very pretty teeth, with a semi-transparentpearly-blue shadow in them. 

"I am glad she is nice, " she went on. "I should like to know her. Mothers are not _always_ nice. I knew a girl at school whose motherwasn't nice at all. "

She did not laugh after this childish speech, but let her face settleinto perfect stillness--sadness indeed, for a shadow came over thestillness. Mr Fraser sat watching the two with his amused old face, oneside of it twitching in the effort to suppress the smile which soughtto break from the useful half of his mouth. His gout could not havebeen very bad just then. 

"I see, Katie, what that long chin of yours is thinking, " he said. 

"What is my chin thinking, uncle?" she asked. 

"That uncles are not always nice either. They snub little girls, sometimes, don't they?"

"I know one who _is_ nice, all except one naughty leg. "

She rose, as she said this, and going round to the back of his chair, leaned over it, and kissed his forehead. The old man looked up to hergratefully. 

"Ah, Katie!" he said, "you may make game of an old man like me. Butdon't try your tricks on Mr Forbes there. He won't stand them. "

Alec blushed. Kate went back to her seat, and took up her duster again. 

Alec was a little short-sighted, though he had never discovered it tillnow. When Kate leaned over her uncle's chair, near which he wassitting, he saw that she was still prettier than he had thought herbefore. --There are few girls who to a short-sighted person lookprettier when they come closer; the fact being that the general intentof the face, which the generalizing effect of the shortness of thesight reveals, has ordinarily more of beauty in it than has yet beencarried out in detail; so that, as the girl approaches, one face seemsto melt away, and another, less beautiful, to dawn up through it. 

But, as I have said, this was not Alec's experience with Kate; for, whatever it might indicate, she looked prettier when she came nearer. He found too that her great mass of hair, instead of being, as he hadthought, dull, was in reality full of glints and golden hints, as ifshe had twisted up a handful of sunbeams with it in the morning, which, before night, had faded a little, catching something of the duskinessand shadowiness of their prison. One thing more he saw--that herhand--she rested it on the back of the dark chair, and so it had caughthis eye--was small and white; and those were all the qualities Alec wasas yet capable of appreciating in a hand. Before she got back to herseat, he was very nearly in love with her. I suspect that thosegenerally who fall in love at first sight have been in love before. Atleast such was Romeo's case. And certainly it was not Alec's. Yet Imust confess, if he had talked stupidly before, he talked worse now;and at length went home with the conviction that he had made a greatdonkey of himself. 

As he walked the lonely road, and the street now fast closing itswindows and going to sleep, he was haunted by a very different visionfrom that which had accompanied him a few hours ago. Then it was thedead face of a man, into which his busy fancy had reset the living eyesthat he had seen looking in at the window of the dissecting room; nowit was the lovely face of his new-found cousin, possessing him so thathe could fear nothing. Life had cast out death. Love had cast out fear. 

But love had cast out more. For he found, when he got home, that hecould neither read nor think. If Kate could have been _conscious_ ofits persistent intrusion upon Alec's thoughts, and its constantinterruption of his attempts at study, she would have been ashamed ofthat pretty face of hers, and ready to disown it for its forwardness. At last, he threw his book to the other end of the room, and went tobed, where he found it not half so difficult to go to sleep as it hadbeen to study. 

The next day things went better; for he was not yet so lost that anight's rest could do him no good. But it was fortunate that there wasno Greek class, and that he was not called up to read Latin that day. For the anatomy, he was in earnest about that; and love itself, so longas its current is not troubled by opposing rocks, will not disturb thestudies of a real student--much. 

As he left the dissecting-room, he said to himself that he would justlook in and see how Mr Fraser was. He was shown into the professor'sstudy. 

Mr Fraser smiled as he entered with a certain grim comicality whichAlec's conscience interpreted into: "This won't do, my young man. "

"I hope your gout is better to-day, sir, " he said, sending his glancewide astray of his words. 

"Yes, I thank you, Mr Forbes, " answered Mr Fraser, "it is better. Won'tyou sit down?"

Warned by that smile, Alec was astute enough to decline, and presentlytook his leave. As he shut the study door, however, he thought he wouldjust peep into the dining-room, the door of which stood open opposite. There she was, sitting at the table, writing. 

"Who can that letter be to?" thought Alec. But it was early days to bejealous. 

"How do you do, Mr Forbes?" said Kate, holding out her hand. 

Could it be that he had seen her only yesterday? Or was his visualmemory so fickle that he had forgotten what she was like? She was sodifferent from what he had been fancying her!

The fact was merely this--that she had been writing to an old friend, and her manner for the time, as well as her expression, was affected byher mental proximity to that friend;--so plastic--so fluent even--washer whole nature. Indeed Alec was not long in finding out that one ofher witcheries was, that she was never the same. But on this the firstoccasion, the alteration in her bewildered him. 

"I am glad to find your uncle better, " he said. 

"Yes. --You have seen him, then?"

"Yes. I was very busy in the dissecting-room, till--"

He stopped; for he saw her shudder. 

"I beg your pardon, " he hastened to substitute. --"We are so used tothose things, that--"

"Don't say a word more about it, please, " she said hastily. Then, in avague kind of way--"Won't you sit down?"

"No, thank you. I must go home, " answered Alec, feeling that she didnot want him. "Good night, " he added, advancing a step. 

"Good night, Mr Forbes, " she returned in the same vague manner, andwithout extending her hand. 

Alec checked himself, bowed, and went with a feeling of mortification, and the resolution not to repeat his visit too soon. 

She interfered with his studies notwithstanding, and sent him wanderingin the streets, when he ought to have been reading at home. One brightmoonlight night he found himself on the quay, and spying a boat at thefoot of one of the stairs, asked the man in it if he was ready for arow. The man agreed. Alec got in, and they rowed out of the river, andalong the coast to a fishing village where the man lived, and whenceAlec walked home. This was the beginning of many such boatingexcursions made by Alec in the close of this session. They greatlyimproved his boatmanship, and strengthened his growing muscles. The endof the winter was mild, and there were not many days unfit for theexercise. 

CHAPTER XLII. 

The next Saturday but one Alec received a note from Mr Fraser, hopingthat his new cousin had not driven him away, and inviting him to dinethat same afternoon. 

He went. After dinner the old man fell asleep in his chair. 

"Where were you born?" Alec asked Kate. 

She was more like his first impression of her. 

"Don't you know?" she replied. "In the north of Sutherlandshire--nearthe foot of a great mountain, from the top of which, on the longestday, you can see the sun, or a bit of him at least, all night long. "

"How glorious!" said Alec. 

"I don't know. _I_ never saw him. And the winters are so long andterrible! Nothing but snowy hills about you, and great clouds alwayscoming down with fresh loads of snow to scatter over them. "

"Then you don't want to go back?"

"No. There is nothing to make me wish to go back. There is no one thereto love me now. "

She looked very sad for a few moments. 

"Yes, " said Alec, thoughtfully; "a winter without love must bedreadful. But I like the winter; and we have plenty of it in ourquarter too. "

"Where is your home?"

"Not many miles north of this. "

"Is it a nice place?"

"Of course I think so. "

"Ah! you have a mother. I wish I knew her. "

"I wish you did. --True: the whole place is like her to me. But I don'tthink everybody would admire it. There are plenty of bare snowy hillsthere too in winter. But I think the summers and the harvests are asdelightful as anything can be, except--"

"Except what?"

"Don't make me say what will make you angry with me. "

"Now you must, else I shall fancy something that will make me _more_angry. "

"Except your face, then, " said Alec, frightened at his own boldness, but glancing at her shyly. 

She flushed a little, but did not look angry. 

"I don't like that, " she said. "It makes one feel awkward. "

"At least, " rejoined Alec, emboldened, "you must allow it is your ownfault. "

"I can't help my face, " she said, laughing. 

"Oh! you know what I mean. You made me say it. "

"Yes, after you had half-said it already. Don't do it again. "

And there followed more of such foolish talk, uninteresting to myreaders. 

"Where were you at school?" asked Alec, after a pause. "Your uncle toldme you were at school. "

"Near London, " she answered. 

"Ah! that accounts for your beautiful speech. "

"There again. I declare I will wake my uncle if you go on in that way. "

"I beg your pardon, " protested Alec; "I forgot. "

"But, " she went on, "in Sutherlandshire we don't talk so horribly asthey do here. "

"I daresay not, " returned Alec, humbly. 

"I don't mean you. I wonder how it is that you speak so much betterthan all the people here. "

"I suppose because my mother speaks well. She never lets me speak broadScotch to her. "

"Your mother again! She's everything to you. "

Alec did not reply. 

"I _should_ like to see her, " pursued Kate. 

"You must come and see her, then. "

"See whom?" asked Mr Fraser, rousing himself from his nap. 

"My mother, sir, " answered Alec. 

"Oh! I thought you had been speaking of Katie's friend, " said theprofessor, and fell asleep again. 

"Uncle means Bessie Warner, who is coming by the steamer from London onMonday. Isn't it kind of uncle to ask her to come and see me here?"

"He is kind always. Was Miss Warner a schoolfellow of yours?"

"Yes--no--not exactly. She was one of the governesses. I _must_ go andmeet her at the steamer. Will you go with me?"

"I shall be delighted. Do you know when she arrives?"

"They say about six. I daresay it is not very punctual. "

"Oh! yes, she is--when the weather is decent. I will make inquiries, and come and fetch you. "

"Thank you. --I suppose I may, uncle?"

"What, my dear?" said the professor, rousing himself again. 

"Have my cousin to take care of me when I go to meet Bessie?"

"Yes, certainly. I shall be much obliged to you, Mr Forbes. I am notquite so agile as I was at your age, though my gouty leg _is_ better. "

This conversation would not have been worth recording were it not thatit led to the walk and the waiting on Monday. --They found, when theyreached the region of steamers, that she had not yet been signalled, but her people were expecting the signal every minute. So Alec and Katewalked out along the pier, to pass the time. This pier runs down theside of the river, and a long way into the sea. It had begun to growdark, and Alec had to take great care of Kate amongst the tramways, coils of rope, and cables that crossed their way. At length they gotclear of these, and found themselves upon the pier, built of greatrough stones--lonely and desert, tapering away into the dark, its endinvisible, but indicated by the red light far in front. 

"It is a rough season of the year for a lady to come by sea, " saidAlec. 

"Bessie is very fond of the sea, " answered Kate. "I hope you will likeher, Mr Forbes. "

"Do you want me to like her better than you?" rejoined Alec. "Becauseif you do--"

"Look how beautiful that red light is on the other side of the river, "interrupted Kate. "And there is another further out. "

"When the man at the helm gets those two lights in a line, " said Alec, "he may steer straight in, in the darkest night--that is, if the tideserves for the bar. "

"Look how much more glorious the red shine is on the water below!" saidKate. 

"It looks so wet!" returned Alec, --"just like blood. "

He almost cursed himself as he said so, for he felt Kate's hand stir asif she would withdraw it from his arm. But after fluttering like a birdfor a moment, it settled again upon its perch, and there rested. 

The day had been quite calm, but now a sudden gust of wind from thenorth-east swept across the pier and made Kate shiver. Alec drew hershawl closer about her, and her arm further within his. They were nowclose to the sea. On the other side of the wall which rose on theirleft, they could hear the first of the sea-waves. It was a drearyplace--no sound even indicating the neighbourhood of life. On one side, the river below them went flowing out to the sea in the dark, giving acold sluggish gleam now and then, as if it were a huge snake heaving upa bend of its wet back, as it hurried away to join its fellows; on theother side rose a great wall of stone, beyond which was the sound oflong waves following in troops out of the dark, and falling upon a lowmoaning coast. Clouds hung above the sea; and above the clouds two orthree disconsolate stars. 

"Here is a stair, " said Alec. "Let us go up on the top of the sea-wall, and then we shall catch the first glimpse of the light at her funnel. "

They climbed the steep rugged steps, and stood on the broad wall, hearing the sea-pulses lazily fall at its foot. The wave crept awayafter it fell, and returned to fall again like a weary hound. There washardly any life in the sea. How mournful it was to lie out there, thewintry night, beneath an all but starless heaven, with the wind vexingit when it wanted to sleep!

Alec feeling Kate draw a deep breath like the sigh of the sea, lookedround in her face. There was still light enough to show it frowning anddark and sorrowful and hopeless. It was in fact a spiritual mirror, which reflected in human forms the look of that weary waste of waters. She gave a little start, gathered herself together, and murmuredsomething about the cold. 

"Let us go down again, " said Alec. --"The wind has risen considerably, and the wall will shelter us down below. "

"No, no, " she answered; "I like it. We can walk here just as well. Idon't mind the wind. "

"I thought you were afraid of falling off. "

"No, not in the dark. I should be, I daresay, if I could see how far weare from the bottom. "

So they walked on. The waves no longer fell at the foot of the wall, but leaned their breasts against it, gleaming as they rose on itsfront, and darkening as they sank low towards its deep base. 

The wind kept coming in gusts, tearing a white gleam now and then onthe dark surface of the sea. Behind them shone the dim lights of thecity; before them all was dark as eternity, except for the one light atthe end of the pier. At length Alec spied another out at sea. 

"I believe that is the steamer, " he said. "But she is a good way off. We shall have plenty of time to walk to the end--that is, if you wouldlike to go. "

"Certainly; let us go on. I want to stand on the very point, " answeredKate. 

They soon came to the lighthouse on the wall, and there descended tothe lower part of the pier, the end of which now plunged with a steepdescent into the sea. It was constructed of great stones clamped withiron, and built into a natural foundation of rock. Up the slope thewaves rushed, and down the slope they sank again, with that seeminglyaimless and resultless rise and fall, which makes the sea so dreary andsad to those men and women who are not satisfied without some goal inview, some outcome of their labours; for it goes on and on, answeringever to the call of sun and moon, and the fierce trumpet of the winds, yet working nothing but the hopeless wear of the bosom in which it liesbound for ever. 

They stood looking out into the great dark before them, dark air, darksea, dark sky, watching the one light which grew brighter as theygazed. Neither of them saw that a dusky figure was watching them frombehind a great cylindrical stone that stood on the end of the pier, close to the wall. 

A wave rushed up almost to their feet. 

"Let us go, " said Kate, with a shiver. "I can't bear it longer. Thewater is calling me and threatening me. There! How that wave rushed upas if it wanted me at once!"

Alec again drew her closer to him, and turning, they walked slowlyback. He was silent with the delight of having that lovely creature allto himself, leaning on his arm, in the infolding and protectingdarkness, and Kate was likewise silent. 

By the time they reached the quay at the other end of the pier, thesteamer had crossed the bar, and they could hear the _thud_ of herpaddles treading the water beneath them, as if eagerly because she wasnear her rest. After a few struggles, she lay quiet in her place, andthey went on board. 

Alec saw Kate embrace a girl perhaps a little older than herself, helped her to find her luggage, put them into a chaise, took his leave, and went home. 

He did not know that all the way back along the pier they had beenfollowed by Patrick Beauchamp. 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

Excited, and unable to settle to his work, Alec ran upstairs to MrCupples, whom he had not seen for some days. He found him not more thanhalf-way towards his diurnal goal. 

"What's come o' _you_, bantam, this mony a day?" said Mr Cupples. 

"I saw ye last Saturday, " said Alec. 

"Last Setterday week, ye mean, " rejoined the librarian. "Hoo's themathematics comin' on?"

"To tell the truth, I'm raither ahin' wi' them, " answered Alec. 

"I was thinkin' as muckle. Rainbows! Thae rainbows! And the anawtomy?"

"Nae jist stan'in' still a'thegither. "

"That's weel. Ye haena been fa'in' asleep again ower the guddletcarcass o' an auld pauper--hae ye?"

Alec stared. He had never told any one of his adventure in thedissecting-room. 

"I saw ye, my man. But I wasna the only ane that saw ye. Ye micht haegotten a waur fleg gin I hadna come up, for Mr Beauchamp was takin' thebearin's o' ye throu the window, and whan I gaed up, he slippit awa'like a wraith. There ye lay, wi' yer heid back, and yer mou' open, asgin you and the deid man had been tryin' whilk wad sleep the soun'est. But ye hae ta'en to ither studies sin' syne. Ye hae a freah subject--abonnie young ane. The Lord hae mercy upo' ye! The goddess o' therainbow hersel's gotten a haud o' ye, and ye'll be seein' naething butrainbows for years to come. --Iris bigs bonnie brigs, but they haenowther pier, nor buttress, nor key-stane, nor parapet. And no fit cangang ower them but her ain, and whan she steps aff, it's upo' men'sherts, and yours can ill bide her fit, licht as it may be. "

"What are ye propheseein' at, Mr Cupples?" said Alec, who did not morethan half understand him. 

"Verra weel. I'm no drunk yet, " rejoined Mr Cupples, oracularly. "Butthat chield Beauchamp's no rainbow--that lat me tell ye. He'll do you amischeef yet, gin ye dinna luik a' the shairper. I ken the breed o'him. He was luikin' at ye throu the window like a hungry deevil. Andjist min' what ye're aboot wi' the lassie--she's rael bonnie--or ye maychance to get her into trouble, withoot ony wyte (fault) o' yer ain. Min' I'm tellin' ye. Gin ye'll tak my advice, ye'll tak a dose o'mathematics direckly. It's a fine alterative as weel as antidote, though maybe whusky's. .. .. The verra broo o' the deevil's ain pot, " heconcluded, altering his tone entirely, and swallowing the rest of hisglass at a gulp. 

"What do ye want me to do?" asked Alec. 

"To tak tent (care) o' Beauchamp. And meantime to rin doon for yerEuclid and yer Hutton, and lat's see whaur ye are. "

There was more ground for Mr Cupples's warning than Alec had thesmallest idea of. He had concluded long ago that all possiblerelations, even those of enmity--practical enmity at least--were overbetween them, and that Mr Beauchamp considered the bejan sufficientlypunished for thrashing him, by being deprived of his condescendingnotice for the rest of the ages. But so far was this from being thetrue state of the case, that, although Alec never suspected it, Beauchamp had in fact been dogging and haunting him from the verycommencement of the session, and Mr Cupples had caught him in only oneof many acts of the kind. In the anatomical class, where they continuedto meet, he still attempted to keep up the old look of diadain, as ifthe lesson he had received had in no way altered their relativeposition. Had Alec known with what difficulty, and under what a load ofgalling recollection, he kept it up, he would have been heartily sorryfor him. Beauchamp's whole consciousness was poisoned by the memory ofthat day. Incapable of regarding any one except in comparative relationto himself, the effort of his life had been to maintain that feeling ofsuperiority with which he started every new acquaintance; foroccasionally a flash of foreign individuality would break through thehusk of satisfaction in which he had inclosed himself, compelling himto feel that another man might have claims. And hitherto he had beenvery successful in patching up and keeping entire his eggshell ofconceit. But that affair with Alec was a very bad business. HadBeauchamp been a coward, he would have suffered less from it. But hewas no coward, though not quite so courageous as Hector, who yet turnedand fled before Achilles. Without the upholding sense of duty, no mancan be sure of his own behaviour, simply because he cannot be sure ofhis own nerves. Duty kept the red-cross knight "forlorne and left tolosse, " "haplesse and eke hopelesse, "

 "Disarmd, disgraste, and inwardly dismayde, And eke so faint in every joynt and vayne, "

from turning his back on the giant Orgoglio, and sent him pacingtowards him with feeble steps instead. But although he was not wantingin mere animal courage, Beauchamp's pride always prevented him fromengaging in any contest in which he was not sure of success, thethought of failure being to him unendurable. When he found that he hadmiscalculated the probabilities, he was instantly dismayed; and theblow he received on his mouth reminding his vanity of the danger hishandsome face was in, he dropped his arms and declined further contest, comforting himself with the fancy of postponing his vengeance to abetter opportunity. 

But within an hour he knew that he had lost his chance, as certainly ashe who omits the flood-tide of his fortune. He not only saw that he wasdisgraced, but felt in himself that he had been cowardly; and, moremortifying still, felt that, with respect to the clodhopper, he wascowardly now. He was afraid of him. Nor could he take refuge in the oldsatisfaction of despising him; for that he found no longer possible. Hewas on the contrary compelled to despise himself, an experiencealtogether new; so that his contempt for Alec changed into a fierce, slow-burning hate. 

Now hate keeps its object present even more than the opposite passion. Love makes everything lovely; hate concentrates itself on the one thinghated. The very sound of Alec's voice became to the ears of Beauchampwhat a filthy potion would have been to his palate. Every line of hiscountenance became to his eyes what a disgusting odour would have beento his nostrils. And yet the fascination of his hate, and his desire ofrevenge, kept Beauchamp's ears, eyes, and thoughts hovering aboutForbes. 

No way of gratifying his hatred, however, although he had been broodingover it all the previous summer, had presented itself till now. Now hesaw the possibility of working a dear revenge. But even now, to worksurely, he must delay long. Still the present consolation was great. 

Nor is it wonderful that his pride should not protect him from thedeeper disgrace of walking in underground ways. For there is nothing inthe worship of self to teach a man to be noble. Honour even will oneday fail him who has learned no higher principle. And although revengebe "a kind of wild justice, " it loses the justice, and retains only thewildness, when it corrupts into hatred. Every feeling that Beauchamphad was swallowed up in the gulf eaten away by that worst of allcanker-worms. 

Notwithstanding the humiliation he had experienced, he retained as yetan unlimited confidence in some gifts which he supposed himself topossess by nature, and to be capable of using with unequalled art. Andtrue hate, as well as true love, knows how to wait. 

CHAPTER XLIV. 

In the course of her study of Milton, Annie had come upon Samson'slamentation over his blindness; and had found, soon after, the passagein which Milton, in his own person, bewails the loss of light. Thethought that she would read them to Tibbie Dyster was a natural one. She borrowed the volumes from Mrs Forbes; and, the next evening, madeher way to Tibbie's cottage, where she was welcomed as usual by hergruff voice of gratefulness. 

"Ye're a gude bairn to come a' this gait through the snaw to see anauld blin' body like me. It's dingin' on (snowing or raining)--is na't, bairn?"

"Ay is't. Hoo do ye ken, Tibbie?"

"I dinna ken hoo I ken. I was na sure. The snaw maks unco little din, ye see. It comes doon like the speerit himsel' upo' quaiet herts. "

"Did ye ever see, Tibbie?" asked Annie, after a pause. 

"Na; nae that I min' upo'. I was but twa year auld, my mither used totell fowk, whan I had the pock, an' it jist closed up my een forever--i' this warl, ye ken. I s' see some day as weel's ony o' ye, lass. "

"Do ye ken what licht is, Tibbie?" said Annie, whom Milton had setmeditating on Tibbie's physical in relation to her mental condition. 

"Ay, weel eneuch, " answered Tibbie, with a touch of indignation at theimputed ignorance. "What for no? What gars ye spier?"

"Ow! I jist wanted to ken. "

"Hoo could I no ken? Disna the Saviour say: 'I am the licht o' thewarl?'--He that walketh in Him maun ken what licht is, lassie. Syne yehae the licht in yersel--in yer ain hert; an' ye maun ken what it is. Ye canna mistak' it. "

Annie was neither able nor willing to enter into an argument on thematter, although she was not satisfied. She would rather think thandispute about it. So she changed the subject in a measure. 

"Did ye ever hear o' John Milton, Tibbie?" she asked. 

"Ow! ay. He was blin' like mysel, ' wasna he?"

"Ay, was he. I hae been readin' a heap o' his poetry. "

"Eh! I wad richt weel like to hear a bittie o' 't. "

"Weel, here's a bit 'at he made as gin Samson was sayin' o' 't, tillhimsel' like, efter they had pitten oot's een--the Phillisteens, yeken. "

"Ay, I ken weel eneuch. Read it. "

Annie read the well-known passage. Tibbie listened to the end, withoutword of remark or question, her face turned towards the reader, and hersightless balls rolling under their closed lids. When Annie's voiceceased, she said, after a little reflection:

"Ay! ay! It's bonnie, an' verra true. And, puir man! it was waur forhim nor for me and Milton; for it was a' his ain wyte; and it was no tobe expecket he cud be sae quaiet as anither. But he had no richt toqueston the ways o' the Maker. But it's bonnie, rael bonnie. "

"Noo, I'll jist read to ye what Milton says aboot his ain blin'ness. But it's some ill to unnerstan'. "

"Maybe I'll unnerstan' 't better nor you, bairn. Read awa'. "

So admonished, Annie read. Tibbie fidgeted about on her seat. It wasimpossible either should understand it. And the proper names were agreat puzzle to them. 

"Tammy Riss!" said Tibbie; "I ken naething aboot _him_. "

"Na, neither do I, " said Annie; and beginning the line again, sheblundered over "_blind Maeonides_. "

"Ye're readin' 't wrang, bairn. It sud be '_nae ony days_, ' for there'snae days or nichts either to the blin'. They dinna ken the differ, yesee. "

"I'm readin' 't as I hae't, " answered Annie. "It's a muckle M. "

"I ken naething aboot yer muckle or yer little Ms, " retorted Tibbie, with indignation. "Gin that binna what it means, it's ayont me. Readawa'. Maybe we'll come to something better. "

"Ay will we?" said Annie, and resumed. 

With the words, "_Thus with the year seasons return_, " Tibbie'sattention grew fixed; and when the reader came to the passage, "So much the rather thou, Celestial Light, Shine inward, "

her attention rose into rapture. 

"Ay, ay, lassie! That man kent a' aboot it! He wad never hae speiredgin a blin' crater like me kent what the licht was. He kent what it wasweel. Ay did he!"

"But, ye see, he was a gey auld man afore he tint his eesicht, " Annieventured to interpose. 

"Sae muckle the better! He kent baith kinds. And he kent that the sichtwithout the een is better nor the sicht o' the een. Fowk nae doobt hasbaith; but I think whiles 'at the Lord gies a grainy mair o' the insidelicht to mak' up for the loss o' the ootside; and weel I wat it doesnawant muckle to do that. "

"But ye dinna ken what it is, " objected Annie, with unnecessarypersistency in the truth. 

"Do ye tell me that again?" returned Tibbie, harshly. "Ye'll anger me, bairn. Gin ye kent hoo I lie awauk at nicht, no able to sleep forthinkin' 'at the day _will_ come whan I'll see--wi' my ain openeen--the verra face o' him that bore oor griefs an' carried oorsorrows, till I jist lie and greit, for verra wissin', ye wadna say 'atI dinna ken what the sicht o' a body's een is. Sae nae mair o' that! Ibeg o' ye, or I'll jist need to gang to my prayers to haud me ohn beenangry wi' ane o' the Lord's bairns; for that ye _are_, I do believe, Annie Anderson. Ye canna ken what blin'ness is; but I doobt ye ken whatthe licht is, lassie; and, for the lave (rest), jist ye lippen (trust)to John Milton and me. "

Annie dared not say another word. She sat silent--perhaps rebuked. ButTibbie resumed:

"Ye maunna think, hooever, 'cause sic longin' thouchts come ower me, that I gang aboot the hoose girnin' and compleenin' that I canna openthe door and win oot. Na, na. I could jist despise the licht, whiles, that ye mak' sic a wark aboot, and sing and shout, as the Psalmistsays; for I'm jist that glaid, that I dinna ken hoo to haud it in. Forthe Lord's my frien'. I can jist tell him a' that comes into my puirblin' heid. Ye see there's ither ways for things to come intil a body'sheid. There's mair doors nor the een. There's back doors, whiles, thatlat ye oot to the bonnie gairden, and that's better nor the road-side. And the smell o' the braw flooers comes in at the back winnocks, yeken. --Whilk o' the bonnie flooers do ye think likest _Him_, AnnieAnderson?"

"Eh! I dinna ken, Tibbie. I'm thinkin' they maun be a' like him. "

"Ay, ay, nae doobt. But some o' them may be liker him nor ithers. "

"Weel, whilk do _ye_ think likest him, Tibbie?"

"I think it maun be the minnonette--sae clean and sae fine and sae weelcontent. "

"Ay, ye're speiken by the smell, Tibbie. But gin ye saw the rose--"

"Hoots! I hae seen the rose mony a time. Nae doobt it's bonnier to luikat--" and here her fingers went moving about as if they were feelingthe full-blown sphere of a rose--"but I think, for my pairt, that theminnonette's likest Him. "

"May be, " was all Annie's reply, and Tibbie went on. 

"There maun be faces liker him nor ithers. Come here, Annie, and lat mefin (feel) whether ye be like him or no. "

"Hoo can ye ken that?--ye never saw him. "

"Never saw him! I hae seen him ower and ower again. I see him whan Ilike. Come here, I say. "

Annie went and knelt down beside her, and the blind woman passed herquestioning fingers in solemn silence over and over the features of thechild. At length, with her hands still resting upon Annie's head, sheuttered her judgment. 

"Ay. Some like him, nae doot. But she'll be a heap liker him whan shesees him as he is. "

When a Christian proceeds to determine the rightness of his neighbourby his approximation to his fluctuating ideal, it were well if thejudgment were tempered by such love as guided the hands of blind Tibbieover the face of Annie in their attempt to discover whether or not shewas like the Christ of her visions. 

"Do ye think _ye_'re like him, Tibbie?" said Annie with a smile, whichTibbie at once detected in the tone. 

"Hoots, bairn! I had the pock dreidfu', ye ken. "

"Weel, maybe we a' hae had something or ither that hauds us ohn beensae bonny as we micht hae been. For ae thing, there's the guilt o'Adam's first sin, ye ken. "

"Verra richt, bairn. Nae doot that's blaudit mony a face--'the want o'original richteousness, and the corruption o' our whole natur'. ' Thewonner is that we're like him at a'. But we maun be like him, for hewas a man born o' a wumman. ' Think o' that, lass!"

At this moment the latch of the door was lifted, and in walked RobertBruce. He gave a stare when he saw Annie, for he had thought her out ofthe way at Howglen, and said in a tone of asperity, "Ye're a' gait at ance, Annie Anderson. A doonricht rintheroot!"

"Lat the bairn be, Maister Bruce, " said Tibbie. "She's doin' the Lord'swill, whether ye may think it or no. She's visitin' them 'at's i' theprison-hoose o' the dark. She's ministerin' to them 'at hae monypreeviledges nae doot, but hae room for mair. "

"I'm no saying naething, " said Bruce. 

"Ye are sayin'. Ye're offendin' ane o' his little anes. Tak ye tent o'the millstane. "

"Hoot toot! Tibbie. I was only wissin 'at she wad keep a sma' part o'her ministrations for her ain hame and her ain fowk 'at has theministerin' to her. There's the mistress and me jist mairtyrs to thatchop! And there's the bit infant in want o' some _ministration_ noo andthan, gin that be what ye ca' 't. "

A grim compression of the mouth was all Tibbie's reply. She did notchoose to tell Robert Bruce that although she was blind--and probably_because_ she was blind--she heard rather more gossip than anybody elsein Glamerton, and that consequently his appeal to her sympathy had noeffect upon her. Finding she made no other answer, Bruce turned toAnnie. 

"Noo, Annie, " said he, "ye're nae wantit here ony langer. I hae a wordor twa to say to Tibbie. Gang hame and learn yer lessons for the morn. "

"It's Setterday nicht, " answered Annie. 

"But ye hae yer lessons to learn for the Mononday. "

"Ow ay! But I hae a buik or twa to tak' hame to Mistress Forbes. And Idaursay I'll bide, and come to the kirk wi' her i' the mornin'. "

Now, although all that Bruce wanted was to get rid of her, he went onto oppose her; for common-minded people always feel that they give theenemy an advantage if they show themselves content. 

"It's no safe to rin aboot i' the mirk (dark). It's dingin' on forbye. Ye'll be a' wat, and maybe fa' into the dam. Ye couldna see yer han'afore yer face--ance oot o' the toon. "

"I ken the road to Mistress Forbes's as weel's the road up yourgarret-stairs, Mr Bruce. "

"Ow nae doobt!" he answered, with a sneering acerbity peculiar to him, in which his voice seemed sharpened and concentrated to a point by thecontraction of his lips. "And there's tykes aboot, " he added, remembering Annie's fear of dogs. 

But by this time Annie, gentle as she was, had got a little angry. 

"The Lord'll tak care o' me frae the dark and the tykes, and the laveo' ye, Mr Bruce, " she said. 

And bidding Tibbie good-night, she took up her books, and departed, towade through the dark and the snow, trembling lest some unseen _tyke_should lay hold of her as she went. 

As soon as she was gone, Bruce proceeded to make himself agreeable toTibbie by retailing all the bits of gossip he could think of. Whilethus engaged, he kept peering earnestly about the room from door tochimney, turning his head on every side, and surveying as he turned it. Even Tibbie perceived, from the changes in the sound of his voice, thathe was thus occupied. 

"Sae your auld landlord's deid, Tibbie!" he said at last. 

"Ay, honest man! He had aye a kin' word for a poor body. "

"Ay, ay, nae doobt. But what wad ye say gin I tell't ye that I hadboucht the bit hoosie, and was yer new landlord, Tibbie?"

"I wad say that the door-sill wants men'in', to haud the snaw oot; an'the bit hoosie's sair in want o' new thack. The verra cupples'll berottit awa' or lang. "

"Weel that's verra rizzonable, nae doobt, gin a' be as ye say. "

"Be as I say, Robert Bruce?"

"Ay, ay; ye see ye're nae a'thegither like ither fowk. I dinna mean onyoffence, ye ken, Tibbie; but ye haena the sicht o' yer een. "

"Maybe I haena the feelin' o' my auld banes, aither, Maister Bruce!Maybe I'm ower blin' to hae the rheumatize; or to smell the auld weetthack whan there's been a scatterin' o' snaw or a drappy o' rain o' theriggin'!"

"I didna want to anger ye, Tibbie. A' that ye say deserves attention. It would be a shame to lat an auld body like you--"

"No that auld, Maister Bruce, gin ye kent the trowth!"

"Weel, ye're no ower young to need to be ta'en guid care o'--are ye, Tibbie?"

Tibbie grunted. 

"Weel, to come to the pint. There's nae doobt the hoose wants a hantleo' doctorin'. "

"'Deed does't, " interposed Tibbie. "It'll want a new door. For forbye'at the door's maist as wide as twa ordinar doors, it was ance in twahalves like a chop-door. And they're ill jined thegither, and the win'comes throu like a knife, and maist cuts a body in twa. Ye see the bithoosie was ance the dyer's dryin' hoose, afore he gaed further doon thewatter. "

"Nae doobt ye're richt, Tibbie. But seein' that I maun lay oot saemuckle, I'll be compelled to pit anither thrippence on to the rent. "

"Ither thrippence, Robert Bruce! That's three thrippences i' the ook inplace o' twa. That's an unco rise! Ye canna mean what ye say! It's a'that I'm able to do to pay my saxpence. An auld blin' body like medisna fa' in wi' saxpences whan she gangs luikin aboot wi' her langfingers for a pirn or a prin that she's looten fa'. "

"But ye do a heap o' spinnin', Tibbie, wi' thae lang fingers. There'snaebody in Glamerton spins like ye. "

"Maybe ay and maybe no. It's no muckle that that comes till. I wadnaspin sae weel gin it warna that the Almichty pat some sicht into thepints o' my fingers, 'cause there was nane left i' my een. An' gin yemak ither thrippence a week oot o' that, ye'll be turnin' the watherthat He sent to ca my mill into your dam; an' I doot it'll play illwater wi' your wheels. "

"Hoot, hoot! Tibbie, woman! It gangs sair against me to appear to behard-hertit. "

"I hae nae doobt. Ye dinna want to _appear_ sae. But do ye ken that Imak sae little by the spinnin' ye mak sae muckle o', that the kirkalloos me a shillin' i' the week to mak up wi'? And gin it warna forkin' frien's, it's ill livin' I wad hae in dour weather like this. Dinna ye imaigine, Mr Bruce, that I hae a pose o' my ain. I haenaething ava, excep' sevenpence in a stockin'-fit. And it wad hae tocome aff o' my tay or something ither 'at I wad ill miss. "

"Weel, that may be a' verra true, " rejoined Bruce; "but a body maun haetheir ain for a' that. Wadna the kirk gie ye the ither thrippence?"

"Do ye think I wad tak frae the kirk to pit into your till?"

"Weel, say saivenpence, than, and we'll be quits. "

"I tell ye what, Robert Bruce: raither nor pay ye one bawbee more northe saxpence, I'll turn oot i' the snaw, and lat the Lord luik efterme. "

Robert Bruce went away, and did not purchase the cottage, which was inthe market at a low price, He had intended Tibbie to believe, as shedid, that he had already bought it; and if she had agreed to pay eventhe sevenpence, he would have gone from her to secure it. 

On her way to Howglen, Annie pondered on the delight of Tibbie--TibbieDyster who had never seen the "human face divine"--when she should seethe face of Jesus Christ, most likely the first face she would see. Then she turned to what Tibbie had said about knowing light fromknowing the Saviour. There must be some connection between what Tibbiesaid and what Thomas had said about the face of God. There was a textthat said "God is light, and in him is no darkness at all. " So she wassure that the light that was in a Christian, whatever it meant, mustcome from the face of God. And so what Thomas said and what Tibbie saidmight be only different ways of saying the same thing. 

Thus she was in a measure saved from the perplexity which comes of any_one_ definition of the holy secret, compelling a man to walk in a waybetween walls, instead of in a path across open fields. 

There was no day yet in which Annie did not think of her old championwith the same feeling of devotion which his championship had firstaroused, although all her necessities, hopes, and fears were now beyondany assistance he could render. She was far on in a new path: he wasloitering behind, out of hearing, He would not have dared to call hersolicitude nonsense; but he would have set down all such matters asbelonging to women, rather than youths beginning the world. The lessonsof Thomas Crann were not despised, for he never thought about them. Hebegan to look down upon all his past, and, in it, upon his oldcompanions. Since knowing Kate, who had more delicate habits and waysthan he had ever seen, he had begun to refine his own modes concerningoutside things; and in his anxiety to be like her, while he became morepolished, he became less genial and wide-hearted. 

But none of his old friends forgot him. I believe not a day passed inwhich Thomas did not pray for him in secret, naming him by his name, and lingering over it mournfully--"Alexander Forbes--the young man thatI thocht wad hae been pluckit frae the burnin' afore noo. But thytime's the best, O Lord. It's a' thy wark; an' there's no good thing inus. And thou canst turn the hert o' man as the rivers o' water. Andmaybe thou hast gi'en him grace to repent already, though I kennaething aboot it. "

CHAPTER XLV. 

This had been a sore winter for Thomas, and he had had plenty ofleisure for prayer. For, having gone up on a scaffold one day to seethat the wall he was building was properly protected from the rain, heslipped his foot on a wet pole, and fell to the ground, whence, being aheavy man, he was lifted terribly shaken, besides having one of hislegs broken. Not a moan escaped him--a murmur was out of the question. They carried him home, and the surgeon did his best for him. Nor, although few people liked him much, was he left unvisited in hissickness. The members of his own religious community recognized theirobligation to minister to him; and they would have done more, had theyguessed how poor he was. Nobody knew how much he gave away in otherdirections; but they judged of his means by the amount he was in thehabit of putting into the plate at the chapel-door every Sunday. Therewas never much of the silvery shine to be seen in the heap of copper, but one of the gleaming sixpences was almost sure to have dropped fromthe hand of Thomas Crann. Not that this generosity sprung altogetherfrom disinterested motives; for the fact was, that he had a morbid fearof avarice; a fear I believe not altogether groundless; for he wasindependent in his feelings almost to fierceness--certainly toungraciousness; and this strengthened a natural tendency to saving andhoarding. The consciousness of this tendency drove him to the otherextreme. Jean, having overheard him once cry out in an agony, "Lord, hae mercy upo' me, and deliver me frae this love o' money, which is theroot of all evil, " watched him in the lobby of the chapel the nextSunday--"and as sure's deith, " said Jean--an expression which it wasweel for her that Thomas did not hear--"he pat a siller shillin' intothe plate that day, mornin' _an'_ nicht. "

"Tak' care hoo ye affront him, whan ye tak' it, " said Andrew Constableto his wife, who was setting out to carry him some dish of her owncooking--for Andrew's wife belonged to the missionars--"for weel ye kenThamas likes to be unner obligation to nane but the Lord himsel'. "

"Lea' ye that to me, Anerew, my man. You 'at's rouch men disna ken hooto do a thing o' that sort. I s' manage Thamas weel eneuch. I ken thenater o' him. "

And sure enough he ate it up at once, that she might take the dish backwith her. 

Annie went every day to ask after him, and every day had a kindreception from Jean, who bore her no grudge for the ignominioustreatment of Thomas on that evening memorable to Annie. At length, oneday, after many weeks, Jean asked her if she would not like to see him. 

"Ay wad I; richt weel, " answered she. 

Jean led her at once into Thomas's room, where he lay in a bed in thewall. He held out his hand. Annie could hardly be said to take it, butshe put hers into it, saying timidly, "Is yer leg verra sair, Thamas?"

"Ow na, dawtie; nae noo. The Lord's been verra mercifu'--jist likehimsel'. " It was ill to bide for a while whan I cudna sleep. But I jistsleep noo like ane o' the beloved. "

"I was richt sorry for ye, Thamas. "

"Ay, Ye've a kin' hert, lassie. And I canna help thinkin'--they may saywhat they like--but I canna help thinkin' that the Lord was sorry forme himsel'. It cam' into my heid as I lay here ae nicht, an' cudnasleep a wink, and cudna rist, and yet daurna muv for my broken hough. And as sune's that cam' into my heid I was sae upliftit, 'at I forgota' aboot my leg, and begud, or ever I kent, to sing the hunner andsaivent psalm. And syne whan the pain cam' back wi' a terrible stoon, Ijist amaist leuch; an I thoucht that gin he wad brack me a' to bits, Iwad never cry _haud_, nor turn my finger to gar him stent. Noo, ye'reane o' the Lord's bairns--"

"Eh! I dinna ken, " cried Annie, half-terrified at such an assurancefrom Thomas, and the responsibility devolved on her thereby, and yetdelighted beyond expression. 

"Ay are ye, " continued Thomas confidently; "and I want to ken what yethink aboot it. Do ye think it was a wrang thocht to come into myheid?"

"Hoo could that be, Thomas, whan it set ye a singin'--and sic apsalm--'O that men would praise the Lord for his goodness?'"

"The Lord be praised ance mair!" exclaimed Thomas. "'Oot o' the mootho' babes and sucklin's!'--no that ye're jist that, Annie, but ye're nomuckle mair. Sit ye doon aside me, and rax ower to the Bible, and jistread that hunner and saivent psalm. Eh, lassie! but the Lord is guid. Oh! that men wad praise him! An' to care for the praises o' sic wormsas me! What richt hae I to praise him?"

"Ye hae the best richt, Thomas, for hasna he been good to ye?["]

"Ye're richt, lassie, ye're richt. It's wonnerfu' the common sense o'bairns. Gin ye wad jist lat the Lord instruck them! I doobt we mak owerlittle o' them. Nae doobt they're born in sin, and brocht farth ininiquity; but gin they repent ear', they win far aheid o' the auldfowk. "

Thomas's sufferings had made him more gentle--and more sure of Annie'selection. He was one on whom affliction was not thrown away. --Annie sawhim often after this, and he never let her go without reading a chapterto him, his remarks upon which were always of some use to her, notwithstanding the limited capacity and formal shape of the doctrinalmoulds in which they were cast; for wherever there is genuine religiousfeeling and _experience_, it will now and then crack the prisoningpitcher, and let some brilliant ray of the indwelling glory out, todiscomfit the beleaguering hosts of troublous thoughts. 

Although the framework of Thomas was roughly hewn, he had always beensubject to such fluctuations of feeling as are more commonly foundamongst religious women. Sometimes, notwithstanding the visions of theface of God "vouchsafed to him from the mercy-seat, " as he would say, he would fall into fits of doubting whether he was indeed one of theelect; for how then could he be so hard-hearted, and so barren of goodthoughts and feelings as he found himself? At such times he was subjectto an irritation of temper, alternately the cause and effect of hismisery, upon which, with all his efforts, he was only capable yet ofputting a very partial check. Woe to the person who should then dare tointerrupt his devotions! If Jean, who had no foresight or anticipationof consequences, should, urged by some supposed necessity of the case, call to him through the door bolted against Time and its concerns, thesaint who had been kneeling before God in utter abasement, self-contempt, and wretchedness, would suddenly wrench it open, awrathful, indignant man, boiling brimful of angry words and unkindobjurgations, through all which would be manifest, notwithstanding, acertain unhappy restraint. Having driven the enemy away in confusion, he would bolt his door again, and return to his prayers in two-foldmisery, conscious of guilt increased by unrighteous anger, and so ofyet another wall of separation raised between him and his God. 

Now this weakness all but disappeared during the worst of his illness, to return for a season with increased force when his recovery hadadvanced so far as to admit of his getting out of bed. Children arealmost always cross when recovering from an illness, however patientthey may have been during its severest moments; and the phenomenon isnot by any means confined to children. 

A deacon of the church, a worthy little weaver, had beenhalf-officially appointed to visit Thomas, and find out, which was notan easy task, if he was in want of anything. When he arrived, Jean wasout. He lifted the latch, entered, and tapped gently at Thomas'sdoor--too gently, for he received no answer. With hasty yet hesitatingimprudence, he opened the door and peeped in. Thomas was upon his kneesby the fire-side, with his plaid over his head. Startled by theweaver's entrance, he raised his head, and his rugged leonine face, redwith wrath, glared out of the thicket of his plaid upon the intruder. He did not rise, for that would have been a task requiring time andcaution. But he cried aloud in a hoarse voice, with his two handsleaning on the chair, like the paws of some fierce rampant animal:

"Jeames, ye're takin' the pairt o' Sawton upo' ye, drivin' a man fraehis prayers!"

"Hoot, Thamas! I beg yer pardon, " answered the weaver, rather flurried;"I thoucht ye micht hae been asleep. "

"Ye had no business to think for yersel' in sic a maitter. What do yewant?"

"I jist cam' to see whether _ye_ war in want o' onything, Thamas. "

"I'm in want o' naething. Gude nicht to ye. "

"But, railly, Thamas, " expostulated the weaver, emboldened by his ownkindness--"ye'll excuse me, but ye hae nae business to gang doon on yerknees wi' yer leg in sic a weyk condeetion. "

"I winna excuse ye, Jeames. What ken ye aboot my leg? And what's theuse o' knees, but to gang doon upo'? Gang hame, and gang doon upo' yerain, Jeames; and dinna disturb ither fowk that ken what theirs was madefor. "

Thus admonished, the weaver dared not linger. As he turned to shut thedoor, he wished the mason good night, but received no answer. Thomashad sunk forward upon the chair, and had already drawn his plaid overhis head. 

But the secret place of the Most High will not be entered after thisfashion; and Thomas felt that he was shut out. It is not by drivingaway our brother that we can be alone with God. Thomas's plaid couldnot isolate him with his Maker, for communion with God is neverisolation. In such a mood, the chamber with the shut door shuts out Godtoo, and one is left alone with himself, which is the outer darkness. The love of the brethren opens the door into God's chamber, which iswithin ours. So Thomas--who was far enough from hating his brother, whowould have struggled to his feet and limped to do him a service, thoughhe would not have held out his hand to receive one, for he was onlygood, not gracious--Thomas, I say, felt worse than ever, and more as ifGod had forgotten him, than he had felt for many a day. He knelt stilland sighed sore. 

At length another knock came, which although very gentle, he heard andknew well enough. 

"Who's there?" he asked, notwithstanding, with a fresh access ofindignant feeling. 

"Annie Anderson, " was the answer through the door, in a tone which atonce soothed the ruffled waters of Thomas's spirit. 

"Come in, " he said. 

She entered, quiet as a ghost. 

"Come awa', Annie. I'm glaid to see ye. Jist come and kneel doon asideme, and we'll pray thegither, for I'm sair troubled wi' an ill-temper. "

Without a word of reply, Annie kneeled by the side of his chair. Thomasdrew the plaid over her head, took her hand, which was swallowed up inhis, and after a solemn pause, spoke thus:

"O Lord, wha dwellest in the licht inaccessible, whom mortal eye hathnot seen nor can see, but who dwellest with him that is humble andcontrite of heart, and liftest the licht o' thy coontenance upo' themthat seek it, O Lord, "--here the solemnity of the appeal gave waybefore the out-bursting agony of Thomas's heart--"O Lord, dinna lat'scry in vain, this thy lammie, and me, thine auld sinner, but, for thesake o' him wha did no sin, forgive my sins and my vile temper, andhelp me to love my neighbour as mysel'. Lat Christ dwell in me and syneI shall be meek and lowly of heart like him. Put thy speerit in me, andsyne I shall do richt--no frae mysel', for I hae no good thing in me, but frae thy speerit that dwelleth in us. "

After this prayer, Thomas felt refreshed and hopeful. With slow labourhe rose from his knees at last, and sinking into his chair, drew Annietowards him, and kissed her. Then he said, "Will ye gang a bit eeran' for me, Annie?"

"That I will, Thomas. I wad rin mysel' aff o' my legs for ye. "

"Na, na. I dinna want sae muckle rinnin' the nicht. But I wad be sairobleeged to ye gin ye wad jist rin doon to Jeames Johnstone, theweyver, and tell him, wi' my coampliments, ye ken, that I'm verra sorryI spak' till him as I did the nicht; and I wad tak it richt kin' o' himgin he wad come and tak a cup o' tay wi' me the morn's nicht, and wecud hae a crack thegither, and syne we cud hae worship thegither. Andtell him he maunna think nae mair o' the way I spak' till him, for Iwas troubled i' my min', and I'm an ill-nater'd man. "

"I'll tell him a' that ye say, " answered Annie, "as weel's I can min''t; and I s' warran' I s' no forget muckle o' 't. Wad ye like me tocome back the nicht and tell ye what he says?"

"Na, na, lassie. It'll be nearhan' time for ye to gang to yer bed. Andit's a cauld nicht. I ken that by my leg. And ye see Jeames Johnstone'sno an ill-nater'd man like me. He's a douce man, and he's sure to beweel-pleased and come till's tay. Na, na; ye needna come back. Guidnicht to ye, my dawtie. The Lord bless ye for comin' to pray wi' anill-nater'd man. "

Annie sped upon her mission of love through the murky streets and lanesof Glamerton, as certainly a divine messenger as any seraph crossingthe blue empyrean upon level wing. And if any one should take exceptionto this, on the ground that she sought her own service and neglectedhome duties, I would, although my object has not been to set her forthas an exemplar, take the opportunity of asking whether to sleep in acertain house and be at liberty to take one's meals there, besufficient to make it home, and the source of home-obligations--toindicate the will of God as to _the_ region of one's labour, otherregions lying open at the same time. Ought Annie to have given her aidas a child where there was no parental recognition of therelationship--an aid whose value in the eyes of the Bruces would haveconsisted in the leisure it gave to Mrs Bruce for ministering moredevotedly in the temple of Mammon? I put the question, not quite surewhat the answer ought to be. 

CHAPTER XLVI. 

Now that Kate had got a companion, Alec never saw her alone. But he hadso much the better opportunity of knowing her. Miss Warner was a nice, open-eyed, fair-faced English girl, with pleasant manners, and plentyof speech; and although more shy than Kate--English girls beinggenerally more shy than Scotch girls--was yet ready enough to take hershare in conversation. Between the two, Alec soon learned how ignoranthe was in the things that most interest girls. Classics and mathematicswere not _very_ interesting to himself, and anatomy was not available. He soon perceived that they were both fond of poetry; but if it was notthe best poetry, he was incapable of telling them so, although the fewlessons he had had were from a better mistress than either of them, andwith some better examples than they had learned to rejoice in. 

The two girls had got hold of some volumes of Byron, and had read themtogether at school, chiefly after retiring to the chamber they sharedtogether. The consequences were an unbounded admiration and a facilityof reference, with the use of emotional adjectives. Alec did not know asingle poem of that writer, except the one about the Assyrian comingdown like a wolf on the fold. 

Determined, however, not to remain incapable of sympathizing with them, he got copies of the various poems from the library of the college, andfor days studied Byron and anatomy--nothing else. Like all other youngmen, he was absorbed, entranced, with the poems. Childe Harold he couldnot read, but the tales were one fairy region after another. Theirpower over young people is remarkable, but not more remarkable than thefact that they almost invariably lose this power over the individual, while they have as yet retained it over the race; for of all themultitude which does homage at the shrine of the poet few linger long, and fewer still, after the turmoil of life has yielded room forthought, renew their homage. Most of those who make the attempt aresurprised--some of them troubled--at the discovery that the shrine canwork miracles no more. The Byron-fever is in fact a disease belongingto youth, as the hooping-cough to childhood, --working some occult goodno doubt in the end. It has its origin, perhaps, in the fact that thepoet makes no demand either on the intellect or the conscience, butconfines himself to friendly intercourse with those passions whosebirth long precedes that of choice in their objects--whence a wealth ofemotion is squandered. It is long before we discover that far richerfeeling is the result of a regard bent on the profound and the pure. 

Hence the chief harm the poems did Alec, consisted in the rousing ofhis strongest feelings towards imaginary objects of inferiorexcellence, with the necessary result of a tendency to measure theworth of the passions themselves by their strength alone, and not bytheir character--by their degree, and not by their kind. That they werethe forge-bellows, supplying the blast of the imagination to the fireof love in which his life had begun to be remodelled, is not to becounted among their injurious influences. 

He had never hitherto meddled with his own thoughts or feelings--hadlived an external life to the most of his ability. Now, through fallingin love, and reading Byron, he began to know the existence of a worldof feeling, if not of thought; while his attempts at conversation withthe girls had a condensing if not crystallizing influence upon themerely vaporous sensations which the poetry produced. All that waswanted to give full force to the other influences in adding its own, was the presence of the sultry evenings of summer, with the thundergathering in the dusky air. The cold days and nights of winter were nowswathing that brain, through whose aerial regions the clouds ofpassion, driven on many shifting and opposing winds, were hurryingalong to meet in human thunder and human rain. 

I will not weary my readers with the talk of three young peopleenamoured of Byron. Of course the feelings the girls had about himdiffered materially from those of Alec; so that a great many of thereplies and utterances met like unskilful tilters, whose staves passedwide. In neither was the admiration much more than an uneasy delight inthe vivid though indistinct images of pleasure raised by the magic ofthat "physical force of words" in which Byron excels all other Englishpoets, and in virtue of which, I presume, the French persist inregarding Byron as our greatest poet, and in supposing that we agreewith them. 

Alec gained considerably with Kate from becoming able to talk about herfavourite author, while she appeared to him more beautiful thanever--the changes in the conversation constantly bringing out newphases on her changeful countenance. He began to discover now what Ihave already ventured to call the _fluidity_ of her expression; for hewas almost startled every time he saw her, by finding her differentfrom what he had expected to find her. Jean Paul somewhere makes alamentation over the fact that girls will never meet you in the morningwith the same friendliness with which they parted from you the nightbefore. But this was not the kind of change Alec found. She behavedwith perfect evenness to him, but always _looked_ different, so that hefelt as if he could never know her quite--which was a just conclusion, and might have been arrived at upon less remarkable though moreimportant grounds. Occasionally he would read something of Byron's; andit was a delight to him such as he had never known before, to seeKate's strangely beautiful eyes flash with actual visible fire as heread, or cloud over with mist and fill slowly with the dew of feeling. No doubt he took more of the credit than belonged to him--which wasgreedy, seeing poor Byron had none of the pleasure. 

Had it not been for the help Mr Cupples gave him towards the end of thesession, he would have made a poor figure both in Greek andmathematics. But he was so filled with the phantasm of Kate Fraser, that, although not insensible of his obligation to Mr Cupples, heregarded it lightly; and, ready to give his life for a smile from Kate, took all his kindness, along with his drunken wisdom, as a matter ofcourse. 

And when he next saw Annie and Curly, he did not speak to them quite soheartily as on his former return. 

CHAPTER XLVII. 

In one or two of his letters, which were never very long, Alec had justmentioned Kate; and now Mrs Forbes had many inquiries to make abouther. Old feelings and thoughts awoke in her mind, and made her wish tosee the daughter of her old companion. The absence of Annie, banishedonce more at the suggestion of worldly prudence, but for whose quietlunar smile not even Alec's sunny presence could quite make up, contributed no doubt to this longing after the new maiden. She wrote toMr Fraser, asking him to allow his niece to pay her a visit of a fewweeks; but she said nothing about it to Alec. The arrangement happenedto be convenient to Mr Fraser, who wished to accept an invitationhimself. It was now the end of April; and he proposed that the timeshould be fixed for the beginning of June. 

When this favourable response arrived, Mrs Forbes gave Alec the letterto read, and saw the flush of delight that rose to his face as hegathered the welcome news. Nor was this observation unpleasant to her;for that Alec should at length marry one of her own people was agrateful idea. 

Alec sped away into the fields. To think that all these old familiarplaces would one day be glorified by her presence! that the daisieswould bend beneath the foot of the goddess! and the everlasting hillsput on a veil of tenderness from the reflex radiance of her regard! Aflush of summer mantled over the face of nature, the flush of a deepersummer than that of the year--of the joy that lies at the heart of allsummers. For a whole week of hail, sleet, and "watery sunbeams"followed, and yet in the eyes of Alec the face of nature still glowed. 

When, after long expectation, the day arrived, Alec could not rest. Hewandered about all day, haunting his mother as she prepared his roomfor Kate, hurrying away with a sudden sense of the propriety ofindifference, and hurrying back on some cunning pretext, while hismother smiled to herself at his eagerness and the transparency of hisartifice. At length, as the hour drew near, he could restrain himselfno longer. He rushed to the stable, saddled his pony, which was innearly as high spirits as himself, and galloped off to meet the mail. The sun was nearing the west; a slight shower had just fallen; thethanks of the thirsty earth were ascending in odour; and the wind wastoo gentle to shake the drops from the leaves. To Alec, the wind of hisown speed was the river that bore her towards him; the odours werewafted from her approach; and the sunset sleepiness around was theexhaustion of the region that longed for her Cyther�an presence. 

At last, as he turned a corner of the road, there was the coach; and hehad just time to wheel his pony about before it was up with him. Alittle gloved hand greeted him; the window was let down; and the facehe had been longing for shone out lovelier than ever. There was noinside passenger but herself; and, leaning with one hand on thecoach-door, he rode alongside till they drew near the place where thegig was waiting for them, when he dashed on, gave his pony to the man, was ready to help her as soon as the coach stopped, and so drove herhome in triumph to his mother. 

Where the coach stopped, on the opposite side of the way, a grassyfield, which fell like a mantle from the shoulders of a hill crownedwith firs, sloped down to the edge of the road. From the coach, the sunwas hidden behind a thick clump of trees, but his rays, now red withrich age, flowed in a wide stream over the grass, and shone on an oldScotch fir which stood a yard or two from the highway, making its redbark glow like the pools which the prophet saw in the desert. At thefoot of this tree sat Tibbie Dyster; and from her red cloak the levelsun-tide was thrown back in gorgeous glory; so that the eyeless woman, who only felt the warmth of the great orb, seemed, in her effulgence ofluminous red, to be the light-fountain whence that torrent ofrubescence burst. From her it streamed up to the stem and along thebranches of the glowing fir; from her it streamed over the radiantgrass of the up-sloping field away towards the western sun. But theonly one who saw the splendour was a shoemaker, who rubbed his rosinyhands together, and felt happy without knowing why. 

Alec would have found it difficult to say whether or not he had seenthe red cloak. But from the shadowy side of it there were eyes shiningupon him, with a deeper and truer, if with a calmer, or, say, colderdevotion, than that with which he regarded Kate. The most powerful raysthat fall from the sun are neither those of colour nor those ofheat. --Annie sat by Tibbie's side--the side away from the sun. If theEast and the West might take human shape--come forth in their Oreadsfrom their hill-tops, and meet half-way between--there they were seatedside by side: Tibbie, old, scarred, blind Tibbie, was of the west andthe sunset, the centre of a blood-red splendour; cold, gentle Annie, with her dark hair, blue eyes, and the sad wisdom of her pale face, wasof the sun-deserted east, between whose gray clouds, faintly smilingback the rosiness of the sun's triumphal death, two or three cold starswere waiting to glimmer. 

Tibbie had come out to bask a little, and, in the dark warmth of thematerial sun, to worship that Sun whose light she saw in the hiddenworld of her heart, and who is the Sun of all the worlds; to breathethe air, which, through her prison-bars, spoke of freedom; to giveherself room to long for the hour when the loving Father would take herout of the husk which infolded her, and say to her: "_See, my child_. "With the rest of the travailing creation, she was groaning in hopefulpain--not in the pain of the mother, but in the pain of the child, soonto be forgotten in the following rest. 

If my younger readers want to follow Kate and Alec home, they will takeit for a symptom of the chill approach of "unlovely age, " that I say tothem: 'We will go home with Tibbie and Annie, and hear what they say. Ilike better to tell you about ugly blind old Tibbie than aboutbeautiful young Kate. --But you shall have your turn. Do not think thatwe old people do not care for what you care for. We want more than youwant--a something without which what you like best cannot last. '

"What did the coch stop for, Annie, lass?" asked Tibbie, as soon as themail had driven on. 

"It's a lady gaein to Mistress Forbes's at Howglen. "

"Hoo ken ye that?"

"'Cause Alec Forbes rade oot to meet her, and syne took her hame i' thegig. "

"Ay! ay! I thought I heard mair nor the ordinar nummer o' horse-feet asthe coch cam' up. He's a braw lad, that Alec Forbes�isna he?"

"Ay is he, " answered Annie, sadly; not from jealousy, for heradmiration of Alec was from afar; but as looking up from purgatorialexclusion to the paradise of Howglen, where the beautiful lady wouldhave all Mrs Forbes, and Alec too, to herself. 

The old woman caught the tone, but misinterpreted it. 

"I doobt, " she said, "he winna get ony guid at that college. "

"What for no?" returned Annie. "I was at the school wi' him, and neversaw onything to fin' fau't wi'. "

"Ow na, lassie. Ye had naething to do fin'in' fau't wi' him. His fatherwas a douce man, an' maybe a God-fearin' man, though he made but sma'profession. I think we're whiles ower sair upo' some o' them thatpromises little, and maybe does the mair. Ye min' what ye read to meafore we cam' oot thegither, aboot the lad that said till's father, _I go not_; but afterwards he repented and gaed?"

"Ay. "

"Weel, I think we'll gang hame noo. "

They rose, and went, hand in hand, over the bridge, and round the endof its parapet, and down the steep descent to the cottage at its foot, Tibbie's cloak shining all the way, but, now that the sun was down, with a chastened radiance. When she had laid it aside, and was seatedon her low wooden chair within reach of her spinning-wheel, "Noo, " said Tibbie, "ye'll jist read a chapter till me, lassie, aforeye gang hame, and syne I s' gang to my bed. Blin'ness is a sair savin'o' can'les. "

She forgot that it was summer, when, in those northern regions, thenight has no time to gather before the sun is flashing again in theeast. 

The chapter Annie chose was the ninth of St John's Gospel, about Jesuscuring the man blind from his birth. When she had finished, Annie said, "Michtna he cure you, Tibbie, gin ye spiered at him?"

"Ay micht he, and ay will he, " answered Tibbie. "I'm only jist bidin'his time. But I'm thinkin' he'll cure me better yet nor he cured thatblin' man. He'll jist tak' the body aff o' me a'thegither, and syneI'll see, no wi' een like yours, but wi' my haill speeritual body. Yemin' that verse i' the prophecees o' Ezakiel: I ken't weel by hert. Itsays: 'And their whole boady, and their backs, and their han's, andtheir wings, and the wheels, were full of eyes roon aboot, even thewheels that they four had. ' Isna that a gran' text? I wiss Mr Turnbullwad tak' it into his heid to preach frae that text sometime afore itcomes, which winna be that lang, I'm thinkin'. The wheels'll bestoppin' at my door or lang. "

"What gars ye think that, Tibbie? There's no sign o' deith aboot you, I'm sure, " said Annie. 

"Weel, ye see, I canna weel say. Blin' fowk somehoo kens mair nor itherfowk aboot things that the sicht o' the een has unco little to do wi'. But never min'. I'm willin' to bide i' the dark as lang as He likes. It's eneuch for ony bairn to ken that its father's stan'in' i' thelicht, and seein' a' aboot him, and sae weel able to guide hit, thoughit kensna whaur to set doon its fit neist. And I wat He's i' the licht. Ye min' that bit aboot the Lord pittin' Moses intil a clift o' therock, and syne coverin' him wi' his han' till he was by him?"

"Ay, fine that, " answered Annie. 

"Weel, I canna help thinkin' whiles, that the dark aboot me's jist thehow o' the Lord's han'; and I'm like Moses, only wi' this differ, thatwhan the Lord tak's his han' aff o' me, it'll be to lat me luik i' theface o' him, and no to lat me see only his back pairts, which was a'that he had the sicht o'; for ye see Moses was i' the body, and cudnabide the sicht o' the face o' God. I daursay it wad hae blin' 't him. Ihae heard that ower muckle licht'll ca fowk blin' whiles. What thinkye, lassie?"

"Ay; the lichtnin' blin's fowk whiles. And gin I luik straucht at thesun, I can see nothing efter't for a whilie. "

"I tell ye sae!" exclaimed Tibbie triumphantly. "And do ye min' theveesion that the apostle John saw in Pawtmos? I reckon he micht haethocht lang there, a' him lane, gin it hadna been for the bonniethings, and the gran' things, and the terrible things 'at the Lord loothim see. They _war_ gran' sichts! It was the veesion o' the Saviourhimsel'--Christ himsel'; and he says that his coontenance was as thesun shineth in his strength. What think ye o' that, lass!"

This was not a question, but an exulting exclamation. The vision inPatmos proved that although Moses must not see the face of God becauseof its brightness, a more favoured prophet might have the vision. AndTibbie, who had a share in the privileges of the new covenant, who wasnot under the law like Moses, but under grace like John, would one daysee the veil of her blindness shrivel away from before her deeper eyes, burnt up by the glory of that face of God, which is a consumingfire. --I suppose that Tibbie was right in the main. But was it notanother kind of brightness, a brightness without effulgence, abrightness grander and more glorious, shining in love and patience, andtenderness and forgiveness and excuse, that Moses was unfit to see, because he was not well able to understand it, until, ages after, hedescended from heaven upon the Mount of Transfiguration, and the humbleson of God went up from the lower earth to meet him there, and talkwith him face to face as a man with his friend?

Annie went home to her garret. It was a singular experience the childhad in the changes that came to her with the seasons. The winter withits frost and bitter winds brought her a home at Howglen; the summer, whose airs were molten kisses, took it away, and gave her the face ofnature instead of the face of a human mother. For the snug littlechamber in which she heard with a quiet exultation the fierce rush ofthe hail-scattering tempest against the window, or the fluffy fall ofthe snow-flakes, like hands of fairy babies patting the glass, andfancied herself out in the careering storm, hovering on the wings ofthe wind over the house in which she lay soft and warm--she had now thegarret room, in which the curtainless bed, with its bare poles, lookedlike a vessel in distress at sea, and through the roof of which thewinds found easy way. But the winds were warm now, and through theskylight the sunbeams illuminated the floor, showing all the rat-holesand wretchedness of decay. 

There was comfort out of doors in the daytime--in the sky and thefields and all the "goings-on of life. " And this night, after this talkwith Tibbie, Annie did not much mind going back to the garret. Nor didshe lie awake to think about the beautiful lady Alec had taken homewith him. 

And she dreamed again that she saw the Son of Man. There was a veilover his face like the veil that Moses wore, but the face was so brightthat it almost melted the veil away, and she saw what made her lovethat face more than the presence of Alec, more than the kindness of MrsForbes or Dowie, more than the memory of her father. 

CHAPTER XLVIII. 

Alec did not fall asleep so soon. The thought that Kate was in thehouse--asleep in the next room, kept him awake. Yet he woke the nextmorning earlier than usual. There were bands of golden light upon thewall, though Kate would not be awake for hours yet. 

He sprung out of bed, and ran to the banks of the Glamour. Upon thecold morning stream the sun-rays fell slanting and gentle. He plungedin, and washed the dreams from his eyes with a dive, and a swim underwater. Then he rose to the surface and swam slowly about under theoverhanging willows, and earthy banks hollowed by the river's flow intocold damp caves, up into the brown shadows of which the water cast aflickering shimmer. Then he dressed himself, and lay down on the meadowgrass, each blade of which shadowed its neighbour in the slantsunlight. Cool as it still was with the coldness of the vanishedtwilight, it yet felt warm to his bare feet, fresh from the waters thathad crept down through the night from the high moor-lands. He fell fastasleep, and the sheep came and fed about him, as if he had been one ofthemselves. When he woke, the sun was high; and when he reached thehouse, he found his mother and Kate already seated at breakfast--Katein the prettiest of cotton dresses, looking as fresh and country-likeas the morning itself. The window was open, and through the encirclingivy, as through a filter of shadows, the air came fresh and cool. Beyond the shadow of the house lay the sunshine, a warm sea of broodingglory, of still power; not the power of flashing into storms ofsplendour beneath strange winds, but of waking up and cherishing tobeauty the shy life that lay hidden in all remotest corners of theteeming earth. 

"What are you going to do with Kate to-day, Alec?" said his mother. 

"Whatever Kate likes, " answered Alec. 

"I have no choice, " returned Kate. "I don't know yet what I have tochoose between. I am in your hands, Alec. "

It was the first time she had called him by his name, and a spear ofsunshine seemed to quiver in his heart. He was restless as a hyena tillshe was ready. He then led her to the banks of the river, here low andgrassy, with plenty of wild flowers, and a low babblement everywhere. 

"This is delightful, " said Kate. "I will come here as often as youlike, and you shall read to me. "

"What shall I read? Would you like one of Sir Walter's novels?"

"Just the thing. "

Alec started at full speed for the house. 

"Stop, " cried Kate. "You are not going to leave me alone besidethis--talking water?"

"I thought you liked the water, " said Alec. 

"Yes. But I don't want to be left alone beside it. I will go with you, and get some work. "

She turned away from the stream with a strange backward look, and theywalked home. 

But as Kate showed some disinclination to return to the river-side, Alec put a seat for her near the house, in the shadow of a silverbirch, and threw himself on the grass at her feet. There he began toread the _Antiquary_, only half understanding it, in the enchantment ofknowing that he was lying at her feet, and had only to look up to seeher eyes. At noon, Mrs Forbes sent them a dish of curds, and a greatjug of cream, with oatcakes, and butter soft from the churn; and therippling shadow of the birch played over the white curds and the goldenbutter as they ate. 

Am I not now fairly afloat upon the gentle stream of an idyl? Shall Iwatch the banks as they glide past, and record each fairy-headed flowerthat looks at its image in the wave? Or shall I mow them down and sweepthem together in a sentence?

I will gather a few of the flowers, and leave the rest. But first Iwill make a remark or two upon the young people. 

Those amongst my readers who have had the happiness to lead innocentboy-lives, will know what a marvellous delight it was to Alec to havethis girl near him in his own home and his own haunts. He neverspeculated on her character or nature, any more than Hamlet did aboutthose of Ophelia before he was compelled to doubt womankind. His ownprinciples were existent only in a latent condition, undeveloped fromgood impulses and kind sentiments. For instance: he would help any onewhose necessity happened to make an impression upon him, but he nevertook pains to enter into the feelings of others--to understand themfrom their own point of view: he never had said to himself, "That isanother me. "

Correspondent to this condition were some of Kate's theories of lifeand its duties. 

The question came up, whether a certain lady in fiction had done rightin running away with her lover. Mrs Forbes made a rather decided remarkon the subject. Kate said nothing, but her face glowed. 

"Tell us what you think about it, Katie, " said Mrs Forbes. 

Katie was silent for a moment. Then with the air of a martyr, from whomthe rack can only extort a fuller confession of his faith--though Ifear she had no deeper gospel at the root of it than Byron had broughther--she answered:

"I think a woman must give up everything for love. "

She was then precisely of the same opinion as Jean Paul's Linda in_Titan_. 

"That is very true, I daresay, " said Mrs Forbes; "but I fear you meanonly one kind of love. Does a woman owe no love to her father or motherbecause she has a lover?"

To this plain question Kate made no reply, but her look changed to oneof obstinacy. 

Her mother died when she was a child, and her father had kept himselfshut up in his study, leaving her chiefly to the care of a Shetlandnurse, who told her Scandinavian stories from morning to night, withinvention ever ready to supply any blank in the tablets of her memory. 

Alec thought his mother's opinion the more to be approved, and Kate'sthe more to be admired; showing the lack of entireness in his nature, by thus dissociating the good and the admirable. That which is bestcannot be less admirable than that which is not best. 

CHAPTER XLIX. 

The next day saw Alec walking by the side of Kate mounted on his pony, up a steep path to the top of one of the highest hills surrounding thevalley. It was a wild hill, with hardly anything growing on it butheather, which would make it regal with purple in the autumn: no treecould stand the blasts that blew over that hill in winter. Havingclimbed to the topmost point, they stood and gazed. The country layoutstretched beneath in the glow of the June day, while around themflitted the cool airs of heaven. Above them rose the soaring blue ofthe June sky, with a white cloud or two floating in it, and a blue peakor two leaning its colour against it. Through the green grass and thegreen corn below crept two silvery threads, meeting far away andflowing in one--the two rivers which watered the valley ofStrathglamour. Between the rivers lay the gray stone town, with itsroofs of thatch and slate. One of its main streets stopped suddenly atthe bridge with the three arches above Tibbie's cottage; and at theother end of the bridge lay the green fields. 

The landscape was not one of the most beautiful, but it had a beauty ofits own, which is all a country or a woman needs; and Kate sat gazingabout her in evident delight. She had taken off her hat to feel thewind, and her hair fell in golden heaps upon her shoulders, and thewind and the sunbeams played at hide-and-seek in it. 

In a moment the pleasure vanished from her face. It clouded over, whilethe country lay full in the sun. Her eyes no longer looked wide abroad, but expressed defeat and retirement. Listlessly she began to gather herhair together. 

"Do you ever feel as if you could not get room enough, Alec?" she said, wearily. 

"No, I don't, " he answered, honestly and stupidly. "I have always asmuch as I want. I should have thought you would--up here. "

"I did feel satisfied for a moment; but it was only a moment. It is allgone now. I shall never have room enough. "

Alec had nothing to say in reply. He never had anything to give Katebut love; and now he gave her more love. It was all he was rich in. Butshe did not care for his riches. And so, after gazing a while, sheturned towards the descent. Alec picked up her hat, and took his placeat the pony's head. He was not so happy as he thought he should be. Somehow she was of another order, and he could not understand her--hecould only worship her. 

The whole of the hot afternoon they spent on the grass, whose mottlingof white clover filled the wandering airs with the odours of the honeyof Hymettus. And after tea Kate sang, and Alec drank every tone as ifhis soul lived by hearing. 

In this region the sun works long after hours in the summer, and theywent out to see him go down weary. They leaned together over the gateand looked at the level glory, which now burned red and dim. Lamp oflife, it burns all night long in the eternal night of the universe, tochase the primeval darkness from the great entrance hall of the "humanmortals. "

"What a long shadow everything throws!" said Kate. "When the shadowsgather all together, and melt into one, then it is night. Look how thelight creeps about the roots of the grass on the ridge, as if it werelooking for something between the shadows. They are both going to die. Now they begin. "

The sun diminished to a star--a spark of crimson fire, and vanished. Asif he had sunk in a pool of air, and made it overflow, a gentle rippleof wind blew from the sunset over the grass. They could see the grassbending and swaying and bathing in its coolness before it came to them. It blew on their faces at length, and whispered something they couldnot understand, making Kate think of her mother, and Alec of Kate. 

Now that same breeze blew upon Tibbie and Annie, as they sat in thepatch of meadow by the cottage, between the river and the _litster'sdam_. It made Tibbie think of death, the opener of sleeping eyes, theuplifter of hanging hands. For Tibbie's darkness was the shadow of hergrave, on the further border of which the light was breaking in music. Death and resurrection were the same thing to blind old Tibbie. 

When the gentle, washing wind blew upon Annie, she thought of the windthat bloweth were it listeth; and that, if ever the Spirit of God blewupon her, she would feel it just like that wind of summer sunset--socool, so blessed, so gentle, so living! And was it not God thatbreathed that wind upon her? Was he not even then breathing his Spiritinto the soul of that woman-child?

It blew upon Andrew Constable, as he stood in his shop-door, the easylabour of his day all but over. And he said to his little weasel-faced, _douce_, old-fashioned child who stood leaning against the otherdoor-cheek:

"That's a fine caller bit blastie, Isie! Dinna ye like to fin' 'tblawin' upo' yer het cheeks, dawtie?"

And she answered, "Ay, I like it weel, daddie; but it min's me some upo' the winter. "

And Andrew looked anxiously at the pale face of his child, who, at sixyears old, in the month of June, had no business to know that there wasany winter. But she was the child of elderly parents, and had not beenborn in time; so that she was now in reality about twenty. 

It blew upon Robert Bruce, who had just run out into the _yard_, to seehow his potatoes and cabbages were coming on. He said

"It's some cauld, " and ran in again to put on his hat. 

Alec and Kate, I have said, stood looking into the darkening field. Agreat flock of rooks which filled the air with their rooky gossip, wasflying straight home to an old gray ruin just visible amongst someancient trees. They had been gathering worms and grubs all day, and nowit was bed time. They felt, through all their black feathers, thecoolness of that evening breeze which came from the cloudy mausoleumalready built over the grave of the down-gone sun. 

Kate hearing them rejoicing far overhead, searched for them in thedarkening sky, found them, and watched their flight, till the blackspecks were dissolved in the distance. They are not the most poetic ofbirds, but in a darkening country twilight, over silent fields, theyblend into the general tone, till even their noisy caw suggests repose. But it was room Kate wanted, not rest. She would know one day, however, that room and rest are the same, and that the longings for both springfrom the same need. 

"What place is that in the trees?" she asked. 

"The old Castle of Glamerton, " answered Alec. "Would you like to go andsee it?"

"Yes; very much. "

"We'll go to-morrow, then. "

"The dew is beginning to fall, Kate, " said Mrs Forbes, who now joinedthem. "You had better come in. "

Alec lingered behind. An unknown emotion drew his heart towards theearth. He would see her go to sleep in the twilight, which was nowbeginning to brood over her, as with the brown wings of a lovelydull-hued hen-bird. The daisies were all asleep, spotting the greengrass with stars of carmine; for their closed red tips, like thefinger-points of two fairy hands, tenderly joined together, pointed upin little cones to keep the yellow stars warm within, that they mightshine bright when the great star of day came to look for them. Thelight of the down-gone sun, the garment of Aurora, which, so shortwould be her rest, she had not drawn close around her on her couch, floated up on the horizon, and swept slowly northwards, lightly upborneon that pale sea of delicate green and gold, to flicker all nightaround the northern coast of the sky, and, streaming up in the heavens, melt at last in the glory of the uprisen Titan. The trees stood stilland shadowy as clouds, but breathing out mysterious odours. The starsoverhead, half-molten away in the ghostly light that would not go, wereyet busy at their night-work, ministering to the dark sides of theother worlds. There was no moon. A wide stillness and peace, as of aheart at rest, filled space, and lying upon the human souls with apersistent quietness that might be felt, made them know what _might_ betheirs. Now and then a bird sprang out with a sudden tremor of leaves, suddenly stilled. But the bats came and went in silence, like feelingsyet unembodied in thoughts, vanishing before the sight had time to bestartled at their appearing. All was marvel. And the marvel of all wasthere--where the light glimmered faintly through the foliage. Heapproached the house with an awe akin to that with which an old poeticEgyptian drew near to the chamber of the goddess Isis. 

He entered, and his Isis was laughing merrily. 

In the morning, great sun-crested clouds with dark sides hung overhead;and while they sat at breakfast, one of those glorious showers, each ofwhose great drops carries a sun-spark in its heart, fell on the walkswith a tumult of gentle noises, and on the grass almost as silently asif it had been another mossy cloud. The leaves of the ivy hanging overthe windows quivered and shook, each for itself, beneath the drops; andbetween the drops, one of which would have beaten him to the earth, wound and darted in safety a great humble bee. 

Kate and Alec went to the open window and looked out on the rainyworld, breathing the odours released from the grass and the ground. Alec turned from the window to Kate's face, and saw upon it a keen, yetsolemn delight. But as he gazed, he saw a cloud come over it. Thearched upper lip dropped sadly upon the other, and she looked troubledand cold. Instinctively he glanced out again for the cause. The rainhad become thick and small, and a light opposing wind disordered itsdescent with broken and crossing lines. 

This change from a summer to a winter rain had altered Kate's mood, andher face was now, as always, a reflex of the face of nature. 

"Shut the window, please Alec, " she said, with a shiver. 

"We'll have a fire directly, " said Alec. 

"No, no, " returned Kate, trying to smile. "Just fetch me a shawl fromthe closet in my room. "

Alec had not been in his own room since Kate came. He entered it with akind of gentle awe, and stood just within the door, gazing as ifrebuked. 

From a pair of tiny shoes under the dressing-table, radiated a wholeroomful of feminity. He was almost afraid to go further, and would nothave dared to look in the mirror. In three days her mere presence hadmade the room marvellous. 

Recovering himself, he hastened to the cloaet, got the shawl, and wentdown the stair three steps at a time. 

"Couldn't you find it, Alec?" said Kate. 

"Oh! yes; I found it at once, " answered Alec, blushing to the eyes. 

I wonder whether Kate guessed what made the boy blush. But it does notmatter much now. She did look curiously at him for a moment. 

"Just help me with my shawl, " she said. 

CHAPTER L. 

During all this time, Annie had seen scarcely anything of her auntMargaret Anderson. Ever since Bruce had offended her, on the occasionof her first visit, she had taken her custom elsewhere, and had nevereven called to see her niece. Annie had met her several times in thestreet, and that was all. Hence, on one of the fine afternoons of thatunusually fine summer, and partly, perhaps, from missing the kindnessof Mrs Forbes, Annie took a longing to see her old aunt, and set outfor Clippenstrae to visit her. It was a walk of two miles, chieflyalong the high road, bordered in part by accessible plantation. Throughthis she loitered along, enjoying the few wild flowers and the manylights and shadows, so that it was almost evening before she reachedher destination. 

"Preserve 's a'! Annie Anderson, what brings ye here this time o'nicht?" exclaimed her aunt. 

"It's a lang time sin I saw ye, auntie, and I wantit to see ye. "

"Weel, come butt the hoose. Ye're growin' a great muckle quean, " saidher aunt, inclined to a favourable consideration of her by her growth. 

Margaret "didna like bairns--menseless craturs--aye wantin' ither fowkto do for them!" But growth was a kind of regenerating process in hereyes, and when a girl began to look like a woman, she regarded it as anoutward sign of conversion, or something equally valuable. --So sheconducted her into the presence of her uncle, a little old man, wornand bent, with gray locks peeping out from under a Highland bonnet. 

"This is my brither Jeames's bairn, " she said. 

The old man received her kindly, called her his dawtie, and made hersit down by him on a three-legged _creepie_, talking to her as if shehad been quite a child, while she, capable of high converse as she was, replied in corresponding terms. Her great-aunt was confined to her bedwith rheumatism. Supper was preparing, and Annie was not sorry to havea share, for indeed, during the summer, her meals were often scantyenough. While they ate, the old man kept helping her to the best, talking to her all the time. 

"Will ye no come and bide wi' me, dawtie?" he said, meaning little bythe question. 

"Na, na, " answered Margaret for her. "She's at the schule, ye ken, uncle, and we maunna interfere wi' her schoolin. '--Hoo does that leein'ted, Robert Bruce, carry himsel' to ye, bairn?"

"Ow! I jist never min' him, " answered Annie. 

"Weel, it's a' he deserves at your han'. But gin I war you, I wad lethim ken that gin he saws your corn ye hae a richt to raither mair norhis gleanins. "

"I dinna ken what ye mean, " answered Annie. 

"Ow! na; I daursay no. But ye may jist as weel ken noo, that that ted, Robert Bruce, has twa hunner poun' odd o' yer ain, lassie; and gin hedoesna use ye weel, ye can jist tell him 'at I telt ye sae. "

This piece of news had not the overpowering effect upon Annie which, perhaps, her aunt had expected. No doubt the money seemed in her eyes alimitless fortune; but then Bruce had it. She might as soon think ofrobbing a bear of her whelps as getting her own from Bruce. Besides, what could she do with it if she had it? And she had not yet acquiredthe faculty of loving money for its own sake. When she rose to take herleave, she felt little richer than when she entered, save for the kindwords of John Peterson. 

"It's ower late for ye to gang hame yer lane, dawtie, " said the oldman. 

"I'm nae that fleyt, " answered Annie. 

"Weel, gin ye walk wi' Him, the mirk'll be licht aboot ye, " said he, taking off his Highland bonnet, and looking up with a silentrecognition of the care of _Him_. "Be a gude lass, " he resumed, replacing his bonnet, "an' rin hame as fest's ye can. Gude nicht to ye, dawtie. "

Rejoicing as if she had found her long-lost home, Annie went out intothe deep gloamin feeling it impossible she should be frightened atanything. But when she came to the part of the road bordered withtrees, she could not help fancying she saw a figure flitting along fromtree to tree just within the deeper dusk of the wood, and as shehurried on, fancy grew to fear. Presently she heard awful sounds, likethe subdued growling of wild beasts. She would have taken to her heelsin terror, but she reflected that thereby she would only insurepursuit, whereas she might slip away unperceived. As she reached astile leading into the wood, however, a dusky figure came bounding overit, and advanced towards her. To her relief it went on two legs; andwhen it came nearer she thought she recognized some traits of oldacquaintance about it. When it was within a couple of yards of her, asshe still pursued her way towards Glamerton, she stopped and cried outjoyfully:

"Curly!"--for it was her old vice-champion. 

"Annie!" was the equally joyful response. 

"I thocht ye was a wild beast!" said Annie. 

"I was only growlin' for fun to mysel', " answered Curly, who would havedone it all the more if he had known there was any one on the road. "Ididna ken 'at I was fleggin' onybody. An' hoo are ye, Annie? An' hoo'sBlister Bruce?"

For Curly was dreadfully prolific in nicknames. 

Annie had not seen him for six months. He had continued to show himselfso full of mischief, though of a comparatively innocent sort, that hisfather thought it better at last to send him to a town at some distanceto learn the trade of a saddler, for which he had shown a preference. 

This was his first visit to his home. Hitherto his father had receivedno complaints of his behaviour, and had now begged a holiday. 

"Ye're grown sair, Annie, " he said. 

"Sae are ye, Curly, " answered Annie. 

"An' hoo's Alec?"

"He's verra weel. "

Whereupon much talk followed, which need not be recorded. At lengthCurly said:

"And hoo's the rottans?"

"Ower weel and thrivin'. "

"Jist pit yer han' i' my coat-pooch, and see what I hae broucht ye. "

Knowing Curly's propensities, Annie refused. 

"It's a wild beast, " said Curly. "I'll lat it oot upo' ye. It was it'at made a' that roarin' i' the plantin'. "

So saying, he pulled out of his pocket the most delicate tortoiseshellkitten, not half the beauty of which could be perceived in the gloamin, which is all the northern summer night. He threw it at Annie, but shehad seen enough not to be afraid to catch it in her hands. 

"Did ye fess this a' the road frae Spinnie to me, Curly?"

"Ay did I, Annie. Ye see I dinna like rottans. But ye maun haud it ooto' their gait for a feow weeks, or they'll rive't a' to bits. It'llsune be a match for them though, I s' warran'. She comes o' a killin'breed. "

Annie took the kitten home, and it shared her bed that night. 

"What's that meowlin?" asked Bruce the next morning, the moment he rosefrom the genuflexion of morning prayers. 

"It's my kittlin', " answered Annie. "I'll lat ye see't. "

"We hae ower mony mou's i' the hoose already, " said Bruce, as shereturned with the little peering baby-animal in her arms. "We hae naeroom for mair. Here, Rob, tak the cratur, an' pit a tow aboot its neck, an' a stane to the tow, an' fling't into the Glamour. "

Annie, not waiting to parley, darted from the house with the kitten. 

"Rin efter her, Rob, " said Bruce, "an' tak' it frae her, and droon't. We canna hae the hoose swarmin'. "

Bob bolted after her, delighted with his commission. But instead offinding her at the door, as he had expected, he saw her already a longway up the street, flying like the wind. He started in keen pursuit. Hewas now a great lumbering boy, and although Annie's wind was not equalto his, she was more fleet. She took the direct road to Howglen, andRob kept floundering after her. Before she reached the footbridge shewas nearly breathless, and he was gaining fast upon her. Just as sheturned the corner of the road, leading up on the other side of thewater, she met Alec and Kate. Unable to speak, she passed withoutappeal. But there was no need to ask the cause of her pale agonizedface, for there was young Bruce at her heels. Alec collared himinstantly. 

"What are you up to?" he asked. 

"Naething, " answered the panting pursuer. 

"Gin ye be efter naething, ye'll fin' that nearer hame, " retorted Alec, twisting him round in that direction, and giving him a kick to expeditehis return. "Lat me hear o' you troublin' Annie Anderson, an' I'll garye loup oot o' yer skin the neist time I lay han's upo' ye. Gang hame. "

Rob obeyed like a frightened dog, while Annie pursued her course toHowglen, as if her enemy had been still on her track. Rushing into theparlour, she fell on the floor before Mrs Forbes, unable to utter aword. The kitten sprung mewing out of her arms, and took refuge underthe sofa. 

"Mem, mem, " she gasped at length, "tak' care o' my kittlin'. They wantto droon't. It's my ain. Curly gied it to me. "

Mrs Forbes comforted her, and readily undertook the tutelage. Annie wasvery late for school, for Mrs Forbes made her have another breakfastbefore she went. But Mr Malison was in a good humour that day, and saidnothing. Rob Bruce looked devils at her. What he had told his father Ido not know; but whatever it was, it was all written down in Bruce'smental books to the debit of Alexander Forbes of Howglen. 

Mrs Forbes's heart smote her when she found to what persecution herlittle friend was exposed during those times when her favour waspractically although not really withdrawn; but she did not see how shecould well remedy it. She was herself in the power of Bruce, andexpostulation from her would be worth little; while to have Annie tothe house as before would involve consequences unpleasant to allconcerned. She resolved to make up for it by being kinder to her thanever as soon as Alec should have followed Kate to the precincts of theuniversity; while for the present she comforted both herself and Annieby telling her to be sure to come to her when she found herself in anytrouble. 

But Annie was not one to apply to her friends except she was in greatneed of their help. The present case had been one of life and death. She found no further occasion to visit Mrs Forbes before Kate and Alecwere both gone. 

CHAPTER LI. 

On a sleepy summer afternoon, just when the sunshine begins to turnyellow, Annie was sitting with Tibbie on the grass in front of herlittle cottage, whose door looked up the river. The cottage stood on asmall rocky eminence at the foot of the bridge. Underneath the approachto it from the bridge, the dyer's mill-race ran by a passage cut in therock, leading to the third arch of the bridge built over the Glamour. Towards the river, the rock went down steep to the little meadow. Itwas a triangular piece of smooth grass growing on the old bed of theriver, which for many years had been leaving this side, and wearingaway the opposite bank. It lay between the river, the dyer's race, andthe bridge, one of the stone piers of which rose from it. The grasswhich grew upon it was short, thick, and delicate. On the opposite sideof the river lay a field for bleaching the linen, which was the chiefmanufacture of that country. Hence it enjoyed the privilege of immunityfrom the ploughshare. None of its daisies ever met the fate of Burn's

 "Wee, modest, crimson-tippit flower. "

But indeed so constantly was the grass mown to keep it short, thatthere was scarcely a daisy to be seen in it, the long broad lines ofwhite linen usurping their place, and in their stead keeping up thecontrast of white and green. Around Tibbie and Annie however thedaisies were shining back to the sun, confidently, with their hearts ofgold and their rays of silver. And the butter-cups were all of gold;and the queen-of-the-meadow, which grew tall at the water-side, perfumed the whole region with her crown of silvery blossom. Tibbie'sblind face was turned towards the sun; and her hands were busy as antswith her knitting needles, for she was making a pair of worstedstockings for Annie against the winter. No one could fit stockings sowell as Tibbie. 

"Wha's that comin', lassie?" she asked. 

Annie, who had heard no one, glanced round, and, rising, said, "It's Thomas Crann. "

"That's no Thomas Crann, " rejoined Tibbie. "I dinna hear the host(cough) o' 'im. "

Thomas came up, pale and limping a little. 

"That's no Thomas Crann?" repeated Tibbie, before he had time toaddress her. 

"What for no, Tibbie?" returned Thomas. 

"'Cause I canna hear yer breath, Thamas. "

"That's a sign that I hae the mair o' 't, Tibbie. I'm sae muckle bettero' that ashma, that I think whiles the Lord maun hae blawn into mynostrils anither breath o' that life that he breathed first into Edaman' Eve. "

"I'm richt glaid to hear't, Thamas. Breath maun come frae him ae gaitor ither. "

"Nae doobt, Tibbie. "

"Will ye sit doon asides's, Thamas? It's lang sin' I hae seen ye. "

Tibbie always spoke of _seeing_ people. 

"Ay will I, Tibbie. I haena muckle upo' my han's jist the day. Ye see Ihaena won richt into my wark again yet. "

"Annie an' me 's jist been haeing a crack thegither aboot this thingan' that thing, Thamas, " said Tibbie, dropping her knitting on herknees, and folding her palms together. "Maybe _ye_ could tell mewhether there be ony likeness atween the licht that I canna see andthat soun' o' the water rinnin', aye rinnin', that I like sae weel tohear. "

For it did not need the gentle warm wind, floating rather than blowingdown the river that afternoon, to bring to their ears the sound of the_entick_, or dam built across the river, to send the water to thedyer's wheel; for that sound was in Tibbie's cottage day and night, mingled with the nearer, gentler, and stronger gurgling of the swift, deep, _deedie_ water in the race, that hurried, aware of its work, withsmall noise and much soft-sliding force towards the wheel. 

"Weel, ye see, Tibbie, " answered Thomas, "it's nearhan' as ill for thelike o' us to unnerstan' your blin'ness as it may be for you tounnerstan' oor sicht. "

"Deed maybe neyther o' 's kens muckle aboot oor ain gift either o'sicht or blin'ness. --Say onything ye like, gin ye dinna tell me, as thebairn here ance did, that I cudna ken what the licht was. I kenna whatyer sicht may be, and I'm thinkin' I care as little. But weel ken Iwhat the licht is. "

"Tibbie, dinna be ill-nater'd, like me. Ye hae no call to that same. I'm tryin' to answer your queston. And gin ye interrup' me again, I'llrise an' gang hame. "

"Say awa', Thamas. Never heed me. I'm some cankert whiles. I ken thatweel eneuch. "

"Ye hae nae business to be cankert, Tibbie?"

"Nae mair nor ither fowk. "

"Less, Tibbie; less, woman. "

"Hoo mak' ye that oot?" asked Tibbie, defensively. 

"Ye dinna see the things to anger ye that ither fowk sees. --As I cam'doon the street this minute, I cam' upo' twa laddies--ye kenthem--they're twins--ane o' them cripple--"

"Ay, that was Murdoch Malison's wark!" interposed Tibbie, withindignant reminiscence. 

"The man's been sorry for't this mony a day, " said Thomas; "sae wemaunna come ower't again, Tibbie. "

"Verra weel, Thamas; I s' haud my tongue. What about the laddies?"

"They war fechtin' i' the verra street; ruggin' ane anither's heids, an' peggin' at ane anither's noses, an' doin' their verra endeevour todestroy the image o' the Almichty--it wasna muckle o' 't that was leftto blaud. I teuk and throosh them baith. "

"An' what cam' o' the image o' the Almichty?" asked Tibbie, with agrotesque contortion of her mouth, and a roll of her veiled eyeballs. "I doobt, Thamas, " she continued, "ye angert yersel' mair nor yequaietit them wi' the thrashin'. The wrath o' man, ye ken, Thamas, worketh not the richtyisness o' God. "

There was not a person in Glamerton who would have dared to speak thusto Thomas Crann but Tibbie Dyster, perhaps because there was not onewho had such a respect for him. Possibly the darkness about her madeher bolder; but I think it was her truth, which is another word for_love_, however unlike love the outcome may look, that made her able tospeak in this fashion. 

Thomas was silent for a long minute. Then he said:

"Maybe ye're i' the richt, Tibbie. Ye aye anger me; but I wad raitherhae a body anger me wi' tellin' me the trowth, nor I wad hae a' thefair words i' the dictionar'. It's a strange thing, wumman, but ayewhan a body's tryin' maist to gang upricht he's sure to catch adreidfu' fa'. There I hae been warstlin' wi' my ill-temper mair norever I did i' my life afore; and I never i' my days lickit twa laddiesfor lickin' ane anither till jist this verra day. And I prayed againstmysel' afore I cam' oot. I canna win at the boddom o' 't. "

"There's waur things nor an ill temper, Thamas. No that it's bonnieava'. And it's nane like Him 'at was meek and lowly o' hert. But, as Isay, there's waur fauts nor an ill temper. It wad be no gain to you, Thamas, and no glory to Him whase will's your sanctification, gin yewar to owercome yer temper, and syne think a heap o' yersel' that yehad done't. Maybe that's what for yer no allooed to be victorious inyer endeevours. "

"'Deed, maybe, Tibbie, " said Thomas solemnly. "And I'm some doobtfu'forbye, whether I mayna be tryin' to ripe oot the stockin' frae thewrang en' o' 't. I doobt the fau't's nae sae muckle i' my temper as i'my hert. It's mair love that I want, Tibbie. Gin I lo'ed my neebor asmysel', I cudna be sae ill-natert till him; though 'deed, whiles, I'mangry eneuch at mysel'--a hantle waur nor at him. "

"Verra true, Thamas, " answered Tibbie. "Perfect love casteth oot fear, 'cause there's nae room for the twa o' them; and I daursay it wad bethe same wi' the temper. "

"But I'm no gaein' to gie in to bein' ill-natert for a' that, " saidThomas, as if alarmed at the possible consequences of the conclusion. 

"Na na. Resist ye the deevil, Thamas. Haud at him, man. He's sure torin at the lang last. But I'm feared ye'll gang awa' ohn tellt me abootthe licht and the water. Whan I'm sittin' here o' the girse, hearkenin'to the water, as it comes murrin', and soufflin', and gurglin', on tome, and syne by me and awa', as gin it war spinnin' and twistin' a loto' bonnie wee sounies a' intil ae muckle gran' soun', it pits me i'min' o' the text that says, 'His voice was as the sound o' monywaters. ' Noo his face is licht--ye ken that, divna ye?--and gin hisvoice be like the water, there maun be something like atween the lichtand the water, ye ken. That's what garred me spier at ye, Thamas. "

"Weel, I dinna ken richtly hoo to answer ye, Tibbie; but at this momentthe licht's playin' bonnie upo' the entick--shimmerin' and brakin' upo'the water, as hit bracks upo' the stanes afore it fa's. An' what fa's, it luiks as gin it took the licht wi' 't i' the wame o' 't like. Eh!it's bonnie, woman; and I wiss ye had the sicht o' yer een to see'twi'; though ye do preten' to think little o' 't. "

"Weel, weel! my time's comin', Thamas; and I maun jist bide till itcomes. Ye canna help me, I see that. Gin I could only open my een forae minute, I wad ken a' aboot it, and be able to answer mysel'. --Ithink we 'll gang into the hoose, for I canna bide it langer. "

All the time they were talking Annie was watching Alec's boat, whichhad dropped down the river, and was floating in the sunshine above thedam. Thomas must have seen it too, for it was in the very heart of theradiance reflected to them from the watery mirror. But Alec was apainful subject with Thomas, for when they chanced to meet now, nothingmore than the passing salute of ordinary acquaintance was exchanged. And Thomas was not able to be indulgent to young people. Certain factsin his nature, as well as certain articles in his creed, rendered himunable. So, being one of those who never speak of what is painful tothem if they can avoid it--thinking all the more, he talked about thelight, and said nothing about the boat that was in the middle of it. Had Alec been rowing, Tibbie would have heard the oars; but he onlypaddled enough to keep the boat from drifting on to the dam. Kate satin the stern looking at the water with half-closed eyes, and Alec satlooking at Kate, as if his eyes were made only for her. And Annie satin the meadow, and she too looked at Kate; and she thought how prettyshe was, and how she must like being rowed about in the old boat. Itseemed quite an old boat now. An age had passed since her name waspainted on it. She wondered if _The Bonnie Annie_ was worn off thestern yet; or if Alec had painted it out, and put the name of thepretty lady instead. When Tibbie and Thomas walked away into the house, Annie lingered behind on the grass. 

The sun sank slanting and slow, yet he did sink, lower and lower; tillat length Alec leaned back with a stronger pull on the oars, and theboat crept away up the stream, lessening as it crept, and, turning acurve in the river, was lost. Still she sat on, with one hand lyinglistlessly in her lap, and the other plucking blades of grass andmaking a little heap of them beside her, till she had pulled a spotquite bare, and the brown earth peeped through between the roots. Thenshe rose, went up to the door of the cottage, called a good night toTibbie, and took her way home. 

CHAPTER LII. 

My story has not to do with city-life, in which occur frequent shocks, changes, and recombinations, but with the life of a country region; andis, therefore, "to a lingering motion bound, " like the day, like theripening of the harvest, like the growth of all good things. But cloudsand rainbows will come in the quietest skies; adventures andcoincidences in the quietest village. 

As Kate and Alec walked along the street, on their way to the castle, one of the coaches from the county-town drove up with its fourthorough-breds. 

"What a handsome fellow the driver is!" said Kate. 

Alec looked up at the box. There sat Beauchamp, with the ribbons in hisgrasp, handling his horses with composure and skill. Beside him sat theowner of the coach, a _laird_ of the neighbourhood. 

Certainly Beauchamp was a handsome fellow. But a sting went throughAlec's heart. It was the first time that he thought of his own personin comparison with another. That she should admire Beauchamp, though hewas handsome!

The memory even of that moment made him writhe on his bed years after;for a mental and bodily wound are alike in this, that after there isbut the scar of either left, bad weather will revive the torture. Hisface fell. Kate saw it, and did him some injustice. They walked on insilence, in the shadow of a high wall. Kate looked up at the top of thewall and stopped. Alec looked at her. Her face was as full of light asa diamond in the sun. He forgot all his jealousy. The fresh tide of hislove swept it away, or at least covered it. On the top of the wall, inthe sun, grew one wild scarlet poppy, a delicate transparent glory, through which the sunlight shone, staining itself red, and almostdissolving the poppy. 

The red light melted away the mist between them, and they walked in itup to the ruined walls. Long grass grew about them, close to the verydoor, which was locked, that if old Time could not be kept out, youngerdestroyers might. Other walls stood around, vitrified by fire--theremnants of an older castle still, about which Jamblichus might havespied the lingering phantoms of many a terrible deed. 

They entered by the door in the great tower, under the spiky remnantsof the spiral stair projecting from the huge circular wall. To theright, a steep descent, once a stair, led down to the cellars and thedungeon; a terrible place, the visible negations of which are horrid, and need no popular legends such as Alec had been telling Kate, of awalled-up door and a lost room, to add to their influence. It was nowonder that when he held out his hand to lead her down into thedarkness and through winding ways to the mouth of the far-off beehivedungeon--it was no wonder, I say, that she should shrink and draw back. A few rays came through the decayed planks of the door which Alec hadpushed to behind them, and fell upon the rubbish of centuries slopingin the brown light and damp air down into the abyss. One larger rayfrom the keyhole fell upon Kate's face, and showed it blanched withfear, and her eyes distended with the effort to see through the gloom. 

At that moment, a sweet, low voice came from somewhere, out of thedarkness, saying:

"Dinna be feared, mem, to gang whaur Alec wants ye to gang. Ye canlippen (trust) to _him_. "

Staring in the direction of the sound, Kate saw the pale face of aslender--half child, half maiden, glimmering across the gulf that ledto the dungeon. She stood in the midst of a sepulchral light, whosefaintness differed from mere obscuration, inasmuch as it told howbright it was out of doors in the sun. Annie, I say, stood in thisdimness--a dusky and yet radiant creature, seeming to throw off fromher a faint brown light--a lovely, earth-stained ghost. 

"Oh! Annie, is that you?" said Alec. 

"Ay is't, Alec, " Annie answered. 

"This is an old schoolfellow of mine, " he said, turning to Kate, whowas looking haughtily at the girl. 

"Oh! is it?" said Kate, condescending. 

Between the two, each looking ghostly to the other, lay a darkcavern-mouth that seemed to go down to Hades. 

"Wonna ye gang doon, mem?" said Annie. 

"No, thank you, " answered Kate, decisively. 

"Alec'll tak' guid care o' ye, mem. "

"Oh! yes, I daresay; but I had rather not. "

Alec said nothing. Kate would not trust him then! He would not havethought much of it, however, but for what had passed before. Would shehave gone with Beauchamp if he had asked her? Ah! if he had askedAnnie, she too would have turned pale, but she would have laid her handin his, and gone with him. 

"Gin ye want to gang up, than, " she said, "I'll lat ye see the easiestroad. It's roun' this way. "

And she pointed to a narrow ledge between the descent and the circularwall, by which they could cross to where she stood. But Alec, who hadno desire for Annie's company, declined her guidance, and took Kate upa nearer though more difficult ascent to the higher level. Here all thefloors of the castle lay in dust beneath their feet, mingled withfragments of chimney-piece and battlement. The whole central space layopen to the sky. 

Annie remained standing on the edge of the dungeon-slope. 

She had been on her way to see Tibbie, when she caught a glimpse ofKate and Alec as they passed. Since watching them in the boat theevening before, she had been longing to speak to Alec, longing to seeKate nearer: perhaps the beautiful lady would let her love her. Sheguessed where they were going, and across the fields she bounded like afawn, straight as the crows flew home to the precincts of that "ancientrest, " and reached it before them. She did not need to fetch the key, for she knew a hole on the level of the grass, wide enough to let hercreep through the two yards of wall. So she crept in and took her placenear the door. 

After they had rambled over the lower part of the building, Alec tookKate up a small winding stair, past a succession of empty doorways likeeyeless sockets, leading nowhither because the floors had fallen. Katewas so frightened by coming suddenly upon one after another of thesedefenceless openings, that by the time she reached the broad platform, which ran, all bare of parapet or battlement, around the top of thetower, she felt faint; and when Alec scampered off like a goat to reachthe bartizan at the other side, she sank in an agony of fear upon thelanding of the stair. 

Looking down upon her from the top of the little turret, Alec saw thatshe was ill, and returning instantly in great dismay, comforted her aswell as he could, and got her by degrees to the bottom. There was aspot of grass inside the walls, on which he made her rest; and as thesun shone upon her through one of the ruined windows, he stood so thathis shadow should fall across her eyes. While he stood thus a strangefancy seized him. The sun became in his eyes a fiery dragon, whichhaving devoured half of the building, having eaten the inside out ofit, having torn and gnawed it everywhere, and having at length reachedits kernel, the sleeping beauty, whose bed had, in the long years, mouldered away, and been replaced by the living grass, would swallowher up anon, if he were not there to stand between and defend her. Whenhe looked at her next, she had indeed become the sleeping beauty he hadfancied her; and sleep had already restored the colour to her cheeks. 

Turning his eyes up to the tower from which they had just descended, hesaw, looking down upon them from one of the isolated doorways, the paleface of Patrick Beauchamp. Alec bounded to the stair, rushed to the topand round the platform, but found nobody. Beginning to doubt his eyes, his next glance showed him Beauchamp standing over the sleeping girl. He darted down the screw of the stair, but when he reached the bottomBeauchamp had again disappeared. 

The same moment Kate began to wake. Her first movement brought Alec tohis senses: why should he follow Beauchamp? He returned to her side, and they left the place, locked the door behind them, took the key tothe lodge, and went home. 

After tea, Alec, believing he had locked Beauchamp into the castle, returned and searched the building from top to bottom, even got acandle and a ladder, and went down into the dungeon, found no one, andwent home bewildered. 

While Alec was searching the vacant ruin, Beauchamp was comfortablyseated on the box of the Spitfire, tooling it halfway home--namely, asfar as the house of its owner, the laird above mentioned, who was arelative of his mother, and whom he was then visiting. He had seen Kateand Alec take the way to the castle, and had followed them, and foundthe door unlocked. Watching them about the place, he ascended the stairfrom another approach. The moment Alec looked up at him, he ran downagain, and had just dropped into a sort of well-like place which thestair had used to fill on its way to a lower level, when he heardAlec's feet thundering up over his head. Determined then to see whatthe lady was like, for he had never seen her close, or without herbonnet, which now lay beside her on the grass, he scrambled out, and, approaching her cautiously, had a few moments to contemplate her beforehe saw--for he kept a watch on the tower--that Alec had again caughtsight of him, when he immediately fled to his former refuge, whichcommunicated with a low-pitched story lying between the open level andthe vaults. 

The sound of the ponderous and rusty bolt reached him across thecavernous space. He had not expected their immediate departure, and wasrather alarmed. His first impulse was to try whether he could not shootthe bolt from the inside. This he soon found to be impossible. He nextturned to the windows in the front, but there the ground fell away sosuddenly that he was many feet from it--an altogether dangerous leap. He was beginning to feel seriously concerned, when he heard a voice:

"Do ye want to win oot, sir? They hae lockit the door. "

He turned but could see no one. Approaching the door again, he spiedAnnie, in the dark twilight, standing on the edge of the descent to thevaults. He had passed the spot not a minute before, and she wascertainly not there then. She looked as if she had just glided up thatslope from a region so dark that a spectre might haunt it all day long. But Beauchamp was not of a fanciful disposition, and instead of takingher for a spectre, he accosted her with easy insolence!

"Tell me how to get out, my pretty girl, and I'll give you a kiss. "

Seized with a terror she did not understand, Annie darted into thecavern between them, and sped down its steep into the darkness whichlay there like a lurking beast. A few yards down, however, she turnedaside, through a low doorway, into a vault. Beauchamp rushed after her, passed her, and fell over a great stone lying in the middle of the way. Annie heard him fall, sprung forth again, and, flying to the upperlight, found her way out, and left the discourteous knight a safecaptive, fallen upon that horrible stair. --A horrible stair it was: upand down those steps, then steep and worn, now massed into an inclineof beaten earth, had swarmed, for months together, a multitude of nakedchildren, orphaned and captive by the sword, to and from the troughs atwhich they fed like pigs, amidst the laughter of the lord of the castleand his guests; while he who passed down them to the dungeon beyond, had little chance of ever retracing his steps upward to the light. 

Annie told the keeper that there was a gentleman shut into the castle, and then ran a mile and a half to Tibbie's cottage, without stopping. But she did not say a word to Tibbie about her adventure. 

CHAPTER LIII. 

A spirit of prophecy, whether from the Lord or not, was abroad thissummer among the clergy of Glamerton, of all persuasions. Nor was itsinfluences confined to Glamerton or the clergy. The neighbourhood andthe laity had their share. Those who read their Bibles, of whom therewere many in that region, took to reading the prophecies, all theprophecies, and scarcely anything but the prophecies. Upon these everyman, either for himself or following in the track of his spiritualinstructor, exercised his individual powers of interpretation, whosefecundity did not altogether depend upon the amount of historicalknowledge. But whatever was known, whether about ancient Assyria ormodern Tahiti, found its theoretic place. Of course the Church of Romehad her due share of the application from all parties; but neither theChurch of England, the Church of Scotland, nor either of the dissentingsects, went without its portion freely dealt, each of the last findingsomething that applied to all the rest. There were some, however, whocared less for such modes, and, themselves given to a daily fight withantichrist in their own hearts, sought--for they too read theprophecies--to fix their reference on certain sins, and certain personsclassed according to these their sins. With a burning desire for thesafety of their neighbours, they took upon them the strongest words ofrebuke and condemnation, so that one might have thought they wererevelling in the idea of the vengeance at hand, instead of striving forthe rescue of their neighbours from the wrath to come. Among these wereThomas Crann and his minister, Mr Turnbull. To them Glamerton was thecentre of creation, providence, and revelation. Every warning finger inThe Book pointed to it; every burst of indignation from the labouringbosom of holy prophet was addressed to its sinners. And what theministers spoke to classes from the pulpit, Thomas, whose mode ofteaching was in so far Socratic that he singled out his man, applied tothe individual--in language occasionally too much to the point to admitof repetition in the delicate ears of the readers of the nineteenthcentury, some of whom are on such friendly terms with the vicesthemselves, that they are shocked at the vulgarity and rudeness of the_names_ given them by their forefathers. 

"Ye ken weel eneuch that ye're a drucken vratch, Peter Peterson. An' yeken weel eneuch that ye're nane better, forbye, than ye sud be. Naebodyever accused ye o' stealin'; but gin ye haud on as ye're doin', that'llcome neist. But I doobt the wrath o' the Almichty'll be doon upo' 'slike a spate, as it was i' the days o' Noah, afore ye hae time to learnto steal, Peter Peterson. Ye'll hae _your_ share in bringin'destruction upo' this toon, and a' its belongin's. The verra kirk-yardwinna hide ye that day frae the wrath o' Him that sitteth upo' thethrone. Tak' ye tent, and repent, Peter; or it'll be the waur for ye. "

The object of this terrible denunciation of the wrath of the Almightywas a wretched little object indeed, just like a white rabbit--withpink eyes, a grey face and head, poor thin legs, a long tail-coat thatcame nearly to his heels, an awfully ragged pair of trowsers, and aliver charred with whisky. He had kept a whisky-shop till he had drunkall his own whisky; and as no distiller would let him have any ontrust, he now hung about the inn-yard, and got a penny from one, andtwopence from another, for running errands. --Had they been sovereignsthey would all have gone the same way--namely, for whisky. 

He listened to Thomas with a kind of dazed meekness, his eyes wanderingeverywhere except in the direction of Thomas's. One who did not knowThomas would have thought it cowardly in him to attack such a poorcreature. But Thomas was just as ready to fly at the greatest man inGlamerton. All the evildoers of the place feared him--the richmanufacturer and the strong horse-doctor included. They called him awheezing, canting hypocrite, and would go streets out of their way toavoid him. 

But on the present occasion he went too far with Peter. 

"And it's weel kent your dochter Bauby's no better nor she sud be;for--"

Peter's face flushed crimson, though where the blood could have comefrom was an anatomical mystery; he held up his hands with the fingerscrooked like the claws of an animal, for the poor creature had nonotion of striking; and, dancing backwards and forwards from one footto the other, and grinning with set teeth in an agony of impotent rage, cried out:

"Tam Crann, gin ye daur to say anither word against my Bauby wi' thatfoul mou' o' yours, I'll--I'll--I'll--worry ye like a mad dog�yeill-tongued scoonrel!"

His Bawby had already had two children--one to the rich manufacturer, the other to the strong horse-doctor. 

Thomas turned in silence and went away rebuked and ashamed. Next day hesent Peter a pair of old corduroy trowsers, into either leg of which hemight have been buttoned like one of Paddy's twins. 

In the midst of this commotion of mind and speech, good Mr Cowie died. He had taken no particular interest in what was going on, nor even inthe prophecies themselves. Ever since Annie's petition for counsel, hehad been thinking, as he had never thought before, about his ownrelation to God; and had found this enough without the prophecies. Nowhe had carried his thoughts into another world. While Thomas Crann wasbending his spiritual artillery upon the poor crazy tub in whichfloated the earthly presence of Peter Peterson, Mr Cowie's bark waslying stranded upon that shore whither the tide of time is slowlydrifting each of us. 

He was gently regretted by all--even by Thomas. 

"Ay! ay!" he said, with slow emphasis, 'long drawn out'; "he's gane, ishe, honest man? Weel, maybe he had the root o' the maitter in him, although it made unco little show aboon the yird. There was sma' flowerand less fruit. But jeedgment disna belang to us, ye see, Jean, lass. "

Thomas would judge the living from morning to night; but the dead--hewould leave them alone in the better hands. 

"I'm thinkin', " he added, "he's been taen awa' frae the evil tocome--frae seein' the terrible consequences o' sic a saft way o'dealin' wi' eternal trowth and wi' perishin' men--taen awa' like Eli, whan he brak his neck at the ill news. For the fire and brimstane thatoverthrew Sodom and Gomorrha, is, I doobt, hingin' ower this toon, ready to fa' and smore us a'. "

"Hoot! hoot! dinna speyk sic awfu' words, Thamas, Ye're nae the prophetJonah, ye ken. "

"Are ye the whaul than, to swallow me and my words thegither, Jean? Itell ye the wrath o' God _maun_ be roused against this toon, for it'sbeen growin' waur and waur for mony a year; till the verra lasses areno to be lippent oot them-lanes (alone). "

"What ken ye aboot the lasses, Thamas? Haud ye to the men. The lassesare nae waur nor in ither pairts. I wat I can come and gang whan andwhaur I like. Never a body says a word to me. "

This was true but hardly significant; seeing Jean had one shoulder andone eye twice the size of the others, to say nothing of variousobliquities and their compensations. But, rude as Thomas was, he wasgentleman enough to confine his reply to a snort and a silence. For hadhe not chosen his housekeeper upon the strength of those personalrecommendations of the defensive importance of which she was herselfunaware?

Except his own daughters there was no one who mourned so deeply for theloss of Mr Cowie as Annie Anderson. She had left his church and gone tothe missionars, and there found more spiritual nourishment than MrCowie's sermons could supply, but she could not forget his kisses, orhis gentle words, or his shilling, for by their means, although she didnot know it, Mr Cowie's self had given her a more confiding notion ofGod, a better feeling of his tenderness, than she could have had fromall Mr Turnbull's sermons together. What equal gift could a man give?Was it not worth bookfuls of sound doctrine? Yet the good man, notknowing this, had often looked back to that interview, and reproachedhimself bitterly that he, so long a clergyman of that parish, had nohelp to give the only child who ever came to him to ask such help. So, when he lay on his death-bed, he sent for Annie, the only soul, out ofall his pariah, over which he felt that he had any pastoral cure. 

When, with pale, tearful face, she entered his chamber, she found himsupported with pillows in his bed. He stretched out his arms to herfeebly, but held her close to his bosom, and wept. 

"I'm going to die, Annie, " he said. 

"And go to heaven, sir, to the face o' God, " said Annie, not sobbing, but with the tears streaming silently down her face. 

"I don't know, Annie. I've been of no use; and I'm afraid God does notcare much for me. "

"If God loves you half as much as I do, sir, ye'll be well off inheaven. And I'm thinkin' he maun love ye mair nor me. For, ye see, sir, God's love itsel'. "

"I don't know, Annie. But if ever I win there, which'll be more than Ideserve, I'll tell him about you, and ask him to give you the help thatI couldn't give you. "

Love and Death make us all children. --Can Old Age be an evil thing, which does the same?

The old clergyman had thought himself a good Protestant at least, buteven his Protestantism was in danger now. Happily Protestantism wasnothing to him now. Nothing but God would do now. 

Annie had no answer but what lay in her tears. He called his daughter, who stood weeping in the room. She came near. 

"Bring my study Bible, " he said to her feebly. 

She went and brought it--a large quarto Bible. 

"Here, Annie, " said the dying man, "here's my Bible that I've made butower little use o' mysel'. Promise me, if ever ye have a house o' yourown, that ye'll read out o' that book every day at worship. I want younot to forget me, as, if all's well, I shall never forget you. "

"That _will_ I, sir, " responded Annie earnestly. 

"And ye'll find a new five-pound note between the leaves. Take it, formy sake. "

Money! Ah, well! Love can turn gold into grace. 

"Yes, sir, " answered Annie, feeling this was no time for objecting toanything. 

"And good-bye, Annie. I can't speak more. "

He drew her to him again, and kissed her for the last time. Then heturned his face to the wall, and Annie went home weeping, with thegreat Bible in her arms. 

In the inadvertence of grief, she ran into the shop. 

"What hae ye gotten there, lassie?" said Bruce, as sharply as if shemight have stolen it. 

"Mr Cowie gave me his Bible, 'cause he's dein' himsel', and doesna wantit ony langer, " answered Annie. 

"Lat's luik at it. "

Annie gave it up with reluctance. 

"It's a braw buik, and bonnie buirds--though gowd an' purple maitterslittle to the Bible. We'll jist lay't upo' the room-table, an' we'llhae worship oot o' 't whan ony body's wi' 's, ye ken. "

"I want it mysel', " objected Annie, in dismay, for although she did notthink of the money at the moment, she had better reasons for not likingto part with the book. 

"Ye can hae't when ye want it. That's eneuch, surely. "

Annie could hardly think his saying so enough, however, seeing the doorof _the room_ was kept locked, and Mrs Bruce, patient woman as she was, would have boxed any one's ears whom she met coming from within thesacred precincts. 

CHAPTER LIV. 

Before the next Sunday Mr Cowie was dead; and, through some mistake ormismanagement, there was no one to preach. So the congregation did eachas seemed right in his own eyes; and Mrs Forbes went to the missionarkirk in the evening to hear Mr Turnbull. Kate and Alec accompanied her. 

By this time Robert Bruce had become a great man in thecommunity--after his own judgment at least; for although, with a fewexceptions, the missionars yielded him the influence he sought, nobodyrespected him; they only respected his money. He had managed to secureone of the most fashionable pews in the chapel; and now when MrsForbes's party entered, and a little commotion arose in consequence, they being more of gentlefolk than the place was accustomed toentertain, Bruce was the first to walk from his seat, and request themto occupy his pew. Alec would have passed on, for he disliked the man, but Mrs Forbes having reasons for being complaisant, accepted hisoffer. Colds kept the rest of the Bruces at home, and Annie was theonly other occupant of the pew. She crept up to the top of it, like alittle shy mouse, to be as far out of the way as possible. 

"Come oot, Annie, " said Bruce, in a loud whisper. 

Annie came out, with a warm flush over her pale face, and Mrs Forbesentered, then Kate, and last of all, Alec, much against his will. ThenAnnie re-entered, and Bruce resumed his place as Cerberus of thepew-door. So Annie was seated next to Alec, as she had never been, inchurch or chapel, or even in school, before, except on that memorableday when they were both _kept in_ for the Shorter Catechism. But Anniehad no feeling of delight and awe like that with which Alec sat closeto his beautiful cousin. She had a feeling of pleasure, no doubt, butthe essence of the pleasure was faith. She trusted him and believed inhim as much as she had ever done. In the end, those who trust most willfind they are nearest the truth. But Annie had no philosophy, eitherworldly or divine. She had only common sense, gentleness, andfaithfulness. She was very glad, though, that Alec had come to hear MrTurnbull, who knew the right way better than anybody else, and couldshow it quite as well as Evangelist in the _Pilgrim's Progress_. 

Nor was she far wrong in her judgment of the height of Mr Turnbull'sstar, calculated from the horizon of Glamerton. He was a good man whoventured to think for himself--as far as that may be possible for oneupon whose spirit have converged, even before he was born, theinfluences of a thousand theological ancestors. 

After reading the curses on Mount Ebal, he preached an eloquent sermonfrom the text:

"Thou art wearied in the greatness of thy way; yet saidst thou not'there is no hope. '"

He showed his hearers that they had all been seeking satisfaction intheir own pursuits, in the pride of their own way; that they had beendisappointed, even to weariness; and that yet, such was theirperversity, they would not acknowledge the hopelessness of the pursuit, and turn to that God who was ready to pardon, and in whose courts a daywould give them more delight than a thousand in the tents ofwickedness. And opening his peroration by presumptuously appropriatingthe words of the Saviour, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, it shall bemore tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrha, in that day, than for you, " thepreacher concluded with a terrible denunciation of wrath upon thesinners who had been called and would not come. "Woe unto you, for yewould not be warned! Woe unto you, for ye knew your Lord's will, andyet committed things worthy of stripes! Therefore your whip shall beone of scorpions! Woe unto you! I say; for, when the bridegroom cometh, ye shall knock in vain at the closed door; ye shall stand without, andlisten for a brief moment to the music and dancing within--listen withlonging hearts, till the rush of coming wings overpowers the blissfulsounds, and the angels of vengeance sweep upon you, and bearing youafar through waste regions, cast you into outer darkness, where shallbe weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, to the endless ages of adivine eternity. "

With these words the preacher burst into impassioned prayer for thesouls which he saw exposed to a hell of which he himself knew not thehorrors, else he dared not have preached it; a hell the smoke of whosetorments would arise and choke the elect themselves about the throne ofGod--the hell of Exhausted Mercy. 

As long as the stream of eloquence flowed the eyes of the congregationwere fixed upon the preacher in breathless silence. When it ceased theysank, and a sigh of exhaustion and relief arose. In that ugly building, amidst that weary praying and inharmonious singing, with that blatanttone, and, worse than all, that merciless doctrine, there was yet_preaching_--that rare speech of a man to his fellow-men whereby intheir inmost hearts they know that he in his inmost heart believes. There was hardly an indifferent countenance in all that wide spacebeneath, in all those far-sloping galleries above. Every consciencehung out the red or pale flag. 

When Alec ventured to look up, as he sat down after the prayer, he sawthe eyes of Thomas Crann, far away in the crowd, fixed on him. And hefelt their force, though not in the way Thomas intended. Thomas nevermeant to dart _personal_ reproaches across the house of God; but Alec'sconscience told him nevertheless, stung by that glance, that he hadbehaved ill to his old friend. Nor did this lessen the general feelingwhich the sermon had awakened in his mind, un-self-conscious as it was, that something ought to be done; that something was wrong in himsomewhere; that it ought to be set right somehow--a feeling which everyone in the pew shared, except one. His heart was so moth-eaten andrusty, with the moths and the rust which Mammon brings with him when hecomes in to abide with a man, that there was not enough of it left tomake the terrible discovery that the rest of it was gone. Its owner didnot know that there was anything amiss with it. What power can empty, sweep, and garnish such a heart? Or what seven devils entering in, canmake the last state of that man worse than the first?

A special prayer-meeting having been appointed, to be held after thesermon, Robert Bruce remained, to join in the intercession for thewicked town and its wicked neighbourhood. He even "engaged in prayer, "for the first time in public, and astonished some of the older membersby his gift in devotion. He had been received into the church only aweek or two before, upon profession of faith in the merits of Christ, not in Christ himself--that would not have been definite enough forthem. But it would have been all the same to Robert Bruce, for he wasready to believe that he believed anything advantageous. 

There had been one or two murmurs against his reception, and he hadbeen several times visited and talked with, before the Church wassatisfied as to his conversion. But nothing was known against himbeyond the fact that "he luikit at baith sides o' a bawbee;" and havinglearned many of their idioms, he had succeeded in persuading hisexaminers, and had possibly persuaded himself at the same time, that hehad passed through all the phases of conversion, including conviction, repentance, and final acceptance of offered mercy on the termsproposed, and was now undergoing the slow and troublesome process ofsanctification; in corroboration of which he went on to produce talk, and coppers at the chapel-door. Good people as many of those were whothus admitted him to their communion, in the full belief that none butconscious Christians should enjoy that privilege, his reputation forwealth had yet something to do with it. Probably they thought that ifthe gospel proved mighty in this new disciple, more of his money mightbe accessible by and by for good purposes: amongst the rest, forsending missionaries to the heathen, teaching them to divorce theirwives and wear trowsers. And now he had been asked to pray, and hadprayed with much propriety and considerable unction. To be sure TibbieDyster did sniff a good deal during the performance; but then that wasa way she had of relieving her feelings, next best to that of speakingher mind. 

When the meeting was over, Robert Bruce, Thomas Crann, and JamesJohnstone, who was one of the deacons, walked away together. Verylittle conversation took place between them, for no subject but areligious one was admissible; and the religious feelings of those whohad any were pretty nearly exhausted. Bruce's, however, were not in theleast exhausted. On the contrary, he was so pleased to find that hecould pray as well as any of them, and the excitement of doing sobefore judges had been so new and pleasant to him, that he thought heshould like to try it again. He thought, too, of the grand Bible lyingup there on the room-table. 

"Come in, sirs, " he said, as they approached his door, "and tak' apairt in our faimily worship; and sae the day'll gang oot wi' prayer, as it cam in wi' prayer. And the Lord'll maybe hae mercy upo' 's, andno destroy the place, shops an' a', for the sins o' theinhaibitants--them 'at sees, for them 'at 's blin'. "

Neither of his companions felt much inclined to accede to his request:they both yielded notwithstanding. He conducted them up-stairs, unlocked the musty room, pulled up the blinds, and admitted enough oflingering light for the concluding devotions of the day. He thenproceeded to gather his family together, calling them one by one. 

"Mother!" he cried, from the top of the stair, meaning his wife. 

"Tea, father, " answered Mrs Bruce. 

"Come to worship. --Robert!"

"Ay, father. "

"Come to worship. --Johnnie!"

And so he went through the family roll-call, as if it were a part ofsome strange liturgy. When all had entered and seated themselves, thehead of the house went slowly to the side-table, took from itreverentially the late minister's study Bible, sat down by the window, laid the book on his knees, and solemnly opened it. 

Now a five-pound note is not thick enough to make a big Bible openbetween the pages where it is laid; but the note might very well havebeen laid in at a place where the Bible was in the habit of opening. "Without an instant's hesitation, Robert slipped it away, and crumplingit up in his hand, gave out the twenty-third psalm, over which it hadlain, and read it through. Finding it too short, however, for therespectability of worship, he went on with the twenty-fourth, turningthe leaf with thumb and forefinger, while the rest of the fingersclasped the note tight in his palm, and reading as he turned, "He that hath clean hands and a pure heart--"

As soon as he had finished this psalm, he closed the book with a snap;feeling which to have been improper, he put an additional compensatingsolemnity into the tone in which he said:

"Thomas Crann, will you engage in prayer?"

"Pray yersel', " answered Thomas gruffly. 

Whereupon Robert rose, and, kneeling down, did pray himself. 

But Thomas, instead of leaning forward on his chair when he knelt, glanced sharply round at Bruce. He had seen him take something from theBible, and crumple it up in his hand but would not have felt anyinclination to speculate about it, had it not been for the peculiarlykeen expression of eager surprise and happy greed which came over hisface in the act. Having seen that, and being always more or lesssuspicious of Bruce, he wanted to know more; and was thus led into anaction of which he would not have believed it possible he should everbe guilty. 

He saw Bruce take advantage of the posture of devotion which he hadassumed, to put something into his pocket unseen of his guests, as hebelieved. 

When worship was over, Bruce did not ask them to slay to supper. Prayers did not involve expense; supper did. But Thomas at least couldnot have stayed longer. 

He left his friends and went home pondering. The devotions of the daywere not to be concluded for him with any social act of worship. He hadmany anxious prayers yet to offer before his heart would be quiet insleep. Especially there was Alec to be prayed for, and his dawtie, Annie; and in truth the whole town of Glamerton, and the surroundingparishes--and Scotland, and the world. Indeed sometimes Thomas wentfurther, and although it is not reported of him that he ever prayed forthe devil, as that worthiest of Scotch clergymen prayed, he yet didsomething very like it once or twice, when he prayed for "the hailluniverse o' God, an' a' the bein's in't, up and doon, that we ken uncolittle about. "

CHAPTER LV. 

The next morning Kate and Alec rose early, to walk before breakfast tothe top of one of the hills, through a young larch-wood which coveredit from head to foot. The morning was cool, and the sun exultant as agood child. The dew-diamonds were flashing everywhere, none the lesslovely that they were fresh-made that morning. The lark's song was acantata with the sun and the wind and the larch-odours, in short, thewhole morning for the words. How the larks did sing that morning! Theonly clouds were long pale delicate streaks of lovely gradations ingray; here mottled, there swept into curves. It was just the morning torouse a wild longing for motion, for the sea and its shore, for endlesstravel through an endless region of grace and favour, the sun rising nohigher, the dew lingering on every blade, and the lark never wearyingfor his nest. Kate longed for some infinitude of change withoutvicissitude--ceaseless progress towards a goal endlessly removed! Shedid not know that the door into that life might have been easier tofind in that ugly chapel than even here in the vestibule of heaven. 

"My nurse used to call the lark 'Our Lady's hen, '" said Kate. 

"How pretty!" answered Alec, and had no more to say. 

"Are the people of Glamerton very wicked, Alec?" asked Kate, makinganother attempt to rouse a conversation. 

"I'm sure I don't know, " answered Alec. "I suppose they're no worsethan other people. "

"I thought from Mr Turnbull's sermon that they must be a great dealworse. "

"Oh! they all preach like that--except good Mr Cowie, and he's dead. "

"Do you think he knew better than the rest of them?"

"I don't know that. But the missionars do know something that otherpeople don't know. And that Mr Turnbull always speaks as if he were inearnest. "

"Yes, he does. "

"But there's that fellow Bruce!"

"Do you mean the man that put us into his seat?"

"Yes. I _can't_ think what makes my mother so civil to him. "

"Why shouldn't she be?"

"Well, you see--I can't bear him. And I can't understand my mother. It's not like her. "

In a moment more they were in a gentle twilight of green, flashed withstreaks of gold. A forest of delicate young larches crowded them in, their rich brown cones hanging like the knops that looped up their darkgarments fringed with paler green. 

And the scent! What a thing to _invent_--the smell of a larch wood! Itis the essence of the earth-odour, distilled in the thousand-foldalembics of those feathery trees. And the light winds that awoke blewmurmurous music, so sharply and sweetly did that keen foliage dividethe air. 

Having gazed their fill on the morning around them, they returned tobreakfast, and after breakfast they went down to the river. They stoodon the bank, over one of the deepest pools, in the bottom of which thepebbles glimmered brown. Kate gazed into it abstracted, fascinated, swinging her neckerchief in her hand. Something fell into the water. 

"Oh!" she cried, "what shall I do? It was my mother's. "

The words were scarcely out of her mouth when Alec was in the water. Bubbles rose and broke as he vanished. Kate did not scream, but stood, pale, with parted lips, staring into the pool. With a boiling andheaving of the water, he rose triumphant, holding up the brooch. Kategave a cry and threw herself on the grass. When Alec reached her, shelay sobbing, and would not lift her head. 

"You are very unkind, Alec, " she said at last, looking up. "What willyour mother say?"

And she hid her face and began to sob afresh. 

"It was your mother's brooch, " answered Alec. 

"Yes, yes; but we could have got it out somehow. "

"No other how. --I would have done that for any girl. You don't knowwhat I would do for _you_, Kate. "

"You shouldn't have frightened me. I had been thinking how greedy thepool looked, " said Kate, rising now, as if she dared not remain longerbeside it. 

"I didn't mean to frighten you, Kate. I never thought of it. I amalmost a water-rat. "

"And now you'll get your death of cold. Come along. "

Alec laughed. He was in no hurry to go home. But she seized his handand half-dragged him all the way. He had never been so happy in hislife. 

Kate had cried because he had jumped into the water!

That night they had a walk in the moonlight. It was all moon--the airwith the mooncore in it; the trees confused into each other by thesleep of her light; the bits of water, so many moons over again; theflowers, all pale phantoms of flowers: the whole earth, transfused withreflex light, was changed into a moon-ghost of its former self. Theywere walking in the moon-world. 

The silence and the dimness sank into Alec's soul, and it became silentand dim too. The only sound was the noise of the river, quenched inthat light to the sleepy hush of moon-haunted streams. 

Kate felt that she had more room now. And yet the scope of her visionwas less, for the dusk had closed in around her. 

She had ampler room because the Material had retired as behind a veil, leaving the Immaterial less burdened, and the imagination more free towork its will. The Spiritual is ever putting on material garments; butin the moonlight, the Material puts on spiritual garments. 

Kate sat down at the foot of an old tree which stood alone in one ofthe fields. Alec threw himself on the grass, and looked up in her face, which was the spirit-moon shining into his world, and drowning it indreams. --The Arabs always call their beautiful women _moons_. --Kate satas silent as the moon in heaven, which rained down silence. And Aleclay gazing at Kate, till silence gave birth to speech:

"Oh Kate! How I love you!" he said. 

Kate started. She was frightened. Her mind had been full of gentlethoughts. Yet she laid her hand on his arm and accepted the love. --Buthow?

"You dear boy!" she said. 

Perhaps Kate's answer was the best she could have given. But it stungAlec to the heart, and they went home in a changed silence. --Theresolution she came to upon the way was not so good as her answer. 

She did not love Alec so. He could not understand her; she could notlook up to him. But he was only a boy, and therefore would not suffermuch. He would forget her as soon as she was out of his sight. So as hewas a very dear boy, she would be as kind to him as ever she could, forshe was going away soon. 

She did not see that Alec would either take what she gave for more thanshe gave, or else turn from it as no gift at all. 

When they reached the house, Alec, recovering himself a little, requested her to sing. She complied at once, and was foolish enough tosing the following

 BALLAD. 

 It is May, and the moon leans down all night Over a blossomy land. By her window sits the lady white, With her chin upon her hand. 

 "O sing to me, dear nightingale, The song of a year ago; I have had enough of longing and wail, Enough of heart-break and woe. 

 O glimmer on me, my apple-tree, Like living flakes of snow; Let odour and moonlight and melody In the old rich harmony flow. "

 The dull odours stream; the cold blossoms gleam; And the bird will not be glad. The dead never speak when the living dream-- They are too weak and sad. 

 She listened and sate, till night grew late, Bound by a weary spell. Then a face came in at the garden-gate, And a wondrous thing befell. 

 Up rose the joy as well as the love, In the song, in the scent, in the show! The moon grew glad in the sky above, The blossom grew rosy below. 

 The blossom and moon, the scent and the tune, In ecstasy rise and fall. But they had no thanks for the granted boon, For the lady forgot them all. 

There was no light in the room except that of the shining air. Alec satlistening, as if Kate were making and meaning the song. Butnotwithstanding the enchantment of the night, all rosy in the red glowof Alec's heart; notwithstanding that scent of gilly-flowers andsweet-peas stealing like love through every open door and window;notwithstanding the radiance of her own beauty, Kate was only singing asong. It is sad to have all the love and all the mystery tooneself--the other being the centre of the glory, and yet far beyondits outmost ring, sitting on a music-stool at a common pianoold-fashioned and jingling, not in fairyland at all in fact, or evenbelieving in its presence. 

But that night the moon was in a very genial humour, and gave her lightplentiful and golden. She would even dazzle a little, if one looked ather too hard. Sho could not dazzle Tibbie though, who was seated withAnnie on the pale green grass, with the moon about them in the air andbeneath them in the water. 

"Ye say it's a fine munelicht nicht, Annie. "

"Ay, 'deed is't. As bonnie a nicht as ever I saw. "

"Weel, it jist passes my comprehension--hoo ye can see, whan the air'slike this. I' the winter ye canna see, for it's aye cauld whan thesun's awa; and though it's no cauld the nicht, I fin' that there's nolicht i' the air--there's a differ; it's deid-like. But the soun' o'the water's a' the same, and the smell o' some o' the flowers isbonnier i' the nicht nor i' the day. That's a' verra weel. But hoo yecan see whan the sun's awa, I say again, jist passes my comprehension. "

"It's the mune, ye ken, Tibbie. "

"Weel, what's the mune? I dinna fin' 't. It mak's no impress upo'me. --Ye _canna_ see sae weel's ye say, lass!" exclaimed Tibbie, atlength, in a triumph of incredulity and self assertion. 

"Weel, gin ye winna believe me o' yer ain free will, Tibbie, I maunjist gar ye, " said Annie. And she rose, and running into the cottage, fetched from it a small pocket Bible. 

"Noo, ye jist hearken, Tibbie, " she said, as she returned. And, openingthe Bible, she read one of Tibbie's favourite chapters, rather slowlyno doubt, but with perfect correctness. 

"Weel, lassie, I canna mak heid or tail o' 't. "

"I'll tell ye, Tibbie, what the mune aye minds me o'. The face o' God'slike the sun, as ye hae tellt me; for no man cud see him and live. "

"That's no sayin', ye ken, " interposed Tibbie, "that we canna see himefter we're deid. "

"But the mune, " continued Annie, disregarding Tibbie's interruption, "maun be like the face o' Christ, for it gies licht and ye can luik atit notwithstandin'. The mune's jist like the sun wi' the ower-muckletaen oot o' 't. Or like Moses wi' the veil ower's face, ye ken. Thefowk cudna luik at him till he pat the veil on. "

"Na, na, lass; that winna do; for ye ken his coontenance was as the sunshineth in his strenth. "

"Ay, but that was efter the resurrection, ye ken. I'm thinkin' therehad been a kin' o' a veil ower his face a' the time he was upo' theearth; and syne whan he gaed whaur there war only heavenly een to luikat him, een that could bide it, he took it aff. "

"Weel, I wadna wonner. Maybe ye're richt. And gin ye _be_ richt, thataccounts for the Transfiguration. He jist lifted the veil aff o' 'm awee, and the glory aneath it lap oot wi' a leme like the lichtnin'. Butthat munelicht! I can mak naething o' 't. "

"Weel, Tibbie, I canna mak you oot ony mair nor ye can the munelicht. Whiles ye appear to ken a' thing aboot the licht, an' ither whilesye're clean i' the dark. "

"Never ye min' me, lass. I s' be i' the licht some day. Noo we'll gangin to the hoose. "

CHAPTER LVI. 

Murdoch Malison, the schoolmaster, was appointed to preach in theparish church the following Sunday. He had never preached there, for hehad been no favourite with Mr Cowie. Now, however, that the good manwas out of the way, they gave him a chance, and he caught at it, thoughnot without some misgivings. In the school-desk, "he was like a maisteror a pope;" but the pulpit--how would he fill that? Two resolutions hecame to; the first that he would not read his sermon, but _commit_ itand deliver it as like the extempore utterance of which he wasincapable as might be--a piece of falsehood entirely understood, andjustified by Scotch custom; the second, to take rather more than a hintfrom the fashion of preaching now so much in favour amongst theseceders and missionars: he would be a _Jupiter tonans_, wielding theforked lightnings of the law against the sins of Glamerton. 

So, on the appointed day, having put on a new suit of black, and thegown over it, he ascended the pulpit stairs, and, conscious of astrange timidity, gave out the psalm. He cast one furtive glancearound, as he took his seat for the singing, and saw a number of formeras well as present pupils gathered to hear him, amongst whom were thetwo Truffeys, with their grandfather seated between them. He gotthrough the prayer very well, for he was accustomed to that kind ofthing in the school. But when he came to the sermon, he found that tohear boys repeat their lessons and punish them for failure, did notnecessarily stimulate the master's own memory. 

He gave out his text: The Book of the Prophet Joel, first chapter, fourth verse. Joel, first and fourth. "That which the palmer-worm hathleft, hath the locust eaten; and that which the locust hath left, haththe canker-worm eaten; and that which the canker-worm hath left, haththe caterpillar eaten. "

Now if he could have read his sermon, it would have shown itself a mostcreditable invention. It had a general introduction upon the temporalpunishment of sin; one head entitled, "The completeness of theinfliction;" and another, "The punishment of which this is the type;"the latter showing that those little creeping things were not to becompared to the great creeping thing, namely, the worm that never dies. These two heads had a number of horns called _particulars_; and a tailcalled an _application_, in which the sins of his hearers were dulychastised, with vague and awful threats of some vengeance not confinedto the life to come, but ready to take present form in such a judgmentas that described in the text. 

But he had resolved not to read his sermon. So he began to repeat it, with sweeps of the hands, pointings of the fingers, and other suchtricks of second-rate actors, to aid the self-delusion of his hearersthat it was a genuine present outburst from the soul of MurdochMalison. For they all knew as well as he did, that his sermon was only"cauld kail het again. " But some family dishes--Irish stew, forexample, or Scotch broth--may be better the second day than the first;and where was the harm? All concerned would have been perfectlycontent, if he had only gone on as he began. But, as he approached thesecond head, the fear suddenly flashed through his own that he wouldnot be able to recall it; and that moment all the future of his sermonwas a blank. He stammered, stared, did nothing, thought nothing--onlyfelt himself in hell. Roused by the sight of the faces of his hearersgrowing suddenly expectant at the very moment when he had nothing moreto give them, he gathered his seven fragmentary wits, and as a lastresort, to which he had had a vague regard in putting his manuscript inhis pocket, resolved to read the remainder. But in order to give thechange of mode an appearance of the natural and suitable, he managedwith a struggle to bring out the words:

"But, my brethren, let us betake ourselves to the written testimony. "

Every one concluded he was going to quote from Scripture; but insteadof turning over the leaves of the Bible, he plunged his hand into theabysses of his coat. Horror of horrors for the poor autocrat!--thepocket was as empty as his own memory; in fact it was a mere typicalpocket, typical of the brains of its owner. The cold dew of agony brokeover him; he turned deadly pale; his knees smote one another; but hemade yet, for he was a man of strong will, a final frantic effort tobring his discourse down the inclined plane of a conclusion. 

"In fine, " he stammered "my beloved brethren, if you do not repent andbe converted and return to the Lord, you will--you will--you will havea very bad harvest. "

Having uttered this solemn prediction, of the import of which he, likesome other prophets, knew nothing before he uttered it, Murdoch Malisonsat down, _a stickit minister_. His brain was a vacuum; and the thoughtof standing up again to pray was intolerable. No more could he sitthere; for if he sat, the people would sit too. Something must be done, and there was nobody to do anything. He must get out and then thepeople would go home. But how could he escape? He durst not go downthat pulpit stair in the sight of the congregation. --He cared no morefor his vanished reputation. His only thought was how to get out. 

Meantime the congregation was variously affected. Some held down theirheads and laughed immoderately. These were mostly of Mr Malison'sscholars, the fine edge of whose nature, if it ever had any, hadvanished under the rasp of his tortures. Even Alec, who, with others ofthe assembly, held down his head from sympathetic shame, could not helpremembering how the master had made Annie Anderson stand upon the form, and believing for the time in a general retribution in kind. 

Andrew Truffey was crying bitterly. His sobs were heard through thechurch, and some took them for the sobs of Murdoch Malison, who hadshrunk into the pulpit like a snail into its shell, so that not an atomof his form was to be seen except from the side-galleries. The maidendaughter of the late schoolmaster gave a shriek, and went into a smallfit; after which an awful, quite sepulchral silence reigned for a fewmoments, broken only by those quivering sobs from Truffey, whom hisgrandfather was feebly and ineffectually shaking. 

At length the precentor, George Macwha, who had for some time beenturning over the leaves of his psalm-book, came to the rescue. He rosein the lectern and gave out _The hundred and fifty-first psalm_. Thecongregation could only find a hundred and fifty, and took the last ofthe psalms for the one meant. But George, either from old spite againstthe tormentor of boys and girls, or from mere coincidence--he neverrevealed which--had chosen in reality a part of the _fifty-first_psalm. 

"The hunner an' fifty-first psalm, " repeated George, "from the fifteentverse. An' syne we'll gang hame. 

 My closed lips, O Lord, by thee, Let them be opened. "

As soon as the singing was over, George left the desk, and thecongregation following his example, went straggling out of the church, and home, to wait with doubtful patience for the broth which as yetcould taste only of onions and the stone that scoured the pot. 

As soon as the sounds of retiring footsteps were heard no more in thegreat echoing church, uprose, like one of Dante's damned out of atorture-tomb, the form of Murdoch Malison, above the edge of thepulpit. With face livid as that of a corpse, he gave a scared lookaround, and not seeing little Truffey concealed behind one of thepillars, concluded the place empty, and half crawled, half tumbled downthe stair to the vestry, where the sexton was waiting him. It did notrestore his lost composure to discover, in searching for hishandkerchief, that the encumbrance of the gown had made him put hishand ten times into the same pocket, instead of five times into each, and that in the other his manuscript lay as safe as it had beenuseless. 

But he took his gown off very quietly, put on his coat and forgot thebands, bade the old sexton a gentle _good day_, and stole away homethrough the streets. He had wanted to get out, and now he wanted to getin; for he felt very much as Lady Godiva would have felt if her hair orher heroism had proved unworthy of confidence. 

Poor Murdoch had no mother and no wife; he could not go home and becomforted. Nor was he a youth, to whom a first failure might be ofsmall consequence. He was five and forty, and his head was sprinkledwith grey; he was schoolmaster, and everybody knew him; he had boysunder him. As he walked along the deserted streets, he felt that he wasrunning the gauntlet of scorn; but every one who saw him coming alongwith his head sunk on his bosom, drew back from the window till he hadgone by. Returning to the window to look after him, they saw, abouttwenty yards behind him, a solitary little figure, with the tearsrunning down its face, stumping slowly step by step, and keeping thesame distance, after the dejected master. 

When Mr Malison went into the vestry, Truffey had gone into the porch, and there staid till he passed on his way home. Then with stealthilyset crutch, putting it down as the wild beast sets down his michingpaw, out sprang Truffey and after the master. But however silentlyTruffey might use his third leg, the master heard the _stump stump_behind him, and felt that he was followed home every foot of the way bythe boy whom he had crippled. He felt, too, in some dim degree whichyet had practical results, that the boy was taking divine vengeanceupon him, heaping on his head the coals of that consuming fire which islove, which is our God. And when the first shame was over, the thoughtof Truffey came back with healing on his lonely heart. 

When he reached his own door, he darted in and closed it behind, as ifto shut out the whole world through which he had passed with thatburden of contempt upon his degraded shoulders. He was more ashamed ofhis failure than he had been sorry for laming Truffey. But the shamewould pass; the sorrow would endure. 

Meantime two of his congregation, sisters, poor old _mutched wifies_, were going home together. They were distantly related to theschoolmaster, whom they regarded as the honour of the family, as theirbond of relation with the world above them in general and with thepriesthood in particular. So when Elspeth addressed Meg with referenceto the sermon in a manner which showed her determination to acknowledgeno failure, Meg took her cue directly. 

"Eh! woman; it's a sair ootluik for puir fowk like us, gin things begaein that gait!"

"And 'deed it's that, lass! Gin the hairst be gaein to the moles andthe bats, it's time we war awa hame; for it'll be a cauld winter. "

"Ay, that it will! The minister was sair owercome at the prospec', honest man. It was a' he cud do, to win at the en' o' his discoorse ohngrutten ootricht. "

"He sees into the will o' the Almichty. He's far ben wi' Him--that'sverra clear. "

"Ay, lass, ay. "

And hence, by slow degrees, in the middle of the vague prophecies ofvengeance gathered a more definite kernel of prediction, believed bysome, disbelieved, yet feared, by others--that the harvest would be soeaten of worms and blasted with smut, that bread would be up to famineprices, and the poor would die of starvation. 

But still the flowers came out and looked men in the face and went inagain; and still the sun shone on the evil and on the good, and stillthe rain fell on the just and on the unjust. 

And still the denunciations from the pulpits went on; but the humansouls thus exposed to the fires seemed only to harden under theirinfluences. 

CHAPTER LVII. 

Before the period of Kate's visit arrived, a letter from ProfessorFraser, to the purport that if Mrs Forbes did not mind keeping Kate alittle longer he would be greatly indebted to her, came to Alec like areprieve from execution. And the _little longer_ lengthened into thelate harvest of that country. 

The summer shone on, and the corn grew, green and bonnie. And Alec'slove grew with the corn; and Kate liked him better and better, but wasnot a whit more inclined to fall in love with him. 

One night, after the house was quiet, Alec, finding he could not sleep, rose and went out to play the ghost a while. It was a sultry night. Great piles of cloud were heaped up in the heavens. The moon gleamedand vanished by fits, looking old and troubled when she sighed herselfout of a cloud. 

"There's a storm coming, " said Alec to himself; and watched and waited. There was no wind below. The leaves of the black poplar, so ready totremble, hung motionless; and not a bat came startling on its unheardskinny wing. But ere long a writhing began in the clouds overhead, andthey were twisted and torn about the moon. Then came a blinding flash, and a roar of thunder, followed by a bellowing, as if the air were agreat dram, on which Titanic hands were beating and rolling. Then therain poured down, and the scent of the earth rose into the air. Alecran to look up at Kate's window. His heart bounded when he saw a whitefigure looking out into the stormy dark. 

"Kate! Kate!" he cried, in a loud whisper, "come out--do come out. It'sso splendid!"

She started and drew back. Presently she reappeared, and opening thewindow, said, "Alec! do come in. "

"No, no. You come out, Kate. You don't know what it's like. You haveonly to get into bed again. "

Kate hesitated. But in a moment more she withdrew. Alec saw she meantto come, and flew round to the door. In a few minutes she glidedsilently out, and fronted the black sky. The same moment another flash, in which her spirit seemed to her to be universal, flung the darknessaside. She could have counted the houses of Glamerton. The hills roseup within her very soul. The Glamour shone in silver. The harvestgleamed in green. The larch-forest hung like a cloud on the horizon. Then the blank dark folded again its scared wings over the world; andthe trees rustled their leaves with one wavy sweep, and were still. Andagain the rain came down in a tumult--warm, genial summer rain, full ofthe life of lightning. Alec stood staring through the dull dark, as ifhe would see Kate by the force of his will alone. The tempest in theheavens had awaked a like tempest in his bosom: would the bosom besidehis receive his lightning and calm his pent-up storm by giving it spaceto rave? His hand took hers beseechingly. Another flash came, and hesaw her face. The whole glory of the night gloomed and flashed andflowed in that face. But alas! its response was to the stormy heavenalone, not to the stormy human soul. As the earth answers the heavenwith lightning of her own, so Kate, herself a woman-storm, responded tothe elemental cry. 

Her shawl had fallen back, and he saw a white arm uplifted, bare to theshoulder, gleaming through the night, and an eye flashing through theflood that filled it. He could not mistake her passion. He knew that itwas not for him; that she was a harp played upon by the elements; yet, passioned still more with her passion, he cried aloud, "Oh, Kate! if you do not love me I shall die. "

Kate started, and sought to take her hand from his, but she could not. 

"Let me go, Alec, " she said, pleadingly. 

His fingers relaxed, and she sped into the house like a bird, leavinghim standing in the night. 

There was no more lightning. The rain fell heavy and persistent. Thewind rose. And when the dawn came, the clouds were drifting over thesky; and the day was a wet gray fringy mass of wind and rain and cloud, tossing trees, and corn hard bested. 

He rose and dragged himself away. He had thrown himself upon the grass, and had burned there till his exhausted feelings lay like smoulderingfire under the pale ashes of the dawn. 

When Kate made her appearance at breakfast she looked bright and cold. She had told his mother about last night, though how much he could onlyguess. When he asked her whether he might not read to her, she onlysaid, "If you like. "

Whereupon he did not like. 

It was a dreary day. He crept about the house like a child in disgrace, and the darkness seemed an age in coming. When the candles werebrought, he went to bed; and when his mother went up, she found himasleep, but feverish. When he woke he was delirious. 

For a week there was nothing but wet and windy weather. Alec was inbed. Kate was unhappy. Mrs Forbes was anxious. 

The corn was badly lodged. Patches lay prone, tangled, spiky, andrough; and it was evident that if sunshine, strong, healthy sunshine, did not soon break out, the wretched mooncalf-prediction of MurdochMalison would come true, for the corn, instead of ripening, would starta fresh growth, and the harvest would be a very bad one indeed, whetherthe people of Glamerton repented or not. 

But after a grievous week, that blessed sunshine did come. The cornrose up from its low estate, looked at the sun, gathered heart, andbegan to ripen diligently. 

But Alec was very ill, and did not see Kate for weeks. 

Through his wanderings--so strangely does the thousand timeso'erwritten palimpsest of the brain befool the mind and even thepassions by the redawning of old traces--he talked on about Annie andtheir schooldays with Mr Malison, and never mentioned Kate. 

Annie went often to inquire after him, and Mrs Forbes behaved to herwith her old kindness--just a little diluted by anxiety and thepossession of Kate. 

When Annie thought with herself what she could do for him, she couldnever think of anything except saying _sangs_ to him. But the time forthat was long gone by. So, like many other devotions, hers found nooutlet but in asking how he was. 

At length, one day, he was brought down to the dining-room and laidupon the sofa. Then for the first time since his illness he saw Kate, He looked in her face pitifully and kissed her hand. She put her facedown to his. The blood surged up into his cheek, and the light into hiseyes, and he murmured:

"That is worth being ill for, Kate. I would be ill again for that. "

She could only say _hush_, and then kiss him again, lest he should behurt, thinking with a soundless sigh:

"I shall be forced to marry him some day. "

And he was neither her own virgin-born ideal; nor had his presence thepower to beget another and truer ideal in her brain. 

From that day he made rapid progress. Kate would read to him for hours;and when for love and weakness--an ill-matched pair--he could not lookin her face any more, he would yet lie and listen, till her voicefilled him with repose, and he slept in music. 

CHAPTER LVIII. 

On the Monday morning after his terrible failure Mr Malison felt almosttoo ill to go to the school. But he knew that if he gave in he mustleave the place. And he had a good deal of that courage which enables aman to front the inevitable, and reap, against his liking, the benefitsthat spring from every fate steadfastly encountered. So he went, keeping a calm exterior over the shame and mortification that burnedand writhed within him. He prayed the morning prayer, falteringly butfluently; called up the Bible-class; corrected their blunders with aneffort over himself which imparted its sternness to the tone of thecorrection and made him seem oblivious of his own, though in truth thehardest task he had ever had was to find fault that Monday; in short, did everything as usual, except bring out the _tag_. How could hepunish failure who had himself so shamefully failed in the sight ofthem all? And, to the praise of Glamerton be it recorded, never hadthere been a quieter day, one of less defiance of law, than that day ofthe master's humiliation. In the afternoon Andrew Truffey laid asplendid bunch of cottage-flowers on his desk, and the next morning itwas so crowded with offerings of the same sort that he had quite ascreen behind which to conceal his emotion. 

Wonderful, let me say once more, is the divine revenge! The childrenwould wipe away the humiliation of their tyrant. His desk, the symbolof merciless law, the ark containing no pot of manna, only the rod thatnever budded, became an altar heaped with offerings, behind which theshamed divinity bowed his head and acknowledged a power greater thanthat of stripes--overcome by his boys, who hated spelling and figures, hated yet more the Shorter Catechism, could hardly be brought to readthe book of Leviticus with decency, and hated to make bricks withoutstraw; and yet, forgetting it all, loved the man beneath whose lashesthey had writhed in torture. In his heart the master vowed, with a newlove which loosed the millstone of many offences against the littleones, that had for years been hanging about his neck--vowed that, bethe shame what it might, he would never leave them, but spend his daysin making up for the hardness of his heart and hand; vowed that hewould himself be good, and so make them good; that he would henceforthbe their friend, and let them know it. Blessed failure ending in such avictory! Blessed purgatorial pulpit! into which he entered full of selfand self-ends; and from which he came down disgusted with that paltryself as well as its deserved defeat. The gates of its evil fortresswere now undefended, for Pride had left them open in scorn; and Love, in the form of flower-bearing children, rushed into the citadel. Theheart of the master was forced to yield, and the last state of that manwas better than the first. 

"Swift Summer into the Autumn flowed, " and yet there was no sign of thecoming vengeance of heaven. The green corn turned pale at last beforethe gaze of the sun. The life within had done its best and now shrunkback to the earth, leaving the isolated life of its children to theripening of the heavens. Anxious farmers watched their fields, andjoyfully noted every shade of progress. All day the sun shone strong;and all night the moon leaned down from heaven to see how things weregoing on, and keep the work gently moving, till the sun should returnto take it up again. Before he came, a shadowy frost would just breatheon the earth, which, although there was only death in its chill, yetfurthered the goings on of life in repelling the now useless sap, andso helping the sun to dry the ripening ears. At length the newrevelation of ancient life was complete, and the corn stood in livinggold, and men began to put in the sickle, because the time of theharvest was come. 

And with it came the _hairst-play_, the event of school-life both tomaster and scholars. But the feelings with which the master watched andlonged for it were sadly different from those of the boys. It wasdelight itself to the latter to think of having nothing to do on thoseglorious hot days but gather blaeberries, or lie on the grass, or bathein the Glamour and dry themselves in the sun ten times a day. For themaster, he only hoped to get away from the six thousand eyes ofGlamerton. Not one allusion had been made in his hearing to his dismaldegradation, but he knew that that was only because it was too dreadfulto be alluded to. Every time he passed a woman with a baby in her armsat a cottage door, the blind eyes in the back of his head saw hercuddling her child, and the ears that are always hearing what never wassaid, heard her hope that _he_ would never bring such disgrace uponhimself and upon her. The tone of additional kindness and consideratonwith which many addressed him, only made him think of what lay behind, and refuse every invitation given him. But if he were once "in secretshadow far from all men's sight, " his oppressed heart would begin torevive, and he might gather strength enough to face with calmness whathe would continue to face somehow, in the performance of his arrears ofduty to the boys and girls of Glamerton. 

Can one ever bring up arrears of duty? Can one ever make up for wrongdone? Will not heaven be an endless repentance?

It would need a book to answer the first two of these questions. To thelast of them I answer, "Yes--but a glad repentance. "

At length the slow hour arrived. Longing thoughts had almostobliterated the figures upon Time's dial, and made it look a hopelessundivided circle of eternity. But at length twelve o'clock on Saturdaycame; and the delight would have been almost unendurable to some, hadit not been calmed by the dreary proximity of the Sabbath lying betweenthem and freedom. To add to their joy, there was no catechism that day. The prayer, although a little longer than usual, was yet over within aminute after the hour. And almost as soon as the _Amen_ was out of themaster's mouth, the first boys were shouting jubilantly in the openair. Truffey, who was always the last, was crutching it out after therest, when he heard the master's voice calling him back. He obeyed itwith misgiving--so much had fear become a habit. 

"Ask your grandfather, Andrew, if he will allow you to go down to theseaside with me for a fortnight or three weeks, " said the master. 

"Yes, sir, " Truffey meant to say, but the attempt produced in realityan unearthly screech of delight, with which he went off on a series ofbounds worthy of a kangaroo, lasting all the way to his grandfather's, and taking him there in half the usual time. 

And the master and Truffey did go down to the sea together. The masterborrowed a gig and hired a horse and driver; and they sat all three inthe space meant for two, and their boxes went by the carrier. To happyTruffey a lame leg or two was not to be compared with the exultantglory of that day. Was he not the master's friend henceforth? And washe not riding in a gig--bliss supreme? And was not the harvest aroundthem, the blue tent of the sun over their heads, and the sea somewherebefore them? Truffey was prouder than Mr Malison could have been if, instead of the result of that disastrous Sunday, he had been judged tosurpass Mr Turnbull in pulpit gifts, as he did in scholasticacquirements. And if there be as much joy in the universe, what matterhow it be divided!--whether the master be raised from the desk to thepulpit, or Truffey have a ride in a gig!

About this time Tibbie, sitting too late one evening upon the grass, caught a bad cold and cough, and was for a fortnight confined to bed. Within two days Annie became her constant companion--that is, from themoment _the play_ commenced. 

"I tell't ye I wad hae the licht afore lang, " she said the first timeAnnie came to her. 

"Hoots, Tibbie! It's only an ill caud an' a host, " said Annie, who frombeing so much with her and Thomas had caught the modes of an elderlywoman. "Ye maunna be doonhertit. "

"Doonhertit! The lassie's haverin'! Wha daured to say that I wasdoonhertit within sicht o' the New Jerusalem? Order yer words better, lassie, or else haud yer tongue. "

"I beg yer pardon, Tibbie. It was ill-considered. But ye see hooeverwillin' ye may be to gang, we're nane sae willin' to lat gang the gripo' ye. "

"Ye'll be a hantle better withoot me, lass. Oh, my heid! And the host'sjist like to rive me in bits, as the prophets rave their claes whan thefowk contred them ower sair to bide. Aweel! This body's nothing but awheen claes to my sowl; and no verra weel made either, for the holesfor my een war forgotten i' the makin'. --I'm bit jokin', lassie; for itwas the Lord's han' that made and mismade my claes; and I'm weelwillin' to wear them as lang's he likes. Jist mak a drappy o' stoorumto me. Maybe it'll ile my thrapple a bit. I winna be lang ahin EppieShawn. "

That was the woman who had occupied the other end of the cottage andhad died in the spring. 

So Annie waited on Tibbie day and night. And that year, for the firsttime since she came to Glamerton, the harvest began without her. Butwhen Tibbie got a little better, she used to run out now and then tosee what progress the reapers were making. 

One bright forenoon Tibbie, feeling better, said to her, "Noo, bairn, I'm a hantle better the day, and ye maun jist rin oot andplay yersel'. Ye're but a bairn, though ye hae the wit o' a wumman. Ye'll be laid up yersel' gin ye dinna get a stammachfu' o' the callerair noo and than. Sae jist rin awa', an' dinna lat me see ye aforedenner-time. "

At Howglen, there happened, this year, to be a field of oats not farfrom the house, the reaping of which was to begin that day. It was verywarm, and glorious with sunshine. So, after a few stooks had been setup, Alec crawled out with the help of his mother and Kate, and lay downon some sheaves, sheltered from the sun by a stook, and watched. Themen and women and corn leaned all one way. The oats hung their curvedheads of little pendulous bells, and gave out a low murmuringsibilation--its only lament that its day was over, and sun and wind nomore for it. Through the high stalks gleamed now and then the lowlycorn flower, and he watched for the next blue star that would shine outas they cut the golden cloud away. But the sun rose till the stookcould shelter him no more. First came a flickering of the shadows ofthe longest heads athwart his face, and then the sun shone full uponhim. His mother and Kate had left him for a while, and, too weak or toolazy to move, he lay with closed eyes, wishing that some one would cometo his help. Nor had he to wait long. A sudden shadow came over him. When he looked up to find the source of the grateful relief, he couldsee nothing but an apron held up in two little hands behind thestook--hiding both the sun and the face of the helper. 

"Who's there?" he asked. 

"It's me--Annie Anderson, " came from behind the un-moving apron. 

Now why would not Alec accept this attention from Annie?

"Dinna stan' there, Annie, " he said. "I dinna want it. My mother willbe here in a minute. I see her comin'. "

Annie dropped her arms, and turned away in silence. If Alec could haveseen her face, he would have been sorry that he had refused herservice. She vanished in a moment, so that Mrs Forbes and Kate neversaw her. They sat down beside him so as to shelter him, and he fellfast asleep. When he woke, he found his head in Kate's lap, and herparasol casting a cool green shadow over him. His mother had goneagain. Having made these discoveries, he closed his eyes, andpretending to be still asleep, lay in a waking dream. But dreamsthemselves must come to an end. Kate soon saw that his face was awake, although his eyes were closed. 

"I think it is time we went into the house, Alec, " she said. "You havebeen asleep nearly an hour. "

"Happy so long, and not know it?" returned he, looking up at her fromwhere he lay. 

Kate blushed a little. I think she began to feel that he was not quitea boy. But he obeyed her like a child, and they went in together. 

When Annie vanished among the stooks after the rejection of her offeredshadow, a throbbing pain at her heart kept her from returning to thereapers. She wandered away up the field towards a little old cottage, in which some of the farm servants resided. She knew that Thomas Crannwas at work there, and found him busy rough-casting the outside of it. 

"Ye're busy harlin', Thomas, " said Annie, for the sake of sayingsomething. 

"Ay, jist helpin' to mak' a heepocreet, " answered Thomas, with a nodand a grim smile, as he threw a trowelful of mortar mixed with smallpebbles against the wall. 

"What mean ye by that?" rejoined Annie. 

"Gin ye kent this auld bothie as weel as I do, ye wadna need to spierthat question. It sud hae been pu'ed doon fra the riggin to thefundation a century afore noo. And here we're pittin a clean face upo''t, garrin' 't luik as gin it micht stan' anither century, and nobodyhad a richt to luik asclent at it. "

"It _luiks_ weel eneuch. "

"I tell't ye that I was makin' a heepocreet. There's no a sowl wantsthis hoose to stan' but the mistress doon there, that doesna want towaur the siller, and the rottans inside the wa's o' 't, that doesnawant to fa' into the cluiks o' Bawdrins and Colley--wha lie in wait forsic like jist as the deevil does for the sowl o' the heepocreet. --Comeoot o' the sun, lassie. This auld hoose is no a'thegither a heepocreet:it can haud the sun aff o' ye yet. "

Thomas had seen Annie holding her hand to her head, an actionoccasioned partly by the heat and partly by the rebuff Alec had givenher. She stepped into the shadow beside him. 

"Isna the warl' fu' o' bonnie things cheap?" Thomas went on. "The sun'sfine and het the day. And syne whan he's mair nor we can bide, there'slots o' shaidows lyin' aboot upo' the face o' the warl'; though theysay there's some countries whaur they're scarce, and the shaidow o' agreat rock's thought something o' in a weary lan'? But we sudna thinkless o' a thing 'cause there's plenty o' 't. We hae a heap o' thegospel, but we dinna think the less o' 't for that. Because ye see it'sno whether shaidows be dear or no that we think muckle or little o'them, but whether we be richt het and tired whan we win till ane o'them. It's that 'at maks the differ. "

Sorrow herself will reveal one day that she was only the beneficentshadow of Joy. 

Will Evil ever show herself the beneficent shadow of Good?

"Whaur got Robert Bruce that gran' Bible, Annie, do ye ken?" resumedThomas, after whitening his hypocrite in silence for a few moments. 

"That's my Bible, Thomas. Auld Mr Cowie gae't to me whan he was lyin'near-han' deith. "

"Hm! hm! ay! ay! And hoo cam' 't that ye didna tak' it and pit it i'yer ain kist?"

"Maister Bruce tuik it and laid it i' the room as sune's I brocht ithame. "

"Did Maister Cowie say onything to ye aboot onything that was in't, no?"

"Ay, did he. He spak' o' a five-poun' note that he had pitten in't. Butwhan I luikit for't, I cudna fin' 't. "

"Ay! ay! Whan did ye luik for't?"

"I forgot it for twa or three days--maybe a week. "

"Do ye min' that Sunday nicht that twa or three o' 's cam hame wi'Bruce, and had worship wi' him an' you?"

"Ay, weel eneuch. It was the first time he read oot o' my Bible. "

"Was't afore or efter that 'at ye luikit for the nott?"

"It was the neist day; for the sicht o' the Bible pat it i' my min'. Ioughtna to hae thocht aboot it o' the Sawbath; but it cam' o' 'tsel';and I didna luik till the Mononday mornin', afore they war up. I reckonMr Cowie forgot to pit it in efter a'. "

"Hm! hm! Ay! ay!--Weel, ye see, riches taks to themsels wings and fleesawa'; and sae we maunna set oor herts upo' them, for it's no manner o'use. We get nothing by 't. The warst bank that a man can lay up hissiller in is his ain hert. And I'll tell ye hoo that is. Ye ken whanmeal's laid up ower lang it breeds worms, and they eat the meal. Butthey do little hairm forbye, for they're saft craters, and their teethcanna do muckle ill to the girnell. But there's a kin' o' roost thatgathers and a kin' o' moth that breeds i' the gowd and siller whanthey're laid up i' the hert; and the roost's an awfu' thing for eatin'awa', and the moth-craters hae teeth as hard's the siller that breedsthem; and instead o' eatin' the siller, like the meal-worms, they fa'upo' the girnel itsel'--that's the heart; and afore lang the hertitsel's roostit awa' wi' the roost, and riddlet through and through wi'the moths, till it's a naisty fushionless thing, o' no use to God orman, not even to mak' muck o'. Sic a crater's hardly worth damnin'. "

And Thomas threw trowelful after trowelful of rough-cast upon the wall, making his hypocrite in all the composure of holy thoughts. And Annieforgot her trouble in his presence. For Thomas was one of those whomthe prophet foresaw when he said: "And a man shall be as anhiding-place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest; as rivers ofwater in a dry place, as a shadow of a great rock in a weary land. " Ido not mean that Thomas was felt to be such by all whom he encountered;for his ambition was to rouse men from the sleep of sin; to set themface to face with the terrors of Mount Sinai; to "shak' them ower themou' o' the pit, " till they were all but choked with the fumes of thebrimstone. But he was a shelter to Annie--and to Tibbie also, althoughshe and he were too much of a sort to appear to the best advantage intheir intercourse. 

"Hoo's Tibbie the day?" said Thomas. 

"She's a wee bit better the day, " answered Annie. 

"It's a great preevileege, lassie, and ane that ye'll hae to answerfor, to be sae muckle wi' ane o' the Lord's elec' as ye are wi' TibbieDyster. She's some thrawn (twisted) whiles, but she's a good honestwoman, wha has the glory o' God sair at her hert. And she's tellt me myduty and my sins in a mainner worthy o' Debohrah the prophetess; and Iaye set mysel' to owercome them as gin they had been the airmy o'Sisera, wham Jael, the wife o' Heber, the Kenite, killed efter aweel-deserved but some cooardly faushion. "

Annie did not return to the harvest-field that day. She did not want togo near Alec again. So, after lingering a while with Thomas, shewandered slowly across some fields of barley-stubble through which thefresh young clover was already spreading its soft green. She then wentover the Glamour by the bridge with the three arches, down the path atthe other end, over the single great stone that crossed the dyer's dam, and so into Tibbie's cottage. 

Had Annie been Robert Bruce's own, she would have had to mind the baby, to do part of the house work, and, being a wise child, to attend in theshop during meals, and so expedite the feeding-process which followedthe grace. But Robert Bruce was ignorant of how little Annie knew aboutthe investment of her property. He took her freedom of action for theresult of the knowledge that she paid her way, whereas Annie followedher own impulse, and never thought about the matter. Indeed, with thereticence of Scotch people, none of her friends had given her anyinformation about her little fortune. Had Bruce known this, there wouldhave been no work too constant for her, and no liberty too small. 

Thomas did not doubt that Robert Bruce had stolen the note. But he didnot see yet what he ought to do about it. The thing would be hard toprove, and the man who would steal would lie. But he bitterly regrettedthat such a man should have found his way into their communion. 

CHAPTER LIX. 

At length the corn was gathered in, all over the valley of the tworivers. The wool of the sheep grows again after they are shorn, to keepthem warm in the winter: when the dry stubble sticks up short andbristly over the fields, to keep them warm "He scattereth his snowslike wool. "

The master returned from the sea-coast, bringing Truffey with him, radiant with life. Nothing could lengthen that shrunken limb, but inthe other and the crutch together he had more than the function of two. 

And the master was his idol. 

And the master was a happier man. The scene of his late failure hadbegun to fade a little from his brain. The expanse of the church andthe waiting people was no longer a vision certain to arise in thedarkness that surrounds sleep. He had been loving and helping; and loveand help had turned into a great joy, whose tide washed from out hisheart the bitterness of his remembered sin. When we love truly, alloppression of past sin will be swept away. Love is the final atonement, of which and for which the sacrifice of the atonement was made. Andtill this atonement is made in every man, sin holds its own, and God isnot all in all. 

So the earth and all that was therein did the master good. And he cameback able to look people in the face--humble still, but no longerhumiliated. And when the children gathered once more on a Mondaymorning, with the sad feeling that the holidays were over, the master'sprayer was different from what it used to be, and the work was lessirksome than before, and school was not so very hateful after all. Eventhe Shorter Catechism was not the instrument of torture which it hadbeen wont to be. The cords of the rack were not strained so tight asheretofore. 

But the cool bright mornings, and the frosty evenings, with the palegreen sky after sundown, spoke to the heart of Alec of a coming loss. Not that Kate had ever shown that she loved him, so that he even felt arestless trouble in her presence which had not been favourable to hisrecovery. Yet as he lay in the gloaming, and watched those crows flyinghome, they seemed to be bearing something away with them on their blackwings; and as the light sank and paled on the horizon, and the starsbegan to condense themselves into sparks amid the sea of green, likethose that fleet phosphorescent when the prow of the vessel troublesthe summer sea, and then the falling stars of September shot across thedarkening sky, he felt that a change was near, that for him winter wascoming before its time. And the trees saw from their high watch-towerthe white robe of winter already drifting up above the far horizon onthe wind that followed his footsteps, and knew what that wind would bewhen it howled tormenting over those naked fields. So their leavesturned yellow and gray, and the frosty red of age was fixed upon them, and they fell, and lay. 

On one of those bright mornings, which make the head feel so clear, thelimbs so strong, and the heart so sad, the doom fell in the expectedform, that of a letter from the Professor. He was at home at last, andwanted his niece to mix his toddy, and scold his servants for him, fromboth of which enjoyments he said he desired to wean himself in time. Alec's heart sank within him. 

"Don't go yet, Kate, " he said. But he felt that she must go. 

An early day was fixed for her return; and his summer would go withher. 

The day before her departure they were walking together along one ofthe rough parish-roads leading to the hills. 

"Oh, Kate!" exclaimed Alec, all at once, in an outburst of despair, "what _shall_ I do when you are gone? Everything will look so hateful!"

"Oh, Alec!" rejoined Kate, in a tone of expostulation. 

"They will all look the same as if you had not gone away!--soheartless, so selfish!"

"But I shall see you in November again. "

"Oh, yes. You will see me. But shall I see _you_?--this very _you_? Oh, Kate! Kate! I feel that you will be different then. You will not lookat me as you do now. You are kind to me because I have been ill. Youpity me for my white face. It is very good of you. But _won't_ you loveme, Kate? I don't deserve it. But I've read so often of beautiful womenloving men who did not deserve it. Perhaps I may be worthy of it someday. And by that time you will have loved somebody else!"

He turned involuntarily, and walked towards home. He recovered himselfinstantly, however, and returning put his hand on Kate's arm, who wasfrightened and anxious. Like a child praying to his mother, herepeated:

"_Won't_ you love me, Kate?--Just a little?--How can I go into thatroom after you are gone--and all your things out of it? I am not goodenough ever to sleep there again. _Won't_ you love me, Kate? A little?"

"I do love you dearly. You know that, Alec. Why do you always press meto say more?"

"Because I do not like the way you say it. "

"You want me to speak your way, not my own, and be a hypocrite?"

"Kate! Kate! I understand you too well. "

They walked home in silence. 

Now, although this was sad enough for Alec, yet there was room forhope. But she was going away, and he would not know what she was doingor thinking. It was as if she were going to die. Nor was thatall;--for--to misuse the quotation--

"For, in that sleep of death, what dreams might come!"

She might dream of some one, love some one--yes, marry some one, and sodrive him mad. 

When the last night arrived, he followed her up-stairs, and knocked ather room door, to see her once again, and make one more appeal. Now anappeal has only to do with justice or pity. With love it is of no use. With love it is as unavailing as wisdom or gold or beauty. But no loverbelieves this. 

There was no answer to the first, the inarticulate appeal. He lost hiscourage, and dared not knock again; and while Kate was standing withher head on one side, and her dress half off, wondering if any one hadknocked, he crept away to his bed ashamed. There was only a partitionof lath and plaster between the two, neither of whom could sleep, butneither of whom could have given the other any comfort. Not evenanother thunder-storm could have brought them together again thatnight. 

At length the pitiless dawn, which _will_ come, awoke Alec, and he sawthe last few aged stars wither away as the great young star came up thehill, the despot who, crowned with day, drives men up and abroad, bethe weather, inside or out, what it may. It was the dreariest dawn Alechad ever known. 

Kate appeared at breakfast with indescribable signs of preparationabout her. The breakfast was dull and cheerless. The autumn sun wasbrilliant. The inevitable gig appeared at the door. Alec was not evento drive it. He could only help her into it, kiss her gloved hand onthe rail, and see her vanish behind the shrubbery. 

He then turned in stern endurance, rushed up into the very room he hadthought it impossible ever to enter again, caught up a handkerchief shehad left behind her, pressed it to his face, threw himself on her bed, and--well, he fell fast asleep. 

He woke not so miserable as he had expected. Of this he was so muchashamed that he tried hard to make himself more miserable, by goingover all the miseries in store for him. But his thoughts would not obeyhim. They would take their own way, fly where they pleased, and alightwhere they would. And the meeting in November was the most attractiveobject in sight. --So easily is Hope born, when the time of her birth iscome!

But he soon found that Grief is like some maidens: she will not comewhen she is called; but if you leave her alone, she will come ofherself. Before the day was over he had sacrificed griefs enough uponthe altar of Love. All at once the whole vacant region rushed in uponhim with a ghostly sense of emptiness and desolation. He wandered aboutthe dreary house like a phantom about a cenotaph. The flowers havingnothing to say, because they had ceased to mean anything, lookedashamed of themselves. The sunshine was hastening to have done with it, and let the winter come as soon as he liked, for there was no more usein shining like this. And Alec being in love, could feel all this, although he had not much imagination. For the poetic element has itsshare in the most common pug-faced man in creation; and when he is inlove, what of that sort there is in him, as well as what there is ofany sort of good thing, will come to the surface, as the trout do inthe balmy summer evenings. Therefore let every gentle maiden be warnedhow she takes such a manifestation of what is in the man for the manhimself. It is the deepest, it is the best in him, but it may not be inthe least his own yet. It is one thing to have a mine of gold in one'sground, know it, and work it; and another to have the mine still butregard the story as a fable, throw the aureal hints that find their wayto the surface as playthings to the woman who herself is but aplaything in the owner's eyes, and mock her when she takes them forprecious. In a word, every man in love shows better than he is, though, thank God, not better than he is meant to become. 

After Kate's departure, Alec's health improved much more rapidly. Hope, supplied by his own heart, was the sunlight in which he revived. He hadone advantage over some lovers--that he was no metaphysician. He didnot torture himself with vain attempts to hold his brain as a mirror tohis heart, that he might read his heart there. The heart is deaf anddumb and blind, but it has more in it--more life and blessedness, moretorture and death--than any poor knowledge-machine of a brain canunderstand, or even delude itself into the fancy of understanding. 

From the first, Kate's presence had not been favourable to hisrecovery, irrespectively of the excitement and restlessness which itoccasioned; for she was an absorbent rather than a diffuser of life. Her own unsatisfied nature, her excitableness, her openness to allinfluences from the external world, and her incapacity for supplyingher needs in any approximate degree from inward resources; herconsequent changeableness, moodiness, and dependency--were allunfavourable influences upon an invalid who loved her. 

The first thing he did was to superintend the painting and laying up ofhis boat for the winter. It was placed across the rafters of the barn, wrapt in tarpaulin. 

The light grew shorter and shorter. A few rough rainy days stripped thetrees of their foliage; and although the sun shone out again and madelovely weather, Saint Martin's summer, halcyon days, it was plain to all the senses that the autumn was drawing to a close. 

CHAPTER LX. 

All the prophetic rumours of a bad harvest had proved themselves false. Never a better harvest had been gathered in the strath, nor had oneever been carried home in superior condition. But the passion forprophecy had not abated in Glamerton. It was a spiritual epidemic overthe whole district. 

Now a certain wily pedler had turned the matter over and resolved tomake something of it. 

One day there appeared in the streets of Glamerton a man carrying inhis hand a bundle of papers as a sample of what he had in the pack uponhis shoulders. He bore a burden of wrath. They were all hymns andballads of a minacious description, now one and now another of which hekept repeating in lugubrious recitative. Amongst them some of Watts's, quite unknown to Glamerton worshippers, carried the palm of horror. Butthere were others which equalled them in absurdity, although their mostludicrous portions affected the populace only as a powerful realizationof the vague and awful. One of these had the following stanzas:

 "The dragon's tail shall be the whip Of scorpions foretold, With which to lash them thigh and hip That wander from the fold. And when their wool is burnt away-- Their garments gay, I mean-- Then this same whip they'll feel, I say, Upon their naked skin. "

The probability seems to be that, besides collecting from all sourcesknown to him, the pedler had hired an able artist for the production oforiginal poems of commination. His scheme succeeded; for great was thesale of these hymns and ballads at a halfpenny a piece in the streetsof Glamerton. Even those who bought to laugh, could not help feeling anoccasional anticipatory sting of which, being sermon-seared, they werenever conscious under pulpit denunciation. 

The pedler having emptied his wallet--not like that of Chaucer'sPardoner, "Bretful of pardon brought from Rome all hot, "

but crammed with damnation brought all hot from a differentplace--vanished; and another wonder appeared in the streets ofGlamerton--a man who cried with a loud voice, borrowing the cry of theill-tempered prophet: "Yet forty days, and Glamerton shall bedestroyed. "

This cry he repeated at awful intervals of about a minute, walkingslowly through every street, lane, and close of the town. The childrenfollowed him in staring silence; the women gazed from their doors inawe as he passed. The insanity which gleamed in his eyes, and his palelong-drawn countenance, heightened the effect of the terribleprediction. His belief took theirs by storm. 

The men smiled to each other, but could not keep it up in the presenceof their wives and sisters. They said truly that he was only a madman. But as prophets have always been taken for madmen, so madmen often passfor prophets; and even Stumpin' Steenie, the town-constable, had toomuch respect either to his prophetic claims, or his lunacy, perhapsboth, to take him into custody. So through the streets of Glamerton hewent on his bare feet, with tattered garments, proclaiming aloud thecoming destruction, He walked in the middle of the street, and turnedaside for nothing. The coachman of the Royal Mail had to pull up hisfour greys on their haunches to keep them off the defiant prophet, andleave him to pursue the straight line of his mission. The ministerswarned the people on the following Sunday against false prophets, butdid not say that man was a false prophet, while with their owndenunciations they went on all the same. The chief effects of it allwere excitement and fear. There was little sign of repentance. But thespiritual physicians did not therefore doubt their exhibition. Theyonly increased the dose. The prophet appeared one day. He had vanishedthe next. 

But within a few days, a still more awful prediction rose, cloud-like, on the spiritual sky. A placard was found affixed to the doors of everyplace of worship in the town, setting forth in large letters that, according to certain irrefragable calculations from "the number of aman" and other such of the more definite utterances of Daniel and StJohn, the day of judgment must without fail fall upon the next Sundayweek. Whence this announcement came no one knew. But the truth is, every one was willing it should remain shrouded in the mysterycongenial to such things. On the door of the parish-church, it found anespecially suitable place; for that, not having been painted for manyyears, still retained the mourning into which it had been put onoccasion of the death of the great man of the neighbourhood, the ownerof all Glamerton, and miles around it--this mourning consisting of aground of dingy black, over which at small regular distances had beenpainted a multitude of white spots with tails, rather more like commasthan tadpoles, intended to represent the falling tears of lamentingtenants and humble servants generally. Curly's grandfather had been theartist of the occasion. In the middle of this door stood the awfulprophecy, surrounded on every side by the fall of the faded tears; andfor anything anybody knew, it might have been a supernatural exudationfrom the damp old church, full of decay for many a dreary winter. Dreadful places, those churches, hollow and echoing all the week! Iwonder if the souls of idle parsons are condemned to haunt them, andthat is what gives them that musty odour and that exhausting air. 

Glamerton was variously affected by this condensation of the vapour ofprophecy into a definite prediction. 

"What think ye o' 't, Thomas Crann?" said Andrew Constable. "Thecalcleation seems to be a' correck. Yet somehoo I canna believe in't. "

"Dinna fash yer heid aboot it, Anerew. There's a heep o' judgmentsatween this an' the hinner en'. The Lord'll come whan naebody's luikin'for him. And sae we maun be aye ready. Ilka year's an anno dominy. ButI dinna think the man that made that calcleation as ye ca' 't 's jista'thegeether infallible. An' for ae thing, he's forgotten to mak'allooance for the laip years. "

"The day's by, than!" exclaimed Andrew, in a tone contrasting prettystrongly with his previous expressions of unbelief. 

"Or else it's nae comin' sae sune as the prophet thocht. I'm no clearat this moment aboot that. But it's a sma' maitter that. "

Andrew's face fell, and he looked thoughtful. 

"Hoo mak' ye that oot?" said he. 

"Hoots man!" answered Thomas; "dinna ye see 'at gin the man wascawpable o' makin' sic a mistak's that, i' the mids o' his perfecconfidence in his ain knowledge an' jeedgment, he cud hardly hae beenintendit by Providence for an interpreter o' dark sayings of old?"

Andrew burst into a laugh. 

"Wha cud hae thocht, Thomas, 'at ye cud hae pickit sic gumption oot o'stanes!"

And so they parted, Andrew laughing, and Thomas with a curious smile. 

CHAPTER LXI. 

Towards the middle of the following week the sky grew gloomy, and athick small incessant rain brought the dreariest weather in the world. There was no wind, and miles of mist were gathered in the air. After aday or two the heavens grew lighter, but the rain fell as steadily asbefore, and in heavier drops. Still there was little rise in either theGlamour or the Wan Water, and the weather could not be said to beanything but seasonable. 

On the Saturday afternoon, weary of some poor attempts at Greek andLatin, weary of the wretched rain, and weary with wishing to be withKate, Alec could stay in the house no longer, and went out for a walk. Along the bank of the river he wandered, through the rain above and thewet grass below, to the high road, stood for a moment on the bridgegazing at the muddy Glamour, which came down bank-full, --Annie saw himfrom Tibbie's window as he stood, --and then turned and followed itscourse below the bridge through a wild, and now dismal country, towhere the waters met. It was getting dusk when he reached the place. With what a roar the Wan Water came down its rocks, rushing from itssteeper course into the slow incline of the Glamour! A terrible countrythey came from--those two ocean-bound rivers--up among the hill-tops. There on the desolate peat-mosses, spongy, black, and cold, the rainwas pouring into the awful holes whence generations had dug their fuel, and into the natural chasms of the earth, soaking the soil, and sendingtorrents, like the flaxen hair of a Titanic Naiad, rolling into thebosom of the rising river-god below. The mist hung there, darkeningeverything with its whiteness, ever sinking in slow fall upon theslippery peat and the heather and the gray old stones. By and by thepools would be filled, and the hidden caves; their sides would giveway; the waters would rush from the one into the other, and from alldown the hill-sides, and the earth-sponge would be drained off. 

"Gin this hauds, we'll hae a spate, " said Alec to himself, when he sawhow the waters met, flooding the _invers_, and beginning to invade thetrees upon the steep banks below. The scene was in harmony with hisfeelings. The delight of the sweeping waters entered his soul, andfilled him with joy and strength. As he took his way back through thestunted trees, each swathed in its own mist, and dripping as if it werea separate rain-cloud; and through the bushes that wetted him likepools; and through the streams that poured down the steep bank into theGlamour; he thought how different it was when he walked there withKate, when the sun was bright, and the trees were covered with green, and the heather was in patches of blossom, and the river wentclear-hearted and singing over its stony channel below. But he wouldrather have it thus, now that Kate was gone. 

The floods then were slower in rising, and rose to a much greaterheight than now. In the present day, the numerous drains provide arapid and steady escape, so that there is no accumulation of waters, and no bursting of the walls of natural or accidental reservoirs. And Ipresume that from slow changes produced in the climate by cultivation, there may be a less fall of water now than there used to be; for insome parts of that country the rivers have, within the memory ofmiddle-aged men, considerably decreased in volume. 

That evening, in the schoolmaster's lodgings. Truffey sat at thetea-table triumphant. The master had been so pleased with an exercisewhich he had written for him--written in verse too--that he had takenthe boy home to tea with him, dried him well at his fire, and given himas much buttered toast as he could eat. Truffey had often had a likeprivilege, but never for an ovation, as now. How he loved the master!

"Truffey, " said Mr Malison, after a long pause, during which he hadbeen staring into the fire, "how's your leg?"

"Quite weel, thank ye, sir, " answered Truffey, unconsciously puttingout the foot of the wrong leg on the fender. "There wasna onything themaitter wi' 't. "

"I mean the other leg, Truffey--the one that I--that I--hurt. "

"Perfectly weel, sir. It's no worth speirin' efter. I wonner that yetak sic pains wi' me, sir, whan I was sic a nickum. "

The master could not reply. But he was more grateful for Truffey'sgenerous forgiveness than he would have been for the richest living inScotland. Such forgiveness is just giving us back ourselves--clean andhappy. And for what gift can we be more grateful? He vowed over againto do all he could for Truffey. Perhaps a sticket minister might have ahand in making a minister that would not stick. 

Then the master read Truffey's queer composition aloud, andnotwithstanding all his conscientious criticism, Truffey was delightedwith his own work when removed to an objective distance by the master'sreading. At length Mr Malison said:

"It's time to go home, Andrew Truffey. Put on my cloak--there. And keepout of the puddles as much as you can. "

"I'll pit the sma' fit in, " said Truffey, holding up the end of hiscrutch, as he stretched it forward to make one bound out of the door. For he delighted in showing off his agility to the master. 

CHAPTER LXII. 

When Alec looked out of his window the next morning, he saw a broadyellow expanse below. The Glamour was rolling, a mighty river, throughthe land. A wild waste foamy water, looking cold and torn and troubled, it swept along the fields where late the corn had bowed to the autumnwinds. But he had often seen it as high. And all the corn was safe inthe yard. 

Neither he nor his mother regretted much that they could not go tochurch. Mrs Forbes sat by the fire and read Hannah More's _ChristianMorals_, and Alec sat by the window reading James Montgomery's _Worldbefore the Flood_, and watching the river, and the splashing of therain in the pluvial lake, for the water was nearly a foot deep aroundthe house, although it stood upon a knoll of gravel. 

All night Tibbie Dyster had lain awake in her lonely cottage, listeningto the quiet heavy _go_ of the water from which all the sweet babblingsounds and delicate music-tones had departed. The articulation of theriver-god was choked in the weight and hurry of its course to theexpectant sea. Tibbie was still far from well, had had many relapses, and was more than ever convinced that the Lord was going to let her seehis face. 

Annie would have staid with her that Saturday night, as she notunfrequently did, had she not known that Mrs Bruce would make it apretext for giving her no change of linen for another week. 

The moment Bruce entered the chapel--for no weather deprived him of hisSabbath privileges--Annie, who had been his companion so far, dartedoff to see Tibbie. When Bruce found that she had not followed him, hehurried to the door, but only to see her halfway down the street. Hereturned in anger to his pew, which he was ashamed of showing thusempty to the eyes of his brethren. But there were many pews in likecondition that morning. 

The rain having moderated a little in the afternoon, the chapel wascrowded in the evening. Mrs Bruce was the only one of the Bruce-familyabsent. The faces of the congregation wore an expectant look, for theyknew Mr Turnbull would _improve the occasion_: he always soughtcollateral aid to the influences of the truth, and sometimes attemptedto suborn Nature herself to give effect to his persuasions. The text hehad chosen was: "But as the days of Noe were, so shall also the comingof the Son of Man be. " He made no allusion to the paper which the rainwas busy washing off the door of the chapel; nor did he wish to remindthe people that this was the very day foreseen by the bill-stickingprophet, as appointed for the advent of judgment. But when, in themiddle of the sermon, a flash of lightning seemed to extinguish thearray of candles, and was followed by an instant explosion of thunder, and a burst of rain, as if a waterspout had broken over their heads, coming down on the roof like the trampling of horses and the noise ofchariot-wheels, the general start and pallor of the congregation showedthat they had not forgotten the prediction. This then was the way inwhich judgment was going to be executed: a second flood was about tosweep them from the earth. So, although all stared at the minister asif they drank in every word of his representation of Noah's flood, withits despairing cries, floating carcases, and lingering deaths on themountain-tops as the water crept slowly up from peak to peak, yet theywere much too frightened at the little flood in the valley of tworivers, to care for the terrors of the great deluge of the world, inwhich, according to Mr Turnbull, eighty thousand millions of the sonsand daughters of men perished, or to heed the practical applicationwhich he made of his subject. For once the contingent of nature was toopowerful for the ends of the preacher. 

When the service was over, they rushed out of the chapel. 

Robert Bruce was the first to step from the threshold up to the anklesin water. The rain was falling--not in drops, but in little streams. 

"The Lord preserve 's!" he exclaimed. "It's risen a fit (foot) upo'Glamerton a'ready. And there's that sugar i' the cellar! Bairns, rinhame yer lanes. I canna bide for ye. "

And he was starting off at the top of his speed. 

"Hoots! man, " cried Thomas Crann, who came behind him, "ye're sae sairta'en up wi' the warl, 'at ye hae nae room for ordinar' common sense. Ye're only stannin' up to the mou's o' yer shune i' the hole 'at yeunnertook yersel' to fill up wi' the lime 'at was ower efter ye hadturned yer dry stane dyke intil a byre-wa'. "

Robert stepped out of the hole and held his tongue. At that moment, Annie was slipping past him to run back to Tibbie. He made a pounceupon her and grabbed her by the shoulder. 

"Nae mair o' this, Annie!" he said. "Come hame for cowmon dacency, anddinna gang stravaguin' in a nicht like this, naebody kens whaur. "

"A' body kens whaur, " returned Annie. "I'm only gaun to sleep wi'Tibbie Dyster, puir blin' body!"

"Lat the blin' sleep wi' the blin', an' come ye hame wi' me, " saidRobert oracularly, abusing several texts of Scripture in a breath, andpulling Annie away with him. "Ye'll be drooned afore the mornin' insome hole or ither, ye fashous rintheroot! And syne wha'll hae the wyteo' 't?"

Heartily vexed and disappointed, Annie made no resistance, for she feltit would be uncomely. And how the rain did pour as they went home! Theywere all wet to the skin in a moment except Mr Bruce, who had a bigumbrella, and reasoned with himself that his Sabbath clothes were moreexpensive than those of the children. 

The best way certainly was to send the wet ones to bed as soon as theygot home. But how could Annie go to bed when Tibbie was lying awakelistening for her footsteps, and hearing only the sounds of the risingwater? She made up her mind what to do. Instead of going into her room, she kept listening on the landing for the cessation of footsteps. Therain poured down on the roof with such a noise, and rushed so fiercelyalong the spouts, that she found it difficult to be sure. There was nouse in changing her clothes only to get them wet again, and it was wellfor her that the evening was warm. But at length she was satisfied thather gaolers were at supper, whereupon she stole out of the house asquietly as a kitten, and was out of sight of it as quickly. Not acreature was to be seen. The gutters were all choked and the streetshad become river-beds, already torn with the rush of the ephemeraltorrents. But through it all she dashed fearlessly, bounding on toTibbie's cottage. 

"Eh, preserve's! sic a nicht, Peter Whaup!" said Peter's wife to Peteras he sat by the fire with his cutty in his teeth. "It'll be an awfu'spate. "

"Ay will't, " rejoined Peter. "There's mair water nor whusky already. Jist rax doon the bottle, gudewife. It tak's a hantle to quawlifee sicweet's this. Tak' a drappy yersel', 'oman, to haud it oot. "

"Ye hae had plenty, Peter. _I_ dinna want nane. Ye're a true smith, man: ye hae aye a spark i' yer throat. "

"Toots! There never was sic a storm o' water sin' the ark o' thecovenant--"

"Ye mean Noah's ark, Peter, man. "

"Weel, weel! onything ye like. It's a' the same, ye ken. I was onlyjist remarkin' that we haena sic a fa' o' rain ilka day, an' we sudjist haud the day in min', pay 't respec' like, keep it wi' a tumler, ye ken--cummummerate it, as they ca' 't. Rax doon the bottle, lass, andI'll jist gie a luik oot an' see whether the water's likely to come inower the door-sill; for gin it ance crosses the thrashol', I doot therewonno be whusky eneuch i' the hoose, and bein' the Sawbath nicht, wecanna weel win at ony mair. "

Thus entreated, Mistress Whaup got the bottle down. She knew herhusband must have whisky, and, like a wise woman, got him to take aslarge a proportion of the immitigable quantity as possible at home. Peter went to the door to reconnoitre. 

"Guid guide 's!" he cried; "there's a lassie run by like a maukin(hare), wi' a splash at ilka fit like a wauk-mill. An' I do believe itwas Annie Anderson. Will she be rinnin' for the howdie (midwife) toMistress Bruce? The cratur'll be droont. I'll jist rin efter her. "

"An' be droont yersel, Peter Whaup! She's a wise lass, an' can tak careo' hersel. Lat ye her rin. "

But Peter hesitated. 

"The water's bilin', " cried Mrs Whaup. 

And Peter hesitated no longer. 

Nor indeed could he have overtaken Annie if he had tried. BeforePeter's tumbler was mixed she was standing on the stone across thedyer's _dam_, looking down into the water which had risen far up theperpendicular sides of its rocky conduit. Across the stone the waterfrom the street above was pouring into the Glamour. 

"Tibbie, " she said, as she entered the cottage, "I doobt there's gaunto be a terrible spate. "

"Lot it come, " cried Tibbie. "The bit hoosie's fund't upon a rock, andthe rains may fa', and the wins may blaw, and the floods may ca at thehoosie, but it winna fa', it canna fa', for it's fund't upo' a rock. "

Perhaps Tibbie's mind was wandering a little, for when Annie entered, she found her face flushed, and her hands moving restlessly. But whatwith this assurance of her confidence, and the pleasure of being withher again, Annie thought no more about the waters of the Glamour. 

"What keepit ye sae lang, lassie?" said Tibbie wearily after a moment'ssilence, during which Annie had been redisposing the peats to get somelight from the fire. 

She told her the whole story. 

"And hae ye had nae supper?"

"Na. But I dinna want ony. "

"Pit aff yer weet claes than, and come to yer bed. "

Annie crept into the bed beside her--not dry even then, for she wasforced to retain her last garment. Tibbie was restless, and keptmoaning, so that neither of them could sleep. And the water keptsweeping on faster, and rising higher up the rocky mound on which thecottage stood. The old woman and the young girl lay within and listenedfearless. 

CHAPTER LXIII. 

Alec too lay awake and listened to the untiring rain. Weary of thehouse, he had made use of the missionar kirk to get out of it, and hadbeen one of Mr Turnbull's congregation that night. Partly because hismind was unoccupied by any fear from without, for he only laughed atthe prophecy, something in that sermon touched him deeper than any oneelse in the place perhaps, awoke some old feelings of responsibilitythat had been slumbering for a long time, and made him reflect upon anunquestioned article of his creed--the eternal loss and misery andtorture of the soul that did not repent and believe. At the same time, what repentance and belief really meant--what he had to do first--hedid not know. All he seemed to know was that he was at that moment inimminent danger of eternal damnation. And he lay thinking about thiswhile the rain kept pouring upon the roof out of the thick nightoverhead, and the Glamour kept sweeping by through the darkness to thesea. He grew troubled, and when at last he fell asleep, he dreamedfrightfully. 

When he woke, it was a dull morning, full of mist and rain. His dreamshad fled even from his memory, but had left a sense of grievousdiscomfort. He rose and looked out of the window. The Glamour spreadout and rushed on like the torrent of a sea forsaking its old bed. Downits course swept many dark objects, which he was too far off todistinguish. He dressed himself, and went down to its edge--not itsbank: that lay far within and far beneath its torrent. The water, outspread where it ought not to be, seemed to separate him from theopposite country by an impassable gulf of space, a visibleinfinitude--a vague marvel of waters. Past him swept trees torn up bythe roots. Down below, where he could not see, stones were rollingalong the channel. On the surface, sheaves and trees went floating by. Then a cart with a drowned horse between the shafts, heaved past in thecentral roll of the water. Next came something he could not understandat first. It was a great water-wheel. This made him think of the mill, and he hurried off to see what the miller was doing. 

Truffey went stumping through the rain and the streams to the morningschool. Gladly would he have waited on the bridge, which he had tocross on his way, to look at the water instead. But the master would bethere, and Truffey would not be absent. When Mr Malison came, Truffeywas standing in the rain waiting for him. Not another boy was there. Hesent him home. And Truffey went back to the bridge over the Glamour, and there stood watching the awful river. 

Mr Malison sped away westward towards the Wan Water. On his way hefound many groups of the inhabitants going in the same direction. Thebed of the Wan Water was here considerably higher than that of theGlamour, although by a rapid descent it reached the same level a coupleof miles below the town. But its waters had never, to the knowledge ofany of the inhabitants, risen so high as to surmount the ridge on theother slope of which the town was built. Consequently they had neverinvaded the streets. But now people said the Wan Water would be downupon them in the course of an hour or two, when Glamerton would be inthe heart of a torrent, for the two rivers would be one. So instead ofgoing to school, all the boys had gone to look, and the master followedthem. Nor was the fear without foundation; for the stream was stillrising, and a foot more would overtop the ground between it and theGlamour. 

But while the excited crowd of his townsmen stood in the middle of astubble-field, watching the progress of the enemy at their feet, RobertBruce was busy in his cellar preparing for its reception. He could notmove his cask of sugar without help, and there was none of that to behad. Therefore he was now, in his shirt-sleeves, carrying the sugar upthe cellar-stairs in the coal-scuttle, while Mrs Bruce, in a conditionvery unfit for such efforts, went toiling behind him with the_meal-bossie_ filled far beyond the brim. As soon as he had finishedhis task, he hurried off to join the watchers of the water. 

James Johnstone's workshop was not far from the Glamour. When he wentinto it that morning, he found the treadles under water, and thought hehad better give himself _the play_. 

"I'll jist tak a daun'er (stroll) doon to the brig to see the spategang by, " he said to himself, and, putting on his grandfather's hat, went out into the rain. 

As he came near the bridge, he saw cripple Truffey leaning over theparapet with horror-stricken looks. The next moment he bounded to hisone foot and his crutch, and _spanged_ over the bridge as if he hadbeen gifted with six legs. 

When James reached the parapet, he could see nothing to account for theterror and eagerness in Truffey's pale face, nor for his precipitateflight. But being short-sighted and inquisitive, he set off afterTruffey as fast as the dignity proper to an elderly weaver and a deaconof the missionars would permit. 

As Alec came near the mill he saw two men standing together on theverge of the brown torrent which separated them from it. They were themiller--the same whose millstone Curly had broken by shutting down thesluice--and Thomas Crann, the latest architect employed about thebuilding. Thomas had been up all night, wandering hither and thitheralong the shore of the Wan Water, sorely troubled about Glamerton andits careless people. Towards morning he had found himself in the townagain, and, crossing the Glamour, had wandered up the side of thewater, and so come upon the sleepless miller contemplating his mill inthe embrace of the torrent. 

"Ye maun alloo it's _hard_, Thamas, " said the miller. 

"_Hard_?" retorted Thomas with indignation. "Hoo daur ye say sic athing! Here hae ye been stickin' yer bit water-wheel i' the mids o' aneo' the Lord's burns, and the Lord has ca'd it roon and roon for you andyer forbears aboon a hunner yer, and ye've grun' yer breid oot o' 't, and the breid o' yer bairns, and noo whan it's i' the Lord's gait, andhe maun hae mair room to sen' doon the waters frae his hills, yegrummle an' compleen at the spate that's been foreordeen't frae theverra black mirk o' eternity. What wad ye think o' a bairn gaein'compleenin' o' you 'cause your backwater had ta'en awa' his wheelie o'rashes, whaur it was whurlin' bonnie afore ye liftit the sluice?"

Thomas's zeal had exposed him to the discomfiture of those who, if theydo not actually tell lies for God, yet use very bad arguments for him. The miller rejoined:

"You or me, Thomas, wad see bairnie an' wheelie alike safe, afore weliftit the sluice. The Lord _micht_ hae managed ohn ta'en awa' mymull. "

"Yer mull's nae doon the water yet, Simon. It's in some extremity, Iconfess; but whether it's to be life or deith, none kens but ane. Ganghame, man, and gang doon upo' yer knees, and pray. "

"Pray to God aboot an auld meal-mull?" said Simon with indignation. "'Deed, I winna be sae ill-bred. "

And so saying, he turned and went home, leaving Thomas muttering--

"Gin a body wad pray aboot onything, they micht, maybe, tak' a likin'till 't. A prayer may do a body guid whan it's no jist o' the kin' tobe a'thegither acceptable to the min' o' the Almichty. But I doobt hisear's gleg for ony prayer that gangs up his gait. "

The last two sentences were spoken aloud as he shook hands with Alec, of whose presence he had been aware from the first, although he hadtaken no notice of his arrival. 

Before another word was uttered, their attention was attracted by alarge mass floating down the river. 

"What's that, Thomas?" said Alec. "I houp it winna tak' awa' the brig. "

He meant the wooden bridge a few hundred yards below them, which, inaccessible from either side, was now very little above the level ofthe water. 

"It's jist the riggin' o' some cottar's bit hoosie, " answered Thomas. "What's come o' them that was aneath it, the Lord only kens. Thewater's jist liftit the roof bodily. There it gangs--throu' aneath thebrig. --The brig's doon. It's no doon. --It's stan'in' yet. --But the puirfowk, Alec!--Eh, gin they warna preparet! Think o' that, Alec. "

"I houp they wan oot, " answered Alec. 

"Houps are feckless things, Alec, " returned Thomas, censoriously. 

But the talk was turned into another channel by the appearance--a fewridges off--for they were standing in a field--of Truffey, who, withfrantic efforts to get on, made but little speed, so deep did hiscrutch sink in the soaked earth. He had to pull it out at every step, and seemed mad in his foiled anxiety to reach them. He tried to shout, but nothing was heard beyond a crow like that of a hoarse chicken. Alecstarted off to meet him, but just as he reached him his crutch broke inthe earth, and he fell and lay unable to speak a word. With slow andponderous arrival, Thomas Crann came up. 

"Annie Anderson!" panted out Truffey at length. 

"What aboot _her_?" said both in alarm. 

"Tibbie Dyster!" sobbed Truffey in reply. 

"Here's Jeames Johnstone!" said Thomas; "he'll tell's a' aboot it. "

He surmised the facts, but waited in painful expectation of assurancefrom the deacon, who came slipping and sliding along the wet ridges. 

"What's this?" he cried fiercely, as James came within hearing. 

"What is't?" returned the weaver eagerly. 

If Thomas had been a swearing man, what a terrible oath he would havesworn in the wrath which this response of the weaver roused in hisapprehensive soul! But Truffey was again trying to speak, and with a

"Be ashamed o' yersel', Jeames Johnstone, " the mason bent his ear tolisten. 

"They'll be droont. They'll be taen awa. They canna win oot. "

Thomas and Alec turned and stared at each other. 

"The boat!" gasped Thomas. 

Alec made no reply. That was a terrible water to look at. And the boatwas small. 

"Can ye guide it, Alec?" said Thomas, his voice trembling, and themuscles of his face working. 

The terrors of the night had returned upon Alec. Would the boat live?Was there more than a chance? And if she went down, was he not damnedfor ever? He made no reply. He was afraid. 

"Alec!" shouted Thomas, in a voice that might have been heard acrossthe roar of the Glamour, "Will ye lat the women droon?"

"Thomas, " answered Alec, meekly, trembling from head to foot, "gin Igang to the boddom, I gang to hell. "

"Better be damned, doin' the will o' God, than saved doin' noathing!"said Thomas. 

The blood shot into Alec's face. He turned and ran. 

"Thomas, " said James Johnstone, with shy interposition, laying hisforefinger upon the stonemason's broad chest, "hae ye considered whatye're drivin' the young man till?"

"Ay, weel eneuch, Jeames Johnstone. Ye're ane o' thae mealy-mou'dfrien's that like a man sae wel they wad raither hae him gang wi' hisback to the pleuch, nor ca't i' the face o' a cauld win'. I wad raithersee my frein' hangt nor see him deserve hangin'. Haud awa' wi' ye. Ginhe disna gang, I'll gang mysel', an' I never was in a boat i' my life. "

"Come awa, Thomas, " cried Alec, already across three or four ridges; "Icanna carry her my lane. "

Thomas followed as fast as he could, but before he reached the barn, hemet Alec and one of the farm-servants, with the boat on theirshoulders. 

It was a short way to the water. They had her afloat in a few minutes, below the footbridge. At the edge the water was as still as a pond. 

Alec seized the oars, and the men shoved him off. 

"Pray, Alec, " shouted Thomas. 

"I haena time. Pray yersel', " shouted Alec in reply, and gave a strokethat shot him far towards the current. Before he reached it, he shiftedhis seat, and sat facing the bows. There was little need for pulling, nor was there much fear of being overtaken by any floating mass, whilethere was great necessity for looking out ahead. The moment Thomas sawthe boat laid hold of by the current, he turned his back to theGlamour, fell upon his knees in the grass, and cried in an agony:

"Lord, let not the curse o' the widow and the childless be upo' me, Thomas Crann. "

Thereafter he was silent. 

Johnstone and the farm-lad ran down the river-side. Truffey had startedfor the bridge again, having tied up his crutch with a string. Thomasremained kneeling, with his arms stretched out as stiff as the poles ofa scaffold, and the joints of his clasped fingers buried in the rootsof the grass. The stone piers of the wooden bridge fell into the waterwith a rush, but he never heard it. The bridge floated past him bodily, but his back was towards it. Like a wretch in sanctuary, he dared notleave "the footstool of grace, " or expose himself to the inroads of thevisible world around him, by opening his eyes. 

Alec did not find it so hard as he had expected to keep his boat fromcapsizing. But the rapidity with which the banks swept past him wasfrightful. The cottage lay on the other side of the Glamour, lowerdown, and all that he had to do for a while, was to keep the bows ofhis boat down the stream. When he approached the cottage, he drew alittle out of the centre of the current, which, confined within risingground, was here fiercer than anywhere above. But out of the current hecould not go; for the cottage lay between the channel of the river andthe mill-race. Except for its relation, however, to the bridge behindit, which he saw crowded with anxious spectators, he would not haveknown where it ought to be--so much was the aspect of everythingaltered. He could see that the water was more than half way up thedoor, right at which he had resolved to send his boat. He was doubtfulwhether the doorway was wide enough to let it through, but he saw noother way of doing. He hoped his momentum would be sufficient to forcethe door open, or, better still, to carry away the posts, and give himmore room. If he failed no doubt the boat would be in danger, but hewould not make any further resolutions, till action, becoming absolute, should reveal the nature of its own necessity. As he drew near hismark, therefore, he resumed the seat of a rower, kept taking good aimat the door, gave a few vigorous pulls, and unshipping his oars, benthis head forward from the shock. Bang went the _Bonnie Annie_; awaywent door and posts; and the lintel came down on Alec's shoulders. 

But I will now tell how the night had passed with Tibbie and Annie. 

CHAPTER LXIV. 

Tibbie's moaning grew gentler and less frequent, and both fell into atroubled slumber. From this Annie awoke at the sound of Tibbie's voice. She was talking in her dream. 

"Dinna wauk him, " she said; "dinna wauk him; he's fell (Germ. Viel)tired and sleepy. Lat the win' blaw, lads. Do ye think He canna seewhan his een are steekit. Gin the watter meddle wi' you, He'll sune latit ken it's i' the wrang. Ye'll see 't cowerin' at 's feet like acolley-dog. I'll jist dight the weet aff o' my Lord's face. --Weel, waukhim gin ye will. _I_ wad raither gang to the boddom mysel'. "

A pause followed. It was clear that she was in a dream-boat, with Jesusin the hinder part asleep upon a pillow. The sounds of the wateroutside had stolen through her ears and made a picture in her brain. Suddenly she cried out:

"I tellt ye sae! I tellt ye sae! Luik at it! The jaws (waves) gang doonas gin they war sae mony wholpies!"

She woke with the cry--weeping. 

"I thocht _I_ had the sicht o' my een, " she said sobbing, "and the Lordwas blin' wi' sleep. "

"Do you hear the watter?" said Annie. 

"Wha cares for _that_ watter!" she answered, in a tone of contempt. "Doye think He canna manage _hit_!"

But there was a _jabble_ in the room beside them, and Annie heard it. The water was yelping at the foot of the bed. 

"The watter's i' the hoose!" cried she, in terror, and proceeded torise. 

"Lie still, bairn, " said Tibbie, authoritatively. "Gin the watter be i'the hoose, there's no ootgang. It'll be doon afore the mornin'. Liestill. "

Annie lay down again, and Tibbie resumed:

"Gin we be i' the watter, the watter's i' the how o' his han'. Gin wegang to the boddom, he has only to open's fingers, an' there we are, lyin' i' the loof o' 's han', dry and warm. Lie still. "

And Annie lay so still, that in a few minutes more she was asleepagain. Tibbie slept too. 

But Annie woke from a terrible dream--that a dead man was pursuing her, and had laid a cold hand upon her. The dream was gone, but the coldhand remained. 

"Tibbie!" she cried, "the watter 's i' the bed. "

"What say ye, lassie?" returned Tibbie, waking up. 

"The watter's i' the bed. "

"Weel, lie still. We canna sweyp it oot. "

The water was in the bed. And it was pitch dark. Annie, who lay at thefront, stretched her arm over the side. It sunk to the elbow. In amoment more the bed beneath her was like a full sponge. She lay insilent terror, longing for the dawn. 

"I'm terrible cauld, " said Tibbie. 

Annie tried to answer her, but the words would not leave her throat. The water rose. They were lying half-covered with it. Tibbie broke outsinging. Annie had never heard her sing, and it was not very musical. 

 "Saviour, through the desert lead us. Without thee, we cannot go. 

Are ye waukin', lassie?"

"Ay, " answered Annie. 

"I'm terrible cauld, an' the watter's up to my throat. I canna muv, I'msae cauld. I didna think watter had been sae cauld. "

"I'll help ye to sit up a bit. Ye'll hae dreidfu' rheumatize efterthis, Tibbie, " said Annie, as she got up on her knees, and proceeded tolift Tibbie's head and shoulders, and draw her up in the bed. 

But the task was beyond her strength. She could not move the helplessweight, and, in her despair, she let Tibbie's head fall back with adull plash upon the bolster. 

Seeing that all she could do was to sit and support her, she got out ofbed and waded across the floor to the fireside to find her clothes. Butthey were gone. Chair and all had been floated away, and although shegroped till she found the floating chair, she could not find theclothes. She returned to the bed, and getting behind Tibbie, lifted herhead on her knees, and so sat. 

An awful dreary time followed. The water crept up and up. Tibbie moaneda little, and then lay silent for a long time, drawing slow and feeblebreaths. Annie was almost dead with cold. 

Suddenly in the midst of the darkness Tibbie cried out, "I see licht! I see licht!"

A strange sound in her throat followed, after which she was quitestill. Annie's mind began to wander. Something struck her gently on thearm, and kept bobbing against her. She put out her hand to feel what itwas. It was round and soft. She said to herself:

"It's only somebody's heid that the water's torn aff, " and put her handunder Tibbie again. 

In the morning she found it was a drowned hen. 

At length she saw motion rather than light. The first of the awful dawnwas on the yellow flood that filled the floor. There it lay throbbingand swirling. The light grew. She strained her eyes to see Tibbie'sface. At last she saw that the water was over her mouth, and that herface was like the face of her father in his coffin. Child as she was, she knew that Tibbie was dead. She tried notwithstanding to lift herhead out of the water, but she could not. So she crept from under her, with painful effort, and stood up in the bed. The water almost reachedher knees. The table was floating near the bed. She got hold of it, andscrambling on to it, sat with her legs in the water. For another longspace, half dead and half asleep, she went floating about, dreamingthat she was having a row in the _Bonnie Annie_ with Alec and Curly. Inthe motions of the water, she had passed close to the window lookingdown the river, and Truffey had seen her. 

Wide awake she started from her stupor at the terrible bang with whichthe door burst open. She thought the cottage was falling, and that herhour was come to follow Tibbie down the dark water. 

But in shot the sharp prow of the _Bonnie Annie_, and in glided afterit the stooping form of Alec Forbes. She gave one wailing cry, andforgot everything. 

That cry however had not ceased before she was in Alec's arms. Inanother moment, wrapt in his coat and waistcoat, she was lying in thebottom of the boat. 

Alec was now as cool as any hero should be, for he was doing his duty, and had told the devil to wait a bit with his damnation. He looked allabout for Tibbie, and at length spied her drowned in her bed. 

"So much the more chance for Annie and me!" he said. "But I wish I hadbeen in time. "

What was to be done next? Down the river he must go, and they would beupon the bridge in two moments after leaving the cottage. --He mustshoot the middle arch, for that was the highest. But if he escapedbeing dashed against the bridge before he reached the arch, and evenhad time to get in a straight line for it, the risk was a terrible one, with the water within a few feet of the keystone. 

But when he shot the _Bonnie Annie_ again through the door of thecottage, neither arch nor bridge was to be seen, and the boat went downthe open river like an arrow. 

CHAPTER LXV. 

Alec, looking down the river on his way to the cottage, had not seenthe wooden bridge floating after him. As he turned to row into thecottage, it went past him. 

The stone bridge was full of spectators, eagerly watching the boat, forTruffey had spread the rumour of the attempt; while the report of thesituation of Tibbie and Annie having reached even the Wan Water, thosewho had been watching it were now hurrying across to the bridge of theGlamour. 

The moment Alec disappeared in the cottage, some of the spectatorscaught sight of the wooden bridge coming down full tilt upon them. Already fears for the safety of the stone bridge had been openlyexpressed, for the weight of water rushing against it was tremendous;and now that they saw this ram coming down the stream, a panic, withcries and shouts of terror, arose, and a general rush left the bridgeempty just at the moment when the floating mass struck one of theprincipal piers. Had the spectators remained upon it, the bridge mighthave stood. 

But one of the crowd was too much absorbed in watching the cottage toheed the sudden commotion around him. This was Truffey, who, leaningwearily on the parapet with his broken crutch looking over it also athis side, sent his soul through his eyes to the cottage window. Evenwhen the bridge struck the pier, and he must have felt the mass onwhich he stood tremble, he still kept staring at the cottage. Not tillhe felt the bridge begin to sway, I presume, had he a notion of hisdanger. Then he sprang up, and made for the street. The half of thebridge crumbled away behind him, and vanished in the seething yellowabyss. 

At this moment, the first of the crowd from the Wan Water reached thebridge-foot. Amongst them came the schoolmaster. Truffey was makingdesperate efforts to reach the bank. His mended crutch had given way, and he was hopping wildly along. Murdoch Malison saw him, and rushedupon the falling bridge. He reached the cripple, caught him up in hisstrong arms, turned and was half way to the street, when with a swingand a sweep and a great plash, the remaining half of the bridge reeledinto the current and vanished. Murdoch Malison and Andrew Truffey leftthe world each in the other's arms. 

Their bodies were never found. 

A moment after the fall of the bridge, Robert Bruce, gazing with therest at the triumphant torrent, saw the _Bonnie Annie_ go darting past. Alec was in his shirt-sleeves, facing down the river, with his oarslevel and ready to dip. But Bruce did not see Annie in the bottom ofthe boat. 

"I wonner hoo auld Marget is, " he said to his wife the moment hereached home. 

But his wife could not tell him. Then he turned to his two youngerchildren. 

"Bairns, " he said, "Annie Anderson's droont. Ay, she's droont, " hecontinued, as they stared at him with frightened faces. "The Almichty'staen vengeance upon her for her disobedience, and for brackin' theSawbath. See what ye'll come to, bairns, gin ye tak up wi' ill loons, and dinna min' what's said to ye. _She's_ come to an ill hinner-en'?"

Mrs Bruce cried a little. Robert would have set out at once to seeMargaret Anderson, but there was no possibility of crossing the WanWater. 

Fortunately for Thomas Crann, James Johnstone, who had reached thebridge just before the alarm arose, sped to the nearest side, which wasthat away from Glamerton. So, having seen the boat go past, with Alecstill safe in it, he was able to set off with the good news for Thomas. After searching for him at the miller's and at Howglen, he found himwhere he had left him, still on his knees, with his hands in the grass. 

"Alec's a' safe, man, " he cried. 

Thomas fell on his face, and he thought he was dead. But he was onlygiving lowlier thanks. 

James took hold of him after a moment's pause. Thomas rose from theearth, put his great horny hand, as a child might, into that of thelittle weaver, and allowed him to lead him whither he would. He wasutterly exhausted, and it was hours before he spoke. 

There was no getting to Glamerton. So James took him to the miller'sfor shelter and help, but said nothing about how he had found him. Themiller made Thomas drink a glass of whisky and get into his bed. 

"I saw ye, Thamas, upo' yer knees, " said he; "but I dauredna come nearye. Put in a word for me, neist time, man. "

Thomas made him no reply. 

Down the Glamour and down the Wan-Water, for the united streams went bythe latter name, the terrible current bore them. Nowhere could Alecfind a fit place to land, till they came to a village, fortunately onthe same side as Howglen, into the street of which the water flowed. Hebent to his oars, got out of the current, and rowed up to the door of apublic-house, whose fat kind-hearted landlady had certainly expected noguests that day. In a few minutes Annie was in a hot bath, and beforean hour had passed, was asleep, breathing tranquilly. Alec got his boatinto the coach-house, and hiring a horse from the landlord, rode hometo his mother. She had heard only a confused story, and was gettingterribly anxious about him, when he made his appearance. As soon as shelearned that he had rescued Annie, and where he had left her, she hadDobbin put to the gig, and drove off to see after her neglectedfavourite. 

From the moment the bridge fell, the flood began to subside. Tibbie'scottage did not fall, and those who entered, the next day, found herbody lying in the wet bed, its face still shining with the reflex ofthe light which broke upon her spirit as the windows were opened for itto pass. 

"See sees noo, " said Thomas Crann to James Johnstone, as they walkedtogether at her funeral. "The Lord sent that spate to wash the scalesfrae her een. "

Mrs Forbes brought Annie home to Howglen as soon as she was fit to bemoved. 

Alec went to town again, starting a week before the commencement of thesession. 

CHAPTER LXVI. 

It was on a bright frosty evening in the end of October, that Alecentered once more the streets of the great city. The stars werebrilliant over-head, the gems in Orion's baldric shining oriently, andthe Plough glittering with frost in the cold blue fields of thenorthern sky. Below, the streets shone with their own dim stars; andmen and women wove the web of their life amongst them as they had donefor old centuries, forgetting those who had gone before, and carelessof those who were to come after. 

The moment he had succeeded in satisfying his landlady's inquisition, he rushed up to Mr Cupples's room. Mr Cupples was out. What was Alec todo? He could not call on Mr Fraser that night; and all space betweenhim and Kate growing more immeasurable the nearer he came to her, hecould not rest for the feeling of distance. So he wandered out, andalong the sea-shore till under the wall of the pier. The tide was low, and the wall high over his head. He followed it to the edge of thewater, and gazed out over the dim lead-coloured sea. While he stoodthus, he thought he heard voices in the air, and looking up, saw, farover him, on the top of the wall, two heads standing out against theclear sky, one in a bonnet, the other in a Glengarry. Why should hefeel a pang in his heart? Surely there were many girls who tookstarlight walks on that refuge in the sea. And a Glengarry was nouncommon wear for the youths of the city. He laughed at his own weakfancies, turned his back on the pier, and walked along the shoretowards the mouth of the other river which flowed into the same bay. Ashe went, he glanced back towards the top of the wall, and saw theoutline of the man. He was in full Highland dress. The woman he couldnot see, for she was on the further side of her companion. By the timehe was halfway to the college, he had almost forgotten them. 

It was a desolate shore along which he walked. Two miles of sand lay bythe lip of the sea on his right. On his left rose irregular andchangeful mounds of dry sand, upon which grew coarse grass and a fewunpleasant-looking plants. From the level of the tops of these moundsstretched away a broad expanse of flat uncultivated ground, coveredwith thin grass. This space had been devoted, from time immemorial, tothe sports of the city, but at this season, and especially at thishour, it was void as the Sahara. After sauntering along for half anhour, now listening to the wind that blew over the sand-hills, and nowwatching the spiky sparkle of the wintry stars in the sea, he reached apoint whence he could descry the windows of Mr Fraser's part of thecollege. There was no light in Kate's window. She must be in thedining-room with her uncle--or--or--on the pier--with whom? He flunghimself on the sand. All the old despair of the night of thunder, ofthe moonlight ramble, of the last walk together, revived. He dug withhis fingers into the sand; and just so the horrible pain was digging, like a live creature with claws, into his heart. But Kate was indeedsitting quietly with her uncle, while he lay there on the sea-shore. 

Time passes quickly in any torment--merciful provision. Suddenlysomething cold seemed to grasp him by the feet. He started and rose. Like a wild beast in the night, the tide had crept up upon him. Ahorror seized him, as if the ocean were indeed a slimy monster thatsought to devour him where he lay alone and wretched. He sprang up thesand before him, and, sliding back at every step, gained the top withdifficulty, and ran across the _links_ towards the city. The exercisepumped the blood more rapidly through his brain, and before he reachedhome hope had begun to dawn. He ascended the garret-stairs, and againknocked at Mr Cupples's door. 

"Come in, " reached his ear in a strange dull tone. Mr Cupples hadshouted into his empty tumbler while just going to swallow the last fewdrops without the usual intervention of the wine-glass. Alec hesitated, but the voice came again with its usual ring, tinged with irritation, and he entered. 

"Hillo, bantam!" exclaimed Mr Cupples, holding out a grimy hand, thatmany a lady might have been pleased to possess and keep clean andwhite: "Hoo's the soo? And hoo's a' the cocks and hens?"

"Brawly, " returned Alec. "Hoo's the _tappit hen_?"--a large bottle, holding six quarts, in which Mr Cupples kept his whisky. 

Mr Cupples opened his eyes wide, and stared at Alec, who saw that hehad made a blunder. 

"I'll hae nae jaw frae you, younker, " said he slowly. "Gin ye be saeill at ease 'at ye maun tak' leeberties for the sake o' bein'facetious, ye can jist gang doon the stair wi' a quaiet sough. "

"I beg your pardon, Mr Cupples, " said Alec earnestly, for he was vexedwith himself. "But ye're quite richt; I am some ill at ease. "

"I thocht as muckle. Is the rainbow beginnin' to cast (fade) a wee? Hasthe fit o' Iris ca'd a hole i' the airch o' 't? Eh, man! man! Tak' tothe mathemawtics and the anawtomy, and fling the conic sections an' thebanes i' the face o' the bonny jaud--Iris, I mean, man, no ither, lassor leddy. "

For Mr Cupples had feared, from the expression of Alec's face, that hehad given him offence in return. A silence of a few seconds followed, which Alec gladly broke. 

"Are you still acting as librarian, Mr Cupples?" he said. 

"Ay. I'm actin' _as_ librarian, " returned Cupples dryly. "And I'mthinkin', " he added, "that the buiks are beginnin' to ken by this timewhat they're aboot; for sic a throuither disjaskit midden o' lere, Inever saw. Ye micht hae taicklet it wi' a graip" (_a three-prongedfork_, a sort of agricultural trident). "Are ye gaun to tak' thecheemistry alang wi' the naiteral philoasophy?"

"Ay. "

"Weel, ye jist come to me, as ye hae done afore. I'm no sae gude atthae things as I am at the Greek; but I ken mair already nor ye'll kenwhan ye ken a' 'at ye will ken. And that's nae flattery either to youor me, man. "

With beating heart, Alec knocked the next day at Mr Fraser's door, andwas shown into the drawing-room, where sat Kate alone. The moment hesaw her, he knew that there was a gulf between them as wide as theGlamour in a spate. She received him kindly, nor was there anything inher manner or speech by which he could define an alteration; and yet, with that marvellous power of self-defence, that instinctive knowledgeof spirituo-military engineering with which maidens are gifted, she hadset up such a palisade between them, dug such a fosse, and raised sucha rampart, that without knowing how the effect was produced, he feltthat he could not approach her. It is strange how women can put out aninvisible arm and push one off to an infinite removal. 

With a miserable sense of cold exhaustion and aching disappointment, heleft her. She shook hands with him warmly, was very sorry her uncle wasout, and asked him whether he would not call again to-morrow, when hewould certainly be at home? He thanked her in a voice that seemed tohim not his own, while her voice appeared to him to come out of somefar-off cave of the past. The cold frosty air received him as hestepped from the door, and its breath was friendly. If the winter wouldonly freeze him to one of its icicles, and still that heart of hiswhich would go on throbbing although there was no reason for it tothrob any more! Yet had he not often found her different from what hehad expected? And might not this be only one of her many changefulmoods? Perhaps. 

So feeling that he had nothing to do and only one thing to think about, he wandered further through the old burgh, past the lingering fragmentof its once mighty cathedral, and down to the bridge which, with itsone Gothic arch as old as the youth of Chaucer, spanned the channel, here deep and narrow, of the long-drawn Highland river. Beyond it laywintry woods, clear-lined against the pale blue sky. Into these hewandered, and was going on, seeing nothing, thinking nothing, almostfeeling nothing, when he heard a voice behind him. 

"Hillo, bantam!" it cried; and Alec did not need to turn to know whocalled. 

"I saw ye come oot o' Professor Fraser's, " said Cupples, "and I thochta bit dauner i' the caller air wad do me no ill; sae I jist cam' efterye. "

Then changing his tone, he added, "Alec, man, haud a grip o' yersel'. Dinna tyne that Lowse onythingafore ye lowse haud o' yersel'. "

"What do you mean, Mr Cupples?" asked Alec, not altogether willing tounderstand him. 

"Ye ken weel eneuch what I mean. There's a trouble upo' ye. I'm nospeirin' ony questons. But jist haud a grip o' yersel'. Rainbows!Rainbows!--We'll jist hae a walk thegither, an' I'll instruck ye i' thefirst prenciples o' naiteral philosophy. --First, ye see, there's theattraction o' graivitation, and syne there's the attraction o'cohesion, and syne there's the attraction o' adhesion; though I'mthinkin', i' the lang run, they'll be a' fun' to be ane and the same. And syne there's the attraction o' affeenity, whilk differs mair nor atae's length frae the lave. In hit, ye see, ae thing taks till anitherfor a whilie, and hauds gey and sicker till 't, till anither comes 'atit likes better, whaurupon there's a proceedin' i' the Chancery o'Natur--only it disna aye haud lang, and there's nae lawyers' fees--andthe tane's straughtways divorced frae the tither. "

And so he went on, giving a kind of humorous travesty of a lecture onphysics, which, Alec could not help perceiving, glanced every now andthen at his mental condition, especially when it came to treat of themechanical powers. It was evident that the strange being had someperception of the real condition of Alec's feelings. After walking acouple of miles into the open country, they retraced their footsteps. As they approached the college, Mr Cupples said:

"Noo, Alec, ye maun gang hame to yer denner. I'll be hame afore nicht. And gin ye like, ye can come wi' me to the library the morn, and I'llgie ye something to do. "

Glad of anything to occupy his thoughts, Alec went to the library thenext day; and as Mr Cupples was making a catalogue, and at the sametime a thorough change in the arrangement of the books--both to beafter his own heart--he found plenty for him to do. 

Alec soon found his part in the catalogue-work becoming agreeable. Butalthough there was much to be done as well in mending old covers, mounting worn title-pages, and such like, in this department Mr Cuppleswould accept no assistance. Indeed if Alec ventured to take up a bookdestined for repair, he would dart at him an anxious, almost angryglance, and keep watching him at uneasy intervals till he had laid itdown again. Books were Mr Cupples's gold and jewels and furniture andfine clothes, in fact his whole _gloria mundi_. 

But the opening day was at hand, after which Alec would have less time. Still he resolved, as some small return for the kindness of Mr Cupples, that he would continue to give him what help he could; for he haddiscovered that the pro-librarian lived in continual dread lest theoffice should be permanently filled before he had completed his labourof re-organization. 

During the few days passed in the library, he called once upon MrFraser, and met with a warm reception from him. Kate gave him a kindone as before; but he had neither the satisfaction nor the pain ofbeing alone with her. 

At the opening, appeared amongst the rest Patrick Beauchamp--claimingnow the name and dignity of The Mac Chattachan, for his grandfather wasdead, and he was heir to the property. He was, if possible, morehaughty than before; but students are not, as a class, ready to respondto claims of superiority upon such grounds as he possessed, and, exceptby a few who were naturally obsequious, he continued to be calledBeauchamp, and by that name I shall call him too. 

It soon came out that when lecture-hours were over, he put off hislowland dress, and went everywhere in Highland costume. Indeed on thefirst day Alec met him in the gloaming thus attired; and the flash ofhis cairngorms as he passed seemed to scorch his eyes, for he thoughtof the two on the pier, and the miserable hour that followed. Beauchampno longer attended the anatomical lectures; and when Alec observed hisabsence, he recalled the fact that Kate could never bear even a distantreference to that branch of study. Whether he would have gone in for itwith any heartiness himself this session, had it not been for the goodinfluence of Mr Cupples, is more than doubtful. But he gave himconstant aid, consisting in part of a liberal use of any kind of mentalgoad that came to his hand--sometimes praise, sometimes rebuke, sometimes humorous execration. 

Fortunately for the designs of Beauchamp, Mr Fraser had been visitingin his mother's neighbourhood; and nothing was easier for one who, likemost Celts, possessed more than the ordinary power of ingratiating, than to make himself agreeable to the old man. When he took his leaveto return to the college, Mr Fraser declared himself sorry that he hadmade no better acquaintance with him before, and begged that he wouldcall upon him when he came up. 

CHAPTER LXVII. 

Soon after the commencement of the session, a panic seized thetownspeople in consequence of certain reports connected with the schoolof anatomy, which stood by itself in a low neighbourhood. They were tothe effect that great indignities were practised upon the remains ofthe _subjects_, that they were huddled into holes about the place, andso heedlessly, that dogs might be seen tearing portions from the earth. What truth there may have been at the root of these reports, I cannottell; but it is probable they arose from some culpable carelessness ofthe servants. At all events, they were believed in the neighbourhood, occupied by those inhabitants of the city readiest to receive and dwellupon anything revolting. But what pushed the indignation beyond theextreme of popular endurance, was a second rumour, in the consternationoccasioned by which the whole city shared: the _resurrectionists_ wereat their foul work, and the graveyard, the place of repose, was itselfno longer a sanctuary! Whether the authorities of the medical schoolhad not been guilty of indifference, contenting themselves with askingno questions about the source whence the means of prosecuting their artwas derived, may be a question. But fear altogether outstrippedinvestigation, and those even who professed unbelief, took precautions;whence the lights of the watchers of the dead might be seen twinkling, far into the morning, in the solemn places around the city churches;while many a poor creature who would have sold his wife's body for fivepounds, was ready to tear a medical student to pieces on the merechance that his scalpel had touched a human form stolen from the sacredenclosure. 

Now whether Beauchamp, who had watched Alec in the same situationbefore, had anything to do with what follows I cannot tell; but hisconduct then lays him open to suspicion now. 

Alec, who found some escape if not relief from painful thought in theprosecution of his favourite study, was thus occupied one evening, novery unfrequent occurrence, by candlelight. He had almost reached afinal understanding of the point in pursuit, when he was roused fromhis absorption by a yell outside. He had for some time previous heard asound of gathering commotion, but had paid no attention to it. Hestarted up from his stooping posture, and having blown out his candle, perceived by the lamps outside, that a crowd of faces, pale in thedarkness, was staring through the high iron palisade which surroundedthe school. They had seen his light, and were now watching for hiscoming out. He knew that upon the smallest additional excitement thelocked gates and palisade would not keep them off more than half aminute; so he instantly barred the shutters, and betook himself to theporter's room. As he crossed the small open corner between the twodoors, he heard the _sough_ of their angry speech swelling and fallinglike a wind in the upper regions of the night; but they did not seehim. Fortunately, there was a side door in the railing, seldom used, ofwhich the key hung in the porter's room. By this door Alec let himselfout, and relocked it. But the moment he turned to go home, he heard anurchin, who had peeped round a corner, screech to the crowd across theenclosure:

"He's oot at the back yett! He's oot at the back yett and awa'!"

Another yell arose, and the sounds of trampling feet. 

Alec knew that his only chance lay in his heels, and took to themfaithfully. Behind him came the crowd in hot pursuit. The narrowstreets rang with their shouts of execration. Such curses could hardlybe heard elsewhere in Europe. Alec, knowing most of the courts andpassages, doubled on his pursuers in the hope of eluding them. Butdiscovering that he had his instrument still in his hand, he stopped toput it down the bars of a grating, for a cut from it would have beenmost perilous, as he had been using it a day too soon; and before hehad gained another turning, his pursuers were on his track and hadcaught sight of him. But Alec's wind and muscles were both good; and infive minutes more he was at the back entrance to his own lodging, having left the mob far behind him. He darted up to Mr Cupples, and assoon as he found breath enough, told him his adventure, saying with alaugh, as he concluded, "It's a mercy there's as muckle o' me to the fore as can tell thetale!"

"Jist tak' ye tent, bantam, " returned Mr Cupples, who had suddenlyassumed a listening attitude, with his head on one side, "or ye maynatell the neist. Hark!"

From far below arose the dull sound of many feet on the stone-stairs. Mr Cupples listened for a moment as if fascinated, then turning quietlyin his chair, put the poker in the fire. Alec rose. 

"Sit down, you fool!" cried Cupples; and Alec obeyed. 

By this time the mob was thundering at the door of the flat below. Andthe fact that they knew where Alec lived adds to my suspicion ofBeauchamp. The landlady wisely let them in, and for a few minutes theywere busy searching the rooms. Then the noise of their feet was heardon the wooden stair leading up to the garret, whereupon Mr Cupplesturned the poker in the fire, and said to Alec, "Rin into that hole there, direckly. "

He pointed with the red-hot poker to the door already mentioned aspartly sunk in the slope of the ceiling, and then stuck the poker inthe fire again. Alec pulled the door open, and entering closed itbehind him. The next moment, guided by the light from under it, theforemost footsteps reached the door, and the same instant Mr Cupplesappeared in it with his glowing weapon in his hand. Faces with flashingeyes filled the dark garret outside. 

"What do ye want?" asked Mr Cupples. 

"We want a resurrectioner 'at bides i' this hoose--a foul bane-pikin'doctor, " answered a huge, black-faced smith. 

"What do ye want wi' _him_?"

"What are _ye_ stan'in' jawin' there for? Haud oot o' the gait. Gin hebena in your box, what's the odds o' oor luikin' in't?"

"Haud a quaiet sough, my man, " answered Cupples, raising the point ofthe worn old weapon, the fervency of whose whiteness had already dimmedto a dull scaly red, "or I s' lat ye ken' at I'm i' my ain hoose. Mycerty! but this'll gang throu ye as gin ye war sae mony kegs o' sautbutter!"

And he gave a flourish with his rapier--the crowd yielding a stepbefore it--as he asked once more--

"What do ye want wi' him?"

"To ca the sowl oot o' the wame o' the deil's buckie o' him, " said alimping ostler. 

"I s' pang the mou' o' him wi' the hip o' a corp, " cried a pale-facedpainter, who seemed himself to belong to the injured fraternity ofcorpses. 

A volley of answers too horrible for record, both in themselves and inthe strange devilry of their garnish of oaths, followed. Mr Cupples didnot flinch a step from his post. But, alas! his fiery sword had by thistime darkened into an iron poker, and the might of its enchantmentvanished as the blackness usurped its glow. He was just going to throwit away, and was stretching out his other hand for his grandfather'sbroadsword, which he had put in the corner by the door ready to replaceit, when a long arm, with a fist at the end of it, darted from betweenthe heads in front of him, hurled him across the room, and laid himbleeding and senseless on his own hearth. The poker flew from his handas he fell. The crowd rushed in after him, upset his table, broke openthe door that protected his precious books, and with one vigorous kickfrom the blacksmith's apprentice, sent in the door of Alec's retreat. But at that moment Alec was contemplating the crowd below from a regalseat between two red chimney-pots. 

For as soon as he had drawn-to the door of the closet, instead offinding darkness, he became aware of moonshine, coming through a doorthat led out upon the roof. This he managed to open, and found himselffree of the first floor of the habitable earth, the cat-walk of theworld. As steady in foot and brain as any sailor, he scrambled up theroof, seated himself as I have said, and gave himself up to thesituation. A sort of stubby underwood of chimney-pots grew all abouthim out of red and blue ridges. Above him the stars shone dim in thelight of the moon, which cast opal tints all around her on the whiteclouds; and beneath him was a terrible dark abyss, full of raging men, dimly lighted with lamps. Cavernous clefts yawned in all directions, inthe side of which lived men and women and children. What a seething ofhuman emotions was down there! Would they ever be sublimed out of thattorture-pit into the pure air of the still heaven, in which the moonrode like the very throne of peace?

Alec had gone through enough of trouble already to be able to feel somesuch passing sympathy for the dwellers in the city below. But thesounds of search in the closet recalled him to a sense of his position. If his pursuers looked out at the door, they would see him at once. Hewas creeping round to the other side of the chimney to cower in itsshadow, when a sudden bellow from the street apprized him that themovement had discovered him to the crowd. Presently stones came flyingabout the chimneys, and a busy little demon bounded into the house totell the ringleaders that he was on the roof. He therefore slid downthe slope away from the street, and passed on to the roof of the nexthouse, and thence to the third. 

Arriving at a dingy dormer window, he found that it opened with ease, admitting him into a little room crowded with dusty books and cobwebs. He knew then that he was in the territorial outskirts of a certainsecond-hand bookseller, with whom he had occasional dealings. He closedthe window, and sat down upon a pile of neglected volumes. The moonshining through the clouded window revealed rows of books all abouthim, of which he could not read even the names. But he was in no wantof the interest they might have afforded him. His thoughts turned toKate. She always behaved to him so that he felt both hurt and repelled, and found it impossible to go to her so often as he would. Yet now whenseated in the solitude of this refuge, his thoughts went back to hertenderly; for to her they always returned like birds to their tree, from all the regions whither the energetic dispersion of Mr Cupplesmight have scattered them for their pickings of intellectual crumbs. Now, however, it was but as to a leafless wintry tree, instead of anest bowered in green leaves. Yet he was surprised to find that he wasnot ten times more miserable; the fact being that, as he had no reasonto fear that she preferred any one else, there was plenty of moorlandspace left for Hope to grow upon. And Alec's was one of those naturesthat sow Hope everywhere. All that such need is room to sow. Take thataway and they are desperate. Alec did not know what advantage Beauchamphad been taking of the Professor's invitation to visit him. 

After a time the tumult in the street gradually died away, and Alecthought he might venture to return to Mr Cupples. Clambering back overthe roofs, he entered, and found the inner door of the closet brokenfrom its hinges. As he moved it aside, a cry of startled feardiscovered that his landlady was in the room. 

"Guid preserve's, Mr Forbes!" she cried; "whaur come ye frae, and whathae ye been aboot, to raise the haill toon upo' ye? I trust ye hae naelegs or airms o' a cauld corp aboot ye. The fowk i' the back streetscanna bide that. An' I winna alloo 't i' my hoose. Jist luik at puir MrCupples here. "

Mr Cupples lay on the bed, with his head bound in a bloody bandage. Hehad fallen upon the fender, and a bad cut had been the consequence. Heheld out his hand to Alec, and said feebly, "Bantam, I thocht ye had yer neck thrawn or this time. Hoo, the muckledeil! did ye win oot o' their grips?"

"By playin' the cat a wee, " answered Alec. 

"It's the first time, " remarked Mr Cupples, "I ever kent I had a doorto the lift (sky). But faith! the sowl o' me was nearhan' gaein' out atthis new ane i' my ain riggin. Gin it hadna been for the guidwife here, 'at cam' up, efter the clanjamfrie had taen themsel's aff, an' fand melying upo' the hearthstane, I wad hae been deid or noo. Was my heidaneath the grate, guidwife?"

"Na, nae freely that, Mr Cupples; but the blude o' 't was. And ye maunjist haud yer tongue, and lie still. Mr Forbes, ye maun jist come doonwi' me; for he winna haud's tongue's lang's ye're there. I'll jist mak'a cup o' tay till him. "

"Tay, guidwife! Deil slocken himsel' wi yer tay! Gie me a sook o' thetappit hen. "

"'Deed, Mr Cupples, ye s' hae neither sook nor sipple o' that spring. "

"Ye rigwiddie carlin!" grinned the patient. 

"Gin ye dinna haud yer tongue, I'll gang for the doctor. "

"I'll fling him doon the stair. --Here's doctor eneuch!" he added, looking at Alec. "Gie me half a glaiss, nate. "

"Never a glaiss nor glaiss sall ye hae frae my han', Mr Cupples. It wadbe the deid o' ye. And forbye, thae ill-faured gutter-partans(kennel-crabs) toomed the pig afore they gaed. And guid faith! it wasthe only wise-like thing they did. Fess the twa halves o' 't, MrForbes, an' lat him see 't wi' the een o' misbelief. "

"Gang oot o' my chaumer wi' yer havers, " cried Mr Cupples, "and lea' mewi' Alec Forbes. He winna deave me wi' his clash. "

"'Deed, I'll no lea' twa sic fules thegither. Come doon the stairdireckly, Mr Forbes. "

Alec saw that it was better to obey. He went up on the sly in thecourse of the evening, however, but peeping in and seeing that heslept, came down again. He insisted upon sitting up with him though, towhich, after repeated vows of prudence and caution, their landladyconsented. 

He was restless and feverish during the night. Alec gave him somewater. He drank it eagerly. A flash of his humour broke through thecloud of his suffering as he returned the tumbler. 

"Eh, man! that's gran' tipple, " he said. "Hoo do ye ca' 't?"

In the morning he was better; but quite unable to rise. The poor fellowhad very little blood for ordinary organic purposes, and the loss ofany was a serious matter to him. 

"I canna lift my heid, Alec, " he said. "Gin that thrawn wife wad haebut gien me a drappy o' whusky, I wad hae been a' richt. "

"Jist lie ye still, Mr Cupples, " said Alec. "I winna gang to the classthe day. I'll bide wi' you. "

"Ye'll do nae sic thing. What's to come o' the buiks forbye, wantin'you or me to luik efter them? An' the senawtus'll be sayin' that I gotmy heid clured wi' fa'in' agen the curbstane. "

"I'll tell them a' aboot it, ane efter anither o' them. "

"Ay; jist do sae. Tell them a' aboot it. It wad brak my hert to pairtwi' the buiks afore I got them pitten in dacent order. Faith! I wadnalie still i' my coffin. I wad be thrawin' and turnin', and curfufflin'a' my win'in' sheet, sae that I wadna be respectable whan I bude to getup again. Sae ye maunna lat them think that I'm ower drucken for thebuiks to keep company wi', ye ken. "

Alec promised to do all he could to keep such a false conclusion fromentering the minds of the senatus, and, satisfied that he would bestserve the interests of Mr Cupples by doing so at once, set off forcollege, to call on the professors before lectures. 

The moment he was out of the room, Mr Cupples got out of bed, andcrawled to the cupboard. To his mortification, however, he found thatwhat his landlady had said was in the main true; for the rascals hadnot left a spoonful either in the bottle which he used as a decanter, or in the store-bottle called the _tappit (crested) hen_ by way ofpre-eminence. He drained the few drops which had gathered from thesides of the latter, for it was not in two halves as she hadrepresented, and crawled back to bed. A fresh access of fever was theconsequence of the exertion. It was many days before he was able torise. 

After the morning-classes were over, Alec went to tell Mr Fraser, theonly professor whom he had not already seen, about his adventure, andthe consequences of the librarian's generous interference. 

"I was uneasy about you, Mr Forbes, " said the professor, "for I heardfrom your friend Beauchamp that you had got into a row with theblackguards, but he did not know how you had come off. "

His friend Beauchamp! How did he know about it? And when could he havetold Mr Fraser?--But Kate entered, and Alec forgot Beauchamp. Shehesitated, but advanced and held out her hand. Alec took it, but feltit tremble in his with a backward motion as of reluctance, and he knewthat another thickness of the parting veil had fallen between her andhim. 

"Will you stay and take tea with us?" asked the professor. "You nevercome to see us now. "

Alec stammered out an unintelligible excuse. 

"Your friend Beauchamp will be here, " continued Mr Fraser. 

"I fear Mr Beauchamp is no friend of mine, " said Alec. 

"Why do you think that? He speaks very kindly of you--always. "

Alec made no reply. Ugly things were vaguely showing themselves througha fog. 

Kate left the room. 

"You had better stay, " said the old man kindly. 

"I was up all night with Mr Cupples, " answered Alec, longing to bealone that he might think things out, "and I am anxious about him. Ishould be quite uneasy if I did stay--thank you, Mr Fraser. "

"Ah! well; your excuse is a good one, " answered the old man. And theyparted. 

Alec went home with such a raging jealousy in his heart, that he almostforgot Mr Cupples, and scarcely cared how he might find him. For thiswas the first time he had heard of any acquaintance between theprofessor and Beauchamp. And why should Kate hesitate to shake handswith him? He recalled how her hand had trembled and fluttered on hisarm when he spoke of the red stain on the water; and how she haddeclined to shake hands with him when he told her that he had come fromthe dissecting-room. And the conviction seized him that Beauchamp hadbeen working on her morbid sensitiveness to his disadvantage--takinghis revenge on him, by making the girl whom he worshipped shrink fromhim with irrepressible loathing. 

And in the lulls of his rage and jealousy, he had some glimpses intoKate's character. Not that he was capable of thinking about it; butflashes of reality came once and again across the vapours of passion. He saw too that her nerves came, as it were, nearer the surface thanthose of other people, and that thence she was exposed to those suddenchanges of feeling which had so often bewildered him. And now thatdelicate creature was in the hands of Beauchamp--a selfish andvulgar-minded fellow! That he whom he had heard insult a dead woman, and whom he had chastised for it, should dare to touch Kate! His verytouch was defilement. But what could he do? Alas! he could only hate. And what was that, if Kate should love! But she could not love himalready. He would tell her what kind of a person he was. But she wouldnot believe him, and would set it down to jealousy. And it would bemean to tell her. Was Kate then to be left to such a fate without aword of warning? He _would_ tell her, and let her despise him. --And sothe storm raged all the way home. His only comfort lay in saying overand over again that Kate could not be in love with him yet. 

But if he had seen Kate, that same evening, looking up into Beauchamp'sface with a beauty in her own such as he had never beheld there, abeauty more than her face could hold, and overflowing in light from hereyes, he would have found this poor reed of comfort break in his handand pierce his heart. Nor could all his hatred have blinded him to thefact that Beauchamp looked splendid--his pale face, with its fine, regular, clear-cut features, reflecting the glow of hers, and hisHighland dress setting off to full advantage his breadth of shouldersand commanding height. Kate had at last found one to whom she couldlook up, in whom she could trust!

He had taken her by storm, and yet not without well-laid schemes. Forinstance, having discovered her admiration of Byron, instead of settinghimself, like Alec, to make himself acquainted with that poet, by whichhe could have gained no advantage over her, he made himself her pupil, and listened to everything she had to say about Byron as to a newrevelation. But, at the same time, he began to study Shelley; and, in afew days, was able to introduce, with sufficient application, one ortwo passages gathered from his pages. Now, to a mind like that of Kate, with a strong leaning to the fantastic and strange, there was that inShelley which quite overcrowed Byron. She listened with breathlesswonder and the feeling that now at last she had found a poet just toher mind, who could raise visions of a wilder beauty than had evercrossed the horizon of her imagination. And the fountain whence shedrank the charmed water of this delight was the lips of that grandyouth, all nobleness and devotion. And how wide his reading must be, seeing he knew a writer so well, of whom she had scarcely heard!

Shelley enabled Beauchamp to make the same discovery, with regard toKate's peculiar constitution, on the verge of which Alec had lingeredso long. For upon one occasion, when he quoted a few lines from theSensitive Plant--if ever there was a Sensitive Plant in the humangarden, it was Kate--she turned "white with the whiteness of what isdead, " shuddered, and breathed as if in the sensible presence ofsomething disgusting. And the cunning Celt perceived in this emotionnot merely an indication of what he must avoid, but a means as well ofinjuring him whose rival he had become for the sake of injury. Both touncle and niece he had always spoken of Alec in familiar and friendlymanner; and now, he would occasionally drop a word or two withreference to him and break off with a laugh. 

"What _do_ you mean, Mr Beauchamp?" said Kate on one of theseoccasions. 

"I was only thinking how Forbes would enjoy some lines I found inShelley yesterday. "

"What are they?"

"Ah, I must not repeat them to you. You would turn pale again, and itwould kill me to see your white face. "

Whereupon Kate pressed the question no further, and an additionalfeeling of discomfort associated itself with the name of Alec Forbes. 

CHAPTER LXVIII. 

I have said that Mrs Forbes brought Annie home with her. For severalmonths she lay in her own little room at Howglen. Mrs Forbes wasdreadfully anxious about her, often fearing much that her son's heroismhad only prolonged the process--that she was dying notwithstanding fromthe effects of that awful night. At length on a morning in February, the first wave of the feebly returning flow of the life-tide visitedher heart, and she opened her eyes, seekingly. Through her littlewindow, at which in summer she knew that the honeysuckle leaned in asif peeping and hearkening, she saw the country wrapt in a winding-sheetof snow, through which patches of bright green had begun to dawn, justas her life had begun to show its returning bloom above the wan wavesof death. --Sickness is just a fight between life and death. --A thrillof gladness, too pleasant to be borne without tears, made her close hereyes. They throbbed and ached beneath their lids, and the hot tears randown her cheeks. It was not gladness for this reason or for that, butthe essential gladness of being that made her weep: there lay theworld, white and green; and here lay she, faint and alive. And nothingwas wanting to the gladness and kindness of Mrs Forbes but theindescribable aroma of motherhood, which she was not divine-womanenough to generate, save towards the offspring of her own body; andthat Annie did not miss much, because all knowledge she had of such"heavenly health" was associated with the memory of her father. 

As the spring advanced, her strength increased, till she became able tomove about the house again. Nothing was said of her return to theBruces, who were not more desirous of having her than Mrs Forbes was ofparting with her. But if there had ever been any danger of Alec'sfalling in love with Annie, there was much more now. For as her healthreturned, it became evident that a change had passed upon her. She hadalways been a womanly child; now she was a childlike woman. Her eyeshad grown deeper, and the outlines of her form more graceful; and aflush as of sunrise dawned oftener over the white roses of her cheeks. She had ripened under the snow of her sickness. She had not grown much, and was rather under than over the ordinary height; but her shapeproduced the impression of tallness, and suggested no probability offurther growth. When first Thomas Crann saw her after her illness, heheld her at arm's length, and gazed at her. 

"Eh, lassie!" he said, "ye're grown a wumman! Ye'll hae the bigger hertto love the Lord wi'. I thocht he wad hae ta'en ye awa' a bairn, aforeever we had seen what ye wad turn oot; and sair wad I hae missed ye, bairn! And a' the sairer that I hae lost auld Tibbie. A man canna doweel withoot some woman or ither to tell him the trowth. I wiss sairthat I hadna been sae cankert wi' her, whiles. "

"I never heard her say that ye was ever cankert, Thomas. "

"No, I daursay no. She wadna say't. She wadna say't. She was akin'-herted auld body. "

"But she didna like to be ca'd auld, " interposed Annie, with a smilehalf in sad reminiscence of her friend's peculiarities, half in gentlehumour, seeking to turn the conversation, and so divert Thomas fromfurther self-accusation. 

"Aweel, she's nae that auld noo!" he answered with a responsive smile. "Eh, lassie! it maun be a fine thing to hae the wisdom o' age alang wi'the licht hert and the strang banes o' yowth. I'm growin' some auldmysel. I was ance prood o' that airm"--and it was a brawny right arm hestretched out�-"and there was no man within ten mile o' Glamerton 'atcud lift what I cud lift whan I was five-and-twenty. I daursay thatluiks gey auld to you, no?--But ony lad i' the mason-trade micht dingme at liftin' noo; for I'm stiff i' the back, and my airm's jistreid-het whiles wi' the rheumateeze; and gin I lift onything byordinar', it gars me host like a cat wi' the backbane o' a herrin' inher thrapple. --Ye'll be gaun back to Robert Bruce or lang, I'mthinkin'. "

"I dinna ken. The mistress has said naething aboot it yet. And I'm innae hurry, I can tell ye, Thomas. "

"Weel, I daursay no. Ye maun tak a heap o' care, lass, that the plentyand content ye're livin' in doesna spring up and choke the word. "

"Ay, Thomas, " answered Annie with a smile; "it's a fine thing to haereamy milk to yer parritch, in place o' sky-blue to meal and water. "

What could ail the lassie? She had never spoken lightly about anythingbefore. Was she too, like his old friend Alec, forgetting the splendourof her high calling?

Such was the thought that passed through Thomas's mind; but the truthwas that, under the genial influences of home tenderness and earlywomanhood, a little spring of gentle humour had begun to flow softlythrough the quiet fields of her childlike nature. 

The mason gazed at her doubtfully, and was troubled. Annie saw hisdiscomposure, and taking his great hand in her two little ones, lookedfull into his cold grey eyes, and said, still smiling, "Eh, Thomas! wadna ye hae a body mak' a grainy fun whiles whan it comeso' itsel' like?"

But Thomas, anxious about the state of mind that produced the change, did not show himself satisfied. 

"We dinna hear 'at the Saviour himsel' ever sae muckle as smiled, " saidhe. 

"Weel, that wad hae been little wonner, wi' what he had upo' 'm. ButI'm nae sure that he didna, for a' that. Fowk disna aye tell whan abody lauchs. I'm thinkin' gin ane o' the bairnies that he took upo' 'sknee, --an' he was ill-pleased wi' them 'at wad hae sheued themawa', --gin ane o' them had hauden up his wee timmer horsie, wi' abroken leg, and had prayed him to work a miracle an' men' the leg, hewadna hae wrocht a miracle maybe, I daursay, but he wad hae smilet, ormaybe lauchen a wee, and he wad hae men't the leg some gait or ither toplease the bairnie. And gin 't had been me, I wad raither hae had themen'in' o' 's ain twa han's, wi' a knife to help them maybe, nor twentymiracles upo' 't. "

Thomas gazed at her for a moment in silence. Then with a slow shake ofthe head, and a full-blown smile on his rugged face, he said:

"Ye're a curious cratur', Annie. I dinna richtly ken what to mak' o' yewhiles. Ye're like a suckin' bairn and a gran'mither baith in ane. ButI'm thinkin', atween the twa, ye're maistly i' the right. And ye haeset me richt afore noo. --Sae ye're nae gaun hame to the Bruces again?"

"I didna say that, " answered Annie; "I only said I had h'ard naethingaboot it yet. "

"What for dinna ye jine the kirk, noo?" said Thomas abruptly, afterhaving tried in vain to find a gradual introduction to the question. "Dinna ye think it's a deowty to keep in min' what the great Shepherddid for his ain chosen flock?"

"Nae doot o' that, Thomas. But I never thocht o' sic a thing. I dinnaeven ken 'at I am ane o' the elec'. "

"Ye dinna ken yet?"

"No, " answered Annie, sorrowfully. 

"I wonner at that, " returned Thomas. 

"And, forby, " resumed Annie, "gin I war, I'm no guid eneuch yet. An'besides that--"

But here she stopped and remained silent. 

"What was ye gaun to say?" asked Thomas, encouragingly. 

But Annie did not reply. She looked perplexed. With the intuition ofsympathy springing from like thoughts, Thomas guessed what was movingin her mind. 

"I ken what ye're thinkin', lassie, " he said. "Ye canna help thinkin'that there's some in oor mids wha may as weel be nameless, for thatthey are no credit to us, neyther wad be to ony body o' whuch they warjined members. Isna that yer trouble, bairn?"

"'Deed is't, in pairt, Thomas. But it's mair the state o' my ainfeelin's wi' regaird to ane in particular, nor the fac' that he's amember o' the kirk. Gin I cud be sure that Mr Bruce wad aye be at theither en' o' the seat, I micht think o' 't. It's no that I wadna lathim tak it. I daurna meddle wi' that. But gin I had to tak' it frae hishan', I jist cudna regaird it as the sacred thing that it bude to beconsidered. "

Thomas remained silent, with downcast thoughtful look. 

It may be necessary to state, in explanation of Annie's feelings, thatthe Scotch, at the celebration of the Eucharist, sit in long rows, andpass the bread, each breaking off a portion for himself, and the wine, from the one to the other. 

The compressed lips and motionless countenance of Thomas showed that hewas thinking more than he was prepared to clothe in words. Afterstanding thus for a few moments, he lifted his head, and returning noanswer to Annie's exposition of her feelings, bade her _good-bye_, andwalked away. 

The drift of Thomas's reflections I shall now help my reader to see. 

Their appetite for prophecy having assuaged with the assuaging flood, the people of Glamerton had no capacity for excitement left. Theconsequence was that the congregations, especially the eveningcongregations, began at once to diminish. Having once ceased to feelanxiety about some vague impending vengeance, comparatively few choseto be rated any longer about their sins; while some seeing how in the_spate_ the righteous were taken and the wicked left, felt themselvesaggrieved, and staid at home on the Sunday nights. Nor was thedeterioration confined to the congregations. Not only had the noveltyof Mr Turnbull's style worn off, but he felt himself that he could notpreach with the same fervour as before; the fact being that he hadexhausted the electric region of the spiritual brain, and withoutrepose it could never fulminate again. A second and worse consequencewas that, in his dissatisfaction with himself, he attempted to _get up_his former excitement by preaching as if he were still under itsinfluences. Upon this his conscience sternly accused him of hypocrisyand pretence, which reacted in paralysis; and the whole business becamewretched. Even his greatest admirers were compelled to acknowledge thatMr Turnbull had lost much of his unction, and that except the Spiritwere poured down upon them from on high, their prospects were verydisheartening. For even the best men in _the Church_, as, followingapostolic example without regard to circumstance, they called eachseparate community of the initiate, were worldly enough to judge of thedegree of heavenly favour shown them, not by the love they bore to thetruth and to each other, not by the purity of their collective acts andthe prevalence of a high standard of morality in the individual--pooras even these divine favours would have been as a measure of the divinefavour--but, in a great degree, by the success which attended thepreaching of their pastor, in adding to their esoteric communion, and, still worse, by the numbers which repaired to their court of theGentiles--their exoteric congregation. Nor, it must be confessed, waseven Thomas Crann, in many things so wise and good, and in all thingsso aspiring, an exception. Pondering over the signs of disfavour anddecay, he arrived at the conclusion that there must be an Achan in thecamp. And indeed if there were an Achan, he had known well enough, fora long time, who would turn out to represent that typical person. Ofcourse, it could be no other than the money-loving, themammon-worshipping Robert Bruce. When, therefore, he found that such apearl of price as Annie Anderson was excluded from their "little heavenbelow, " by the presence of this possible anti-typical Achan, he couldnot help feeling his original conviction abundantly strengthened. Buthe did not see what could be done. 

Meantime, on the loving, long-remembering Annie dawned a greatpleasure. James Dow came to see her, and had a long interview with MrsForbes, the result of which she learned after his departure. One of thefarm-servants who had been at Howglen for some years was going to leaveat the next term, and Mrs Forbes had asked Dow whether he knew of oneto take his place. Whereupon he had offered himself, and they hadarranged everything for his taking the position of grieve or foreman, which post he had occupied with James Anderson, and was at presentoccupying some ten or twelve miles up the hill-country. Few thingscould have pleased Mrs Forbes more; for James Dow was recognizedthroughout the country as the very pattern of what a foreman ought tobe; his character for saving his employers all possible expense, havingmore than its just proportion in generating this reputation; for thisis a capacity which, in a poor country where it is next to impossibleto be enterprising, will naturally receive at least its full share ofcommendation. Of late, Mrs Forbes had found it more difficult to meether current expenses; for Alec's requirements at college were heavierthis year than they had been before; so that, much to her annoyance, she had been compelled to delay the last half-yearly payment of Bruce'sinterest. Nor could she easily bear to recall the expression upon hiskeen ferret-like face when she informed him that it would be moreconvenient to pay the money a month hence. That month had passed, andanother, before she had been able to do so. For although thehome-expenses upon a farm in Scotland are very small, yet in the midstof plenty, money is often scarce enough. Now, however, she hoped that, with James Dow's management, things would go better, and she would beable to hold her mental head a little higher in her own presence. Soshe was happy, knowing nothing of the cloud that was gathering over thefar-off university, soon to sweep northward, and envelope Howglen inits dusky folds. 

CHAPTER LXIX. 

A state of something like emotional stupefaction succeeded to themental tumult of that evening when first Alec saw that his worst andwildest forebodings might be even already on the point of realization. The poor glimmer of hope that remained was only enough to show howterrible was the darkness around it. It was well for him that gratituderequired of him some ministrations beyond those which he took out ofhis landlady's hands the moment he came in from college. His custom wasto carry his books to the sick man's room, and wearily pretend, withouteven seeming, to be occupied with them. While thus unemployed he didnot know how anxiously he was watched by the big blue eyes of hisfriend, shining like two fallen stars from the cavern of his bed. But, as I have said, he had more to do for him than merely to supply his fewwants when he came home. For the patient's uneasiness about the booksand the catalogue led him to offer not only to minister to the wants ofthe students in the middle of the day, but to spend an hour or twoevery evening in carrying on the catalogue. This engagement was a greatrelief to the pro-librarian, and he improved more rapidly thenceforth. Whether Alec's labour was lightened or not by the fact that he had achance of seeing Kate pass the windows, I cannot tell, but I think anykind of emotion lightens labour. And I think the labour lightened hispain; and I know he was not so absorbed in his unhappiness, though attimes the flashes of a keen agony broke from the dull cloud of hismisery, as to perform the duties he had undertaken in a perfunctorymanner. The catalogue made slow but steady progress. And so did thelibrarian. 

"Mr Forbes, " said Mr Fraser, looking at him kindly, one morning afterthe lecture, "you are a great stranger now. Won't you come and spendto-morrow evening with us? We are going to have a little party. It ismy birthday, though I'm sure I don't know why an old man like me shouldhave any birthdays. But it's not my doing. Kate found it out, and shewould have a merry-making. I think myself after a man's forty, heshould go back to thirty-nine, thirty-eight, and so on, indicating hisprogress towards none at all. That gives him a good sweep before hecomes to two, one, nought. At which rate I shall be thirteento-morrow. "

The old man had rattled on as if he saw the cloud on Alec's face andwould dispel it by kindness. I believe he was uneasy about him. Whetherhe divined the real cause of his gloom, or feared that he was gettinginto bad ways, I cannot tell. 

He did not succeed, however, in dispelling the cloud; for the thoughtat this moment passing through Alec's mind was, that Kate had wantedthe merry-making in order to have Beauchamp there. But with a feelinglike that which makes one irritate a smarting wound, or urge on anaching tooth, he resolved to go and have his pain in earnest. 

He was the first to arrive. 

Kate was in the drawing-room at the piano, radiant in white--lovelierthan ever. She rose and met him with some embarrassment, which shetried to cover under more than usual kindness. She had not wished Alecto be one of the company, knowing it would make him unhappy and heruncomfortable. 

"Oh Kate!" said Alec, overpowered with her loveliness. 

Kate took it for a reproach, and making no reply, withdrew her hand andturned away. Alec saw as she turned that all the light had gone out ofher face. But that instant Beauchamp entered, and as she turned oncemore to greet him, the light flashed from her face and her eyes, as ifher heart had been a fountain of rosy flame. Beauchamp was magnificent, the rather quiet tartan of his clan being lighted up with all thesilver and jewels of which the dress admits. In the hilt of his dirk, in his brooch, and for buttons, he wore a set of old family topazes, instead of the commoner cairngorm, so that as he entered he flashedgolden light from the dark green cloud of his tartan. Not observingAlec, he advanced to Kate with the confidence of an accepted lover; butsome motion of her hand or glance from her eyes warned him in time. Helooked round, started a little, and greeted him with a slight bow, ofwhich Alec took no notice. He then turned to Kate and began to talk ina low tone, to which she listened with her head hanging like thetopmost bell of a wild hyacinth. As he looked, the last sickly glimmerof Alec's hope died out in darkness. But he bore up in bitterness, anda demon awoke in him laughing. He saw the smooth handsome face, theveil of so much that was mean and wretched, bending over the lovelinesshe loved, yet the demon in him only laughed. 

It may appear strange that they should behave so like lovers in thepresence of any third person, much more in the presence of Alec. ButBeauchamp had now made progress enough to secure his revenge ofmortification; and for that, with the power which he had acquired overKate's sensitive nature, he drew her into the sphere of his flauntedtriumph, and made her wound Alec to the root of his vulnerable being. Had Alec then seen his own face, he would have seen upon it the sneerthat he hated so upon that of Beauchamp. For all wickedness tends todestroy individuality, and declining natures assimilate as they sink. 

Other visitors arrived, and Alec found a strange delight in behaving asif he knew of no hidden wound, and his mind were in a state of absolute_neglig�_. But how would he meet the cold wind blowing over thedesolate links?

Some music, and a good deal of provincial talk--not always less humanand elevating than the metropolitan--followed. Beauchamp moderated hisattentions to Kate; but Alec saw that it was in compliance with hisdesire that, though reluctant, she went a second time to the piano. Thesong she had just sung was insignificant enough; but the second was oneof the ballads of her old Thulian nurse, and had the merit of anantique northern foundation at least, although it had evidently passedthrough the hands of a lowland poet before it had, in its present form, found its way northwards again to the Shetland Isles. The first tone ofthe ghostly music startled Alec, and would have arrested him even ifthe voice had not been Kate's. 

 "Sweep up the flure, Janet. Put on anither peat. It's a lown and starry nicht, Janet, And neither cauld nor weet. 

 And it's open hoose we keep the nicht For ony that may be oot. It's the nicht atween the Sancts and Souls, Whan the bodiless gang aboot

 Set the chairs back to the wa', Janet; Mak' ready for quaiet fowk. Hae a' thing as clean as a win'in' sheet: They comena ilka ook. 

 There's a spale* upo' the flure, Janet; And there's a rowan-berry: Sweep them into the fire, Janet. -- They'll be welcomer than merry. 

 Syne set open the door, Janet-- Wide open for wha kens wha; As ye come benn to yer bed, Janet, Set it open to the wa'. "

 She set the chairs back to the wa', But ane made o' the birk; She sweepit the flure, --left that ae spale, A lang spale o' the aik. 

 The nicht was lowne, and the stars sat still, Aglintin' doon the sky; And the souls crap oot o' their mooly graves, A' dank wi' lyin' by. 

 She had set the door wide to the wa', And blawn the peats rosy reid; They war shoonless feet gaed oot and in, Nor clampit as they gaed. 

 Whan midnicht cam', the mither rase-- She wad gae see and hear. Back she cam' wi' a glowerin' face, And sloomin' wi' verra fear. 

* A wood-shaving. 

 "There's ane o' them sittin' afore the fire! Janet, gang na to see: Ye left a chair afore the fire, Whaur I tauld ye nae chair sud be. "

 Janet she smiled in her mother's face: She had brunt the roddin reid; And she left aneath the birken chair The spale frae a coffin-lid. 

 She rase and she gaed butt the hoose, Aye steekin' door and door. Three hours gaed by or her mother heard Her fit upo' the floor. 

 But whan the grey cock crew, she heard The sound o' shoeless feet; Whan the red cock crew, she heard the door, And a sough o' wind and weet. 

 And Janet cam' back wi' a wan face, But never a word said she; No man ever heard her voice lood oot, It cam' like frae ower the sea. 

 And no man ever heard her lauch, Nor yet say alas or wae; But a smile aye glimmert on her wan face, Like the moonlicht on the sea. 

 And ilka nicht 'tween the Sancts and the Souls, Wide open she set the door; And she mendit the fire, and she left ae chair, And that spale upo' the floor. 

 And at midnicht she gaed butt the hoose, Aye steekin' door and door. Whan the reid cock crew, she cam' benn the hoose, Aye wanner than afore--

 Wanner her face, and sweeter her smile; Till the seventh All Souls' eve. Her mother she heard the shoeless feet, Said "she's comin', I believe. "

 But she camna benn, and her mother lay; For fear she cudna stan'. But up she rase and benn she gaed, Whan the gowden cock had crawn. 

 And Janet sat upo' the chair, White as the day did daw; Her smile was a sunlight left on the sea, Whan the sun has gane awa'. 

Alec had never till now heard her sing really. Wild music and eerieballad together filled and absorbed him. He was still gazing at herlovely head, when the last wailing sounds of the accompaniment ceased, and her face turned round, white as Janet's. She gave one glance ofunutterable feeling up into Beauchamp's face, and hiding her own in herhandkerchief, sobbed out, "You would make me sing it!" and left theroom. 

Alec's heart swelled with indignant sympathy. But what could he do? Theroom became insupportable the moment she had quitted it, and he madehis way to the door. As he opened it, he could not help glancing atBeauchamp. Instead of the dismay he expected, he saw triumph on hispale countenance, and in the curl of his scarred lip. --He flew franticfrom the house. The sky was crowded with the watchings of starry eyes. To his fancy, they were like Beauchamp's, and he hated them. Seekingrefuge from their gaze, he rushed to the library, and threw himself ona heap of foreign books, which he had that morning arranged forbinding. A ghostly glimmer from the snow, and the stars overhead, madethe darkness thinner about the windows; but there was no other light inthe place; and there he lay, feeling darker within than the nightaround him. Kate was weeping in her room; that contemptible ape hadwounded her; and instead of being sorry for it, was rejoicing in hispower. And he could not go to her; she would receive no comfort fromhim. 

It was a bitter hour. Eternity must be very rich to make up for somesuch hours. 

He had lain a long time with his face down upon the books, when hesuddenly started and listened. He heard the sound of an opening door, but not of the door in ordinary use. Thinking it proceeded from somethievish intent, he kept still. There was another door, in a corner, covered with books, but it was never opened at all. It communicatedwith a part of the buildings of the quadrangle which had been used forthe abode of the students under a former economy. It had been abandonednow for many years, as none slept any longer within the walls of thecollege. Alec knew all this, but he did not know that there was also acommunication between this empty region and Mr Fraser's house; or thatthe library had been used before as a _tryst_ by Beauchamp and Kate. 

The door closed, and the light of a lantern flashed to the ceiling. Wondering that such a place should excite the cupidity ofhousebreakers, yet convinced that such the intruders were, Alec movedgently into the embrasure of one of the windows, against the corner ofwhich abutted a screen of book-shelves. A certain light rustling, however, startled him into doubt, and the doubt soon passed intopainful conviction. 

"Why were you so unkind, Patrick?" said the voice of Kate. "You know itkills me to sing that ballad. I cannot bear it. "

"Why should you mind singing an old song your nurse taught you?"

"My nurse learned it from my mother. Oh Patrick! what _would_ my mothersay if she knew that I met you this way? You shouldn't ask me. You knowI can refuse you nothing; and you should be generous. "

Alec could not hear his answer, and he knew why. That scar on his lip!Kate's lips there!

Of course Alec ought not to have listened. But the fact was, that, forthe time, all consciousness of free will and capability of action hadvanished from his mind. His soul was but a black gulf into which pouredthe Phlegethontic cataract of their conversation. 

"Ah, yes, Patrick! Kisses are easy. But you hurt me terribly sometimes. And I know why. You hate my cousin, poor boy!--and you want me to hatehim too. I wonder if you love me as much as he does!--or did; forsurely I have been unkind enough to cure him of loving me. Surely youare not jealous of him?"

"Jealous of _him_!--I should think not!"

Human expression could have thrown no more scorn into the word. 

"But you hate him. "

"I don't hate him. He's not worth hating--the awkward steer!--althoughI confess I have cause to dislike him, and have some gratification inmortifying him. But he's not a pleasant subject to me. "

"His mother has been very kind to me. I wish you would make it up withhim for my sake, Patrick. He may be uncouth and awkward--I don'tknow--but that's no reason for hating him. I love you so that I couldlove anybody that loved you. You don't know how I love you, Patrick--though you are unkind sometimes. The world used to look socold, and narrow, and grey; but now there is a flush like sunset overeverything, and I am so happy! Patrick, don't make me do things beforemy cousin that will hurt him. "

Alec knew that she pressed closer to Beauchamp, and offered him herface. 

"Listen, my Kate, " said Beauchamp. "I know there are things you cannotbear to hear; but you must hear this. "

"No, no, not now!" answered Kate, shuddering. 

Alec knew how she looked--saw her with the eyes of his memory as shehad looked once or twice--and listened unconscious of any existence butthat of hearing. 

"You must, Kate, and you shall, " said Beauchamp. "You asked me onlyyesterday how I came by that scar on my lip. I will tell you. I rebukedthat cousin of yours for unmanly behaviour in the dissecting-room, thevery first time he entered it. He made no reply; but when we came out, he struck me. "

The icy mood passed away, and such a glow of red anger rushed throughAlec's veins, that he felt as if the hot blast from molten metal wereplaying upon his face. That Kate should marry such a man! The samemoment he stood in the light of the lantern, with one word on his lips:

"Liar!"

Beauchamp's hand sprang to the hilt of his dirk. Alec laughed withbitter contempt. 

"Pooh!" he said; "even you will not say I am a coward. Do if you dare!"

After her first startled cry, Kate had stood staring and trembling. Beauchamp's presence of mind returned. He thrust his half-drawn dirkinto its sheath, and with a curl of the scarred lip, said coldly--

"Eaves-dropping. "

"Lying, " retorted Alec. 

"Well, I must say, " returned Beauchamp, assuming his most polishedtone, "that this kind of conversation is at least unusual in thepresence of a lady. "

Without making him any reply, Alec turned to Kate. 

"Kate, " he said, "I swear to you that I struck him only after fairwarning, after insult to myself, and insult to the dead. He did notknow that I was able to give him the chastisement he deserved. "

I doubt if Kate heard any of this speech. She had been leaning againsta book-case, and from it she now slipped sideways to the floor. 

"You brute!" said Beauchamp. "You will answer to me for this. "

"When you please, " returned Alec. "Meantime you will leave this room, or I will make you. "

"Go to the devil!" said Beauchamp, again laying his hand on his dirk. 

"You can claim fair play no more than a wolf, " said Alec, keeping hiseye on his enemy's hand. "You had better go. I have only to ring thisbell and the sacrist will be here. "

"That is your regard for your cousin! You would expose her to theservants!"

"I will expose her to anything rather than to you. I have held mytongue too long. "

"And you will leave her lying here?"

"You will leave her lying here. "

"That is your revenge, is it?"

"I want no revenge even on you, Beauchamp. Go. "

"I will neither forestall nor forget mine, " said Beauchamp, as heturned and went out into the quadrangle. 

When Alec came to think about it, he could not understand the ease ofhis victory. He did not know what a power their first encounter hadgiven him over the inferior nature of Beauchamp, in whom the animal, unsupported by the moral, was cowed before the animal in Forbes, backedby the sense of right. 

And above all things Beauchamp hated to find himself in an awkwardposition, which certainly would have been his case if Alec had rung forthe sacrist. Nor was he capable of acting well on the spur of anymoment. He must have plans: those he would carry out remorselessly. --Sohe went away to excogitate further revenge. But he was in love withKate just enough to be uneasy as to the result of Alec's interview withher. 

Returning to Kate, Alec found her moaning. He supported her head as shehad done for him in that old harvest field, and chafed her chillyhands. Before her senses had quite returned, she began to talk, and, after several inarticulate attempts, her murmured words became plain. 

"Never mind, dear, " she said; "the boy is wild. He doesn't know what hesays. Oh, Patrick, my heart is aching with love to you. It is goodlove, I know; and you must be kind to me, and not make me do what Idon't like to do. And you must forgive my poor cousin, for he did notmean to tell lies. He fancies you bad, because I love you so much morethan him. But you know I can't help it, and I daresay he can't either. "

Alec felt as if a green flame were consuming his brain. And the bloodsurged so into his head and eyes, that he saw flashes of fire betweenhim and Kate. He could not remain in such a false position, with Katetaking him for her lover. But what an awful shock it would be to herwhen she discovered the truth! How was it to be avoided? He must gether home before she recovered quite. For this there was but one chance, and that lay in a bold venture. Mr Fraser's door was just across acorner of the quadrangle. He would carry her to her own room. Theguests must be gone, and it was a small household, so that the chanceof effecting it undiscovered was a good one. He did effect it; in threeminutes more he had laid her on her own bed, had rung her bell, and hadsped out of the house as fast and as quietly as he could. 

His gratification at having succeeded in escaping Kate's recognition, bore him up for a little, but before he reached home his heart feltlike a burnt-out volcano. 

Meantime Mr Cupples had been fretting over his absence, for he had cometo depend very much upon Alec. At last he had rung the bell, knowingthat Mrs Leslie was out, and that it would be answered by a dirty girlin nailed shoes turned down at the heel; she would be open to a bribe. Nor did she need much persuasion besides. Off she ran with his emptybottle, to get it filled at the grocer's over the way. 

When Alec came home, he found his friend fast asleep in bed, the roomsmelling strongly of toddy, and the bottle standing on the table besidethe empty tumbler. Faint in body, mind, and spirit, as if from thesudden temptation of an unholy power, he caught up the bottle. The_elixir mortis_ flowed gurgling from the narrow neck into the tumblerwhich Mr Cupples had lately emptied. Heedless and reckless, he nearlyfilled it, and was just lifting it to his lips, when a cry half-mouldedinto a curse rang from the bed, and the same instant the tumbler wasstruck from his hand. It flew in fragments against the grate, and thespirit rushed in a roaring flame of demoniacal wrath up the chimney. 

"Damn you!" half-shrieked, half-panted Mr Cupples in his night-shirt, at Alec's elbow, still under the influence of the same spirit he hadbanned on its way to Alec Forbes's empty house--"damn you, bantam!ye've broken my father's tumler. De'il tak' ye for a vaigabon'! I've aguid min' to thraw the neck o' ye!"

Seeing Mr Cupples was only two-thirds of Alec's height, and one-half ofhis thickness, the threat, as he then stood, was rather ludicrous. Miserable as he was, Alec could not help laughing. 

"Ye may lauch, bantam! but I want no companion in hell to cast hisdamnation in my teeth. Gin ye touch that bottle again, faith, I'llbrain ye, and sen' ye into the ither warl' withoot that handle at leastfor Sawtan to catch a grip o' ye by. And there _may_ be a handlesomewhaur o' the richt side o' ye for some saft-hertit angel to layhan' upo' and gie ye a lift whaur ye ill deserve to gang, ye thrawnbuckie! Efter a' that I hae said to ye!--Damn ye!"

Alec burst into a loud roar of laughter. For there was the little manstanding in his shirt, shaking a trembling fist at him, stammering witheagerness, and half-choked with excitement. 

"Gang to yer bed, Mr Cupples, or ye'll tak' yer deith o' cauld. Luikhere. "

And Alec seized the bottle once more. Mr Cupples flew at him, and wouldhave knocked the bottle after the glass, had not Alec held it highabove his reach, exclaiming, "Toots, man! I'm gaein' to pit it intil its ain neuk. Gang ye to yerbed, and lippen to me. "

"Ye gie me yer word, ye winna pit it to yer mou'?"

"I do, " answered Alec. 

The same moment Mr Cupples was floundering on the bed in a perplexedattempt to get under the bed-clothes. A violent fit of coughing was theconsequence of the exertion. 

"Ye're like to toom yer ain kist afore ye brain my pan, Mr Cupples, "said Alec. 

"Haud yer tongue, and lat me host (cough) in peace, " panted Mr Cupples. 

When the fit was over, he lay still, and stared at Alec. Alec had satdown in Mr Cupples's easy-chair, and was staring at the fire. 

"I see, " muttered Mr Cupples. "This'll do no longer. The laddie'sgaein' to the dogs for want o' bein' luikit efter. I maun be up themorn. It's thae wimmen! thae wimmen! Puir things! they canna aye helpit; but, de'il tak' them for bonnie oolets! mony's the fine laddie theydrive into the cluiks o' auld Horney. Michtna some gran' discovery bemade in Pheesiology, to enable the warl' to gang on wantin' them? But, Lord preserve me! I wad hae naething left worth greetin' aboot!"

He hid his face in the bed-clothes. 

Alec hearing part of this muttered discourse, had grown attentive, butthere was nothing more forthcoming. He sat for a little, staringhelplessly into the fire. The world was very blank and dismal. 

Then he rose to go to bed; for Mr Cupples did not require him now. Finding him fast asleep under the bed-clothes, he made him ascomfortable as he could. Then he locked the closet where the whiskywas, and took the key with him. 

Their mutual care in this respect was comical. 

CHAPTER LXX. 

The next morning, Alec saw Mr Cupples in bed before he left. Hissurprise therefore was great when, entering the library after morninglectures, he found him seated in his usual place, hard at work on hiscatalogue. Except that he was yet thinner and paler than before, theonly difference in his appearance was that his eyes were brighter andhis complexion was clearer. 

"You here, Mr Cupples!" he exclaimed. 

"What garred ye lock the press last nicht, ye deevil?" returned thelibrarian, paying no attention to Alec's expression of surprise. "But Isay, bantam, " he continued, not waiting for a reply, which indeed wasunnecessary, "ye hae dune yer wark weel--verra near as weel's I cud haedune't mysel'. "

"I'm sure, Mr Cupples, it was the least thing I could do. "

"Ye impident cock! It was the verra best you cud do, or ye wadna haecome within sicht o' me. I mayna be muckle at thrashin' attoarneys, orcuttin' up deid corpuses, but I defy ye to come up to me at onythingconneckit wi' buiks. "

"Faith! Mr Cupples, ye may gang farther nor that. Efter what ye haedune for me, gin I war a general, ye sud lead the Forlorn Hope. "

"Ay, ay. It's a forlorn hope, a' 'at I'm fit for, Alec Forbes, "returned Cupples sadly. 

This struck Alec so near his own grief that he could not reply witheven seeming cheerfulness. He said nothing. Mr Cupples resumed. 

"I hae twa three words to say to you, Alec Forbes. Can ye believe in aman as weel's ye can in a wumman?"

"I can believe in you, Mr Cupples. That I'll sweir till. "

"Weel, jist sit doon there, and carry on frae whaur ye loot sit. Syneefter the three o'clock lecture--wha is't ye're atten'in' thissession?--we'll gang doon to Luckie Cumstie's, and hae a moufu' o'denner--she 'll do her best for me--an' I'll hae jist a tumler o'toddy--but de'il a drap sall ye hae, bantam--and de'il a word will Isay to ye there. But we'll come back here, and i' the gloamin', I'llgie ye a bit episode i' my life. --Episode did I ca' 'it? Faith it's mylife itsel', and no worth muckle, eyther. Ye'll be the first man thatever I tell't it till. And ye may judge o' my regaird for ye frae thatfac'. "

Alec worked away at his catalogue, and then attended the afternoonlecture. The dinner at Luckie Cumstie's followed--of the plainest, butgood. Alec's trouble had not yet affected the region in which Paleyseats the organ of happiness. And while an appetite exists, a dinnerwill be interesting. Just as the gloaming was fading into night, theywent back to the library. 

"Will I rin ower to the sacrist's for a licht?" asked Alec. 

"Na, na; lat be. The mirk's mercifu', whiles. "

"I canna unnerstan' ye, Mr Cupples. Sin ever I kent ye i' this library, I never kent ye bide the oncome o' the nicht. As sune's the gloamin'began to fa', ye aye flew to yer hat, and oot at the door as gin therehad been a ghaist gettin' its banes thegither oot o' the dark to comeat ye. "

"Maybe sae there was, bantam. Sae nane o' your jokin'. "

"I didna mean to anger ye, Mr Cupples. "

"Whaur naething's meant, naething's dune. I'm nae angert. And thatye'll sune see. Sit ye doon there, and tak yer plaid aboot ye, or ye'llbe cauld. "

"Ye hae nae plaid yersel. Ye're mair like to be cauld nor I am. "

"I weir my plaid o' my inside. Ye haena had ony toddy. Deil's broo! Itmay weel haud a body warm. It comes frae a het quarter. "

The open oak ceiling overhead was getting very dark by this time; andthe room, divided and crowded with books in all directions, left littlefree course to the light that struggled through the dusty windows. Thefriends seated themselves on the lower steps of an open circular oakstaircase which wound up to a gallery running round the walls. 

"Efter I had taen my degree, " began Mr Cupples, "frae the han' o' thissame couthy auld mither, I heard o' a grit leebrary i' the north--Iwinna say whaur--that wantit the han' o' a man that kenned what he wasaboot, to pit in dacent order, sae that a body cud lay his han's upon abuik whan he wantit it, and no be i' the condition o' Tantalus, wi'watter at the mou, but nane for the hause (throat). Dinna imaigin' itwas a public library. Na, na. It belonged to a grit an' gran'hoose--the Lord hae respec till't, for it's no joke o' a hoose that--asI weel kent afore a' was ower! Weel, I wrought awa', likin' the warkweel, for a buik's the bonniest thing i' the warl' but ane, and there'sno dirl (thrill) in't whan ye lay han's upo' 't, as there is, guidkens, in the ither. Man, ye had better lay han's upon a torpedo, or agalvanic battery, nor upon a woman--I mean a woman that ye hae onyattraction till--for she'll gar ye dirl till ye dinna ken yer thoombfrae yer muckle tae. But I was speikin' aboot buiks an' no aboot women, only somehoo whatever a man begins wi', he'll aye en' aff wi' the samething. The Lord hae a care o' them, for they're awfu' craters! They'reno like ither fowk a'thegither. Weel, ye see, I had a room tillmysel', forby the library an' my bedroom--an' a gran' place that was! Ididna see onything o' the family, for I had my denner and my wine and'a thing human stammack cud desire served up till me i' my ain room. But ae day, my denner was made up o' ae mess efter anither, vera finenae doot, but unco queer and ootlandish, and I had nae appeteet, and Icudna eat it. Sae I rase, afore my ordinar' time, and gaed back to mywark. I had taen twa or three glasses o' a dooms fine tipple they ca'Madeira, an' a moufu' o' cheese--that was a'. Weel, I sat doon to mycatalogue there, as it micht be here; but I hadna sat copyin' theteetles o' the buiks laid out upo' the muckle table afore me, for mairnor twa minutes, whan I heard a kin' o' a reestlin', an' I thocht itwas mice, to whilk I'm a deidly enemy ever sin they ate half o' a firstedition o' the _Fairy Queen_, conteenin' only the first three buiks, yeken, o' whilk they consumed an' nae doot assimilated ae haill buik andfull a half o' anither. But whan I luikit up, what sud I see but a weeleddy, in a goon the colour o' a clood that's takin' nae pairt i' thesunset, but jist lookin' on like, stan'in afore the buik-shelves i' thefurther en' o' the room. Noo I'm terrible lang-sichtit, and I hadpitten the buiks i' that pairt a' richt already wi' my ain han'--and Isaw her put her han' upon a buik that was no fit for her. I winna saywhat it was. Some hermaphrodeet cratur had written't that had no respecfor man or woman, an' whase neck sud hae been thrawn by the midwife, for that buik cam o' sparin' o' 'm!

"'Dinna touch that buik, my bonny leddy, ' I cried. 'It's awfu' fu' o'dist and stoor. It'll smore ye to open the twa brods o' 't. Yer rosygoon'll be clean blaudit wi' the stew (dust) o' 't. '

"She startit and luikit roon some frichtit like, and I rase an' gaedacross the flure till her. And her face grew bonnier as I cam nearertill her. Her nose an' her twa eebrees jist min'd ye upo' the picturso' the Holy Ghost comin' doon like a doo; and oot aneath ilka wingthere luikit a hert o' licht--that was her twa een, that gaed throu andthrou me as gin I had been a warp and they twa shuttles; and faith!they made o' my life and o' me what it is and I am. They wove the wabo' me. 

"Ay. They gaed oot and in, and throu and throu, and back and fore, androon and aboot, till there wasna a nerve or a fibre o' my bein', butthey had twisted it up jist as a spither does a flee afore he sooks thelife oot o' 't. But that's a prolepsis. "

"'Are you the librarian?' said she, saft and sma', like hersel'. 

"'That I am, mem, ' said I. 'My name's Cupples--at your service, mem. '

"'I was looking, Mr Cupples, ' said she, 'for some book to help me tolearn Gaelic. I want very much to read Gaelic. '

"'Weel, mem, ' said I, 'gin it had been ony o' the Romance languages, orony ane o' the Teutonic breed, I micht hae gien ye a lift. But I dootye maun bide till ye gang to Edinburgh, or Aberdeen, whaur ye'll easyfa' in wi' some lang-leggit bejan that'll be prood to instruc' ye, andcoont himsel' ower weel paid wi' the sicht o' yer bonny face. '

"She turned some reid at that, and I was feared that I had angert her. But she gied a sma' lauch, and oot at the door she gaed, wi' her 'rosyfleece o' fire' lowin' and glimmerin' aboot her, jist like ane o' theseraphims that auld Crashaw sings aboot. Only she was gey sma' for aseraph, though they're nae ower big. Weel, ye see, that was the firsttime I saw her. And I thochtna ower muckle mair aboot her. But in a dayor twa there she was again. And she had a hantle to speir at me aboot;and it took a' the knowledge I had o' buiks in general to answer herquestions. In fac I was whiles compelled to confess my ignorance, whichis no pleesant whan a man wants to stan' weel wi' a bonny crater thatspiers questons. Whan she gaed, I gaed efter her, followin' aboot ather--i' my thochts, I mean--like a hen efter her ae chucken. She wasbonnier this time than the last. She had tired o' the rosy clood, andshe had on a bonny goon o' black silk, sae modest and sae rich, wi'diamond buttons up the front o' the briest o' 't. Weel, to mak a langstory short, and the shorter the better, for it's nae a pleesant ane tome, she cam aftener and aftener. And she had sae muckle to say andspeir aboot, that at last we had to tak doon buiks, and I had to cleara neuk o' the table. At lenth I cam to luik for her as reglar as ginshe had been a ghaist, and the time that chappit upo' the auld clockhad belongt to the midnicht instead o' the mornin'. Ye'll be wonnerin'what like she was. As I tell't ye, she was a wee body, wi' muckle blackeen, that lay quaiet in her face and never cam oot till they warwantit, an' a body gimp and sma', but roon' and weel proportionedthroughoot. Her hand and her fit war jist past expression bonny. Andshe had a' her features conformin'--a' sma' but nane o' them ower sma'in relation to ane anither. And she had a licht way wi' her, that wasjist dazin'. She seemed to touch ilka thing wi' the verra tips o' herfingers, and syne ken a'thing aboot it, as gin she had a universalinsicht; or raither, I wad say, her natur, notwithstandin' its variety, was sae homogeneous, that whan ae nerve o' her spiritual being cam incontack wi' onything, the haill sowl o' her cam in contack wi' 't atthe same time and thereby; and ilka pairt read the report efter its ainfashion, translatin' 't accordin' to 'ts ain experience: as thedifferent provinces and languages o' the Chinese Empire read theuniversal written tongue. A heap o' pains I took that I micht never haeto say _I dinna ken_ to sic a gleg-ee'd cratur as that. And ilka dayshe cam to read wi' me, and we jist got on like a mail-coach--at leastI did--only the wrang road. An' she cam aye i' the efternoon and badetill the gloamin' cam doon an' it grew ower mirk to ken the words fraeane anither. And syne she wad gang and dress hersel' for denner, as shesaid. 

"Ye may say I was a muckle gowk. And ye may lauch at a bairn forgreitin' efter the mune; but I doot that same avarice o' the wee mancomes frae a something in him that he wad be ill aff wi'oot. Bettergreit for the mune than no be cawpable o' greetin' for the mune. Andweel I wat, I grat for the mune, or a' was dune, and didna get it, onymair than the lave o' my greedy wee brithers. "

The night had gathered thick about them. And for a few moments out ofthe darkness came no sound. At length Mr Cupples resumed:

"I maun jist confess, cauf that I was--and yet I wad hae been a greatercauf gin it hadna been sae--I cud hae lickit the verra dist aff o' theflure whaur her fit had been. Man, I never saw onything like her, Thehypostasis o' her was jist perfection itsel'. Weel, ae nicht--for Iwrocht full late, my een war suddenly dazed wi' the glimmer o'something white. I thocht the first minute that I had seen a ghost, andthe neist that I was a ghost mysel'. For there she was in a fluffycloud o' whiteness, wi' her bonny bare shouthers and airms, and jist aewhite rose in her black hair, and deil a diamond or ruby aboot her!

"'It's so hot, ' said she, 'in the drawing-room! And they're talkingsuch nonsense there! There's nobody speaks sense to me but you, MrCupples. '

"''Deed, mem, ' says I, 'I dinna ken whaur it's to come frae the nicht. For I hae nae sense left but ane, and that's nearhan' 'wi' excess o'brightness blind. ' Auld Spenser says something like that, doesna he, mem?' I added, seein' that she luikit some grave. But what she michthae said or dune, I dinna ken; for I sweir to ye, bantam, I knownothing that happent efter, till I cam' to mysel' at the soun' o' alauch frae outside the door. I kenned it weel eneuch, though it was alicht flutterin' lauch. Maybe I heard it the better frae the conductin'pooer o' timmer, for my broo was doon o' the buirds o' the flure. Isprang to my feet, but the place reeled roon', and I fell. It was thelauch that killed me. What for sud she lauch?--And sic a ane as herthat was no licht-heidit lassie, but cud read and unnerstan', wi thebest? I suppose I had gane upo' my knees till her, and syne like thelave o' the celestials she tuik to her feathers and flew. But I ken naemair than this: that for endless ages I gaed followin' her through theheavenly halls, aye kennin as sure's gospel that she was ahint theneist door, and aye openin' that door upon an empty glory, to beequally certain that she was ahint the neist. And sae on I gaed till, ahint ane o' the thoosan' doors, I saw the reek-enamelled couples o' myauld mither's bit hoosie upo' the mairgin o' the bog, and she washingin' ower me, sayin' her prayers as gin she wad gang efter them likea balloon wi' verra fervour. And whan she saw my een open, she drappitupo' her knees and gaed on prayin'. And I wonner that thae prayerswarna hearkent till. I never cud unnerstan' that. "

"Hoo ken ye that they warna hearkent till?" asked Alec. 

"Luik at me! Do ye ca' that hearkenin' till a prayer? Luik what she gotme back for. Ca' ye that an answer to prayers like my auld mither's?Faith! I'll be forced to repent some day for her sake, though theresudna be anither woman atween Venus and Mars but wad rive wi' lauchinat a word frae Cosmo Cupples. But, man! I wad hae repentit lang synegin I cud hae gotten ae glimp o' a possible justice in pittin a hert asgrit's mine into sic a misgreein', scrimpit, contemptible body as this. The verra sowl o' me has to draw up the legs o' 't to haud them insidethis coffin o' a corpus, and haud them ohn shot oot into theeverlastin' cauld. Man, the first thing I did, whan I cam' to mysel', was to justify her afore God for lauchin at me. Hoo could onybody helplauchin at me? It wasna her wyte. And eh! man, ye dinna ken hoo quaietand comfortable I was in my ain min', as sune's I had gotten herjustified to mysel' and had laid it doon that I was ane fit to belauchen at. --I winna lat you lauch at me, though, bantam. I tell yethat. "

"Mr Cupples! Laugh at you! I would rather be a doormat to the devil, 'exclaimed Alec. 

"Thank you, bantam. --Weel, ye see, ance I had made up my min' abootthat, I jist began followin' at her again like a hungry tyke that stopsthe minute ye liuk roon efter him--I mean i' my thochts, ye ken--jistas I had been followin' her, a' the time o' my fiver, throu the hallso' heaven, as I thoucht them, whan they war only the sma'crinkle-crankle convolutions o' my cerebral dome-�a puir heaven for aman to bide in! I hae learnt that waur and better than maist men, asI'm gaein to tell ye; for it was for the sake o' that that I begud thisdismal story. --Whan I grew some better, and wan up--wad ye believe't?--the kin'ness o' the auld, warpit, broon, wrinklet woman thatbrocht me furth, me Cosmo Cupples, wi' the muckle hert and the sma'body, began to console me a wee for the lauch o' that queen o'white-skinned leddies. It was but a wee, ye ken; still it wasconsolation. My mither thocht a heap o' me. Fowk thinks mair o' fowk, the mair they are themsels. But I wat it was sma' honour I brocht herhame, wi' my een brunt oot wi' greetin' for the mune. --I'll tell ye thelave o' 't efter we win hame. I canna bide to be here i' the dark. It'sthe quaiet beuks a' roon' me that I canna bide. It was i' the mids o'beuks, i' the dark, that I heard that lauch. It jist blastit me and thebeuks and a' thing. They aye luik as gin they war hearin' 't. For thefirst time I loot the gloamin come doon upo' me i' this same leebrary, a' at ance I heard the sma' nicher o' a woman's lauch frae somewhaur inor oot o' the warl'. I grew as het's hell, and was oot at the door in acat-loup. And as sure's death I'll hear't again, gin I bide ae minutelanger. Come oot wi' ye. "

There was light in Mr Fraser's drawing-room, and a shadow flittedacross the blind. The frosty night, and the keenness of the stars, madeMr Cupples shiver. Alec was in a feverous glow. When they reached home, Mr Cupples went straight to the cupboard, swallowed a glass of the_merum_, put coals on the fire, drew his chair close to it, and said:

"It's dooms cauld! Sit doon there, bantam. Pit on the kettle first. It's an ac' o' the purest disinteresstitness, for deil a drap sall yedrink! But I'll sing ye a sang, by way o' upmak'. "

"I never heard ye sing, Mr Cupples. Ye can do a' thing, I think. "

"I cudna gar a bonnie, high-born, white-handit leddy fa' in love wi' apuir futteret (weasel) o' a crater--a shargar (scrag) like CosmoCupples, bantam. But I can do twa or three things; an' ane o' them is, I can mak' a sang; and anither is, I can mak' a tune till't; and athird is, I can sing the tane to the tither, that is whan I haena hadeither ower muckle or ower little o' the tappit hen. Noo, heark ye. This ane's a' my ain:

GAEIN' AND COMIN'. 

 Whan Andrew frae Strathbogie gaed, The lift was lowerin' dreary; The sun he wadna lift his heid; The win' blew laich and eerie. In's pouch he had a plack or twa, I vow he hadna mony; Yet Andrew like a lintie sang, For Lizzie was sae bonny!

 O Lizzie, Lizzie, bonnie lassie! Bonnie, saucy hizzie! What richt had ye to luik at me, And drive me daft and dizzy?

 Whan Andrew to Strathbogie cam', The sun was shinin' rarely; He rade a horse that pranced and sprang-- I vow he sat him fairly. And he had gowd to spend and spare, And a heart as true as ony; But's luik was doon, and his sigh was sair, For Lizzie was sae bonny!

 O Lizzie, Lizzie, bonny hizzie! Ye've turned the daylicht dreary. Ye're straucht and rare, ye're fause and fair-- Hech! auld John Armstrong's dearie!"

His voice was mellow, and ought to have been even. His expression wasperfect. 

The kettle was boiling. Mr Cupples made his toddy, and resumed hisstory. 

"As sune's I was able, I left my mither greitin'--God bless her!--andcam to this toon, for I wasna gaein' to be eaten up with idleset asweel's wi' idolatry. The first thing I tuik till was teachin'. Noothat's a braw thing, whan the laddies and lassies want to learn, andhae questons o' their ain to speir. But whan they dinna care, it's theverra deevil. Or lang, a'thing grew grey. I cared for naething andnaebody. My verra dreams gaed frae me, or cam only to torment me, wi'the reid hert o' them changed to yallow and grey. 

"Weel, ae nicht I had come hame worn oot wi' warstlin' to gar bairnseat that had no hunger, I spied upo' the table a bottle o' whusky. Afrien' o' mine--a grocer he was--had sent it across the street to me, for it was hard upo' Hogmanay. I rang the bell incontinent. Up comesthe lass, and says I, 'Bell, lat's hae a kettlefu' o' het water. ' Andto mak' a lang story short, I could never want het water sin syne. ForI hadna drunken aboon a twa glaiss, afore the past began to revive asgin ye had come ower't wi' a weet sponge. A' the colours cam' oot upo''t again, as gin they had never turned wan and grey; and I said tomysel' wi' pride: 'My leddy canna, wi' a' her breedin' and her bonnieskin, haud Cosmo Cupples frae lo'ein' her. ' And I followed aboot at heragain throu a' the oots and ins o' the story, and the past was restoredto me. --That's hoo it appeared to me that nicht. --Was't ony wonner thatthe first thing I did whan I cam' hame the neist nicht was to ring forthe het water? I wantit naething frae Providence or Natur' but jistthat the colour michtna be a' ta'en oot o' my life. The muckle deevilwas in't, that I cudna stan' up to my fate like a man, and, gin my lifewas to cast the colour, jist tak my auld cloak aboot me, and gang oncontent. But I cudna. I bude to see things bonnie, or my strength gaedfrae me. But ye canna slink in at back doors that gait. I was pittenoot, and oot I maun bide. It wasna that lang afore I began to discoverthat it was a' a delusion and a snare. Whan I fell asleep, I wad dreamwhiles that, openin' the door into ane o' thae halls o' licht, thereshe was stan'in' lauchin' at me. And she micht hae gane on lauchin' toa' eternity--for onything I cared. And--ten times waur--I wad whilescome upon her greitin' and repentin', and haudin' oot her han' to me, and me carin' no more for her than for the beard o' a barley-stalk. Andfor makin' a sang--I jist steikit my lugs (stopped my ears) whan Iheard a puir misguidit canary singin' i' the sunshine. And I begud tohear a laich lauch far awa', and it cam' nearer and nearer ilka week, till it was ringin' i' my verra lug. But a' that was naethingcompairateevely. I' the mids o' a quaiet contemplation, suddenly, wi'an awfu' stoon, a ghaistly doobt pat it's heid up i' my breist, andcried: 'It's a' fause. The grey luik o' life's the true ane, and theonly aspec' ye hae a richt to see. ' And efter that, a' the whusky inGlenlivat cudna console me. --Luik at me noo. Ye see what I am. I canwhiles sing an auld sang--but mak' a new ane!--Lord, man! I can hardlybelieve 'at ever I made a sang i' my life. Luik at my han' hoo ittrimles. Luik at my hert. It's brunt oot. There's no a leevin' craterbut yersel' that I hae ony regaird for, sin my auld mither deid. Gin itwarna for buiks, I wad amaist cut my throat. And the senawtus disnathink me bye and aboon half a proper companion for buiks even; as ginCupples micht corrup' Milton himsel, although he was ten feet ower hisheid bottled in a buik. And whan I saw ye poor oot the whusky in thatmad-like mainner, as gin 't had been some sma' tipple o' penny ale, itjist drave me mad wi' anger. "

"Weel, Mr Cupples, " Alec ventured to say, "what for dinna ye sen' thebottle to the devil?"

"What, my ain auld tappit hen!" exclaimed Mr Cupples, with a suddenreaction from the seriousness of his late mood; "Na, na, she shannagang to the deil till we gang thegither. Eh! but we'll baith hae dryinsides or we win frae him again, I doobt. That drouth's an awfu' thingto contemplate. But speyk o' giein' ower the drink! The verraattemp'--an' dinna ye think that I haena made it--aich! What for sud Igang to hell afore my time? The deils themselves compleen o' that. Na, na. Ance ye hae learned to drink, ye _canna_ do wantin' 't. Man, dinnatouch 't. For God's sake, for yer mither's sake, for _ony_ sake, dinnalat a drap o' the hell-broth gang ower yer thrapple--or ye're damnedlike me for ever and ever. It's as guid's signin' awa' yer sowl wi' yerain han' and yer ain blude. "

Mr Cupples lifted his glass, emptied it, and, setting it down on thetable with a gesture of hatred, proceeded to fill it yet again. 

CHAPTER LXXI. 

"I say, Forbes, you keep yourself all to yourself and old Cupples, awaythere in the new town. Come and take some supper with me to-night. It'smy birthday, old boy. "

"I don't do much in that way, you know, Gibby. "

"Oh yes, I know. You're never jolly but amongst the shell-fish. Atleast that's what the Venall thinks of you. But for once in a way youmight come. "

"Well, I don't mind, " said Alec, really not caring what came to him orof him, and glad of anything to occupy him with no-thinking. "Whenshall I come?"

"At seven. We'll have a night of it. To-morrow's Saturday. "

It was hardly worth while to go home. He would not dine to-day. Hewould go and renew his grief by the ever-grieving sea. For his was ayoung love, and his sorrow was interesting to him: he embalmed hispangs in the amber of his consciousness. So he crossed the links to thedesolate sandy shore; there let the sound of the waves enter theportals of his brain and fill all its hollow caves with their moaning;and then wandering back to the old city, stood at length over thekeystone of the bridge, and looked down into the dark water below theGothic arch. 

He heard a footstep behind him on the bridge. Looking round he sawBeauchamp. Without reason or object, he walked up to him and barred hisway. Beauchamp started, and drew back. 

"Beauchamp, " said Alec, "you are my devil. "

"Granted, " said Beauchamp, coolly, but on his guard. 

"What are you about with my cousin?"

"What is that to you?"

"She is my cousin. "

"I don't care. She's not mine. "

"If you play her false, as you have played me--by heavens!--"

"Oh! I'll be very kind to her. You needn't be afraid. I only wanted totake down your damned impudence. You may go to her when you like. "

Alec's answer was a blow, which Beauchamp was prepared for and avoided. Alec pursued the attack with a burning desire to give him thepunishment he deserved. But he turned suddenly sick, and, although heafterwards recalled a wrestle, knee to knee, the first thing he wasaware of was the cold waters of the river closing over him. The shockrestored him. When he rose to the surface he swam down the stream, forthe banks were precipitous in the neighbourhood of the bridge. Atlength he succeeded in landing, and set out for home. He had not gonefar, however, before he grew very faint, and had to sit down on adoor-step. Then he discovered that his arm was bleeding, and knew thatBeauchamp had stabbed him. He contrived to tie it up after a fashion, and reached home without much more difficulty. Mr Cupples had not comein. So he got his landlady to tie up his arm for him, and then changedhis clothes. Fortunately the wound, although long and deep, ranlengthways between the shoulder and elbow, on the outside of the arm, and so was not of a serious character. After he was dressed, feelingquite well, he set off to keep his engagement with Gilbert Gordon. 

Now how could such a thing have taken place in the third decade of thenineteenth century?--The parapet was low and the struggle was fierce. Ido not think that Beauchamp intended murder, for the consequences ofmurder must be a serious consideration to every gentleman. He came of awild race, with whom a word and a steel blow had been linked for ages. And habits transmitted become instincts. He was of a cold temperament, and such a nature, once roused, is often less under control than oneused to excitement: a saint will sometimes break through the bonds ofthe very virtue which has gained him all his repute. If we combinethese considerations with the known hatred of Beauchamp, the story Alectold Cupples the next day may become in itself credible. WhetherBeauchamp tried to throw him from the bridge may remain doubtful, forwhen the bodies of two men are locked in the wrestle of hate, their ownsouls do not know what they intend. Beauchamp must have sped home withthe conscience of a murderer; and yet when Alec made his appearance inthe class, most probably a revival of hatred was his first mentalexperience. But I have had no opportunity of studying the morbidanatomy of Beauchamp, and I do not care about him, save as heinfluences the current of this history. When he vanishes, I shall beglad to forget him. 

Soon after Alec had left the house, Cupples came home with a hurriedinquiry whether the landlady had seen anything of him. She told him asmuch as she knew, whereupon he went up-stairs to his �schylus, &c. 

Alec said nothing about his adventure to any of his friends, for, likeother Scotchmen young and old, he liked to keep things in his own handstill he knew what to do with them. At first, notwithstanding his lossof blood, he felt better than he had felt for some time; but in thecourse of the evening he grew so tired, and his brain grew so muddy andbrown, that he was glad when he heard the order given for the boilingwater. He had before now, although Mr Cupples had never become aware ofthe fact, partaken of the usual source of Scotch exhilaration, and hadfelt nothing the worse; and now heedless of Mr Cupples's elaboratewarning--how could he be expected to mind it?--he mixed himself atumbler eagerly. But although the earth brightened up under itsinfluences, and a wider horizon opened about him than he had enjoyedfor months before, yet half-frightened at the power of the beverageover his weakened frame, he had conscience enough to refuse a secondtumbler, and rose early and went home. 

The moment he entered the garret, Mr Cupples, who had already consumedhis nightly portion, saw that he had been drinking. He looked at himwith blue eyes, wide-opened, dismay and toddy combining to render themof uncertain vision. 

"Eh, bantam! bantam!" he said, and sank back in his chair; "ye hae beenat it in spite o' me. "

And Mr Cupples burst into silent tears--no unusual phenomenon in menunder the combined influences of emotion and drink. Notwithstanding hisown elevated condition, Alec was shocked. 

"Mr Cupples, " he said, "I want to tell you all about it. "

Mr Cupples took no notice. Alec began his story notwithstanding, and ashe went on, his friend became attentive, inserting here and there anexpletive to the disadvantage of Beauchamp, whose behaviour with regardto Kate he now learned for the first time. When Alec had finished, Cupples said solemnly:

"I warned ye against him, Alec. But a waur enemy nor Beauchamp hasgotten a sickerer haud o' ye, I doobt. Do 'at he like, Beauchamp's dirkcouldna hurt ye sae muckle as yer ain han', whan ye liftit the firstglass to yer ain mou' the nicht. Ye hae despised a' my warnings. Andsorrow and shame'll come o' 't. And I'll hae to beir a' the wyte o' 't. Yer mither'll jist hate me like the verra black taed that no woman canbide. Gang awa' to yer bed. I canna bide the sicht o' ye. "

Alec went to bed, rebuked and distressed. But not having taken enoughto hurt him much, he was unfortunately able, the next morning, toregard Mr Cupples's lecture from a ludicrous point of view. And whatdanger was he in more than the rest of the fellows, few of whom wouldrefuse a tumbler of toddy, and fewer of whom were likely to getdrunk?--Had not Alec been unhappy, he would have been in less dangerthan most of them; but he was unhappy. 

And although the whisky had done him no great immediate injury, yet itsreaction, combined with the loss of blood, made him restless all thatday. So that, when the afternoon came, instead of going to Mr Cupplesin the library, he joined some of the same set he had been with theevening before. And when he came home, instead of going up-stairs to MrCupples, he went straight to bed. 

The next morning, while he was at breakfast, Mr Cupples made hisappearance in his room. 

"What cam' o' ye last nicht, bantam?" he asked kindly, but with evidentuneasiness. 

"I cam' hame some tired, and gaed straucht to my bed. "

"But ye warna hame verra ear'. "

"I wasna that late. "

"Ye hae been drinkin' again. I ken by the luik o' yer een. "

Alec had a very even temper. But a headache and a sore consciencetogether were enough to upset it. To be out of temper with oneself isto be out of temper with the universe. 

"Did my mother commission you to look after me, Mr Cupples?" he asked, and could have dashed his head against the wall the next moment. Butthe look of pitying and yet deprecating concern in Mr Cupples's facefixed him so that he could say nothing. 

Mr Cupples turned and walked slowly away, with only the words:

"Eh! bantam! bantam! The Lord hae pity upo' ye�-and me too!"

He went out at the door bowed like an old man. 

"Preserve's, Mr Cupples! What ails ye?" exclaimed his landlady meetinghim in the passage. 

"The whusky's disagreed wi' me, " he said. "It's verra ill-faured o' 't. I'm sure I pay't ilka proper attention. "

Then he went down the stairs, murmuring--

"Rainbows! Rainbows! Naething for me but rainbows! God help theladdie!"

CHAPTER LXXII. 

It may appear strange to some of my renders that Alec should fall intothis pit immediately upon the solemn warning of his friend. He hadlistened to the story alone; he had never felt the warning: he hadnever felt the danger. Had he not himself in his own hands? He was notfond of whisky. He could take it or leave it. And so he took it; andfinding that there was some comfort in it, took it again and again, seeking the society in which it was the vivifying element. --Need Idepict the fine gradations by which he sank--gradations though fine yetso numerous that, in a space of time almost too brief for credit, thebleared eye, the soiled garments, and the disordered hair, would revealhow the night had been spent, and the clear-browed boy looked a sullen, troubled, dissatisfied youth? The vice had laid hold of him like afast-wreathing, many-folded serpent. He had never had any consciousreligion. His life had never looked up to its source. All that was goodin him was good of itself, not of him. So it was easy to go down, withgrief staring at him over the edge of the pit. All return to the unificrectitude of a manly life must be in the face of a scorching past and adank future--and those he could not face. 

And as his life thus ebbed away from him, his feelings towardsBeauchamp grew more and more bitter, approximating in character tothose of Beauchamp towards him. And he soon became resolved to have hisrevenge on him, though it was long before he could make up his mind asto what the revenge should be. 

Beauchamp avoided him constantly. 

And Mr Cupples was haunting him unseen. The strong-minded, wise-headed, weak-willed little poet, wrapped in a coat of darkness, dogged thefootsteps of a great handsome, good-natured, ordinary-gifted wretch, who _could_ never make him any return but affection, and had nowwithdrawn all interchange of common friendship in order that he mightgo the downward road unchecked. Cupples was driven almost distracted. He drank harder than ever, but with less satisfaction than ever, for heonly grew the more miserable. He thought of writing to Alec's mother, but, with the indecision of a drunkard, he could not make up his mind, and pondered over every side of the question, till he was lost in amaze of incapacity. 

Bad went to worse. Vice grew upon vice. 

There are facts in human life which human artists cannot touch. Thegreat Artist can weave them into the grand whole of his Picture, but tothe human eye they look too ugly and too painful. Even the man who cando the deeds dares not represent them. Mothers have to know such factsof their sons, and such facts of women like themselves. 

Alec had fallen amongst a set of men who would not be satisfied till heshould be as low as they--till there should be nothing left in him toremind them that they had once been better. The circle in which hebegan to drink had gradually contracted about him. The better sort hadfallen away, and the worse had remained--chiefly older men than he, menwho had come near to the enjoyment of vileness for its own sake, ifthat be possible, and who certainly enjoyed making others likethemselves. Encouraged by their laughter and approbation, Alec began toemulate them, and would soon have had very little to learn if thingshad not _taken a turn_. A great hand is sometimes laid even on thefly-wheel of life's engine. 

CHAPTER LXXIII. 

Andrew Constable, with his wife and old-fashioned child Isie, wasseated at tea in the little parlour opening from the shop, when he wascalled out by a customer. He remained longer than was likely to beaccounted for by the transaction of business at that time of the day. And when he returned his honest face looked troubled. 

"Wha was that?" asked his wife. 

"Ow! it was naebody but Jeames Johnston, wantin' a bit o' flannin for'swife's coatie. "

"And what had he to say 'at keepit ye till yer tay's no fit to drink?"

"Ow! my tay'll do weel eneuch. It's nae by ordinar' cauld. "

"But what said he?"

"Weel! hm! hm!--He said it was fine frosty weather. "

"Ay, nae doobt! He kent that by the way the shuttle flew. Was that a'?"

"Na, nae freely. But cogues hae lugs, and bairns hae muckle een. "

For Isie sat on her stool staring at her father and mother alternately, and watching for the result of her mother's attempt at picking the lockof her father's reticence. But the moment she heard the word _lugs_, she knew that she had no chance, and her eyes grew less and theirpupils grew larger. Fearing he had hurt her, Andrew said, "Winna ye hae a starnie jam, Isie? It's grosert-jam. "

"Na, thank ye, daddie. Maybe it wad gie me a sair wame, " answered thesolemn old-faced Scotchwoman of seven. 

A child who refuses jam lest it should serve her as the little book didthe Apostle John, might be considered prudent enough to be intrustedwith a secret. But not a word more was said on the subject, till Isiewas in bed, and supposed to be fast asleep, in a little room thatopened off the parlour. But she was not asleep. And the door was alwaysleft open, that she might fall asleep in the presence of her parents. Their words therefore flowed freely into her ears, although the meaningonly played on her mind with a dull glimmer like that which played onher wall from the fire in the room where they sat talking. 

"Ay, woman, " began Andrew, "it'll be sair news, this, to the lady owerthe watter. "

"Ye dinna mean Mistress Forbes, Anerew?"

"'Deed I mean jist her. "

"Is't her son? Has he met wi' ony mischeef? What's happent till him? Ishe droont, or killt? The Lord preserve's! She'll dee o' 't. "

"Na, lass. It's a hantle waur nor a' that. "

The woodcuts in Fox's _Book of Martyrs_, of which three folio volumesin black letter lay in the room whence the conversation flowed toIsie's ears, rose in all their hideousuess before the mental vision ofthe child. In no other way than as torture could she conceive of worsethan being killed. 

"Ye gar me grue, " said Mrs Constable, with a shudder. 

"Ay, woman, ye ken little o' the wickedness o' great toons--hoo theylie in wait at ilka corner, wi' their gins and their snares and theirpits that they howk to catch the unwary yowth, " said Andrew, insomething of the pride of superior knowledge. 

From this elevation, however, he was presently pulled down in a ratherignominious fashion by his more plain-spoken though not a whit morehonest wife. 

"Anerew, dinna ye mint (aim) at speikin' like a chapter o' the Proverbso' Solomon, the son o' Dawvid. Say straucht oot 'at thae coorse jawdsthat hing aboot i' the gloamin' hae gotten a grip o' the bonnie lad. Eh! but he'll fair ill; and the Lord hae mercy upo' him--and nane upo'them!"

"Hoot! hoot! lass; dinna speik wi' sic a venom. Ye ken wha says_Vengeance is mine_?"

"Ay, ay, weel eneuch. And I houp He'll tak's ain upo' sic brazenhizzies. You men-fowk think ye ken a hantle o' things that ye wad haudus ohn kent. But nane kens the wiles o' a wumman, least awa them 'atfa's into them, but anither wumman. "

"It's nae savin' lore, " said Andrew, a little troubled that his wifeshould assert a familiar acquaintance with such things. But she wenton. 

"Women's jist dreidfu'. Whan ance they gang the ill gait, they'reneither to haud nor bin'. And to think o' them layin' han's upo' sic abonnie weel-behaved laddie as that Alec Forbes, a ceevil, herty cratur, wi' a kin' word an' a joke even for the beggar 'at he geid a bawbeetill! Weel, he'll come oot o' their cluiks, maybe no that nmckle thewaur efter a', as mony a man frae King Dawvid doonwith afore him. "

"Noo, wumman!" said Andrew, in a tone of authority blended with risingindignation; "ye're slidin' aff o' yer ain stule, and ye'll be upo' thegrun' afore ye win on to mine. Richt or wrang aboot the women, I budeto ken mair aboot the men nor ye do; and I daur affirm and uphaud thatnever man cam' oot o' the grip o' thae poor deluded craters--"

Mrs Constable interposed with one single emphatic epithet, notadmittable to the ears of this generation; but Andrew resumed, and wenton. 

"--poor deluded craters, withoot losin' a great pairt o' what was leftin him o' the eemage o' God efter the fall. Woman, he tynes (loses) aheap!"

"Hoo sud ye ken onything aboot that, Anerew?" returned his wifesharply. 

"The same way than ye ken sae weel aboot the she side o' the queston, lass. We may jist enlichten ane anither a wee aboot some things, mayhap. "

Meantime the ears of the little pitcher in bed had been growing longerand longer with curious horror. The something in itself awfully vagueabout Alec's fate was wrapt in yet deeper clouds of terror and mysteryby the discord of opinion with regard to it on the part of her fatherand mother, whom she had rarely heard differ. She pictured to herselfthe image of his Maker being scratched off Alec by the claws of furies;and hot pincers tearing nail after nail from the hand which had oncegiven her a penny. And her astonishment was therefore paralyzing whenshe heard her father say:

"But ye maun haud a quaiet tongue i' yer heid, guidwife; for weel as yelike the laddie, ye may blast his character gin ye say a word abootit. "

"I s' warran' it's a' ower Glamerton afore it comes to your lugs, Anerew, " returned her mother. "They're no that gleg efter sic news. ButI wad like sair to ken wha sent hame the word o' 't. "

"I'm thinking it's been young Bruce. "

"The Lord be praised for a lee!" exclaimed Mrs Constable. "Haena Itell't ye afore noo, sae that it's no upmak to pick the lock o' theoccasion, Anerew, that Rob Bruce has a spite at that faimily for takin'sic a heap o' notice o' Annie Annerson. And I wadna wonner gin he hadset's hert upo' merryin' her upo' 's ain Rob, and sae keepin' her bitsiller i' the faimily. Gin that be sae, he micht weel gie Alec Forbes aback-handit cloot (blow). "

"'Deed! maybe, gudewife. He's a burnin' and a shinin' licht amo' youmissioners, though; and ye maunna say ill o' 'm, for fear he has ye upafore the kirk. "

"Ay, deed is he! He's a burnin' shame, and a stinkin' lamp; for thegrace o' God wasna hauden to the nib o' 'm lang eneuch to set him in alow (flame), but only lang eneuch to gar the ile o' 'm reek fit toscomfish (suffocate) a haill Sodom. "

"Hoot, lass! Ye're ower sair even upo' him. But it's verra true thatgin the story cam' frae that en' o' the toon, there's room forrizzonable doobts. Sae we'll awa' to our beds, and houp things mayna besae far gane as the soun' o' them. Only I drede there's aye some waterwhaur the stirkie droons. "

It was long before little Isie got to sleep, what with attempting torealize the actual condition of Alec Forbes, and trying to excogitatethe best means for his deliverance. Why should not all Glamerton setout in a body with flails and pitchforks? And if she must not meddlefor that, seeing her father had said the matter must not be mentioned, yet his prohibition could not include Alec's mother, whom it would bewicked to keep in ignorance. For what would Isie think if she was takenprisoner by a cruel woman and they would not tell her mother? So shefell asleep, to wake in the morning with the sense of a mission uponher important little mind. 

What rendered it probable that the rumour came from "that end of thetown" was, that Bruce the younger was this year a bejan at Alec'scollege, and besides was the only other scion of Glamerton theregrafted, so that any news about Alec other than he would care to sendhimself, must in all likelihood have come through him. --For Bruce theelder had determined that in his son he would restore the fallenfortunes of the family, giving him such an education as would entitlehim to hold up his head with the best, and especially with that proudupstart, Alec Forbes. 

The news had reached Thomas Crann, and filled him with concern. He had, as was his custom in trouble, betaken himself straightway to "thethrone of grace, " and "wrestled in prayer" with God that he wouldrestore the prodigal to his mother. What would Thomas have thought ifhe had been told that his anxiety, genuine as it was, that his love, true as it was, did not come near the love and anxiety of another manwho spent his evenings in drinking whisky and reading heathen poets, and who, although he knew not a little of his Bible, never opened itfrom one end of the year to the other? If he had been told that CosmoCupples had more than once, after the first tumbler of toddy and beforethe second, betaken himself to his prayers for his poor Alec Forbes, and entreated God Almighty to do for him what he could not do, thoughhe would die for him--to rescue him from the fearful pit and the miryclay of moral pollution--if he had heard this, he would have said thatit was a sad pity, but such prayers could not be answered, seeing hethat prayed was himself in the gall of bitterness and the bond ofiniquity. 

There was much shaking of the head amongst the old women. Many anejaculation and many a meditative _eh me_! were uttered over Alec'sfall; and many a word of tender pity for his poor mother floated forthon the frosty air of Glamerton; but no one ventured to go and tell thedreary tidings. The men left it to the women; and the woman knew toowell how the bearer of such ill news would appear in her eyes, toventure upon the ungracious task. So they said to themselves she mustknow it just as well as they did; or if she did not know, poor woman!she would know time enough for all the good it would do her. And thatcame of sending sons to colleges! &c. , &c. 

But there was just one not so easily satisfied about the extent of herduties: that was little Isie Constable. 

CHAPTER LXXIV. 

The tertians gave a supper at Luckie Cumstie's, and invited themagistrands. On such an occasion Beauchamp, with his high sense of hisown social qualities, would not willingly be absent. When the hourarrived, he took his place near the head of the table. 

After all the solid and a part of the liquid entertainment was over, Alec rose in the space between two toasts, and said:

"Mr Chairman and gentlemen, I propose, at my own proper cost, toprovide something for your amusement. "

Beauchamp and all stared at the speaker. 

"It is to be regretted, " Alec went on, "that students have no court ofhonour to which to appeal. This is the first opportunity I have had ofthrowing myself on the generosity of my equals, and asking them tolisten to my story. "

The interest of the company was already roused. All the heads about thelong table leaned towards the speaker, and cries of _hear, hear_, arosein all directions. Alec then gave a brief statement of the facts of theencounter upon the bridge. This was the only part of his relations withBeauchamp which he chose to bring before the public; for the greaterwrong of lying defamation involved his cousin's name. He told howBeauchamp had sought the encounter by deliberate insult, had used aweapon against an unarmed enemy, and then thrown him from the bridge. 

"Now, " he concluded, "all I ask of you, gentlemen, is to allow me thefair arena of your presence while I give this sneaking chieftain thepersonal chastisement which he has so richly merited at my hands. "

Beauchamp had soon recovered his self-possession after the firstsurprise of the attack. He sat drinking his toddy all the time Alecspoke, and in the middle of his speech he mixed himself anothertumbler. When Alec sat down, he rose, glanced round the assembly, benthis lip into its most scornful curves, and, in a clear, unwaveringvoice, said:

"Mr Chairman and gentlemen, I repel the accusation. "

Alec started to his feet in wrath. 

"Mr Forbes, sit down, " bawled the chairman; and Alec obeyed, thoughwith evident reluctance. 

"I say the accusation is false, " repeated Beauchamp. "I do not say thatMr Forbes consciously invented the calumny in order to take away mycharacter: such an assertion would preclude its own credence. Nor do Iventure to affirm that he never was stabbed, or thrown into the river. But I ask any gentleman who happens to be aware of Mr Forbes'sdevotions at the shrine of Father Lyaeus, which is the morelikely--that a fellow-student should stab and throw him into the water, or that, as he was reeling home at midnight, the treacherous divinityof the bowl should have handed him over to the embrace of his brotherdeity of the river. Why then should even his imagination fix upon me asthe source of the injury? Gentlemen, a foolish attachment to thecustoms of a long line of ancestors has led me into what I find for thefirst time to be a dangerous habit--that of wearing arms;--dangerous, Imean, to myself; for now I am wounded with my own weapon. But the realsecret of the affair is--I am ashamed to say--jealousy. Mr Forbes knowswhat I say to be true--that a lady whom he loves prefers me to him. "

"Don't bring her name in, you brute!" roared Alec, starting again tohis feet, "or I'll tear your tongue out. "

"You hear, gentlemen, " said Beauchamp, and sat down. 

A murmur arose. Heads gathered into groups. No one stood up. Alec feltwith the deepest mortification that his adversary's coolness and hisown violence had turned the scale against him. This conviction, conjoined with the embarrassment of not knowing how to say a word inhis own defence without taking some notice of the close of hisadversary's speech, fixed him to his seat. For he had not yet fallen solow as to be capable of even alluding to the woman he loved in such anassembly. He would rather abandon the field to his adversary. 

Probably not many seconds had passed, but his situation was becomingintolerable, when a well-known voice rose clear above the confusedmurmur; and glancing to the lower end of the room, he saw Cosmo Cupplesstanding at the end of the table. 

"I ken weel eneuch, gentlemen, " he said, "that I hae no richt to behere. Ye a' ken me by the sicht o' the een. I'm a graduate o' thisuniversity, and at present your humble servant the librarian. I intrudefor the sake o' justice, and I cast mysel' upo' your clemency for afair hearin'. "

This being accorded by general acclamation, "Gentlemen, " he resumed, "I stan' afore ye wi' a sair hert. I haeoccupied the position o' tutor to Mr Forbes; for, as Sir Pheelip Sidneysays in a letter to his brither Rob, wha was efterwards Yerl o'Leicester upo' the demise o' Robert Dudley, 'Ye may get wiser men noryersel' to converse wi' ye and instruck ye, in ane o' twa ways--bymuckle ootlay or muckle humility. ' Noo, that laddie was ane o' thefinest naturs I ever cam' across, and his humility jist made it apleesur to tak' chairge o' 'm baith mentally and morally. That I had asair doon come whan he took to the drink, I am forced to confess. But Iaye thocht he was strauchtforet, notwithstandin' the whusky. I wasnaprepared for sic a doonfa' as this. --I maun jist confess, Mr Cheerman, that I heard him throu' the crack o' the door-cheek. And he broucht sicdeevilich accusations--"

"Mr Cupples!" cried Alec. 

"Haud yer tongue, Alec Forbes, and lat this company hear me. Yeappealed to the company yersel' first o' a'. --I say hoo cud he bringsic deevilich accusations against a gentleman o' sic birth and breedin'and accomplishments as the Laird o' Chattachan!--Maybe the Laird wadjist condescend to say whaur he was upo' the nicht in queston; for ginwe cud get the rampaugin' misguidit laddie ance fairly into the yard, wi' the yetts steekit (gates closed), he wad see that leein' wadnaserve his turn. "

Alec was in chaotic confusion. Notwithstanding the hard words MrCupples had used, he could ill believe that he had turned his enemy. Hehad behaved very badly to Mr Cupples, but was Mr Cupples one to revengehimself?

Mr Cupples had paused with his eyes resting on Beauchamp. He, withoutrising, replied carelessly:

"Really, sir, I do not keep a register of my goings and comings. Imight have done so had I known its importance. I have not even beeninformed when the occurrence is said to have taken place. "

"I can gie your memory a prod upo' the dates, sir. For I ken weel thenicht whan Alec Forbes cam' hame wi' a lang and a deep cut upo' theootside o' 's left airm atween the shouther an' the elbuck. I may weelremember 't to my grief; for though he cam' hame as sober as he wasdrippin' weet--I hae oor guidwife's testimony to that--he gaed ootagain, and whan he cam' hame ance mair, he was the waur o' drink forthe first time sin' ever I kent him. Noo, sir, it a' took place thesame day that ye cam' to the leebrary, and tuik awa' wi' ye a novellca'd _Aiken Drum_. I tauld ye it wad ill repay ye, for it was but afule thing. And I remember 't the better that I was expeckin' AlecForbes in ilka minute, and I was feared for a collieshangie (outbreak)atween ye. "

"I remember all about that night perfectly, now you call it to myrecollection. I went straight home, and did not go out again--I was sotaken up with _Aiken Drum_. "

"I tell't ye sae!" cried Cupples, triumphantly. "Wha wadna tak' theword o' The MacChattachan? There's sma' profit in addin' my testimonyto the weight o' that; but I wad jist like to tell this company, MrCheerman and gentlemen, hoo I cam' to ken mair aboot the affair nor myfrien' Alec Forbes is awar' o'. That same efternoon, I expeckit him i'the leebrary as I hae said, and whan he didna come, I took my hat--thatwas about a half-hoor efter the laird left me--and gaed oot to luik forhim. I gaed ower the links; for my man had the profitless habit at thattime, whilk he's gien up for a mair profitless still, o' stravaguin'aboot upo' the seashore, wi' 's han's in 's pooches, and his chinreposin' upo' the third button o' 's waistcoat--all which bears hardupo' what the laird says aboot's jealousy. The mune was jist risin' bythe time I wan to the shore, but I saw no sign o' man or woman alangthat dreary coast. I was jist turnin' to come hame again, whan I cam'upo' tracks i' the weet san'. And I kent the prent o' the fit, and Ifollowed it on to the links again, and sae I gaed back at my leisure. And it was sic a bonny nicht, though the mune wasna that far up, drivin' lang shaidows afore her, that I thocht I wad jist gang anceower the brig and back again, and syne maybe turn into Luckie Cumstie'shere. But afore I wan to the brig, whan I was i' the shaidow o' BaillieBapp's hoose, I heard sic a scushlin' and a shochlin' upo' the brig!and I saw something gang reelin' aboot; and afore I cud gaither my witsand rin foret, I heard an awfu' splash i' the water; and by gangssomebody wi' lang quaiet strides, and never saw me. He had on the kiltsand the lave o' the fandangles. And he turned into the quadrangle, andthrou't he gaed and oot at the corner o' 't. I was close ahinthim--that is, I was into the quadrangle afore he was oot o' 't. And Isaw the sacrist come oot at the door o' the astronomical tooer jistafore the Hielanman turned the neuk o' 't. And I said to Thomson, saysI, 'Wha was that gaed by ye, and oot the back gait?' And says he, 'Itwas Maister Beauchamp. ' 'Are ye sure o' that?' says I. 'As sure'sdeith, ' says he. Ye ken William's phrase, gentlemen. "

Beauchamp's nonchalance had disappeared for some time. When his ownname came out, his cheeks grew deathly pale, and thin from the fallingof his jaw. Cupples, watching him, went on. 

"As sune's I was sure o' my man, I saw what a damned idiot I was to rinefter him. And back I flew to the brig. I kent full weel wha the itherman bude to be. It could be nane but my ain Alec Forbes; for I sweir toye, gentlemen, I hae watched The MacChattachan watchin' Alec Forbesmair nor twa or three times sin' Alec throosh him for bein' foul-mou'di' the face o' the deid. "

By this time Beauchamp, having swallowed the rest of his tumbler at agulp, had recovered a little. He rose with defiance on his face. 

"Dinna lat him gang, gentlemen, " cried Cupples, "till I tell ye aeither God's trowth. --I ran back to the brig, as hard's my legs cudcarry me, consolin' mysel' wi' the reflection that gin Alec had na beensair hurtit i' the scuffle, there was no fear o' him. For I heard himfa' clean into the water, and I kent ye micht as sune droon a herrin asAlec Forbes. I ran richt to the mids' o' the brig and there was theblack heid o' him bobbin' awa' doon the water i' the hert o' themunelicht. I'm terrible lang-sichtit, gentlemen. I canna sweir that Isaw the face o' 'm, seein' the back o' 's heid was to me; but that itwas Alec Forbes, I hae no more doobt than o' my ain existence. I wasjist turnin', nearhan' the greetin', for I lo'ed the laddie weel, whanI saw something glintin' bonnie upo' the parapet o' the brig. And noo Ibeg to restore't till'ts richtful owner. Wad ye pass't up the table, gentlemen. Some o' ye will recogneeze't as ane o' the laird's bonniecairngorum-buttons. "

Handing the button to the man nearest him, Mr Cupples withdrew into acorner, and leaned his back against the wall. The button made many azigzag from side to side of the table, but Beauchamp saw the yellowgleam of it coming nearer and nearer. It seemed to fascinate him. Atlast bursting the bonds of dismay, the blood rushed into his pale face, and he again moved to go:

"A conspiracy, gentlemen!" he cried. "You are all against me. I willnot trouble you longer with my presence. I will bide my time. "

"Stop a moment, Mr Beauchamp, " said the chairman-�the pale-faced son ofa burly ploughman�-rising. "Your departure will scarcely satisfy usnow. Gentlemen, form yourselves in a double row, and grace the exit ofa disgrace. I leave it to yourselves to kick him or not as you maythink proper. But I think myself the way is to be merciful to theconfounded. Better leave him to his own conscience. "

Beauchamp's hand, following its foolish habit, fell upon the hilt ofhis dirk. 

"Draw that dirk one inch, " said the chairman hastily, clenching hisfist, "and I'll have you thrown on Luckie Cumstie's midden. "

Beauchamp's hand dropped. The men formed as directed. 

"Now, " said the chairman sternly. 

And Beauchamp without a word marched down the long avenue white as aghost, and looking at nobody. Each made him a low bow as he passed, except the wag of the tertians, who turned his back on him and bowed tothe universe in general. Mr Cupples was next the door, and bowed himout. Alec alone stood erect. He could not insult him. 

Beauchamp's feelings I do not care to analyze. As he passes from thatroom, he passes from my history. �-I do not think a man with such anunfavourable start, could arrive at the goal of repentance in thislife. 

"Mr Cupples, " cried the chairman, "will you oblige us by spending therest of the evening with us?"

"You do me mair honour nor I deserve, sir, " replied Mr Cupples; "butthat villain Alec Forbes has cost me sae muckle in drink to haud myhert up, that I winna drink in his company. I micht tak' ower muckleand disgrace mysel' forbye. Good nicht to ye a', gentlemen, and my bestthanks. "

So saying, Mr Cupples left the room before Alec could get near him witha word or a sign of gratitude. But sorry and ashamed as he was, hisspirits soon returned. Congratulation restored him to his worse self;and ere long he felt that he had deserved well of the community. Thehostess turned him out with the last few at midnight, for one of theprofessors was provost; and he went homewards with another student, whoalso lived in the new town. 

The two, however, not having had enough of revelry yet, turned asideinto a lane, and thence up a court leading to a low public-house, whichhad a second and worse reputation. Into this Alec's companion went. Alec followed. But he was suddenly seized in the dark, and ejected withviolence. Recovering himself from his backward stagger into the court, he raised his arm to strike. Before him stood a little man, who hadapparently followed him out of the public-house. His hands were in thepockets of his trowsers, and the wind was blowing about the tails ofhis old dress-coat. 

Nor was Alec too far gone to recognize him. 

"You, Mr Cupples!" he exclaimed. "I didna expect to see you here. "

"I never was across the door-sill o' sic a place afore, " said MrCupples, "nor, please God, will either you or me ever cross sic adoor-sill again. "

"Hooly, hooly, Mr Cupples! Speak for ane at a time. I'm gaein in thisminute. Luckie Cumstie turned on the caller air ower sune for me. "

"Man!" said Cupples, laying hold of Alec's coat, "think that ye hae amither. Ilka word that ye hear frae a worthless woman is an affront toyer mither. "

"Dinna stan' preachin' to me. I'm past that. "

"Alec, ye'll wiss to God ye hadna, whan ye come to marry a bonniewife. "

It was a true but ill-timed argument. Alec flared up wildly. 

"Wife!" he cried, "there's no wife for me. Haud oot o' my gait. Dinnaye see I hae been drinkin'? And I winna be contred. "

"Drinkin'!" exclaimed Mr Cupples. "Little ye ken aboot drinkin'. I haedrunken three times as muckle as you. And gin that be ony argument forme haudin' oot o' your gait, it's mair argument yet for you to haud ooto' mine. I sweir to God I winna stan' this ony langer. Ye're to comehame wi' me frae this mou' o' hell and ugsome (frightful) deith. Itgangs straucht to the everlastin' burnin's. Eh, man! to think nae mairo' women nor _that_!"

And the brave little man placed himself right between Alec and thedoor, which now opened half-way, showing several peering and laughingfaces. 

But the opposition of Mr Cupples had increased the action of thealcohol upon Alec's brain, and he blazed up in a fury at the notion ofbeing made a laughter to the women. He took one step towards MrCupples, who had restored his hands to his pockets and backed a fewpaces towards the door of the house, to guard against Alec's passinghim. 

"Haud oot o' my gait, or I'll gar ye, " he said fiercely. 

"I will not, " answered Mr Cupples, and lay senseless on the stones ofthe court. 

Alec strode into the house, and the door closed behind him. 

By slow degrees Mr Cupples came to himself. He was half dead with cold, and his head was aching frightfully. A pool of blood lay on the stonesalready frozen. He crawled on his hands and knees, till he reached awall, by which he raised and steadied himself. Feeling along this wall, he got into the street; but he was so confused and benumbed that if awatchman had not come up, he would have died on some doorstep. The manknew him and got him home. He allowed both him and his landlady tosuppose that his condition was the consequence of drink; and so washelped up to his garret and put to bed. 

CHAPTER LXXV. 

All the night during which Isie Constable lay dreaming of racks, pincers, screws, and Alec Forbes, the snow was busy falling outside, shrouding the world once more; so that next day the child could not getout upon any pretence. Had she succeeded in escaping from the house, she might have been lost in the snow, or drowned in the Glamour, overwhich there was as yet only a rude temporary bridge to supply the placeof that which had been swept away. But although very uneasy at theobstruction of her projects, she took good care to keep her owncounsel. �-The snow was very obstinate to go. At length, after manydays, she was allowed to go out with stockings over her shoes, and playin the garden. No sooner was she alone, than she darted out of thegarden by the back-gate, and before her mother missed her, was crossingthe Glamour. She had never been so far alone, and felt frightened; butshe pushed bravely forward. 

Mrs Forbes and Annie Anderson were sitting together when Mary put herhead in at the door and told her mistress that the daughter of MrConstable, the clothier, wanted to see her. 

"Why, she's a mere infant, Mary!" exclaimed Mrs Forbes. 

"'Deed is she, mem; but she's nane the less doon the stair i' thekitchie. Ye wad hae seen her come yersel' but she's ower wee. Ye cudnaget a glimp o' her ower the edge o' the snaw i' the cuttin' doon to theyett. Hoo her fowk cud lat her oot! She's a puir wee white-faced elf o'a crater, but she's byous auld-farrand and wise-like, and naething willdo but she maun see yersel', mem. "

"Bring her up, Mary. Poor little thing! What can she want?"

Presently Isie entered the room, looking timidly about her. 

"Well, my dear, what do you want?"

"It's aboot Alec, mem, " said Isie, glancing towards Annie. 

"Well, what about him?" asked Mrs Forbes, considerably bewildered, butnot fearing bad news from the mouth of such a messenger. 

"Hae ye heard naething aboot him, mem?"

"Nothing particular. I haven't heard from him for a fortnight. "

"That's easy accoontit for, mem. "

"What do you mean, my dear? Speak out. "

"Weel, mem, the way I heard it was raither particlar, and I wadna likea'body to ken. "

Here she glanced again at Annie. 

"You needn't be afraid of Annie Anderson, " said Mrs Forbes smiling. "What is it?"

"Weel, mem, I didna richtly ken. But they hae ta'en him intil adreidfu' place, and whether they hae left a haill inch o' skin upon'sbody, is mair nor I can tell; but they hae rackit him, and pu'd o' 'snails aff, maybe them a', and�-"

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Mrs Forbes, with a most unusual inclinationto hysterics, seeing something terrible peep from behind the grotesquereport of Isie, "what _do_ you mean, child?"

"I'm tellin' ye't as I heard it, mem. I houp they haena brunt him yet. Ye maun gang and tak' him oot o' their han's. "

"Whose hands, child? Who's doing all this to him?"

"They stan' aboot the corners o' the streets, mem, in muckle toons, andthey catch a haud o' young laads, and they trail them awa' wi' them, and they jist torment the life oot o' them. They say they're women; butI dinna believe that. It's no possible. They maun be men dressed up inwomen's claes. "

Was it a great relief to the mother's heart to find that the childishunderstanding of Isie had misinterpreted and misrepresented? She roseand left the room, and her troubled step went to and fro overhead. Andthe spirit of Annie was troubled likewise. How much she understood, Icannot determine; but I believe that a sense of vague horror and pityoverwhelmed her heart. Yet the strength of her kindness forced her topay some attention to the innocent little messenger of evil. 

"Whaur heard ye a' that, Isie, dear?"

"I heard my father and my mither gaein' on lamentin' ower him efter Iwas i' my bed, and they thocht I was asleep. But gin Mistress Forbeswinna tak' him awa', I'll gang and tell a' the ministers in Glamerton, and see whether they winna raise the toon. "

Annie stared in amazement at the wee blue-eyed wizened creature beforeher speaking with the decision of a minor prophet. 

"Is the child here still?" said Mrs Forbes with some asperity as shere-entered the room. "I must go by the mail this afternoon, Annie. "

"That's richt, mem, " said Isie. "The suner the better, I'm sure. Hemayna be deid yet. "

"What a very odd child!" said Mrs Forbes. 

"Wouldn't it be better to write first, ma'am?" suggested Annie. 

Before Mrs Forbes could reply, the white mutch of Mrs Constableappeared over the top of the snow that walled the path. She was in hotpursuit of her child, whose footsteps she had traced. When shown intothe dining-room, she rushed up to her, and caught her to her bosom, crying, "Ye ill-contrived smatchit! What hae ye been aboot, rinnin' awa' thisgait? I wonner ye wasna droont i' the Glamour. "

"I don't see what better you could expect of your own child, MrsConstable, if you go spreading reports against other people'schildren, " said Mrs Forbes bitterly. 

"It's a lee whaever said sae, " retorted Mrs Constable fiercely. "Whatell't ye that?"

"Where else could your child have heard such reports, then?"

"Isie! Isie! My poor wee bairn! What hae ye been aboot to tak' awa' yermither's gude name?"

And she hugged the child closer yet. 

Isie hung down her head, and began to have dim perceptions that shemight have been doing mischief with the best possible intentions. 

"I only tell't Mistress Forbes hoo ill they war to Alec. "

After a moment's reflection, Mrs Constable turned with a subdued mannerto Mrs Forbes. 

"The bairn's a curious bairn, mem, " she said. "And she's owerheard herfather and me speakin' thegither as gin't had been only ae bodythinkin'. For gin ever twa was ane, that twa and that ane is AndrewConstable and mysel'. "

"But what right had you to talk about my son?"

"Weel, mem, that queston gangs raither far. What's already procleemedfrae the hoose-taps may surely be spoken i' the ear in closets-�for oorback-room is but a closet. Gin ye think that fowk'll haud their tonguesabout your bairn mair nor ony ither body's bairn ye're mista'en, mem. But never ane heard o' 't frae me, and I can tak' my bodily aith for myman, for he's jist by ordinar' for haudin' his tongue. I cud hardlyworm it oot o' 'm mysel'. "

Mrs Forbes saw that she had been too hasty. 

"What does it all mean, Mrs Constable?" she said, "for I am quiteignorant. "

"Ye may weel be that, mem. And maybe there's no a word o' trouth i' thestory, for I'm doobtin' the win' that brocht it blew frae an ill airt. "

"I really don't understand you, Mrs Constable. What do they say abouthim?"

"Ow, jist that he's consortin' wi' the warst o' ill company, mem. Butas I said to Anerew, maybe he'll come oot o' their cluiks no thatmuckle the waur, efter a'. "

Mrs Forbes sank on the sofa, and hid her face in her hands. Annieturned white as death, and left the room. When Mrs Forbes lifted herhead, Mrs Constable and her strange child had vanished. 

Mrs Forbes and Annie wept together bitterly, in the shadow of deathwhich the loved one cast upon them across the white plains and hills. Then the mother sat down and wrote, begging him to deny the terriblecharge; after which they both felt easier. But when the return of posthad brought no reply, and the next day was likewise barren of tidings, Mrs Forbes resolved to go to the hateful city at once. 

CHAPTER LXXVI. 

When Alec woke in the morning, it rushed upon his mind that he had hada terrible dream; and he reproached himself that even in a dream heshould be capable of striking to the earth the friend who had justsaved him from disgrace, and wanted to save him from more. But as hisheadache began to yield to cold water, discomposing doubts rose uponhis clearing mental horizon. They were absurd, but still they wereunpleasant. It _could_ be only a dream that he had felled the man twicehis age, and half his size, who had once shed his blood for him. Butwhy did it look so like fact, if it was only a dream? Horrible thought!Could it?-�It could�-It must be�-It was a fact!

Haggard with horror as well as revelry, he rushed towards the stair, but was met by Mrs Leslie, who stopped him and said:

"Mr Forbes, gin you and Mr Cupples gang on at this rate, I'll be forcedto gie ye baith warnin' to flit. I oucht to hae written to yer mitherafore noo. Ye'll brack her hert or a' be dune. Eh! it's a sair thingwhan young lads tak to drink, and turn reprobates in a jiffie(moment). "

"I dinna gang to your kirk, and ye needna preach to me. What's themaitter wi' Mr Cupples? He hasna ta'en to drink in a jiffie, has he?"

"Ye scorner! He cam hame last nicht bleedin' at the heid, and i' thehan's o' the watchman. Puir man! he cud hardly win up the stair. Icanna think hoo he cam' to fa' sae sair; for they say there's a specialProvidence watches ower drunk men and bairns. He was an awfu' sicht, honest man! A terrible mixter o' reid and white. "

"What said he about it?" asked Alec, trembling. 

"Ow, naething. He had naething till say. Ye maunna gang near him; for Ileft him fest asleep. Gang awa benn to yer ain room, and I'll be in wi'yer brakfast in ten minutes. Eh! but ye wad be a fine lad gin ye wadonly gie up the drink and the ill company. "

Alec obeyed, ashamed and full of remorse. The only thing he could dowas to attend to Mr Cupples's business in the library, where he workedat the catalogue till the afternoon lecture was over. 

Nobody had seen Beauchamp, and the blinds of Kate's windows were drawndown. 

All day his heart was full of Mr Cupples; and as he went home herecalled everything with perfect distinctness, and felt that hisconduct had been as vile as it was possible for conduct to be. Becausea girl could not love him, he had ceased to love his mother, had givenhimself up to Satan, and had returned the devotion of his friend with amurderous blow. Because he could not have a bed of roses, he had thrownhimself down in the pig-stye. He rushed into a public-house, andswallowed two glasses of whisky. That done, he went straight home, andran up to Mr Cupples's room. 

Mr Cupples was sitting before the fire, with his hands on his knees andhis head bound in white, bloodstained. He turned a ghastly face, andtried to smile. Alec's heart gave way utterly. He knelt at Mr Cupples'sfeet, laid his head on his knee, and burst into very unsaxon but mostgracious tears. Mr Cupples laid a small trembling hand on the boy'shead, saying, "Eh! bantam, bantam!" and could say no more. 

"Mr Cupples, " sobbed Alec, "forgive me. I'll cut my throat, gin yelike. "

"Ye wad do better to cut the deevil's throat. "

"Hoo could I do that? Tell me, and I'll do 't. "

"Wi' the broken whisky-bottle, man. That's at the root o' a' themischeef. It's no you. It's the drink. And eh! Alec, we micht be richthappy thegither efter that. I wad mak a scholar o' ye. "

"Weel, Mr Cupples, ye hae a richt to demand o' me what ye like; forhenceforth ye hae the pooer o' life or deith ower me. But gin I try tobrak throu the drinkin', I maun haud oot ower frae the smell o' 't; an'I doobt, " added Alec slyly, "ye wadna hae the chance o' makin' muckleo' a scholar o' me in that case. "

And now the dark roots of thought and feeling blossomed into the fairflower of resolution. 

"Bantam, " said Mr Cupples solemnly, "I sweir to God, gin ye'll gie owerthe drink and the lave o' yer ill gaits, I'll gie ower the drink asweel. I hae naething ither to gie ower. But that winna be easy, " headded with a sigh, stretching his hand towards his glass. 

From a sudden influx of energy, Alec stretched his hand likewisetowards the same glass, and laying hold on it as Mr Cupples was raisingit to his lips, cried:

"I sweir to God likewise--And noo, " he added, leaving his hold of theglass, "ye daurna drink it. "

Mr Cupples threw glass and all into the fire. 

"That's my fareweel libation to the infernal Bacchus, " he said. "Lat itgang to swall the low o' Phlegethon. But eh! it's a terribleundertakin'. It's mair nor Hercules himsel' could hae made onything o'. Bantam! I hae saicrifeesed mysel' to you. Haud to your pairt, or Icanna haud to mine. "

It was indeed a terrible undertaking. I doubt whether either of themwould have had courage for it, had he not been under those sameexciting influences�-which, undermining all power of manly action, yetgive for the moment a certain amount of energy to expend. But thelimits are narrow within which, by wasting his capital, a man secures asupply of pocket-money. And for them the tug of war was to come. 

They sat on opposite sides of the table and stared at each other. Asthe spirituous tide ebbed from the brain, more and more painful visionsof the near future steamed up. Yet even already conscience began tosustain them. Her wine was strong, and they were so little used to itthat it even excited them. 

With Alec the struggle would soon be over. His nervous system wouldspeedily recover its healthy operations. But Cupples�-from whose veinsalcohol had expelled the blood, whose skull was a Circean cup ofhurtful spells�-would not delirium follow for him?

Suddenly Alec laid his hand on the bottle. Mr Cupples trembled. Was hegoing to break his vow already?

"Wadna't be better to fling this into the neist yard, Mr Cupples?" saidAlec. "We daurna fling 't i' the fire. It wad set the chimley in alow (flame). "

"Na, na. Lat ye 't sit, " returned Mr Cupples. 

"I wad be clean affrontit gin I cudna see and forbear. Ye may jist pitit into the press though. A body needna lay burdens grievous to beborne upo' himsel' mair nor upo' ither fowk. Noo, lat's hae a game o'cribbage, to haud's ohn thocht aboot it. "

They played two or three games. It was pathetic to see how Mr Cupples'sright hand, while he looked at the cards in his left, would go blindlyflitting about the spot where his glass had always used to stand; andhow, when he looked up unable to find it, his face shadowed over withdisappointment. After those two or three games, he threw down thecards, saying, "It winna do, bantam. I dinna like the cairts the nicht. Wi'oot onything to weet them, they're dooms dry. What say ye to a chorus o'�schylus?"

Alec's habits of study had been quite broken up of late. Even themedical lectures and the hospital classes had been neglected. So�schylus could not be much of a consolatory amusement in the blankwhich follows all exorcism. But Cupples felt that if no good spiritcame into the empty house, sweeping and garnishing would only enticethe seven to take the place of the one. So he tried to interest hispupil once again in his old studies; and by frequent changes did erelong succeed in holding tedium at bay. 

But all his efforts would have resulted in nothing but that vainsweeping and garnishing, had not both their hearts been alreadytenanted by one good and strong spirit�-essential life and humanity. That spirit was Love, which at the long last will expel whatsoeveropposeth itself. While Alec felt that he must do everything to pleaseMr Cupples, he, on his part, felt that all the future of the youth layin his hands. He forgot the pangs of alcoholic desire in his fear lestAlec should not be able to endure the tedium of abstinence; and Alec'sgratitude and remorse made him humble as a slave to the littlebig-hearted man whom he had injured so cruelly. 

"I'm tired and maun gang to my bed, for I hae a sair heid, " said MrCupples, that first night. 

"That's my doin'!" said Alec, sorrowfully. 

"Gin this new repentance o' yours and mine turns oot to hae onythingin't, we'll baith hae rizzon to be thankfu' that ye cloured (dinted) myskull, Alec. But eh me! I'm feared I winna sleep muckle the nicht. "

"Wad ye like me to sit up wi' ye?" asked Alec. "I cud sleep i' yourcheir weel eneuch. "

"Na, na. We hae baith need to say oor prayers, and we cudna do thatweel thegither. Gang ye awa' to yer bed, and min' yer vow to God and tome. And dinna forget yer prayers, Alec. "

Neither of them forgot his prayers. Alec slept soundly--Mr Cupples notat all. 

"I think, " he said, when Alec appeared in the morning, "I winna tak sica hardship upo' me anither nicht. Jist open the cat's door and flingthe bottle into somebody's yard. I houp it winna cut onybody's feet. "

Alec flew to the cupboard, and dragged out the demon. 

"Noo, " said Mr Cupples, "open the twa doors wide, and fling 't wi' abirr, that I may hear its last speech and dyin' declaration. "

Alec did as he was desired, and the bottle fell on the stones of alittle court. The clash rose to the ears of Mr Cupples. 

"Thank God!" he said with a sigh. --"Alec, no man that hasna gane throuthe same, can tell what I hae gane throu this past nicht, wi' thatdeevil i' the press there cryin' 'Come pree (taste) me! come pree me!'But I heard and hearkened not. And yet whiles i' the nicht, althoughI'm sure I didna sleep a wink, I thocht I was fumblin' awa' at the locko' the press an' cudna get it opened. And the press was a coffin set upupo' its en', an' I kent that there was a corp inside it, and yet Itried sair to open't. An' syne again, I thocht it was the gate o'Paradees afore which stud the angel wi' the flamin' sword that turnedilka gait, and wadna lat me in. But I'm some better sin the licht cam, and I wad fain hae a drappy o' that fine caller tipple they ca'watter. "

Alec ran down and brought it cold from the pump, saying, as Mr Cupplesreturned the tumbler with a look of thanks, "But there's the tappit hen. I doot gin we lea' her i' the press, she'll be wantin' to lay. "

"Na, na, nae fear o' that. She's as toom's a cock. Gang and luik. Thelast drap in her wame flaw oot at the window i' that bottle. Eh! Alec, but I'll hae a sair day, and ye maun be true to me. Gie me my Homer, orI'll never win throu't. An ye may lay John Milton within my rax(reach); for I winna pit my leg oot o' the blankets till ye come hame. Sae ye maunna be langer nor ye can help. "

Alec promised, and set off with a light heart. 

Beauchamp was at none of the classes. And the blinds of Kate's windowswere still drawn down. 

For a whole week he came home as early as possible and spent the restof the day with Mr Cupples. But many dreary hours passed over themboth. The suffering of Mr Cupples and the struggle which he had tosustain with the constant craving of his whole being, are perhapsindescribable; but true to his vow and to his friend, he enduredmanfully. Still it was with a rueful-comical look and a sigh, sometimes, that he would sit down to his tea, remarking, "Eh, man! this is meeserable stuff�-awfu' weyk tipple�-a paganinvention a'thegither. "

But the tea comforted the poor half-scorched, half-sodden nervesnotwithstanding, and by slow degrees they began to gather tone andstrength; his appetite improved; and at the end of the week he resumedhis duties in the library. And thenceforth, as soon as his classes wereover, Alec would go to the library to Mr Cupples, or on other days MrCupples would linger near the medical school or hospital, till Aleccame out, and then they would go home together. Once home, both foundenough to do in getting one of them up to the mark of the approachingexaminations. --Two pale-faced creatures they sat there, in Mr Cupples'sgarret, looking wretched and subdued enough, although occasionally theybroke out laughing, as the sparks of life revived and flickered intomerriment. 

Inquiring after Miss Fraser, Alec learned that she was ill. The maidinquired in return if he knew anything about Mr Beauchamp. 

CHAPTER LXXVII. 

Mr Cupples and Alec were hard at work�-the table covered with books andpapers; when a knock came to the door�-the rarest occurrence in thatskyey region�-and the landlady ushered in Mrs Forbes. 

The two men sprang to their feet, and Mrs Forbes stared with gratifiedamazement. The place was crowded with signs of intellectual labour, andnot even a pack of cards was visible. 

"Why didn't you answer my last letter, Alec?" she said. 

It had dropped behind some books, and he had never seen it. 

"What is the meaning, then, of such reports about you?" she resumed, venturing to put the question in the presence of Mr Cupples in the hopeof a corroborated refutation. 

Alec looked confused, grew red, and was silent. Mr Cupples took up thereply. 

"Ye see, mem, it's a pairt o' the edication o' the human individual, frae the time o' Adam and Eve doonwith, to learn to refuse the evil andchowse the guid. This doesna aye come o' eatin' butter and honey, butwhiles o' eatin' aise (ashes) and dirt. Noo, my pupil, here, mem, yourson, has eaten that dirt and made that chice. And I'll be caution(security) for him that he'll never mair return to wallow i' that mire. It's three weeks, mem, sin ae drop o' whusky has passed his mou. "

"Whisky!" exclaimed the mother. "Alec! Is it possible?"

"Mem, mem! It wad become ye better to fa' doon upo' yer knees and thankthe God that's brocht him oot o' a fearfu' pit and oot o' the miry clayand set his feet upon a rock. But the rock's some sma' i' the fit-haud, and ae word micht jist caw him aff o' 't again. Gin ye fa' toupbraidin' o' 'm, ye may gar him clean forget's washin'. "

But Mrs Forbes was proud, and did not like interference between her andher son. Had she found things as bad as she had expected, she wouldhave been humble. Now that her fears had abated, her natural pride hadreturned. 

"Take me to your own room, Alec, " she said. 

"Ay, ay, mem. Tak' him wi' ye. But caw cannie, ye ken, or ye'll gie mea deevil o' a job wi' 'm. "

With a smile to Cupples, Alec led the way. 

He would have told his mother almost everything if she had been genial. As she was, he contented himself with a general confession that he hadbeen behaving very badly, and would have grown ten times worse but forMr Cupples, who was the best friend that he had on earth. 

"Better than your mother, Alec?" she asked, jealously. 

"I was no kith or kin of his, and yet he loved me, " said Alec. 

"He ought to have behaved more like a gentleman to me. "

"Mother, you don't understand Mr Cupples. He's a strange creature. Hetakes a pride in speaking the broadest Scotch, when he could talk toyou in more languages than you ever heard of, if he liked. "

"I don't think he's fit company for you anyhow. We'll change thesubject, if you please. "

So Alec was yet more annoyed, and the intercourse between mother andson was forced and uncomfortable. As soon as she retired to rest, Alecbounded up stairs again. 

"Never mind my mother, " he cried. "She's a good woman, but she's vexedwith me, and lets it out on you. "

"Mind her!" answered Mr Cupples; "she's a verra fine woman; and she maysay what she likes to me. She'll be a' richt the morn's mornin'. Awoman wi' ae son's like a coo wi' ae horn, some kittle (ticklish), yeken. I cud see in her een haill coal-pits o' affection. She wad dee forye, afore ye cud say-�'Dinna, mither. '"

Next day they went to call on Professor Fraser. He received themkindly, and thanked Mrs Forbes for her attentions to his niece. But heseemed oppressed and troubled. His niece was far from well, hesaid�-had not left her room for some weeks, and could see no one. 

Mrs Forbes associated Alec's conduct with Kate's illness, but saidnothing about her suspicions. After one day more, she returned home, reassured by but not satisfied with her visit. She felt that Alec hadoutgrown his former relation to her, and had a dim perception that herpride had prevented them from entering upon a yet closer relation. Itis their own fault when mothers lose by the _growth_ of their children. 

CHAPTER LXXVIII. 

Meantime, Annie was passing through a strange experience. It gave her adreadful shock to know that such things were reported of her hero, herchampion. They could not be true, else Chaos was come again. But whenno exultant denial of them arrived from the pen of his mother, althoughshe wrote as she had promised, then she understood by degrees that theyouth had erred from the path, and had denied the Lord that bought him. She brooded and fancied and recoiled till the thought of him became sopainful that she turned from it, rather than from him, with discomfortamounting almost to disgust. He had been to her the centre of all thatwas noble and true. And he revelled in company of which she knewnothing except from far-off hints of unapproachable pollution! Her idolall of silver hue was blackened with the breath of sulphur, and theworld was overspread with the darkness which radiated from it. 

In this mood she went to the week-evening service at Mr Turnbull'schapel. There she sat listless, looking for no help, and caring fornone of the hymns or prayers. At length Mr Turnbull began to read thestory of the Prodigal Son. And during the reading her distress vanishedlike snow in the sunshine. For she took for her own the character ofthe elder brother, prayed for forgiveness, and came away loving AlecForbes more than ever she had loved him before. If God could love theProdigal, might she not, ought she not to love him too?�-The deepestsource of her misery, though she did not know that it was, had been thefading of her love to him. 

And as she walked home through the dark, the story grew into othercomfort. A prodigal might see the face of God, then! He was no grandmonarch, but a homely father. He would receive her one day, and let herlook in his face. 

Nor did the trouble return any more. From that one moment, no feelingof repugnance ever mingled with her thought of Alec. For such a one ashe could not help repenting, she said. He would be sure to rise and goback to his Father. She would not have found it hard to believe even, that, come early, or linger late, no swine-keeping son of the Fatherwill be able to help repenting at last; that no God-born soul will beable to go on trying to satisfy himself with the husks that the swineeat, or to refrain from thinking of his Father's house, and wishinghimself within its walls even in the meanest place; or that such a wishis prelude to the best robe and the ring and the fatted calf, when theFather would spend himself in joyous obliteration of his son's past andits misery�-having got him back his very own, and better than when hewent, because more humble and more loving. 

When Mrs Forbes came home, she entered into no detail, and wasdisinclined to talk about the matter at all, probably as much fromdissatisfaction with herself as with her son, But Annie's heartblossomed into a quiet delight when she learned that the facts were notso bad as the reports, and that there was no doubt he would yet livethem all down. 

The evil time was drawing nigh, ushered by gentler gales and snowdrops, when she must be turned out for the spring and summer. She would feelit more than ever, but less than if her aunt had not explained to herthat she had a right to the shelter afforded her by the Bruces. 

Meantime arrived a letter from Mr Cupples. 

"Dear Madam, �-After all the efforts of Mr Alec, aided by my bestendeavours, but counteracted by the grief of knowing that his cousin, Miss Fraser, entertained a devoted regard for a worthless class-fellowof his�-after all our united efforts, Mr Alec has not been able to passmore than two of his examinations. I am certain he would have donebetter but for the unhappiness to which I have referred, combined withthe illness of Miss Fraser. In the course of a day or two, he willreturn to you, when, if you can succeed, as none but mothers can, inrestoring him to some composure of mind, he will be perfectly ableduring the vacation to make up for lost time. 

"I am, dear madam, your obedient servant, "Cosmo Cupples. "

Angry with Kate, annoyed with her son, vexed with herself, andindignant at the mediation of "that dirty vulgar little man, " MrsForbes forgot her usual restraint, and throwing the letter across thetable with the words "Bad news, Annie, " left the room. But the effectproduced upon Annie by the contents of the letter was very different. 

Hitherto she had looked up to Alec as a great strong creature. Herfaith in him had been unquestioning and unbounded. Even hiswrong-doings had not impressed her with any sense of his weakness. Butnow, rejected and disgraced, his mother dissatisfied, his frienddisappointed, and himself foiled in the battle of life, he had fallenupon evil days, and all the woman in Annie rose for his defence. In amoment they had changed places in the world of her moral imagination. The strong youth was weak and defenceless: the gentle girl opened theheart almost of motherhood, to receive and shelter the worn outragedman. A new tenderness, a new pity took possession of her. Indignantwith Kate, angry with the professors, ready to kiss the hands of MrCupples, all the tenderness of her tender nature gathered about herfallen hero, and she was more like his wife defending him from _her_mother. Now she could be something if not to him yet for him. He hadbeen a "bright particular star" "beyond her sphere, " but now the starlay in the grass, shorn of its beams, and she took it to her bosom. 

Two days passed. On the third evening in walked Alec, pale andtrembling, evidently ill, too ill to be questioned. His breathing wasshort and checked by pain. 

"If I hadn't come at once, mother, " he said, "I should have been laidup there. It's pleurisy, Mr Cupples says. "

"My poor boy!"

"Oh! I don't care. "

"You've been working too hard, dear. "

Alec laughed bitterly. 

"I did work, mother; but it doesn't matter. She's dead. "

"Who's dead?" exclaimed his mother. 

"Kate's dead. And I couldn't help it. I tried hard. And it's all myfault too. Cupples says she's better dead. But I might have saved her. "

He started from the sofa, and went pacing about the room, his faceflushed and his breath coming faster and shorter. His mother got him tolie down again, and asked no more questions. The doctor came and bledhim at the arm, and sent him to bed. 

When Annie saw him worn and ill, her heart swelled till she couldhardly bear the aching of it. She would have been his slave, and shecould do nothing. She must leave him instead. She went to her room, puton her bonnet and cloak, and was leaving the house when Mrs Forbescaught sight of her. 

"Annie! what _do_ you mean, child? You're not going to leave me?"

"I thought you wouldn't want me any more, ma'am. "

"You silly child!"

Annie ran back to her room, thus compromising with a strong inclinationto dance back to it. 

When Mr Cupples and Alec had begun to place confidence in each other'sself-denial, they cared less to dog each other. �-Alec finding at theNatural Philosophy examination that he had no chance, gathered hispapers, and leaving the room, wandered away to his former refuge whenmiserable, that long desolate stretch of barren sand between the mouthsof the two rivers. Here he wandered till long after the dusk haddeepened into night. �-A sound as of one singing came across the links, and drew nearer and nearer. He turned in the direction of it, forsomething in the tones reminded him of Kate; and he almost believed thesong was her nurse's ghostly ballad. But it ceased; and after walkingsome distance inland, he turned again towards the sea. The song roseonce more, but now between him and the sea. He ran towards it, fallingrepeatedly on the broken ground. By the time he reached the shore, thesinging had again ceased, but presently a wild cry came from seawards, where the waves far out were still ebbing from the shore. He dashedalong the glimmering sands, thinking he caught glimpses of somethingwhite, but there was no moon to give any certainty. As he advanced hebecame surer, but the sea was between. He rushed in. Deeper and deepergrew the water. He swam. But before he could reach the spot, for he hadtaken to the water too soon, with another cry the figure vanished, probably in one of those deep pits which abound along that shore. Stillhe held on, diving many times, but in vain. His vigour was not now whatit had once been, and at length he was so exhausted, that when he cameto himself, lying on his back in the dry sands, he had quite forgottenhow he came there. He would have rushed again into the water, but hecould scarcely move his limbs. He actually crawled part of the wayacross the links to the college. There he inquired if Miss Fraser wasin the house. The maid assured him that she was in her own room, whereupon he went home. But he had scarcely gone before they discoveredthat her room was deserted, and she nowhere to be found. The shock ofthis news rendered it impossible for him to throw off the effects ofhis exposure. But he lingered on till Mr Cupples compelled him to gohome. Not even then, however, had her body been recovered. Alec wasconvinced that she had got into one of the quicksands; but it was castashore a few days after his departure, and it was well that he did notsee it. He did not learn the fact till many years after. 

It soon transpired that she had been out of her mind for some time. Indeed rumours of the sort had been afloat before. The proximate causeof her insanity was not certainly known. Some suspicion of theworthlessness of her lover, some enlightenment as to his perfidy, orhis unaccountable disappearance alone, may have occasioned itsmanifestation. But there is great reason to believe that she had anatural predisposition to it. And having never been taught to providefor her own mental sustenance, and so nourish a necessary independence, she had been too ready to squander the wealth of a rich and lovelynature upon an unworthy person, and the reaction had been madness anddeath. But anything was better than marrying Beauchamp. 

One strange fact in the case was her inexplicable aversion towater�-either a crude prevision of her coming fate, or, in themysterious operations of delirious reasoning, the actual cause of it. The sea, visible from her window over the dreary flat of the links, mayhave fascinated her, and drawn her to her death. Such cases are notunknown. 

During the worst period of Alec's illness, he was ever wandering alongthat shore, or swimming in those deadly waters. Sometimes he had laidhold of the drowning girl and was struggling with her to the surface. Sometimes he was drawing her in an agony from the swallowing gullet ofa quicksand, which held her fast, and swallowed at her all the timethat he fought to rescue her from its jawless throat. 

Annie took her turn in the sick chamber, watching beside thehalf-unconscious lad, and listening anxiously to the murmurs that brokethrough the veil of his dreams. The feeling with which she had receivedthe prodigal home into her heart, spread its roots deeper and wider, and bore at length a flower of a pale-rosy flush�-Annie's love revealedto herself�-strong although pale, delicate although strong. It seemedto the girl she had loved him so always, only she had not thought aboutit. He had fought for her and endured for her at school; he had savedher life from the greedy waters of the Glamour at the risk of his own:she would be the most ungrateful of girls if she did not love him. �-Andshe did love him with a quiet intensity peculiar to her nature. 

Never had she happier hours than those in which it seemed that only thestars and the angels were awake besides herself. And if while watchinghim thus at night she grew sleepy, she would kneel down and pray God tokeep her awake, lest any harm should befall Alec. Then she would wonderif even the angels could do without sleep always, and fancy them lyingabout the warm fields of heaven between their own shadowy wings. Shewould wonder next if it would be safe for God to close his eyes for oneminute�-safe for the world, she meant; and hope that, if ever he didclose his eyes, that might not be the one moment when she should seehis face. Then she would nod, and wake up with a start, fluttersilently to her feet, and go and peep at the slumberer. Never was womanhappier than Annie was during those blessed midnights and cold greydawns. Sometimes, in those terrible hours after midnight that belongneither to the night nor the day, but almost to the primeval darkness, the terrors of the darkness would seize upon her, and she would sit"inhabiting trembling. " But the lightest movement of the sleeper wouldrouse her, and a glance at the place where he lay would dispel herfears. 

CHAPTER LXXIX. 

One night she heard a rustling amongst the bushes in the garden; andthe next moment a subdued voice began to sing:

 I waited for the Lord my God and patiently did bear; At length to me he did incline, my voice and cry to hear. He took me from a fearful pit, and from the miry clay, And on a rock he set my feet, establishing my way. 

The tune was that wildest of trustful wailings�-_Martyrs_'. 

"I didna ken that ye cared aboot psalm-tunes, Mr Cupples, " murmuredAlec. 

The singing went on and he grew restless. 

It was an _eerie_ thing to go out, but she must stop the singing. If itwas Mr Cupples, she could have nothing to fear. Besides, a bad manwould not sing that song. �-As she opened the door, a soft spring windblew upon her full of genial strength, as if it came straight fromthose dark blue clefts between the heavy clouds of the cast. Away inthe clear west, the half-moon was going down in dreaming stillness. Thedark figure of a little man stood leaning against the house, singinggently. 

"Are you Mr Cupples?" she said. 

The man started, and answered, "Yes, my lass. And wha are ye?"

"I'm Annie Anderson. Alec's some disturbit wi' your singin'. Ye'll waukhim up, and he'll be a hantle the waur o' 't. "

"I winna sing anither stave. It was lanesome stan'in' upo' the ootsidehere, as gin I war ane o' the foolish virgins. "

"Eh! wadna that be dreidfu'?" responded Annie simply. Her words awokean echo in Mr Cupples's conscience, but he returned no reply. 

"Hoo's Alec?" he asked. 

"Some better. He's growin' better, though it's langsome like. "

"And do they lippen you to luik efter him, no?"

"Ay. What for no? His mither wad be worn to deith gin she sat up ilkanicht. He canna bide ouybody but her or me. "

"Weel, ye're a young crater to hae sic a chairge. �-I wrote to MrsForbes twa or three times, but I got but ae scrimpit answer. Sae assune's I cud win awa', I cam' to speir efter him mysel'. "

"Whan did ye come, Mr Cupples?"

"This nicht. Or I reckon it's last nicht noo. But or I wan ower thislen'th, ye war a' i' yer beds, and I daurna disturb ye. Sae I sat doonin a summer-seat that I cam' upo', and smokit my pipe and luikit at thestars and the cluds. And I tried to sing a sang, but naething butpsalms wad come, for the nicht's sae awfu' solemn, whan ye win richtintil the mids o' 't! It jist distresses me that there's naebody up toworship God a' nicht in sic a nicht's this. "

"Nae doobt there's mony praisin' him that we canna see. "

"Ow, ay; nae doobt. But aneath this lift, and breathin' the houpfu' airo' this divine darkness. "

Annie did not quite understand him. 

"I maun gang back to Alec, " she said. "Ye'll come ower the morn, MrCupples, and hear a' aboot him?"

"I will do that, my bairn. Hoo do they ca' ye�-for I forget namesdreidfu'?"

"Annie Anderson. "

"Ay, ay; Annie Anderson�-I hae surely heard that name afore. �-Weel, Iwinna forget _you_, whether I forget yer name or no. "

"But hae ye a bed?" said the thoughtful girl, to whom the comfort ofevery one who came near her was an instinctive anxiety. 

"Ow, ay. I hae a bed at the hoose o' a sma', jabberin', bitter-barkitcrater they ca' King Robert the Bruce. "

Annie knew that he must be occupying her room; and was on the point ofexpressing a hope that he "wadna be disturbit wi' the rottans, " whenshe saw that it would lead to new explanations and delays. 

"Good night, Mr Cupples, " she said, holding out her hand. 

Mr Cupples took it kindly, saying:

"Are ye a niece, or a gran'-dochter o' the hoose, or a hired servan', or what are ye?�-for ye're a wice-spoken lass and a bonnie. "

"I'm a servan' o' the hoose, " said Annie. Then after a moment'shesitation, she added, "but no a hired ane. "

"Ye're worth hirin' onyhoo, hinnie (honey); and they're weel aff thathas ye i' the hoose in ony capawcity. An auld man like me may say thatto yer face. Sae I'll awa' to my bed, and sing the lave o' my psalm asI gang. "

Mr Cupples had a proclivity to garrets. He could not be comfortable ifany person was over his head. He could breathe, he said, when he gotnext to the stars. For the rats he cared nothing, and slept as if thegarret were a cellar in heaven. 

It had been a sore trial of his manhood to keep his vow after he knewthat Alec was safe in the haven of a sick-bed. He knew that for him, ifhe were once happy again, there was little danger of a relapse; for hisphysical nature had not been greatly corrupted: there had not been timefor that. He would rise from his sickness newborn. Hence it was theharder for Mr Cupples, in his loneliness, to do battle with hisdeep-rooted desires. He would never drink as he had done, but might henot have just one tumbler?�-That one tumbler he did not take. And--richreward!�-after two months the well of song within him began to gurgleand heave as if its waters would break forth once more in the desert;the roseate hue returned to the sunsets; and the spring came in with avery childhood of greenness. �-The obfuscations of self-indulgence willsoon vanish where they have not been sealed by crime and systematicselfishness. 

Another though inferior reward was, that he had money in his pocket:with this money he would go and see Alec Forbes. The amount beingsmall, however, he would save it by walking. Hence it came that hearrived late and weary. Entering the first shop he came to, he inquiredafter a cheap lodging. For he said to himself that the humblest inn wasbeyond his means; though probably his reason for avoiding such ashelter was the same as made him ask Alec to throw the bottle out ofthe garret. Robert Bruce heard his question, and, regarding him keenlyfrom under his eyebrows, debated with himself whether the applicant wasrespectable�-that is, whether he could pay, and would bring upon thehouse no discredit by the harbourage. The signs of such a man asCupples were inscrutable to Bruce; therefore his answer hung fire. 

"Are ye deif, man?" said Cupples; "or are ye feared to tyne a chance bygiein' a fair answer to a fair queston?"

The arrow went too near the mark not to irritate Bruce. 

"Gang yer wa's, " said he. "We dinna want tramps i' this toon. "

"Weel, I am a tramp, nae doobt, " returned Cupples; "for I hae come ilkabit o' the road upo' my ain fit; but I hae read in history o' twa orthree tramps that war respectable fowk for a' that. Ye winna _gie_onything i' this chop, I doobt�-nae even information. �-Will ye _sell_me an unce o' pigtail?"

"Ow, ay. I'll sell't gin ye'll buy't. "

"There's the bawbees, " said Cupples, laying the orthodox pence on thecounter. "And noo will ye tell me whaur I can get a respectable, dacentplace to lie doon in? I'll want it for a week, at ony rate. "

Before he had finished the question, the door behind the counter hadopened, and young Bruce had entered. Mr Cupples knew him well enough bysight as a last year's bejan. 

"How are you?" he said. "I know you, though I don't know your name. "

"My name's Robert Bruce, Mr Cupples. "

"A fine name�-Robert Bruce, " he replied. 

The youth turned to his father, and said�-

"This gentleman is the librarian of our college, father. "

Bruce took his hat off his head, and set it on the counter. 

"I beg your pardon, sir, " he said. "I'm terrible short-sichtit incan'le-licht. "

"I'm used to bein' mista'en', " answered Cupples simply, perceiving thathe had got hold of a character. "Mak nae apologies, I beg ye, butanswer my queston. "

"Weel, sir, to tell the trowth, seein' ye're a gentleman, we hae a roomoorsels. But it's a garret-room, and maybe�-"

"Then I'll hae't, whatever it be, gin ye dinna want ower muckle for't. "

"Weel, ye see, sir, your college is a great expense to heumble fowklike oorsels, and we hae to mak it up the best way that we can. "

"Nae doot. Hoo muckle do ye want?"

"Wad ye think five shillins ower muckle?"

"'Deed wad I. "

"Weel, we'll say three than�-to _you_, sir. "

"I winna gie ye mair nor half-a-croon. "

"Hoot, sir! It's ower little. "

"Well, I'll look further, " said Mr Cupples, putting on English, andmoving to the door. 

"Na, sir; ye'll do nae sic thing. Do ye think I wad lat the leebrariano' my son's college gang oot at my door this time o' nicht, to luik fora bed till himsel'? Ye s' jist hae't at yer ain price, and welcome. Ye'll hae yer tay and sugar and bitties o' cheese frae me, ye ken?"

"Of course�-of course. And if you could get me some tea at once, Ishould be obliged to you. "

"Mother, " cried Bruce through the house-door, and held a momentarywhispering with the partner of his throne. 

"So your name's Bruce, is it?" resumed Cupples, as the other returnedto the counter. 

"Robert Bruce, sir, at your service. "

"It's a gran' _name_, " said Cupples with emphasis. 

"'Deed is't, and I hae a richt to beir 't. "

"Ye'll be a descendant, nae doot, o' the Yerl o' Carrick?" saidCupples, guessing at his weakness. 

"O' the king, sir. Fowk may think little o' me; but I come o' him thatfreed Scotland. Gin it hadna been for Bannockburn, sir, whaur wadScotland hae been the day?"

"Nearhan' civileezed unner the fine influences o' the English, wi'their cultivation and their mainners, and, aboon a', their gran'Edwards and Hairries. "

"I dinna richtly unnerstan' ye, sir, " said Bruce. "Ye hae heard hoo theking clave the skull o' Sir Henry dee Bohunn�-haena ye, sir?"

"Ow, aye. But it was a pity it wasna the ither gait. Lat me see the wayto my room, for I want to wash my han's and face. They're jist barkitwi' stour (dust). "

Bruce hesitated whether to show Mr Cupples out or in. His blue bloodboiled at this insult to his great progenitor. But a half-crown wouldcover a greater wrong than that even, and he obeyed. Cupples followedhim up-stairs, murmuring to himself:

"Shades o' Wallace and Bruce! forgie me. But to see sma' craters cocktheir noses and their tails as gin they had inherited the michty deedsas weel as the names o' their forbears, jist scunners me, and turns myblude into the gall o' bitterness�-and that's scripter for't. "

After further consultation, Mr and Mrs Bruce came to the conclusionthat it might be politic, for Robert's sake, to treat the librarianwith consideration. Consequently Mrs Bruce invited him to go down tohis tea in _the room_. Descending before it was quite ready, he lookedabout him. The only thing that attracted his attention was a handsomelybound Bible. This he took up, thinking to get some amusement from thebirths of the illustrious Bruces; but the only inscription he couldfind, besides the name of _John Cowie_, was the following in pencil:

"_Super Davidis Psalmum tertium vicesimum, syngrapham pecuniariamcentum solidos valentem, qu�, me mortuo, a Annie Anderson, mihidilecta, sit, posui_. "

Then came some figures, and then the date, with the initials _J. C_. 

Hence it was that Mr Cupples thought he had heard the name of AnnieAnderson before. 

"It's a gran' Bible this, gudewife, " he said as Mrs Bruce entered. 

"Aye is't. It belanged to oor pairis-minister. "

Nothing more passed, for Mr Cupples was hungry. 

After a long sleep in the morning, he called upon Mrs Forbes, and waskindly received; but it was a great disappointment to him to find thathe could not see Alec. As he was in the country, however, he resolvedto make the best of it, and enjoy himself for a week. For his asserteddislike to the country, though genuine at the time, was anything butnatural to him. So every day he climbed to the top of one or other ofthe hills which inclosed the valley, and was rewarded with fresh vigourand renewed joy. He had not learned to read Wordsworth; yet not a windblew through a broom-bush, but it blew a joy from it into his heart. Hetoo was a prodigal returned at least into _the vestibule_ of hisFather's house. And the Father sent the servants out there to ministerto him; and Nature, the housekeeper, put the robe of health upon him, and gave him new shoes of strength, and a ring, though not the Father'swhite stone. The delights of those spring days were endless to himwhose own nature was budding with new life. Familiar with all thecottage ways, he would drop into any _hoosie_ he came near about hisdinnertime, and asking for a _piece_ (of oat-cake) and a _coguie o'milk_, would make his dinner off those content, and leave a triflebehind him in acknowledgment. But he would always contrive that as thegloamin began to fall, he should be near Howglen, that he might inquireafter his friend. And Mrs Forbes began to understand himbetter. -�Before the week was over, there was not a man or woman aboutHowglen whom he did not know even by name; for to his surprise, evenhis forgetfulness was fast vanishing in the menstruum of theearth-spirit, the world's breath blown over the corn. In particular hehad made the acquaintance of James Dow, with whose knowing simplicityhe was greatly taken. 

On the last day but one of his intended stay, as he went to make hisdaily inquiry, he dropped in to see James Dow in the "harledhypocrite. " James had come in from his work, and was sitting alone on abench by the table, in a corner of the earth-floored kitchen. The greatpot, lidless, and full of magnificent potatoes, was hanging above thefire, that its contents might be quite dry for supper. Through thelittle window, a foot and a half square, Cupples could see the remainsof a hawthorn hedge, a hundred years old�-a hedge no longer, but a rowof knobby, gnarled trees, full of knees and elbows; and through thetrees the remains of an orange-coloured sunset. �-It was not a beautifulcountry, as I have said before; but the spring was beautiful, and theheavens were always beautiful; and, like the plainest woman's face, thecountry itself, in its best moods, had no end of beauty. 

"Hoo are ye, Jeames Doo?"

"Fine, I thank ye, sir, " said James rising. 

"I wad raither sit doon mysel', nor gar you stan' up efter yer day'swork, Jeames. "

"Ow! I dinna warstle mysel' to the deith a'thegither. "

But James, who was not a healthy man, was often in the wet field whenanother would have been in bed, and righteously in bed. He had a strongfeeling of the worthlessness of man's life in comparison with the workhe has to do, even if that work be only the spreading of a fother ofdung. His mistress could not keep him from his work. 

Mr Cupples sat down, and James resumed his seat. 

"Ye're awfu' dubby (miry) aboot the feet, Mr Cupples. Jist gie me affyer shune, and I'll gie them a scrape and a lick wi' theblackin'-brush, " said James, again rising. 

"Deil tak' me gin I do ony sic thing!" exclaimed Mr Cupples. "Myshune'll do weel eneuch. "

"Whaur got ye a' that dub, sir? The roads is middlin' the day. "

"I dinna aye stick to the roads, Jeames. I wan intil a bog first, andsyne intil some plooed lan' that was a' lumps o' clay shinin' green i'the sun. Sae it's nae wonner gin I be some clortit. Will ye gie me apitawta, Jeames, in place o' the blackin'-brush?"

"Ay, twenty. But winna ye bide till Mysie comes in, and hae a drappymilk wi' them? They're fine pitawtas the year. "

"Na, na, I haena time. "

"Weel, jist dip into the pot, and help yersel', sir; and I'll luik fora grainy o' saut. "

"Hoo's yer mistress, Jeames? A fine woman that!"

"Nae that ill, but some forfochten wi' norsin' Mr Alec. Eh! sir, that'sa fine lad, gin he wad only haud steady. "

"I'm thinkin' he winna gang far wrang again. He's gotten the arles(earnest) and he winna want the wages. �-That's a fine lassie that'sbidin' wi' them�-Annie Anderson they ca' her. "

"'Deed is she, sir. I kent her father afore her day, and I hae kent hersin ever she had a day. She's ane o' the finest bairns ever was seen. "

"Is she ony relation to the mistress?"

"Ow, na. Nae mair relation nor 'at a' gude fowk's sib. "

And Dow told Cupples the girl's story, including the arrangement madewith Bruce in which he had had a principal part. 

"_Annie Anderson_�-I canna mak' oot whaur I hae heard her name afore. "

"Ye're bidin' at Bruce's, arena ye, Mr Cupples?"

"Ay. That is, I'm sleepin' there, and payin' for't. "

"Weel, I hae little doobt ye hae heard it there. "

"I dinna think it. But maybe. �-What kin' o' chiel' 's Bruce?"

"He's terrible greedy. "

"A moudiwarp (mole) wi' ae ee wad see that afore he had winkit twice. "

"'Deed micht he. "

"Is he honest?"

"That's hard to answer. But I s' gar him be honest wi' regaird to her, gin I can. "

"Wad he chait?"

"Ay. Na. He wadna chait _muckle_. I wadna turn my back till him, though, ohn keekit ower my shouther to haud him sicker. He wadna min'doin' ill that gude micht come. "

"Ay, ay; I ken him. �-And the _ill_ wad be whatever hurtit anither man, and the _gude_ whatever furthered himsel?" said Mr Cupples as he dippedthe last morsel of his third potato in the salt which he held in thepalm of his left hand. 

"Ye hae said it, Mr Cupples. "

And therewith, Mr Cupples bade James good-night, and went to _thehoose_. 

There he heard the happy news that Alec insisted on seeing him. Againsther will, Mrs Forbes had given in, as the better alternative to vexinghim. The result of the interview was, that Cupples sat up with him thatnight, and Mrs Forbes and Annie both slept. In the morning he found abed ready for him, to which he reluctantly betook himself and slept fora couple of hours. The end of it was, that he did not go back to MrBruce's except to pay his bill. Nor did he leave Howglen for manyweeks. 

At length, one lovely morning, when the green corn lay soaking in theyellow sunlight, and the sky rose above the earth deep and pure andtender like the thought of God about it, Alec became suddenly awarethat life was good, and the world beautiful. He tried to raise himself, but failed. Cupples was by his side in a moment. Alec held out his handwith his old smile so long disused. Cupples propped him up withpillows, and opened the window that the warm waves of the air mightbreak into the cave where he had lain so long deaf to its noises andinsensible to its influences. The tide flowed into his chamber likePactolus, all golden with sunbeams. He lay with his hands before himand his eyes closed, looking so happy that Cupples gazed with reverentdelight, for he thought he was praying. But he was only blessed. Soeasily can God make a man happy! The past had dropped from him like awild but weary and sordid dream. He was reborn, a new child, in a newbright world, with a glowing summer to revel in. One of God's lyricprophets, the larks, was within earshot, pouring down a vocal summer ofjubilant melody. The lark thought nobody was listening but his wife;but God heard in heaven, and the young prodigal heard on the earth. Hewould be a good child henceforth, for one bunch of sunrays was enoughto be happy upon. His mother entered. She saw the beauty upon her boy'sworn countenance; she saw the noble watching love on that of hisfriend; her own filled with light, and she stood transfixed and silent. Annie entered, gazed for a moment, fled to her own room, and burst intoadoring tears. �-For she had seen the face of God, and that face wasLove�-love like the human, only deeper, deeper�-tenderer, lovelier, stronger. She could not recall what she had seen, or how she had knownit; but the conviction remained that she had seen his face, and that itwas infinitely beautiful. 

"He has been wi' me a' the time, my God! He gied me my father, and sentBroonie to tak' care o' me, and Dooie, and Thomas Crann, and MrsForbes, and Alec. And he sent the cat whan I gaed till him aboot therottans. An' he's been wi' me I kenna hoo lang, and he's wi' me noo. And I hae seen his face, and I'll see his face again. And I'll try sairto be a gude bairn. Eh me! It's jist wonnerfu! And God'sjist. .. . Naething but God himsel'. "

CHAPTER LXXX. 

Although Mr Cupples had been educated for the Church, and was indeed atthis present time a licentiate, he had given up all thought of pursuingwhat had been his mother's ambition rather than his own choice. But histhoughts had not ceased to run in some of the old grooves, although acertain scepticism would sometimes set him examining those grooves tofind out whether they had been made by the wheels of thegospel-chariot, or by those of Juggernaut in the disguise of a Hebrewhigh priest, drawn by a shouting Christian people. Indeed, as soon ashe ceased to go to church, which was soon after ceasing to regard thepriesthood as his future profession, he began to look at many thingsfrom points of view not exclusively ecclesiastical. So that, althoughhe did go to church at Glamerton for several Sundays, the day arrivingwhen he could not face it again, he did not scruple to set off for thehills. Coming home with a great grand purple foxglove in his hand, hemet some of the missionars returning from their chapel, and amongst therest Robert Bruce, who stopped and spoke. 

"I'm surprised to see ye carryin' that thing o' the Lord's day, MrCupples. Fowk'll think ill o' ye. "

"Weel, ye see, Mr Bruce, it angert me sae to see the ill-faured thingpositeevely growin' there upo' the Lord's day, that I pu'd it up 'maistby the reet. To think o' a weyd like that prankin' itsel' oot in itspurple and its spots upo' the Sawbath day! It canna ken what it'saboot. I'm only feared I left eneuch o' 't to be up again afore lang. "

"I doobt, Mr Cupples, ye haena come unner the pooer o' grace yet. "

"A pour o' creysh (grease)! Na, thank ye. I dinna want to come unner apour o' creysh. It wad blaud me a'thegither. Is that the gait yebaptize i' your conventicle?"

"There's nane sae deif's them 'at winna hear, Mr Cupples, " said Bruce. "I mean�-ye're no convertit yet. "

"Na. I'm no convertit. 'Deed no. I wadna like to be convertit. What wadye convert me till? A swine? Or a sma' peddlin' crater that tak's abawbee mair for rowin' up the pigtail in a foul paper? Ca' ye thatconversion? I'll bide as I am. "

"It's waste o' precious time speikin' to you, Mr Cupples, " returnedBruce, moving off with a red face. 

"'Deed is't, " retorted Cupples; "and I houp ye winna forget the fac'?It's o' consequens to me. "

But he had quite another word on the same subject for Annie Anderson, whom he overtook on her way to Howglen-�she likewise returning from themissionar kirk. 

"Isna that a bonnie ring o' _deid man's bells_, Annie?" said he, holding out the foxglove, and calling it by its name in that part ofthe country. 

"Ay is't. But that was ower muckle a flooer to tak' to the kirk wi' ye. Ye wad gar the fowk lauch. "

"What's the richt flooer to tak' to the kirk, Annie?"

"Ow! sober floories that smell o' the yird (earth), like. "

"Ay! ay! Sic like's what?" asked Cupples, for he had found in Annie apoetic nature that delighted him. 

"Ow! sic like's thyme and southren-wood, and maybe a bittie o'mignonette. "

"Ay! ay! And sae the cowmon custom abuses you, young, bonnie lammies o'the flock. Wadna ye tak' the rose o' Sharon itsel', nor the fire-reidlilies that made the text for the Saviour's sermon? Ow! na. Ye maun besober, wi' flooers bonnie eneuch, but smellin' o' the kirkyard raithernor the blue lift, which same's the sapphire throne o' Him that satthereon. "

"Weel, but allooin' that, ye sudna gar fowk lauch, wi' a bonnie flooer, but ridickleous for the size o' 't, 'cep' ye gie 't room. A kirk's owerlittle for't. "

"Ye're richt there, my dawtie. And I haena been to the kirk ava'. I haebeen to the hills. "

"And what got ye there?"

"I got this upo' the road hame. "

"But what got ye there?"

"Weel, I got the blue lift. "

"And what was that to ye?"

"It _said_ to me that I was a foolish man to care aboot the claiks andthe strifes o' the warl'; for a' was quaiet aboon, whatever stramashthey micht be makin' doon here i' the cellars o' the speeritualcreation. "

Annie was silent: while she did not quite understand him, she had a dimperception of a grand meaning in what he said. 

The fact was that Annie was the greater of the two _in esse_; Cupplesthe greater _in posse_. His imagination let him see things far beyondwhat he could for a long time attain unto. 

"But what got ye at the kirk, Annie?"

"Weel, I canna say I got verra muckle the day. Mr Turnbull's text was, 'Thou, Lord, art merciful, for thou renderest to every man according tohis works. '"

"Ye micht hae gotten a hantel oot o' that. "

"Ay. But ye see, he said the Lord was merciful to ither fowk whan herendert to the wicked the punishment due to them. And I cudna richtlyfeel i' my hert that I cud praise the Lord for that mercy. "

"I dinna wonner, my bairn. "

"But eh! Mr Cupples, Mr Turnbull's no like that aye. He's bonnie upo'the Gospel news. I wiss ye wad gang and hear him the nicht. I cannagang, cause Mrs Forbes is gaun oot. "

"I'll gang and hear him, to please you, my lassie; for, as I said, Ihaena been to the kirk the day. "

"But do ye think it's richt to brak the Sawbath, Mr Cupples?"

"Ay and no. "

"I dinna unnerstan' ye. "

"What the clergy ca' brakin' the Sawbath's no brakin' o' 't. I'll tellye what seems to me the differ atween the like o' your Mr Turnbull andthe Pharisees�-and it's a great differ. They band heavy burdens andgrievous to be borne, and laid them upo' men's shouthers, but wadnatouch sic like to carry them wi' ane o' their fingers: Mr Turnbull andthe like o' him beirs their share. But the burden's nane the less aheavy ane and grievous to be borne. "

"But the burden's no _that_ grievous to me, Mr Cupples. "

"There's no sayin' what you women-fowk will _not_ tak' a pleesur' inbearin'; but the passage refers expressly to the men's shouthers. Andfaith mine _will_ not endure to be loadent wi' ither fowks fykes(trifles). And sae come alang, deid man's bells. "

Annie thought all this rather dreadful, but she was not shocked as aChristian who lives by the clergy and their traditions, instead of bythe fresh Spirit of God, would have been. For she could not help seeingthat there was truth in it. 

But although Cupples could say much to set Annie thinking, and althoughshe did find enlightenment at last from pondering over his words, yetshe could have told him far deeper things than he had yet suspected toexist. For she knew that the goal of all life is the face of God. Perhaps she had to learn a yet higher lesson: that our one free home isthe Heart, the eternal lovely Will of God, than that which should fail, it were better that we and all the worlds should go out in blackness. But this Will is our Salvation. Because He liveth we shall live also. 

Mr Cupples found in the missionar kirk a certain fervour which pleasedhim. For Mr Turnbull, finding that his appeals to the ungodly were nowof little avail to attract listeners of the class, had betaken himselfto the building up of the body of Christ, dwelling in particular uponthe love of the brethren. But how some of them were to be loved, exceptwith the love of compassionate indignation, even his most rapt listenerThomas Crann could not have supposed himself capable of explaining. AsI said, however, Mr Cupples found the sermon in some degree impressive, and was attentive. As he was walking away, questioning with himself, heheard a voice in the air above him. It came from the lips of ThomasCrann, who, although stooping from asthma and rheumatism, still rosenearly a foot above the head of Mr Cupples. 

"I was glaid to see ye at oor kirk, sir, " said Thomas. 

"What for that?" returned the librarian, who always repelled firstapproaches, in which he was only like Thomas himself, and many otherworthy people, both Scotch and English. 

"A stranger sud aye be welcomed to onybody's hoose. "

"I didna ken it was your hoose. "

"Ow na. It's no my hoose. It's the Lord's hoose. But a smile frae theservan'-lass that opens the door's something till a man that gangs toony hoose for the first time, ye ken, " returned Thomas, who, like manymen of rough address, was instantly put upon his good behaviour by theexhibition of like roughness in another. 

This answer disarmed Cupples. He looked up into Thomas's face, and sawfirst a massive chin; then a firmly closed mouth; then a nose, straightas a Greek's, but bulky and of a rough texture; then two keen greyeyes, and lastly a big square forehead supported by the two pedestalsof high cheek bones�-the whole looking as if it had been hewn out ofhis professional granite, or rather as if the look of the granite hadpassed into the face that was so constantly bent over it fashioning thestubborn substance to the yet more stubborn human will. And Cupples notonly liked the face, but felt that he was in the presence of one of thehigher natures of the world�-made to command, or rather, which is farbetter, to influence. Before he had time to reply, however, Thomasresumed:

"Ye hae had a heap o' tribble, I doobt, wi' that laddie, Alec Forbes. "

"Naething mair nor was nateral, " answered Cupples. 

"He's a fine crater, though. I ken that weel. Is he come back, do yethink?"

"What do ye mean? He's lyin' in's bed, quaiet eneuch, puir fallow!"

"Is he come back to the fold?"

"Nae to the missionars, I'm thinkin'. "

"Dinna anger me. Ye're nae sae ignorant as ye wad pass for. Ye ken weeleneuch what I mean. What care I for the missionars mair nor ony ithero' the Lord's fowk, 'cep that they're mair like his fowk nor ony itherthat I hae seen?"

"Sic like's Robert Bruce, for a sample. "

Thomas stopped as if he had struck against a stone wall, and went backon his track. 

"What I want to ken is whether Alec unnerstans yet that the prodigal'saye ill aff; and�-"

"Na, " interrupted Cupples. "He's never been cawed to the swine yet. Norhe sudna be, sae lang's I had a saxpence to halve wi' him. "

"Ye're no richt, frien', _there_. The suner a prodigal comes to theswine the better!"

"Ay; that's what you richteous elder brithers think. I ken that weeleneuch. "

"Mr Cupples, I'm nae elder brither i' that sense. God kens I wad gangoot to lat him in. "

"What ken ye aboot him, gin it be a fair queston?"

"I hae kent him, sir, sin he was a bairn. I perilled his life�-no myain�-to gar him do his duty. I trust in God it wad hae been easier forme to hae perilled my ain. Sae ye see I do ken aboot him. "

"Weel, " said Mr Cupples, to whom the nature of Thomas had begun to openitself, "I alloo that. Whaur do ye bide? What's yer name? I'll come andsee ye the morn's nicht, gin ye'll lat me. "

"My name's Thomas Crann. I'm a stonemason. Speir at Robert Bruce'schop, and they'll direc ye to whaur I bide. Ye may come the morn'snicht, and welcome. Can ye sup parritch?"

"Ay, weel that. "

"My Jean's an extrornar han' at parritch. I only houp puir Esau hadhalf as guid for's birthricht. Ye'll hae a drappy wi' me?"

"Wi' a' my hert, " answered Cupples. 

And here their ways diverged. 

When he reached home, he asked Annie about Thomas. Annie spoke of himin the highest terms, adding, "I'm glaid ye like him, Mr Cupples. "

"I dinna think, wi' sic an opingon o' 'm, it can maitter muckle to youwhether I like him or no, " returned Mr Cupples, looking at herquizzically. 

"Na, nae muckle as regairds him. But it says weel for you, ye ken, MrCupples, " replied Annie archly. 

Mr Cupples laughed good-humouredly, and said, "Weel, I s' gang and see him the morn's nicht, ony gait. "

And so he did. And the porridge and the milk were both good. 

"This is heumble fare, Mr Cupples, " said Thomas. 

"It maitters little compairateevely what a man lives upo', " saidCupples sententiously, "sae it be first-rate o' 'ts ain kin'. And this_is_ first-rate. "

"Tak' a drappy mair, sir. "

"Na, nae mair, I thank ye. "

"They'll be left, gin ye dinna. "

"Weel, sen' them ower to Mr Bruce, " said Cupples, with a sly wink. "Is' warran' he'll coup them ower afore they sud be wastit. He canna bidewaste. "

"Weel, that's a vertue. The Saviour himsel' garred them gaither up thefragments. "

"Nae doobt. But I'm feared Bruce wad hae coontit the waste by hoo monyo' the baskets gaed by his door. I'm surprised at ye, Mr Crann, tryin'to defen' sic a meeserable crater, jist 'cause he gangs to your kirk. "

"Weel, he is a meeserable crater, and I canna bide him. He's jist aJonah in oor ship, an Achan in oor camp. But I sudna speyk sae to anethat's no a member. "

"Never ye min'. I'm auld eneuch to hae learned to haud my tongue. Butwe'll turn till a better subjec'. Jist tell me hoo ye made Alec peril'slife for conscience sake. Ye dinna burn fowk here for nae freelyhaudin' by the shorter Carritchis, do ye?"

And hereupon followed the story of the flood. 

Both these men, notwithstanding the defiance they bore on theirshields, were of the most friendly and communicative disposition. Sosoon as they saw that a neighbour was trustworthy, they trusted him. Hence it is not marvellous that communication should have been mutual. Cupples told Thomas in return how he had come to know Alec, and whatcompact had arisen between them. Thomas, as soon as he understood MrCupples's sacrifice, caught the delicate hand in his granitegrasp�-like that with which the steel anvil and the stone block heldArthur's sword�-and said solemnly, "Ye hae done a great deed, which winna gang wantin' its reward. Itcanna hae merit, but it maun be pleesant in His sicht. Ye hae baithconquered sin i' yersel, and ye hae turned the sinner frae the error o'his ways. "

"Hoots!" interrupted Cupples, "do ye think I was gaun to lat the laddiegang reid-wud to the deevil, ohn stud in afore 'm and cried _Hooly_!"

After this the two were friends, and met often. Cupples went to themissionars again and again, and they generally walked away together. 

"What gart ye turn frae the kirk o' yer fathers, and tak to aconventicle like that, Thomas?" asked Mr Cupples one evening. 

"Ye hae been to them baith, and I wad hae thocht ye wad hae kent betternor to speir sic a question, " answered Thomas. 

"Ay, ay. But what gart ye think o' 't first?"

"Weel, I'll tell ye the haill story. Whan I was a callan, I took theplay to mysel' for a week, or maybe twa, and gaed wi' a frien' i' thesame trade's mysel', to see what was to be seen alang a screed o' thesea-coast, frae toon to toon. My compaingon wasna that gude at thetraivellin'; and upo' the Setterday nicht, there we war in apublic-hoose, and him no able to gang ae fit further, for sair heelsand taes. Sae we bude to bide still ower the Sawbath, though we wadfain hae been oot' o' the toon afore the kirk began. But seein' that wecudna, I thocht it wad be but dacent to gang to the kirk like itherfowk, and sae I made mysel' as snod as I could, and gaed oot. And aforeI had gane mony yairds, I cam upo' fowk gaein to the kirk. And sae Iloot the stream carry me alang wi' 't, and gaed in and sat doon, thoughthe place wasna exackly like a kirk a'thegither. But the minister had agift o' prayer and o' preaching as weel; and the fowk a' sang as gin'twas pairt o' their business to praise God, for fear he wad tak it fraethem and gie't to the stanes. Whan I cam oot, and was gaein quaietlyback to the public, there cam first ae sober-luikin man up to me, andhe wad hae me hame to my denner; and syne their cam an auld man, andefter that a man that luikit like a sutor, and ane and a' o' them wadhae me hame to my denner wi' them�-for no airthly rizzon but that I wasa stranger. But ye see I cudna gang 'cause my frien' was waitin' forhis till I gaed back. Efter denner, I speirt at the landlady gin shecud tell me what they ca'd themsels, the fowk 'at gathered i' thatpairt o' the toon; and says she, 'I dinna ken what they ca'them-�they're nae customers o' mine�-but I jist ken this, they'rehard-workin' fowk, kind to ane anither. A'body trusts their word. Gifony o' them be sick, the rest luiks efter them till they're better; andgin ony o' them happens to gang the wrang gait, there's aye three orfour o' them aboot him, till they get him set richt again. 'Weel, ' saysI, 'I dinna care what they ca' them; but gin ever I jine ony kirk, thats' be the kirk. ' Sae, efter that, whan ance I had gotten a sure houp, arael grun' for believin' that I was ane o' the called and chosen, Ijist jined mysel' to them that sud be like them�-for they ca'd them a'Missionars. "

"Is that lang sin syne?"

"Ay, it's twenty year noo. "

"I thocht as muckle. I doobt they hae fared like maist o' the newfashions. "

"Hoo that?"

"Grown some auld themsel's. There's a feow signs o' decrepitude, no tosay degeneracy, amo' ye, isna there?"

"I maun alloo that. At the first, things has a kin' o' a swing thatcarries them on. But the sons an' the dochters dinna care sae muckleaboot them as the fathers and mithers. Maybe they haena come throw thehards like them. "

"And syne there'll be ane or twa cruppen in like that chosen vessel o'grace they ca' Robert Bruce. I'm sure he's eneuch to ruin ye i' thesicht o' the warl', hooever you and he may fare at heid-quarters, bein'a' called and chosen thegither. "

"For God's sake, dinna think that sic as him gies ony token o' beingane o' the elec. "

"Hoo wan he in than? They say ye're unco' particular. The Elec sud kenan elec. "

"It's the siller, man, that blin's the een o' them that hae to sit injeedgment upo' the applicants. The crater professed, and they war jistower willin' to believe him. "

"Weel, gin that be the case, I dinna see that ye're sae far aheid o'fowk that disna mak' sae mony pretensions. "

"Indeed, Mr Cupples, I fully doobt that the displeesur o' the Almichtyis restin' upo' oor kirk; and Mr Turnbull, honest man, appears to feelthe wacht o' 't. We hae mair than ae instance i' the Scriptur o' ahaill community sufferin' for the sin o' ane. "

"Do ye ken ony instance o' a gude man no bein' able to win in to yourset?"

"Ay, ane, I think. There was a fule body that wantit sair to sit doonwi' 's. But what cud we do? We cudna ken whether he had savin' grace orno, for the body cudna speyk that a body cud unnerstan' him?"

"And ye didna lat him sit doon wi' ye?"

"Na. Hoo cud we?"

"The Lord didna dee for him, did he?"

"We cudna tell. "

"And what did the puir cratur do?"

"He grat" (wept). 

"And hoo cam' ye to see that ye wad hae been a' the better o' a weemair pooer to read the heart?"

"Whan the cratur was deein', the string o' his tongue, whether thatstring lay in his mou', or in his brain, was lousened, and he spak'plain, and he praised God. "

"Weel, I can_not_ see that your plan, haudin' oot innocents that lo'eHim, and lattin in thieves that wad steal oot o' the Lord's ainbag-�gie them a chance-�can be an impruvment upo' the auld fashion o'settin' a man to judge himsel', and tak the wyte o' the jeedgment upo''s ain shouthers. "

CHAPTER LXXXI. 

Annie began to perceive that it was time for her to go, partly from thefact that she was no longer wanted so much, and partly from finding inherself certain conditions of feeling which she did not know what to dowith. 

"Annie's coming back to you in a day or two, Mr Bruce, " said MrsForbes, having called to pay some of her interest, and wishing toprepare the way for her return. "She has been with me a long time, butyou know she was ill, and I could not part with her besides. "

"Weel, mem, " answered Bruce, "we'll be verra happy to tak' her hameagain, as sune's ye hae had a' the use ye want o' her. "

He had never assumed this tone before, either to Mrs Forbes or withregard to Annie. But she took no notice of it. 

Both Mr and Mrs Bruce received the girl so kindly that she did not knowwhat to make of it. Mr Bruce especially was all sugar andbutter�-rancid butter of course. When she went up to her oldrat-haunted room, her astonishment was doubled. For the holes in floorand roof had been mended; the sky-light was as clean as glass a hundredyears old could be; a square of carpet lay in the middle of the floor;and cheque-curtains adorned the bed. She concluded that these luxurieshad been procured for Mr Cupples, but could not understand how theycame to be left for her. 

Nor did the consideration shown her decrease after the first novelty ofher return had worn off; and altogether the main sources of her formerdiscomfort had ceased to flow. The baby had become a sweet-temperedlittle girl; Johnnie was at school all day; and Robert was acomparatively well-behaved, though still sulky youth. He gave himselfgreat airs to his former companions, but to Annie he was condescending. He was a good student, and had the use of _the room_ for a study. 

Robert Bruce the elder had disclosed his projects to his heir, and hehad naturally declined all effort for their realization. But he beganat length to observe that Annie had grown very pretty; and then hethought it would be a nice thing to fall in love with her, since, fromhis parents' wishes to that end, she must have some money. Annie, however, did not suspect anything, till, one day, she overheard theelder say to the younger, "Ye dinna push, man. Gang benn to the chop and get a cnottie o' reidcandy-sugar, and gie her that the neist time ye see her her lane. Thelikes o' her kens what that means. And gin she tak's 't frae ye, ye mayhae the run o' the drawer. It's worth while, ye ken. Them 'at winna sawwinna reap. "

From that moment she was on her guard. Nor did she give the youth achance of putting his father's advice into operation. 

Meantime Alec got better and better, went out with Mr Cupples in thegig, ate like an ogre, drank like a hippopotamus, and was rapidlyrecovering his former strength. As he grew better, his former grief diddraw nearer, but such was the freshness of his new life, that he seemedto have died and risen again like Lazarus, leaving his sorrow behindhim in the grave, to be communed with only in those dim seasons whenghosts walk. 

One evening over their supper, he was opposing Mr Cupples's departurefor the twentieth time. At length the latter said:

"Alec, I'll bide wi' ye till the neist session upon ae condition. "

"What is that, Mr Cupples?" said Mrs Forbes. "I shall be delighted toknow it. "

"Ye see, mem, this young rascal here made a fule o' 'msel' last sessionand didna pass; and�-"

"Let bygones be bygones, if you please, Mr Cupples, said Mrs Forbespleasantly. 

"'Deed no, mem. What's the use o' byganes but to learn frae them hoo tomeet the bycomes? Ye'll please to hear me oot; and gin Alec doesna liketo hear me, he maun jist sit _and_ hear me. "

"Fire away, Mr Cupples, " said Alec. 

"I will. �-For them that didna pass i' the en' o' the last session, there's an examination i' the beginnin' o' the neist�-gin they like tostan' 't. Gin they dinna, they maun gang throu the same classes oweragain, and stan' the examination at the end�-that is, gin they want adegree; and that's a terrible loss o' time for the start. Noo, ginAlec'll set to wark like a man, I'll help him a' that I can; and by thegatherin' again, he'll be up wi' the lave o' the fleet. Faith! I'll sitlike Deith i' the spectre-bark, and blaw intil his sails a' that I canblaw. Maybe ye dinna ken that verse i' _The Rhyme o' the AncientMariner_? It was left oot o' the later editions:

 'A gust of wind sterte up behind, And whistled through his bones; Through the holes of his eyes and the hole of his mouth, Half-whistles and half-groans. '

There! that's spicy�-for them 'at likes ghaistry. "

That very day Alec resumed. Mr Cupples would not let him work a momentafter he began to show symptoms of fatigue. But the limit was movedfurther and further every day, till at length he could work four hours. His tutor would not hear of any further extension, and declared hewould pass triumphantly. 

The rest of the summer-day they spent in wandering about, or lying inthe grass, for it was a hot and dry summer, so that the grass was avery bed of health. Then came all the pleasures of the harvest. Andwhen the evenings grew cool, there were the books that Mr Cupplesforaged for in Glamerton, seeming to find them by the scent. 

And Mr Cupples tried to lead Alec into philosophical ways of regardingthings; for he had just enough of religion to get some good ofphilosophy�-which itself is the religion of skeletons. 

"Ye see, " he would say, "it's pairt o' the machine. What a body has todo is to learn what pinion or steam-box, or piston, or mucklewater-wheel he represents, and stick to that, defyin' the deevil, whasewark is to put the machine out o' gear. And sae he maun grin' awa', andwhan Deith comes, he'll say, as Andrew Wylie did�-'Weel run, littlewheelie!' and tak' him awa' wi' him some gait or ither, whaur, maybe, he may mak' choice o' his ain machine for the neist trial. "

"That's some cauld doctrine, Mr Cupples, " Alec would say. 

"Weel, " he would return with a smile, "gang to yer frien' Thamas Crann, and he'll gie ye something a hantle better. That's ane o' the maistextrornar men I ever made acquantance wi'. He'll gie ye divinephilosophy�-a dooms sicht better nor mine. But, eh! he's saft for a'that. "

Annie would have got more good from these readings than either of them. Mr Cupples was puzzled to account for her absence, but came to see intothe mother's defensive strategy, who had not yet learned to leave suchthings to themselves; though she might have known by this time that thebubbles of scheming mothers, positive or negative, however well-blown, are in danger of collapsing into a drop of burning poison. He missedAnnie very much, and went often to see her, taking her what books hecould. With one or other of these she would wander along the banks ofthe clear brown Glamour, now watching it as it subdued its rocks or layasleep in its shadowy pools, now reading a page or two, or now seatingherself on the grass, and letting the dove of peace fold its wings uponher bosom. Even her new love did not more than occasionally ruffle theflow of her inward river. She had long cherished a deeper love, whichkept it very calm. Her stillness was always wandering into prayer; butnever did she offer a petition that associated Alec's fate with herown; though sometimes she would find herself holding up her heart likean empty cup which knew that it was empty. She missed Tibbie Dysterdreadfully. 

One day, thinking she heard Mr Cupples come upstairs, she ran down witha smile on her face, which fell off it like a withered leaf when shesaw no one there but Robert the student. He, taking the smile forhimself, rose and approached her with an ugly response on his heavycountenance. She turned and flew up again to her room; whither to herhorror he followed her, demanding a kiss. An ordinary Scotch maiden ofAnnie's rank would have answered such a request from a man she did notlike with a box on the ear, tolerably delivered; but Annie was tooproud even to struggle, and submitted like a marble statue, except thatshe could not help wiping her lips after the salute. The youth walkedaway more discomfited than if she had made angry protestations, and asuccessful resistance. 

Annie sat down and cried. Her former condition in the house wasenviable to this. �-That same evening, without saying a word to any one, for there was a curious admixture of outward lawlessness with theperfect inward obedience of the girl, she set out for Clippenstrae, onthe opposite bank of the Wan Water. It was a gorgeous evening. The sunwas going down in purple and crimson, divided by such bars of gold asnever grew in the mines of Ophir. A faint rosy mist hung its veil overthe hills about the sunset; and a torrent of red light streamed downthe westward road by which she went. The air was soft, and the lightsobered with a sense of the coming twilight. It was such an evening aswe have, done into English, in the ninth Evening Voluntary ofWordsworth. And Annie felt it such. Thank God, is does not need apoetic education to feel such things. It needs a poetic education to_say_ such things so, that another, not seeing, yet shall see; but thatsuch a child as Annie should not be able to feel them, would be the oneargument to destroy our belief in the genuineness of the poet's vision. For if so, can the vision have come from Nature's self? Has it notrather been evoked by the magic rod of the poet's will from his ownchambers of imagery?

CHAPTER LXXXII. 

When she reached Clippenstrae, she found that she had been sent there. Her aunt came from the inner room as she opened the door, and she knewat once by her face that Death was in the house. For its expressionrecalled the sad vision of her father's departure. Her great-uncle, thelittle grey-headed old cottar in the Highland bonnet, lay dying�-in theHighland bonnet still. He was going to "the land o' the Leal" (loyal), the true-hearted, to wait for his wife, whose rheumatism was no chariotof fire for swiftness, whatever it might be for pain, to bear her tothe "high countries. " He has had nothing to do with our story, savethat once he made our Annie feel that she had a home. And to give thatfeeling to another is worth living for, and justifies a place in anystory like mine. 

Auntie Meg's grief appeared chiefly in her nose; but it was none theless genuine for that, for her nature was chiefly nose. She led the wayinto the death-room�-it could hardly be called the sick-room�-and Anniefollowed. By the bedside sat, in a high-backed chair, an old woman withmore wrinkles in her face than moons in her life. She was perfectlycalm, and looked like one, already half-across the river, watching herfriend as he passed her towards the opposing bank. The old man lay withhis eyes closed. As soon as he knew that he was dying he had closed hiseyes, that the dead orbs might not stare into the faces of the living. It had been a whim of his for years. He would leave the house decentwhen his lease was up. And the will kept pressing down the lids whichit would soon have no power to lift. 

"Ye're come in time, " said Auntie Meg, and whispered to the oldwoman�-"My brither Jeames's bairn. "

"Ay, ye're come in time, lassie, " said the great-aunt kindly, and saidno more. 

The dying man heard the words, opened his eyes, glanced once at Annie, and closed them again. 

"Is that ane o' the angels come?" he asked, for his wits were gone alittle way before. 

"Na, weel I wat!" said the hard-mouthed ungracious Meg. "It's AnnieAnderson, Jeames Anderson's lass. "

The old man put his hand feebly from under the bed-clothes. 

"I'm glad to see ye, dawtie, " he said, still without opening his eyes. "I aye wantit to see mair o' ye, for ye're jist sic a bairn as I wadhae likit to hae mysel' gin it had pleased the Lord. Ye're a douce, God-fearin' lassie, and He'll tak care o' his ain. "

Here his mind began to wander again. 

"Marget, " he said, "is my een steekit, for I think I see angels?"

"Ay are they�-close eueuch. "

"Weel, that's verra weel. I'll hae a sleep noo. "

He was silent for some time. Then he reverted to the fancy that Anniewas the first of the angels come to carry away his soul, and murmuredbrokenly:

"Whan ye tak' it up, be carefu' hoo ye han'le 't, baith for it's someweyk, and for it's no ower clean, and micht blaud the bonnie whitehan's o' sic God-servers as yersels. I ken mysel there's ae spot owerthe hert o' 't, whilk cam o' an ill word I gied a bairn for stealin' aneep. But they did steal a hantle that year. And there's anither spotupo' the richt han', whilk cam o' ower gude a bargain I made wi' auldJohn Thamson at Glass fair. And it wad never come oot wi' a' the soapand water-�Hoots, I'm haverin'! It's upo' the han' o' my soul, whaursoap and water can never come. Lord, dight it clean, and I'll gie him't a' back whan I see him in thy kingdom. And I'll beg his pardonforbye. But I didna chait him a'thegither. I only tuik mair nor I wadhae gi'en for the colt mysel'. And min' ye dinna lat me fa', gaein'throu the lift. "

He went on thus, with wandering thoughts that in their wildest vagarieswere yet tending homeward; and which when least sound, were yet busywith the wisest of mortal business--repentance. By degrees he fell intoa slumber, and from that, about midnight, into a deeper sleep. 

The next morning, Annie went out. She could not feel oppressed orsorrowful at such a death, and she would walk up the river to thechurchyard where her father lay. The Wan Water was shallow, andtherefore full of talk about all the things that were deep secrets whenits bosom was full. Along great portions of its channel, the dry stoneslay like a sea-beach. They had been swept from the hills in thetorrents of its autumnal fury. The fish did not rise, for the heat madethem languid. No trees sheltered them from the rays of the sun. Bothabove and below, the banks were rugged, and the torrent strong; but atthis part the stream flowed through level fields. Here and there alarge piece had cracked off and fallen from the bank, to be swept awayin the next flood; but meantime the grass was growing on it, greenerthan anywhere else. The corn would come close to the water's edge andagain sweep away to make room for cattle and sheep; and here and therea field of red clover lay wavering between shadow and shine. She wentup a long way, and then crossing some fields, came to the churchyard. She did not know her father's grave, for no stone marked the spot wherehe sank in this broken earthy sea. There was no church: its memory evenhad vanished. It seemed as if the churchyard had swallowed the churchas the heavenly light shall one day swallow the sun and the moon; andthe lake of divine fire shall swallow death and hell. She lingered alittle, and then set out on her slow return, often sitting down on thepebbles, sea-worn ages before the young river had begun to play withthem. 

Resting thus about half way home, she sang a song which she had foundin her father's old song-book. She had said it once to Alec and Curly, but they did not care much for it, and she had not thought of it againtill now. 

 "Ane by ane they gang awa'. The gatherer gathers great an' sma'. Ane by ane maks ane an' a'. 

 Aye whan ane is ta'en frae ane, Ane on earth is left alane, Twa in heaven are knit again. 

 Whan God's hairst is in or lang, Golden-heidit, ripe, and thrang, Syne begins a better sang. "

She looked up, and Curly was walking through the broad river to whereshe sat. 

"I kent ye a mile aff, Annie, " he said. 

"I'm glaid to see ye, Curly. "

"I wonner gin ye'll be as glaid to see me the neist time, Annie. "

Then Annie perceived that Curly looked earnest and anxious. 

"What do ye say, Curly?" she returned. 

"I hardly ken what I say, Annie, though I ken what I mean. And I dinnaken what I'm gaun to say neist, but they say the trowth will oot. Iwiss it wad, ohn a body said it. "

"What can be the maitter, Curly?"�-Annie was getting frightened. �-"Itmaun be ill news, or ye wadna luik like that. "

"I doobt it'll be warst news to them that it's nae news till. "

"Ye speyk in riddles, Curly. "

He tried to laugh but succeeded badly, and stood before her, withdowncast eyes, poking his thorn-stick into the mass of pebbles. Anniewaited in silence, and that brought it out at last. 

"Annie, when we war at the schule thegither, I wad hae gien yeonything. Noo I hae gien ye a' thing, and my hert to the beet (boot) o'the bargain. "

"Curly!" said Annie, and said no more, for she felt as if her heartwould break. 

"I likit ye at the schule, Annie; but noo there's naething i' the warlbut you. "

Annie rose gently, came close to him, and laying a hand on his arm, said, "I'm richt sorry for ye, Curly. "

He half turned his back, was silent for a moment, and then said coldly, but in a trembling voice, "Dinna distress yersel'. We canna help it. "

"But what'll ye do, Curly?" asked Annie in a tone full of compassionateloving-kindness, and with her hand still on his arm. "It's sair tobide. "

"Gude kens that. �-I maun jist warstle throu' 't like mony anither. I'llawa' back to the pig-skin saiddle I was workin' at, " said Curly, with asmile at the bitterness of his fate. 

"It's no that I dinna like ye, Curly. Ye ken that. I wad do anythingfor ye that I cud do. Ye hae been a gude frien' to me. "

And here Annie burst out crying. 

"Dinna greit. The Lord preserve's! dinna greit. I winna say anitherword aboot it. What's Curly that sic a ane as you sud greit for him?Faith! it's nearhan' as guid as gin ye lo'ed me. I'm as prood's aturkey-cock, " averred Curly in a voice ready to break with emotion of avery different sort from pride. 

"It's a sair thing that things winna gang richt!" said Annie at last, after many vain attempts to stop the fountain by drying the stream ofher tears. �-I believe they were the first words of complaint uponthings in general that she ever uttered. 

"Is't my wyte, Curly?" she added. 

"Deil a bit o' 't!" cried Curly. "And I beg yer pardon for sweirin'. Your wyte! I was aye a fule. But maybe, " he added, brightening alittle, "I micht hae a chance�-some day-�some day far awa', ye ken, Annie?"

"Na, na, Curly. Dinna think o' 't. There's no chance for ye, dearCurly. "

His face flushed red as a peony. 

"That lick-the-dirt 's no gaun to gar ye marry the colliginer?"

"Dinna ye be feared that I'll marry onybody I dinna like, Curly. "

"Ye dinna like him. I houp to God!"

"I canna bide him. "

"Weel, maybe�-Wha kens? I _daurna_ despair. "

"Curly, Curly, I maun be honest wi' you, as ye hae been wi' me. Whanance a body's seen ane, they canna see anither, ye ken. Wha cud haebeen at the schule as I was sae lang, and syne taen oot o' the water, ye ken, and syne�-?"

Annie stopped. 

"Gin ye mean Alec Forbes�-" said Curly, and stopped too. But presentlyhe went on again�-"Gin I war to come atween Alec Forbes and you, hangin' wad be ower gude for me. But has Alec�-"

"Na, nae a word. But haud yer tongue. Curly. Ance is a' wi' me. -�It'snae mony lasses wad hae tell't ye sic a thing. But I ken it's richt. Ye're the only ane that has my secret. Keep it, Curly. "

"Like Deith himsel', " said Curly. "Ye _are_ a braw lass. "

"Ye maunna think ill o' me, Curly. I hae tell't ye the trowth. "

"Jist lat me kiss yer bonnie han' and I'll gang content. "

Wisely done or not, it was truth and tenderness that made her offer herlips instead. He turned in silence, comforted for the time, though thecomfort would evaporate long before the trouble would sink. 

"Curly!" cried Annie, and he came back. 

"I think that's young Robert Bruce been to Clippenstrae to speir efterme. Dinna lat him come farther. He's an unceevil fallow. "

"Gin he wins by me, he maun hae mair feathers nor I hae, " said Curly, and walked on. 

Annie followed slowly. When she saw the men meet she sat down. 

Curly spoke first, as he came up. 

"A fine day, Robbie, " he said. 

Bruce made no reply, for relations had altered since school-days. Itwas an evil moment however in which to carry a high chin to WillieMacwha, who was out of temper with the whole world except AnnieAnderson. He strode up to the _colliginer_. 

"I said it was a fine day, " he repeated. 

"Well, I said nothing to the contrary, " answered Bruce, putting on hisEnglish. 

"It's the custom i' this country to mak what answer a man has the senseto mak whan he's spoken till ceevily. "

"I considered you uncivil. "

"That's jist what a bonnie lassie sittin' yonner said aboot you whanshe prayed me no to lat you gang a step nearer till her. "

Curly found it at the moment particularly agreeable to quarrel. Moreover he had always disliked Bruce, and now hated him because Anniehad complained of him. 

"I have as much right to walk here as you or any one else, " said Bruce. 

"Maybe; but even colliginers doesna aye get their richts. Ae richtwhiles rides upo' the tap o' anither. And Annie Anderson has a richt noto be disturbit, whan her uncle, honest man, 's jist lyin' waitin'for's coffin i' the hoose yonner. "

"I'm her cousin. "

"It's sma' comfort ony o' yer breed ever brocht her. Cousin or no, yesanna gang near her. "

"I'll go where I please, " said Bruce, moving to pass. 

Curly moved right in front of him. 

"By me ye shanna gang. I hae lickit ye afore for bein' ill till her;and I will again gin ye gang a step nearer till her. She doesna wantye. Faith I will! But I wad raither no fecht afore her. Sae jist comeback to the toon wi' me, and we'll say nae mair aboot it. "

"I'll see you damned!" said Bruce. 

"Maybe ye may, bein' likly to arrive at the spot first. But i' the meantime, gin ye dinna want her to see ye lickit, come doon into yon how, and we'll jist sattle aff han' wha's the best man o' the twa. "

"I won't move a step to please you or any one else, " returned Bruce. Hesaw that his safety consisted in keeping within sight of Annie. 

Curly saw on his part that, a few steps nearer to where Annie sat, thepath led behind a stunted ash-tree. So he stepped aside with theproverb, "He that will to Coupar, maun to Coupar. "

Without deigning a word, Bruce walked on, full of pride, concludingthat Curly's heart had failed him. But the moment he was behind thetree, Curly met him from the other side of it. Then Bruce's anger, ifnot his courage, rose, and with an oath, he pushed against him to pass. But the sensation he instantly felt in his nose astonished him; and theblood beginning to flow cowed him at once. He put his handkerchief tohis face, turned, and walked back to Glamerton. Curly followed him at afew yards' distance, regretting that he had showed the white feather sosoon, as, otherwise, he would have had the pleasure of thrashing himproperly. He saw him safe in at the back-door, and then went to his ownfather's shop. 

After a short greeting, very short on Curly's part, "Hoot! Willie, " said his father, "what's come ower ye? Ye luik as ginsome lass had said _na_ to ye. "

"Some lasses' _no_ 's better not ither lasses' _ay_, father. "

"Deed mnybe, laddie, " said George; adding to himself, "That maun haebeen Annie Anderson�-nae ither. "

He was particularly attentive and yielding to Willie during his shortvisit, and Willie understood it. 

Had Annie been compelled, by any evil chance, to return to the garretover Robert Bruce's shop, she would not indeed have found the holes inthe floor and the roof reopened; but she would have found that thecarpet and the curtains were gone. 

The report went through Glamerton that she and Willie Macwha were_coortin'_. 

CHAPTER LXXXIII. 

Thomas Crann's conversation with Mr Cupples deepened both his annoyanceand his grief at the membership of Robert Bruce. What was the use of achurch if such men as he got into it, and, having got in, could not begot out? Had he been guilty of any open _fault_, such as getting drunk, for one solitary and accidental instance of which they had excluded oneof their best and purest-minded men, they could have got rid of himwith comparative ease; but who so free of fault as Bruce? True, he wasguilty of the crime of over-reaching whenever he had a chance, and ofcheating when there was no risk of being found out�-at least soeverybody believed�-but he had no faults. The duty, therefore, that layupon every member, next to the cleanness of his own garments-�that ofkeeping the church pure and unspotted�-was hard to fulfil, and no onewas ready to undertake it but Thomas Crann. For what a spot was here!And Thomas knew his Lord's will. 

Neither was the duty so unpleasant to Thomas's oppositive nature, as itwould have been to a man of easier temperament. 

"Jeames Johnstone, " he said, "the kirk maks nae progress. It's no as i'the time o' the apostles whan the saved war added till't daily. "

"Weel, ye see, " returned James, "that wasna _oor_ kirk exacly; and itwasna Mr Turnbull that was the heid o' 't. "

"It's a' the same. The prenciple's the same. An' Mr Turnbull preachesthe same gospel Peter and Paul praiched, and wi' unction too. And yethere's the congregation dwin'lin' awa', and the church itsel' likenaething but bees efter the brunstane. _I_ say there's an Ahchan i' thecamp�-a Jonah i' the vessel�-a son o' Saul i' the kingdom o' Dawvid�-aJudas amo' the twal'�-a�-"

"Hoots! Thomas Crann; ye're no pittin' a' thae gran' names upo' thatpuir feckless body, Rob Bruce, are ye?"

"He's nane feckless for the deevil's wark or for his ain, which is aething and the same. Oot he maun gang, gin we tak' him by the scruff o'the neck and the doup o' the breeks. "

"Dinna jeist, Thomas, aboot sic a dangerous thing, " said James, mildlyglad of one solitary opportunity of rebuking the granite-minded mason. 

"Jeist! I'm far eneuch frae jeistin'. Ye dinna ken fervour frae jokin', Jeames Johnstone. "

"He micht tak' the law upo's for defamin' o' 's character; and that wadbe an awfu' thing for puir fowk like us, Thamas. "

"Aye the same thing ower again, Jeames! Shy at a stane, and fa' intothe stank (ditch). That's the pairt o' a colt and no o' a Christian. "

"But arena we tellt to be wise as serpents?"

"Ye wad tak' a heap o' tellin' upo' that heid, Jeames. "

"Ow, 'deed ay! And I'm no my lane, Thamas. But we _are_ tellt that. "

"The serpent turned oot an ill cooncellor upon ae occasion ower well tobe remembert by Adam's race. "

"The words stan' as I say, " persisted James. 

"Ye're no to mak' the serpent yer cooncellor, man. But ance ye ken yerduty, ye may weel tak example by him hoo to carry 't oot. Did ye eversee an edder lyin' ower a stane as gin he was naething but a stickhimsel', bidin' 's time? That's me, i' the Scriptur' sense. I'm onlybidin' till I see hoo. A body maunna do ill that gude may come, thoughwow! it's a sair temptation whiles; neither maun a body neglec to doricht for fear that ill may follow. "

"Ay, true that. But ye needna burn the hoose to rid the rottans. I dootye'll get's a' into ower het water; and a body needna tak' the skin afffor the sake o' cleanliness. Jist tak ye tent (care, attention), Thamas, what ye're aboot. "

Having thus persisted in opposing Thomas to a degree he had never daredbefore, James took his departure, pursued by the words:

"Tak ye care, Jeames, that in savin' the richt han' ye dinna send thehaill body to hell. It was aye yer danger. I never got bauld coonselfrae ye yet. "

"There's mair vertues i' the Bible nor courage, Thamas, " retortedJames, holding the outer door open to throw the sentence in, andshutting it instantly to escape with the last word. 

Thomas, abandoned to his own resources, meditated long and painfully. But all he could arrive at was the resolution to have another talk withMr Cupples. He might not be a Christian man, but he was an honest andtrustworthy man, and might be able from his scholarship to give himsome counsel. So he walked to Howglen the next day, and found him withAlec in the harvest-field. And Alec's reception of Thomas showed what afine thing illness is for bringing people to their right minds. 

Mr Cupples walked aside with Thomas, and they seated themselves on twogolden sheaves at the foot of a stook. 

"What ye said to me the ither day, sir, " began Thomas, "has stuckenfest i' my crap, ever sin' syne. We maun hae him oot. "

"Na, na; ye better lat him sit. He'll haud doon yer pride. That man's ajudgment on ye for wantin' to be better nor yer neebors. Dinna try towin free o' judgment. But I'll tell ye what I wad hae ye do: Mak muckleo' 'm. Gie him tether eneuch. He'll gang frae ill to waur, ye maydepen'. He'll steal or a' be dune. "

"To the best o' my belief, sir, that's no to come, He's stolen already, or I'm sair mista'en. "

"Ay! Can ye pruv that? That's anither maitter, " returned Cupples, beginning to be interested. 

"I dinna ken whether I oucht to hae mentioned it to ane that wasna amember, though; but it jist cam oot o' 'tsel' like. "

"Sae the fac' that a man's a member wha's warst crime may be that he isa member, maks him sic precious gear that he maunna be meddlet wi' i'the presence o' an honest man, wha, thank God, has neither pairt norlot in ony sic maitter?"

"Dinna be angry, Mr Cupples. I'll tell ye a' aboot it, " pleaded Thomas, than who no man could better recognize good sense. 

But the Cosmo Cupples who thus attracted the confidence of Thomas Crannwas a very different man from the Cosmo Cupples whom first Alec Forbeswent to the garret to see at his landlady's suggestion. All theflabbiness had passed from his face, and his eyes shone clearer thanever from a clear complexion. His mouth still gave a first impressionof unsteadiness; no longer, however, from the formlessness of the looselips, but from the continual flickering of a nascent smile that rippledtheir outline with long wavy motions of evanescent humour. His dresswas still careless, but no longer neglected, and his hand was as steadyas a rifleman's. 

Nor had he found it so hard to conquer his fearful habit as even he hadexpected; for with every week passed in bitter abstinence, some newwell would break from the rich soil of his intellect, and irrigate withits sweet waters the parched border land between his physical andpsychical being. And when he had once again betaken himself to theforsaken pen, there was little reason to fear a relapse or doubt afinal victory. A playful humanity radiated from him, the result of thatpowerfullest of all restoratives�-_giving_ of what one has to him whohas not. Indeed his reformation had begun with this. St Paul taught athief to labour, that he might have to give: Love taught Mr Cupples todeny himself that he might rescue his friend; and presently he hadfound his feet touching the rock. If he had not yet learned to look"straight up to heaven, " his eyes wandered not unfrequently towardsthat spiritual horizon upon which things earthly and things heavenlymeet and embrace. 

To such a Cosmo Cupples, then, Thomas told the story of AnnieAnderson's five-pound note. As he spoke, Cupples was tormented as withthe flitting phantom of a half-forgotten dream. All at once, lightflashed upon him. 

"And sae what am I to do?" asked Thomas as he finished his tale. �-"Ican pruv naething; but I'm certain i' my ain min', kennin' the man'snater, that it was that note he tuik oot o' the Bible. "

"I'll put the proof o' that same into yer han's, or I'm sair mista'en, "said Mr Cupples. 

"You, Mr Cupples?"

"Ay, me, Mr Crann. But maybe ye wadna tak proof frae sic a sinneragainst sic a sanct. Sae ye may keep yer sanct i' yer holy boasom. "

"Dinna gang on that gait, Mr Cupples. Gin ye can direc' me to thepurification o' our wee bit temple, I'll hearken heumbly. I only wissye war ane o' us. "

"I'll bide till ye hae gotten rid o' Bruce, ony gait. �-I care naethingfor yer sma' separatist kirkies. -�I wonner ye dinna pray for a clippin'o' an auld sun that ye micht do withoot the common daylicht. But I dothink it's a great shame�-that sic a sneak sud be i' the company o'honest fowk, as I tak the maist o' ye to be. Sae I'll do my best. Ye'llhear frae me in a day or twa. "

Cupples had remembered the inscription on the fly-leaf of the bigBible, which, according to Thomas Crann, Mr Cowie had given to Annie. He now went to James Dow. 

"Did Annie ever tell ye aboot a Bible that Mr Cowie ga'e her, Jeames?"

"Ay did she. I min' 't fine. "

"Cud ye get a haud o' 't. "

"Eh! I dinna ken. The crater has laid his ain cleuks upo' 't. It's asod pity that Annie's oot o' the hoose, or she micht hae stown't(stolen it). "

"Truly, bein' her ain, she micht. But ye're a kin' o' a guairdian tillher�-arena ye?"

"Ow! ay. I hae made mysel' that in a way; but Bruce wad aye be luikitupon as the proper guairdian. "

"Hae ye ony haud upo' the siller?"

"I gart him sign a lawyer's paper aboot it. "

"Weel, ye jist gang and demand the Bible, alang wi' the lave o' Annie'sproperty. Ye ken she's had trouble aboot her kist (chest), and cannaget it frae the swallowin' cratur'. And gin he maks ony demur, jistdrap a hint o' gaein to the lawyer aboot it. The like o' him's as fleytat a lawyer as cats at cauld water. Get the Bible we maun. And ye maunfess't to me direckly. "

Dow was a peaceable man, and did not much relish the commission. Cupples, thinking he too was a missionar, told him the story. 

"Weel, " said Dow, "lat him sit there. Maybe they'll haud him frae doin'mair mischeef. Whan ye jabble a stank, the stink rises. "

"I thocht ye was ane o' them. Ye maunna lat it oot. "

"Na, na. I a' haud my tongue. "

"_I_ care naething aboot it. But there's Thamas Crann jist eatin' hisain hert. It's a sin to lat sic a man live in sic distress. "

"'Deed is't. He's a gude man that. And he's been verra kin' to oorAnnie, Mr Cupples, �-I'll do as ye say. Whan do ye want it?"

"This verra nicht. "

So after his day's work, which was hard enough at this season of theyear, was over, James Dow put on his blue Sunday coat, and set off tothe town. He found Robert Bruce chaffering with a country girl oversome butter, for which he wanted to give her less than themarket-value. This roused his indignation, and put him in a much fittermood for an altercation. 

"I winna gie ye mair nor fivepence. Hoo are ye the day, Mr Doo? I tellye it has a goo (Fren. Go�t) o' neeps or something waur. "

"Hoo can that be, Mr Bruce, at this sizzon o' the year, whan there'splenty o' gerss for man an' beast an' a' cratur?" said the girl. 

"It's no for me to say hoo it can be. That's no my business. Noo, MrDoo?"

Bruce, whose very life lay in driving bargains, had a great dislike toany interruption of the process. Yet he forsook the girl as if he hadsaid all he had to say, and turned to James Dow. For he wanted to getrid of him before concluding his bargain with the girl, whose butter hewas determined to have even if he must pay her own price for it. Likethe Reeve in the Canterbury Tales, who "ever rode the hinderest of therout, " being such a rogue and such a rogue-catcher that he could notbear anybody behind his back, Bruce, when about the business that hissoul loved, eschewed the presence of any third person. 

"Noo, Mr Doo?" he said. 

"My business'll keep, " replied Dow. 

"But ye see we're busy the nicht, Mr Doo. "

"Weel, I dinna want to hurry ye. But I wonner that ye wad buy illbutter, to please onybody, even a bonnie lass like that. "

"Some fowk likes the taste o' neeps, though I dinna like it mysel', "answered Bruce. "But the fac' that neeps is no a favourite wi' themaist o' fowk, brings doon the price i' the market. "

"Neeps is neither here nor there, " said the girl; and taking up herbasket, she was going to leave the shop. 

"Bide a bit, my lass, " cried Bruce. "The mistress wad like to see ye. Jist gang benn the hoose to her wi' yer basket, and see what she thinkso' the butter. I may be wrang, ye ken. "

So saying he opened the inner door, and ushered the young woman intothe kitchen. 

"Noo, Mr Doo?" he said once more. "Is't tobawco, or sneeshin (snuff), or what is't?"

"It's Annie Anderson's kist and a' her gear. "

"I'm surprised at ye, Jeames Doo. There's the lassie's room up thestair, fit for ony princess, whanever she likes to come back till't. But she was aye a royt (riotous) lassie, an' a reglar rintheroot. "

"Ye lee, Rob Bruce, " exclaimed Dow, surprised out of his proprieties. "Whaever ye say that till, dinna say't to me. "

Bruce was anything but a quarrelsome man with other than his inferiors. He pocketed the lie very calmly. 

"Dinna lowse yer temper, Mr Doo. It's a sair fau't that. "

"Jist ye deliver up the bairn's effecks, or I'll gang to them that'llgar ye. "

"Wha micht that be, Mr Doo?" asked Bruce, wishing first to find out howfar Dow was prepared to go. 

"Ye hae no richt whatever to keep that lassie's claes, as gin she aucht(owed) you onything for rent. "

"Hae _ye_ ony richt to tak them awa'? Hoo ken I what'll come o' them?"

"Weel, I s' awa' doon to Mr Gibb, and we'll see what can be dune there. It's weel kent ower a' Glamerton, Mr Bruce, in what mainner you and yerhaill hoose hae borne yersels to that orphan lassie; and I'll gang intoilka chop, as I gang doon the street, that is, whaur I'm acquant, andI'll jist tell them whaur I'm gaun, and what for. "

The thing which beyond all others Bruce dreaded was unremunerativenotoriety. 

"Hoots! Jeames Doo, ye dinna ken jokin' frae jeistin'. I never was theman to set mysel' i' the face o' onything rizzonable. But ye see it wadbe cast up to the haill o' 's that we had driven the puir lassie oot o'the hoose, and syne flung her things efter her. "

"The tane ye hae dune. The tither ye shanna do, for I'll tak them. AndI'll tell ye what fowk'll say gin ye dinna gie up the things. They'llsay that ye baith drave her awa' and keepit her bit duds. I'll see tothat-�_and mair forbye_. "

Bruce understood that he referred to Annie's money. His object inrefusing to give up her box had been to retain as long as possible achance of persuading her to return to his house; for should she leaveit finally, her friends might demand the interest in money, which atpresent he was bound to pay only in aliment and shelter, little ofeither of which she required at his hands. But here was a greaterdanger still. 

"Mother, " he cried, "pit up Miss Anderson's claes in her box to gangwi' the carrier the morn's mornin'. "

"I'll tak them wi' me, " said Dow resolutely. 

"Ye canna. Ye haena a cairt. "

"Ye get them pitten up, and I'll fess a barrow, " said James, leavingthe shop. 

He borrowed a wheelbarrow from Thomas Crann, and found the box readyfor him when he returned. The moment he lifted it, he was certain fromthe weight of the poor little property that the Bible was not there. 

"Ye haena pitten in Mr Cooie's Bible. "

"Mother! did ye pit in the Bible?" cried Bruce, for the house-door wasopen. 

"'Deed no, father. It's better whaur't is, " said Mrs Bruce from thekitchen, with shrill response. 

"Ye see, Mr Doo, the Bible's lain sae lang there, that it's jist oorain. And the lassie canna want it till she has a faimily to hae worshipwi'. And syne she s' be welcome to tak' it. "

"Ye gang up the stair for the buik, or I'll gang mysel'. "

Bruce went and fetched it, with a bad grace enough, and handed overwith it the last tattered remnants of his respectability into the handsof James Dow. 

Mr Cupples, having made a translation of the inscription, took it toThomas Crann. 

"Do ye min' what Bruce read that nicht ye saw him tak' something oot o'the beuk?" he asked as he entered. 

"Ay, weel that. He began wi' the twenty-third psalm, and gaed on to theneist. "

"Weel, read that. I faun' 't on a blank leaf o' the buik. "

Thomas read�-'_Over the twenty-third psalm of David I have laid afive-pound note for my dear Annie Anderson, after my death_, '�-andlifting his eyes, stared at Mr Cupples, his face slowly brighteningwith satisfaction. Then a cloud came over his brow�-for was he notrejoicing in iniquity? At least he was rejoicing in coming shame. 

"Hoo cud it hae been, " he asked after a brief pause, "that Bruce didnafa' upo' this, as weel's you, Mr Cupples, or didna scart it oot?"

"'Cause 'twas written in Latin. The body hadna the wit to misdoobt thecontents o' 't. It said naething _till_ him, and he never thoucht itcud say onything _aboot_ him. "

"It's a fine thing to be a scholar, Mr Cupples. "

"Ay, whiles. "

"They say the Miss Cowies are great scholars. "

"Verra likly. �-But there's ae thing mair I wad put ye up till. Can yetell the day o' the month that ye gaed hame wi' yer prayin' frien'?"

"It was the nicht o' a special prayer-meetin' for the state o'Glamerton. I can fin' oot the date frae the kirk-buiks. What am I to dowi' 't whan I hae't, sir?"

"Gang to the bank the body deals wi', and spier whether a note beirin'the nummer o' thae figures was paid intil 't upo' the Monday followin'that Sunday, and wha paid it. They'll tell ye that at ance. "

But for various reasons, which it is needless to give in this history, Thomas was compelled to postpone the execution of his project. AndRobert went on buying and selling and getting gain, all unaware of thepit he had digged for himself. 

CHAPTER LXXXIV. 

One Sunday morning Mr Cupples was returning from church with Alec. 

"Ye likit the sermon the day, Mr Cupples. "

"What gars ye think that?"

"I saw ye takin' notes a' the time. "

"Gleg-eed mole!" said Mr Cupples. "Luik at the notes as ye ca' them. "

"Eh! it's a sang!" exclaimed Alec with delight. 

"What cud gar ye think I likit sic havers? The crater was preachin'till's ain shaidow. And he pat me into sic an unchristian temper o'dislike to him and a' the concern, that I ran to my city o' refuge. Inever gang to the kirk wi'oot it�-I mean my pocket-buik. And I tried togie birth till a sang, the quhilk, like Jove, I conceived i' my heidlast nicht. "

"Lat me luik at it, " said Alec, eagerly. 

"Na, ye wadna mak' either rhyme or rizzon o' 't as it stan's. I'll readit to ye. "

"Come and sit doon, than, on the ither side o' the dyke. "

A dyke in Scotland is an earthen fence�-to my prejudiced mind, theideal of fences; because, for one thing, it never keeps anybody out. And not to speak of the wild bees' bykes in them, with theirinexpressible honey, like that of Mount Hymettus�-to the recollectionof the man, at least�-they are covered with grass, and wild flowersgrow all about them, through which the wind harps and carps over yourhead, filling your sense with the odours of a little modest yellowtufty flower, for which I never heard a name in Scotland: the Englishcall it Ladies' Bedstraw. 

They got over the dyke into the field and sat down. 

"Ye see it's no lickit eneuch yet, " said Mr Cupples, and began. 

 "O lassie, ayont the hill! Come ower the tap o' the hill; Or roun' the neuk o' the hill; For I want ye sair the night. I'm needin' ye sair the nicht, For I'm tired and sick o' mysel'. A body's sel' 's the sairest weicht. O lassie, come ower the hill. 

 Gin a body cud be a thocht o' grace, And no a sel' ava! I'm sick o' my heid and my han's and my face, And my thouchts and mysel' and a'. I'm sick o' the warl' and a'; The licht gangs by wi' a hiss; For throu' my een the sunbeams fa', But my weary hert they miss. 

 O lassie, ayont the hill! Come ower the tap o' the hill, Or roun' the neuk o' the hill, For I want ye sair the nicht. 

 For gin ance I saw yer bonnie heid, And the sunlicht o' yer hair, The ghaist o' mysel' wad fa' doon deid, And I'd be mysel' nae mair. I wad be mysel' nae mair, Filled o' the sole remeid, Slain by the arrows o' licht frae yer hair, Killed by yer body and heid. O lassie, ayont the hill! &c. 

 But gin ye lo'ed me, ever so sma' For the sake o' my bonny dame, Whan I cam' to life, as she gaed awa', I could bide my body and name. I micht bide mysel', the weary same, Aye settin' up its heid, Till I turn frae the claes that cover my frame, As gin they war roun' the deid. O lassie, ayont the hill! &c. 

 But gin ye lo'ed me as I lo'e you, I wad ring my ain deid knell; My sel' wad vanish, shot through and through By the shine o' your sunny sel'. By the shine o' your sunny sel', By the licht aneath your broo, I wad dee to mysel', and ring my bell, And only live in you. 

 O lassie, ayont the hill! Come ower the tap o' the hill, Or roun' the neuk o' the hill, For I want ye sair the night. I'm needin' ye sair the nicht, For I'm tired and sick o' mysel; A body's sel' 's the sairest weicht! O lassie, come ower the hill. "

"Isna it raither metapheesical, Mr Cupples?" asked Alec. 

"Ay is't. But fowk's metapheesical. True, they dinna aye ken't. I wadto God I cud get that sel' o' mine safe aneath the yird, for it jisttorments the life oot o' me wi' its ugly face. Hit and me jist stan'san' girns at ane anither. "

"It'll tak a heap o' Christianity to lay _that_ ghaist, Mr Cupples. That I ken weel. The lassie wadna be able to do't for ye. It's owermuckle to expec' o' her or ony mortal woman. For the sowl's a templebiggit for the Holy Ghost, and no woman can fill't, war she the VirginMary ower again. And till the Holy Ghost comes intil's ain hoose, theghaist that ye speak o' winna gang oot. "

A huge form towered above the dyke behind them. 

"Ye had no richt to hearken, Thomas Crann, " said Mr Cupples. 

"I beg your pardon, " returned Thomas; "I never thoucht o' that. Thesoun' was sae bonnie, I jist stud and hearkened. I beg yourpardon. �-But that's no the richt thing for the Sawbath day. "

"But ye're haein' a walk yersel', it seems, Thomas. "

"Ay; but I'm gaun ower the hills to my school. An' I maunna bide toclaver wi' ye, for I hae a guid twa hoors' traivel afore me. "

"Come hame wi' us, and hae a mou'fu' o' denner afore ye gang, Thomas, "said Alec. 

"Na, I thank ye. It does the sowl gude to fast a wee ae day in saiven. I had a piece, though, afore I cam' awa'. What am I braggin' o'! Gudeday to ye. "

"That's an honest man, Alec, " said Cupples. 

"He is, " returned Alec. "But he never will do as other people do. "

"Perhaps that's the source of his honesty�-that he walks by an inwardlight, " said Cupples thoughtfully. 

The year wore on. Alec grew confident. They returned together to theirold quarters. Alec passed his examinations triumphantly, and continuedhis studies with greater vigour than before. Especially he walked thehospitals with much attention and interest, ever warned by Cupples tobeware lest he should come to regard a man as a physical machine, andso grow a mere doctoring machine himself. 

Mr Fraser declined seeing him. The old man was in a pitiable condition, and indeed never lectured again. 

Alec no more frequented his old dismal haunt by the seashore. The cryof the drowning girl would not have come to him as it would to the morefinely nervous constitution of Mr Cupples; but the cry of a sea-gull, or the wash of the waves, or even the wind across the tops of thesand-hills, would have been enough to make him see in every crest whichthe wind tore white in the gloamin, the forlorn figure of the girl heloved vanishing from his eyes. 

The more heartily he worked the more did the evil as well as thepainful portions of his history recede into the background of hismemory, growing more and more like the traces left by a bad, turbid, and sorrowful dream. 

Is it true that _all_ our experiences will one day revive in entireclearness of outline and full brilliancy of colour, passing before thehorror-struck soul to the denial of time, and the assertion ofever-present eternity? If so, then God be with us, for we shall needhim. 

Annie Anderson's great-aunt took to her bed directly after herhusband's funeral. 

Finding there was much to do about the place, Annie felt no delicacy asto remaining. She worked harder than ever she had worked before, blistered her hands, and browned her fair face and neck altogetherautumnally. Her aunt and she together shore (reaped) the little fieldof oats; got the sheaves home and made a rick of them; dug up thepotatoes, and covered them in a pit with a blanket of earth; lookedafter the one cow and calf which gathered the grass along the road andriver sides; fed the pigs and the poultry, and even went with aneighbour and his cart to the moss, to howk (dig) their winter-store ofpeats. But this they found too hard for them, and were forced to giveup. Their neighbours, however, provided their fuel, as they had oftendone in part for old John Peterson. 

Before the winter came there was little left to be done; and Annie sawby her aunt's looks that she wanted to get rid of her. MargaretAnderson had a chronic, consuming sense of poverty, and thereforeworshipped with her whole soul the monkey Lars of saving and vigilance. Hence Annie, as soon as Alec was gone, went, with the simplicitybelonging to her childlike nature, to see Mrs Forbes, and returned toClippenstrae only to bid them good-bye. 

The bodily repose and mental activity of the winter formed a strongcontrast with her last experiences. But the rainy, foggy, frosty, snowymonths passed away much as they had done before, fostering, amongstother hidden growths, that of Mrs Forbes' love for her semi-proteg�e, whom, like Castor and Pollux, she took half the year to heaven, andsent the other half to Tartarus. One notable event, however, ofconsiderable importance in its results to the people of Howglen, tookplace this winter amongst the missionars of Glamerton. 

CHAPTER LXXXV. 

So entire was Thomas Crann's notion of discipline, that it could not besatisfied with the mere riddance of Robert Bruce. Jealous, therefore, of encroachment on the part of minister or deacons, and opposed by hisfriend James Johnstone, he communicated his design to no one; for heknew that the higher powers, anxious to avoid scandal whereverpossible, would, instead of putting the hypocrite to shame as hedeserved, merely send him a civil letter, requesting him to withdrawfrom their communion. After watching for a fit opportunity, he resolvedat length to make his accusation against Robert Bruce in person at anapproaching church-meeting, at which, in consequence of the expecteddiscussion of the question of the proper frequency of theadministration of the sacrament, a full attendance of members might beexpected. 

They met in the chapel, which was partially lighted for the occasion. The night was brilliant with frosty stars, as Thomas walked to therendezvous. He felt the vigour of the season in his yet unsubduedlimbs, but as he watched his breath curling in the frosty air, and thenvanishing in the night, he thought how the world itself would pass awaybefore the face of Him that sat on the great white throne; and how themissionars of Glamerton would have nothing to say for themselves onthat day, if they did not purify themselves on this. From the faintlight of the stars he passed into the dull illumination of the tallowcandles, and took his place in silence behind their snuffer, who, though half-witted, had yet shown intelligence and piety enough foradmission into the community. The church slowly gathered, and at lengthMr Turnbull appeared, supported by his deacons. 

After the usual preliminary devotions, in which Robert Bruce "engaged, "the business of the meeting was solemnly introduced. The only partwhich Thomas Crann took in it was to expostulate with thecandle-snuffer, who being violently opposed to the wishes of theminister, and not daring to speak, kept grumbling in no inaudible voiceat everything that came from that side of the house. 

"Hoot, Richard! it's Scriptur', ye ken, " said Thomas, soothingly. 

"Scriptur' or no Scriptur', we're nae for't, " growled Richard aloud, and rising, gave vent to his excited feelings by snuffing out andrelighting every candle in its turn. 

At length the further discussion of the question was postponed to thenext meeting, and the minister was preparing to give out a hymn, whenThomas Crann's voice arose in the dusky space. Mr Turnbull stopped tolisten, and there fell an expectant silence; for the stone-mason wasboth reverenced and feared. It was too dark to see more than the dimbulk of his figure, but he spoke with slow emphasis, and every word washeard. 

"Brethren and office-beirers o' the church, it's upo' discipline that Iwant to speak. Discipline is ane o' the main objecs for which a churchis gathered by the speerit o' God. And we maun work discipleen amo'oorsels, or else the rod o' the Almichty'll come doon upon a' oorbacks. I winna haud ye frae particulars ony langer. �-Upon a certainSawbath nicht i' the last year, I gaed into Robert Bruce's hoose, tohae worship wi' 'm. �-I'm gaein straucht and fair to the pint at ance. Whan he opened the buik, I saw him slip something oot atween the leaveso' 't, and crunkle 't up in 's han', luikin his greediest. Syne he readthe twenty-third and fourt psalms. I cudna help watchin' him, and whanwe gaed down upo' oor k-nees, I luikit roon efter him, and saw him pitsomething intil's breek-pooch. Weel, it stack to me. Efterhin(afterwards) I fand oot frae the lassie Annie Anderson, that the buikwas hers, that auld Mr Cooie had gien't till her upo' 's deith-bed, andhad tell't her forbye that he had pitten a five poun' note atween theleaves o' 't, to be her ain in remembrance o' him, like. What say ye tothat, Robert Bruce?"

"It's a' a lee, " cried Robert, out of the dark back-ground under thegallery, where he always placed himself at such meetings, "gotten upatween yersel' and that ungratefu' cousin o' mine, Jeames Anderson'slass, wha I hae keepit like ane o' my ain. "

Bruce had been sitting trembling; but when Thomas put the question, believing that he had heard all that Thomas had to say, and that therewas no proof against him, he resolved at once to meet the accusationwith a stout denial. Whereupon Thomas resumed:

"Ye hear him deny't. Weel, I hae seen the said Bible mysel'; andthere's this inscription upo' ane o' the blank leaves o' 't: 'Over thetwenty-third psalm o' David, '�-I tellt ye that he read that psalm thatnight�-'Over the twenty-third psalm o' David, I hae laid a five poun'note for my dear Annie Anderson, efter my deith!' Syne followed thenummer o' the note, which I can shaw them that wants to see. Noo I haethe banker's word for statin' that upo' the very Monday mornin' efterthat Sunday, Bruce paid into the bank a five poun' note o' that verraindentical nummer. What say ye to that, Robert Bruce?"

A silence followed. Thomas himself broke it with the words:

"That money he oucht to hae supposed was Mr Cooie's, and returned ittill's dochters. But he pays't intil's ain accoont. Ca' ye na that abreach o' the eicht commandment, Robert Bruce?"

But now Robert Bruce rose. And he spoke with solemnity and pathos. 

"It's a sair thing, sirs, that amo' Christians, wha ca' themsel's achosen priesthood and a peculiar people, a jined member o' the samechurch should meet wi' sic ill-guideship as I hae met wi' at the han'so' Mr Crann. To say naething o' his no bein' ashamed to confess bein'sic a heepocreet i' the sicht o' God as to luik aboot him upon hisknees, lyin' in wait for a man to do him hurt whan he pretendit to beworshippin' wi' him afore the Lord his Maker, to say naething o' thatwhich I wadna hae expeckit o' him, he gangs aboot for auchteen monthscontrivin' to bring that man to disgrace because he daurna mak' sic astrong profession as he mak's himsel'. But the warst o' 't a' is, thathe beguiles a young thochtless bairn, wha has been the cause o' mucklediscomfort in oor hoose, to jine him i' the plot. It's true eneuch thatI took the bank-note frae the Bible, whilk was a verra unshuitableplace to put the unrichteous mammon intil, and min's me upo' themoney-changers i' the temple; and it's true that I paid it into thebank the neist day�-"

"What garred ye deny't, than?" interrupted Thomas. 

"Bide a wee, Mr Crann, and caw canny. Ye hae been hearkened till wi'ootinterruption, and I maun hae fair play here whatever I get fraeyersel'. I didna deny the fac. Wha could deny a fac? But I denied a'the haill affair, i' the licht o' wickedness and thievin' that Mr Crannwas castin' upo' 't. _I_ saw that inscription and read it wi' my aineen the verra day the lassie brocht the beuk, and kenned as weel's MrCrann that the siller wasna to be taen hame again. But I said tomysel': "It'll turn the lassie's heid, and she'll jist fling't awa' inmurlocks (crumbs) upo' sweeties, and plunky, and sic like, ' for she wasaye greedy, 'sae I'll jist pit it into the bank wi' my ain, and accoontfor't efterhin wi' the lave o' her bit siller whan I gie that up intilher ain han's. Noo, Mr Crann!"

He sat down, and Mr Turnbull rose. 

"My Christian brethren, " he said, "it seems to me that this is not theproper place to discuss such a question. It seems to me likewiseill-judged of Mr Crann to make such an accusation in public against MrBruce, who, I must say, has met it with a self-restraint and aself-possession most creditable to him, and has answered it in a verysatisfactory manner. The hundredth psalm. "

"Hooly and fairly, sir!" exclaimed Thomas, forgetting his manners inhis eagerness. "I haena dune yet. And whaur wad be the place to discusssic a queston but afore a' meetin o' the church? Ca' ye that thepublic, sir? Wasna the church institute for the sake o' discipleen? Sicthings are no to be ironed oot in a hole an' a corner, atween you andthe deycons, sir. They belang to the haill body. We're a' wrangedthegither, and the Holy Ghost, whase temple we sud be, is wrangedforby. You at least micht ken, sir, that he's withdrawn his presencefrae oor mids', and we are but a candle under a bushel, and not a cityset upon a hill. We beir no witness. And the cause o' his displeesur'is the accursed thing which the Ahchan in oor camp has hidden i' theCoonty Bank, forby mony ither causes that come hame to us a'. And thewarl' jist scoffs at oor profession o' religion, whan it sees sic a manas that in oor mids'. "

"All this is nothing to the point, Mr Crann, " said Mr Turnbull indispleasure. 

"It's to the verra hert o' the pint, " returned Thomas, equallydispleased. "Gin Robert Bruce saw the inscription the day the lassiebroucht hame the buik, will he tell me hoo it was that he cam' to lea'the note i' the buik till that Sawbath nicht?"

"I luikit for 't, but I cudna fin' 't, and thocht she had ta'en 't ootupo' the road hame. "

"Cudna ye fin' the twenty-third psalm?�-But jist ae thing mair, MrTurnbull, and syne I'll haud my tongue, " resumed Thomas. �-"JeamesJohnstone, will ye rin ower to my hoose, and fess the Bible? It's lyin'upo' the drawers. Ye canna mistak' it. �-Jist hae patience till he comesback, sir, and we'll see hoo Mr Bruce'll read the inscription. I wadhae made nothing o' 't, gin it hadna been for a frien' o' mine. But MrBruce is a scholar, an' 'll read the Laitin till 's. "

By this time James Johnstone was across the street. 

"There's some foul play in this, " cried Bruce, out of the darkness. "Myenemy maun sen' for an ootlandish speech and a heathen tongue toinsnare ane o' the brethren!"

Profound silence followed. All sat expectant. The snuff of the candlesgrew longer and longer. Even the energetic Richard, who had opposed theScripture single-handed, forgot his duty in the absorbing interest ofthe moment. Every ear was listening for the footsteps of the returningweaver, bringing the Bible of the parish-clergyman into thehalf-unhallowed precincts of a conventicle. At a slight motion of oneof the doors, an audible start of expectation broke like an electricspark from the still people. But nothing came of it. They had to waitfull five minutes yet before the messenger returned, bearing the largevolume in both hands in front of him. 

"Tak' the buik up to Mr Turnbull, Jeames, and snuff his can'les, " saidThomas. 

James took the snuffers, but Richard started up, snatched them fromhim, and performed the operation himself with his usual success. 

The book being laid on the desk before Mr Turnbull, Thomas called outinto the back region of the chapel, "Noo, Robert Bruce, come foret, and fin' oot this inscription that yeken a' aboot sae weel, and read it to the church, that they may seewhat a scholar they hae amo' them. "

But there was neither voice nor hearing. 

After a pause, Mr Turnbull spoke. 

"Mr Bruce, we're waiting for you, " he said. "Do not be afraid. Youshall have justice. "

A dead silence followed the appeal. Presently some of those furthestback�-they were women in hooded cloaks and _mutches_-�spoke in scarceaudible voices. 

"He's no here, sir. We canna see him, " they said. 

The minister could not distinguish their words. 

"No here!" cried Thomas, who, deaf as he was, had heard them. "He washere a minute ago! His conscience has spoken at last. He's fa'en doon, like Ananias, i' the seat. "

Richard snatched a candle out of the candelabrum, and went to look. Others followed similarly provided. They searched the pew where he hadbeen sitting, and the neighbouring pews, and the whole chapel, but hewas nowhere to be found. 

"That wad hae been him, whan I heard the door bang, " they said to eachother at length. 

And so it was. For perceiving how he had committed himself, he hadslipped down in the pew, crawled on all fours to the door, and got outof the place unsuspected. 

A formal sentence of expulsion was passed upon him by a show of hands, and the word _Expelled_ was written against his name in the list ofchurch-members. 

"Thomas Crann, will you engage in prayer, " said Mr Turnbull. 

"Na, nae the nicht, " answered Thomas. "I'm like ane under the auld lawthat had been buryin' the deid. I hae been doin' necessar' but foulwark, and I'm defiled in consequence. I'm no in a richt speerit to prayin public. I maun awa' hame to my prayers. I houp I mayna do somethingmysel' afore lang that'll mak' it necessar' for ye to dismiss me neist. But gin that time sud come, spare not, I beseech ye. "

So, after a short prayer from Mr Turnbull, the meeting separated in astate of considerable excitement. Thomas half expected to hear of anaction for libel, but Robert knew better than venture upon that. Besides, no damages could be got out of Thomas. 

When Bruce was once outside the chapel, he assumed the erect posture towhich his claim was entirely one of species, and went home bycircuitous ways. He found the shop still open, attended by his wife. 

"Preserve's, Robert! what's come ower ye?" she exclaimed. 

"I had sic a sair heid (headache), I was forced to come oot afore a'was dune, " he answered. "I dinna think I'll gang ony mair, for theydinna conduc' things a'thegither to my likin'. I winna fash mair wi'them. "

His wife looked at him anxiously, perhaps with some vague suspicion ofthe truth; but she said nothing, and I do not believe the matter wasever alluded to between them. The only indications remaining the nextday of what he had gone through that evening, consisted in an increaseof suavity towards his grown customers, and of acerbity towards thechildren who were unfortunate enough to enter his shop. 

Of the two, however, perhaps Thomas Crann was the more unhappy as hewent home that night. He felt nothing of the elation which commonlysprings from success in a cherished project. He had been the promoterand agent in the downfall of another man, and although the fall was ajust one, and it was better too for the man to be down than standing ona false pedestal, Thomas could not help feeling the reaction of afellow-creature's humiliation. Now that the thing was done, and the endgained, the eternal brotherhood asserted itself, and Thomas pitiedBruce and mourned over him. He must be to him henceforth as a heathenman and a publican, and he was sorry for him. "Ye see, " he said tohimself, "it's no like a slip or a sin; but an evil disease cleavethfast unto him, and there's sma' chance o' him ever repentin' noo. A'thing has been dune for him that can be dune. "

Yet Thomas worshipped a God, who, if the theories Thomas held werecorrect, could at once, by the free gift of a Holy Spirit, generaterepentance in Bruce, and so make him fit for salvation; but who, Thomasbelieved, would not do so�-at all events, _might_ not do so�-keepinghim alive for ever in howling unbelief instead. 

Scarcely any of the "members" henceforth saluted Bruce in the street. None of them traded with him, except two or three who owed him a fewshillings, and could not pay him. And the modifying effect upon theweek's returns was very perceptible. This was the only form in which arecognizable vengeance could have reached him. To escape from it, hehad serious thoughts of leaving the place, and setting up in someremote village. 

CHAPTER LXXXVI. 

Notwithstanding Alec's diligence and the genial companionship of MrCupples�-whether the death of Kate, or his own illness, or the reactionof shame after his sojourn in the tents of wickedness, had opened darkvisions of the world of reality lying in awful _unknownness_ around thelife he seemed to know, I cannot tell, -�cold isolations would suddenlyseize upon him, wherein he would ask himself�-that oracular cave inwhich one hears a thousand questions before one reply�-"What is the useof it all�-this study and labour?" And he interpreted the silence tomean: "Life is worthless. There is no glow in it�-only a glimmer andshine at best. "�-Will my readers set this condition down as one ofdisease? If they do, I ask, "Why should a man be satisfied withanything such as was now within the grasp of Alec Forbes?" And if theyreply that a higher ambition would have set him at peace if not atrest, I only say that they would be nearer health if they had hisdisease. Pain is not malady; it is the revelation of malady�-themeeting and recoil between the unknown death and the unknown life; thatjar of the system whereby the fact becomes known to the man that he isill. There was disease in Alec, but the disease did not lie in hisdissatisfaction. It lay in that poverty of life with which those aresatisfied who call such discontent disease. Such disease is the firstflicker of the aurora of a rising health. 

This state of feeling, however, was only occasional; and a revivinginterest in anything belonging to his studies, or a merry talk with MrCupples, would dispel it for a time, just as a breath of fine air willgive the sense of perfect health to one dying of consumption. 

But what made these questionings develope into the thorns of a moredefinite self-condemnation�-the advanced guard sometimes of the rosesof peace-�was simply this:

He had written to his mother for money to lay out upon superiorinstruments, and new chemical apparatus; and his mother had repliedsadly that she was unable to send it. She hinted that his education hadcost more than she had expected. She told him that she was in debt toRobert Bruce, and had of late been compelled to delay the payment ofits interest. She informed him also that, even under James Dow'sconscientious management, there seemed little ground for hoping thatthe farm would ever make a return correspondent to the large outlay hisfather had made upon it. 

This letter stung Alec to the heart. That his mother should be in thepower of such a man as Bruce, was bad enough; but that she should havebeen exposed for his sake to the indignity of requesting hisforbearance, seemed unendurable. To despise the man was nosatisfaction, the right and the wrong being where they were. �-And whatproportion of the expenses of last session had gone to hiscollege-accounts?

He wrote a humble letter to his mother�-and worked still harder. Foralthough he could not make a shilling at present, the future had hopein it. 

Meantime Mr Cupples, in order that he might bear such outward signs ofinward grace as would appeal to the perceptions of the Senatus, got anew hat, and changed his shabby tail-coat for a black frock. His shirtceased to be a hypothesis to account for his collar, and became a realhypostasis, evident and clean. These signs of improvement led toinquiries on the part of the Senatus, and the result was that, beforethree months of the session were over, he was formally installed aslibrarian. His first impulse on receiving the good news was to rushdown to Luckie Cumstie's and have a double-tumbler. But conscience wastoo strong for Satan, and sent him home to his pipe�-which, it must beconfessed, he smoked twice as much as before his reformation. 

From the moment of his appointment, he seemed to regard the library ashis own private property, or, rather, as his own family. He wasgrandfather to the books: at least a grandfather shows that combinationof parent and servant which comes nearest to the relation he henceforthmanifested towards them. Most of them he gave out graciously; some ofthem grudgingly; a few of them with much reluctance; but all of themwith injunctions to care, and special warnings against forcing thebacks, crumpling or folding the leaves, and making thumb-marks. 

"Noo, " he would say to some country bejan, "tak' the buik i' yer han'sno as gin 'twar a neip (turnip), but as gin 'twar the sowl o' anew-born bairn. Min' ye it has to sair (serve) mony a generation efteryour banes lie bare i' the moul', an' ye maun hae respec' to them thatcome efter ye, and no ill-guide their fare. I beg ye winna guddle't(mangle it). "

The bejans used to laugh at him in consequence. But long before theywere magistrands, the best of them had a profound respect for thelibrarian. Not a few of them repaired to him with all theirdifficulties; and such a general favourite was he, that any story ofhis humour or oddity was sure to be received with a roar of lovinglaughter. Indeed I doubt whether, within the course of a curriculum, MrCupples had not become the real centre of intellectual and moral lifein that college. 

One evening, as he and Alec were sitting together speculating on thespeediest mode of turning Alec's acquirements to money-account, theirlandlady entered. 

"Here's my cousin, " she said, "Captain McTavish o' the _Sea-horse_, MrForbes, wha says that afore lang he'll be wantin' a young doctor togang and haud the scurvy aff o' his men at the whaul-fishin'. Sae ofcoorse I thoucht o' my ain first, and ran up the stair to you. It'll befifty poun' i' yer pooch, and a plenty o' rouch ploys that the like o'you young fallows likes, though I canna say I wad like sic thingsmysel'. Only I'm an auld wife, ye see, and that maks the differ. "

"Nae that auld, Mistress Leslie, " said Cupples, "gin ye wadna lee. "

"Tell Captain McTavish that I'll gang, " said Alec, who had hesitated nolonger than the time Mr Cupples took to say the word of kind flatteryto their landlady. 

"He'll want testimonials, ye ken. "

"Wadna _ye_ gie me ane, Mrs Leslie?"

"'Deed wad I, gin 'twar o' ony accoont. Ye see, Mr Alec, the day's noyesterday; and this session's no the last. "

"Haud yer tongue, and dinna rub a sair place, " cried Mr Cupples. 

"I beg yer pardon, " returned Mrs Leslie, submissively. 

Alec followed her down the stair. 

He soon returned, his eyes flashing with delight. Adventure! And fiftypounds to take to his mother!

"All right, Mr Cupples. The Captain has promised to take me if mytestimonials are satisfactory. I think they will give me good ones now. If it weren't for you, I should have been lying in the gutter insteadof walking the quarter-deck. "

"Weel, weel, bantam. There's twa sides to maist obligations. �-I'mleebrarian. "

The reader may remember that in his boyhood Alec was fond of the sea, had rigged a flagstaff, and had built the _Bonnie Annie_. He was nearlybeside himself with delight, which continued unjarred until he heardfrom his mother. She had too much good sense to make any opposition, but she could not prevent her anticipations of loss and loneliness fromappearing. His mother's trouble quelled the exuberance of Alec'sspirits without altering his resolve. He would return to her in thefall of the year, bringing with him what would ease her mind of halfits load. 

There was no check at the examinations this session. 

CHAPTER LXXXVII. 

Mrs Forbes was greatly perplexed about Annie. She could not bear thethought of turning her out; and besides she did not see where she wasto go, for she could not be in the house with young Bruce. On the otherhand, she had still the same dangerous sense of worldly duty as to theprevention of a so-called unsuitable match, the chance of which wasmore threatening than ever. For Annie had grown very lovely, and havingtaken captive the affections of the mother, must put the heart of theson in dire jeopardy. But Alec arrived two days before he was expected, and delivered his mother from her perplexity by declaring that if Anniewere sent away he too would leave the house. He had seen through thematernal precautions the last time he was at home, and talking withCupples about it, who secretly wished for no better luck than that Alecshould fall in love with Annie, had his feelings strengthened as to theunkindness, if not injustice, of throwing her periodically into such adungeon as the society of the Bruces. So Annie remained where she was, much, I must confess, to her inward content. 

The youth and the maiden met every day�-the youth unembarrassed, andthe maiden reserved and shy, even to the satisfaction of the mother. But if Alec could have seen the loving thoughts which, like threads ofheavenly gold (for all the gold of heaven is invisible), wroughtthemselves into the garments she made for him, I do not think _he_could have helped falling in love with her, although most men, I fear, would only have fallen the more in love with themselves, and cared theless for her. But he did not see them, or hear the divine measures towhich her needle flew, as she laboured to arm him against the cold ofthose regions

 Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds, Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things. 

Alec's college-life had interposed a gulf between him and his previoushistory. But his approaching departure into places unknown and a lifeuntried, operated upon his spiritual condition like the approach ofdeath; and he must strengthen again all the old bonds which had beenstretched thin by time and absence; he must make righteous atonementfor the wrong of neglect; in short, he must set his inward house inorder, ere he went forth to the abodes of ice. Death is not a breakerbut a renewer of ties. And if in view of death we gird up the loins ofour minds, and unite our hearts into a whole of love, and tenderness, and atonement, and forgiveness, then Death himself cannot be that thingof forlornness and loss. 

He took a day to go and see Curly, and spent a pleasant afternoon withhim, recalling the old times, and the old stories, and the oldcompanions; for the youth with the downy chin has a past as ancient asthat of the man with the gray beard. And Curly told him the story ofhis encounter with young Bruce on the bank of the Wan Water. And overand over again Annie's name came up, but Curly never hinted at hersecret. 

The next evening he went to see Thomas Crann. Thomas received him witha cordiality amounting even to gruff tenderness. 

"I'm richt glaid to see ye, " he said; "and I tak' it verra kin' o' ye, wi' a' yer gran' learnin', to come and see an ignorant man like me. ButAlec, my man, there's some things 'at I ken better nor ye ken them yet. Him that made the whauls is better worth seekin' nor the whaulsthemsel's. God's works may swallow the man that follows them, but Godhimsel' 's the hidin'-place frae the wind, and the covert frae thetempest. Set na up nae fause God�-that's the thing 'at ye lo'e best, yeken�-for like Dawgon, it'll fa', and maybe brain ye i' the fa'. Comedoon upo' yer knees wi' me, and I'll pray for ye. But ye maun pray foryersel', or my prayers winna be o' muckle avail: ye ken that. "

Yielding to the spiritual power of Thomas, whose gray-blue eyes wereflashing with fervour, Alec kneeled down as he was desired, and Thomassaid:

"O thou who madest the whales to play i' the great watters, and gavestunto men sic a need o' licht that they maun hunt the leviathan to haudtheir lamps burnin' at nicht whan thou hast sent thy sun awa' to itherlands, be thou roon' aboot this youth, wha surely is nae muckle waurthan him 'at the Saviour lo'ed; and when thou seest his ship gangsailin' into the far north whaur thou keepest thy stores o' frost andsnaw ready to remin' men o' thy goodness by takin' the heat frae themfor a sizzon�-when thou seest his ship gaein far north, pit doon thyfinger, O Lord, and straik a track afore't, throu' amo' the hills o'ice, that it may gang throu' in saf-ety, even as thy chosen people gaedthrou' the Reid Sea, and the river o' Jordan. For, Lord, we want himhame again in thy good time. For he is the only son of his mother, andshe is a widow. But aboon a', O Lord, elec' him to thy grace and lathim ken the glory o' God, even the licht o' thy coontenance. For me, I'm a' thine, to live or dee, and I care not which. For I hae gottenthe gueed o' this warl'; and gin I binna ready for the neist, it'sbecause o' my sins, and no o' my savours. For I wad glaidle depairt andbe with the Lord. But this young man has never seen thy face; and, OLord, I'm jist feared that my coontenance micht fa' even in thykingdom, gin I kent that Alec Forbes was doon i' the ill place. Sparehim, O Lord, and gie him time for repentance gin he has a chance; butgin he has nane, tak' him at ance, that his doom may be the lichter. "

Alec rose with a very serious face, and went home to his mother in amood more concordant with her feelings than the light-heartedness withwhich he generally tried to laugh away her apprehensions. 

He even called on Robert Bruce, at his mother's request. It wentterribly against the grain with him though. He expected to find himrude as of old, but he was, on the contrary, as pleasant as a man couldbe whose only notion of politeness lay in _licking_. 

His civility came from two sources�-the one hope, the other fear. Alecwas going away and might never return. That was the hope. For althoughBruce had spread the report of Annie's engagement to Curly, he believedthat Alec was the real obstacle to his plans. At the same time he wasafraid of him, believing in his cowardly mind that Alec would not stopshort of personal reprisals if he should offend him; and now he was agreat six-foot fellow, of whose prowess at college confused andexaggerated stories were floating about the town. �-Bruce was a man whocould hatch and cherish plans, keeping one in reserve behind the other, and beholding their result from afar. 

"Ay! ay! Mr Forbes�-sae ye're gaun awa' amo' the train-ile, are ye? Haeye ony share i' the tak' no?"

"I don't think the doctor has any share, " answered Alec. 

"But I warran' ye'll put to yer han', and help at the catchin'. "

"Very likely. "

"Weel, gin ye come in for a barrel or twa, ye may coont upo' me to takit aff yer han', at the ordinar' price�-to the _wholesale_ merchan's, ye ken�-wi' maybe a sma' discoont for orderin' 't afore the whaul wasta'en. "

The day drew near. He had bidden all his friends farewell. He must gojust as the spring was coming in with the old well-beloved green bornebefore her on the white banner of the snowdrop, and following in milesof jubilation: he must not wait for her triumph, but speed away beforeher towards the dreary north, which only a few of her hard-ridingpursuivants would ever reach. For green hills he must have opal-huedbergs�-for green fields the outspread slaty waters, rolling in thedelight of their few weeks of glorious freedom, and mocking theunwieldy ice-giants that rush in wind-driven troops across theirplains, or welter captive in the weary swell, and melt away beneath thelow summer sun. 

His mother would have gone to see him on board, but he prevailed uponher to say good-bye to him at home. She kept her tears till after hewas gone. Annie bade him farewell with a pale face, and a smile thatwas all sweetness and no gladness. She did not weep even afterwards. Agentle cold hand pressed her heart down, so that neither blood reachedher face nor water her eyes. She went about everything just as before, because it had to be done; but it seemed foolish to do anything. Thespring might as well stay away for any good that it promised either ofthem. 

As Mr Cupples was taking his farewell on board, "Ye'll gang and see my mother?" said Alec. 

"Ay, ay, bantam; I'll do that. �-Noo tak care o' yersel; and dinna takleeberties wi' behemoth. Put a ring in's nose gin ye like, only haudoot ower frae's tail. He's no mowse (not to be meddled with). "

So away went Alec northwards, over the blue-gray waters, surgeon of thestrong barque _Sea-horse_. 

CHAPTER LXXXVIII. 

Two days after Alec's departure, Mr Bruce called at Howglen to seeAnnie. 

"Hoo are ye, Mistress Forbes? Hoo are ye, Miss Anderson? I was jistcomin' ower the watter for a walk, and I thocht I micht as weel fessthe bit siller wi' me that I'm awin ye. "

Annie stared. She did not know what he meant. He explained. 

"It's weel on till a towmon (twelvemonth) that ye hae had neither bitenor sup aneath my heumble riggin-tree (rooftree), and as that was theupmak for the interest, I maun pay ye the tane seein' ye winna accep'o' the tither. I hae jist brocht ye ten poun' to pit i' yer ain poochi' the meantime. "

Annie could hardly believe her ears. Could she be the rightful owner ofsuch untold wealth? Without giving her time to say anything, however, Bruce went on, still holding in his hand the dirty bunch of one-poundnotes. 

"But I'm thinkin' the best way o' disposin' o' 't wad be to lat me putit to the lave o' the prencipal. Sae I'll jist tak it to the bank as Igang back. I canna gie ye onything for 't, 'cause that wad be brakin'the law against compoon interest, but I can mak' it up some ither gait, ye ken. "

But Annie had been too much pleased at the prospect of possession tolet the money go so easily. 

"I hae plenty o' ways o' spen'in' 't, " she said, "withoot wastry. SaeI'll jist tak' it mysel', and thank ye, Mr Bruce. "

She rose and took the notes from Bruce's unwilling hand. He was on thepoint of replacing them in his trowsers-pocket and refusing to givethem up, when her promptitude rescued them. Discomfiture was manifestin his reluctant eyes, and the little tug of retraction with which heloosed his hold upon the notes. He went home mortified, andpoverty-stricken, but yet having gained a step towards a further end. 

Annie begged Mrs Forbes to take the money. 

"I have no use for it, ma'am. An old gown of yours makes as good afrock for me as I can ever want to have. "

But Mrs Forbes would not even take charge of the money-�partly from thepride of beneficence, partly from the fear of involving it in her ownstraits. So that Annie, having provided herself with a few necessaries, felt free to spend the rest as she would. How she longed for TibbieDyster! But not having her, she went to Thomas Crann, and offered themoney to him. 

"'Deed no, lassie! I winna lay a finger upo' 't. Lay't by till ye wantit yersel'. "

"Dinna ye ken somebody that wants't mair nor me, Thomas?"

Now Thomas had just been reading a few words spoken, according toMatthew, the tax-gatherer, by the King of Men, declaring the perfectionof God to consist in his giving good things to all alike, whether theylove him or not. And when Annie asked the question, he remembered thepassage and Peter Peterson together. But he could not trust her tofollow her own instincts, and therefore went with her to see the poorfellow, who was in a consumption, and would never drink any more. Whenhe saw his worn face, and the bones with hands at the ends of them, hisheart smote him that he had ever been harsh to him; and although he hadgone with the intention of rousing him to a sense of his danger beyondthe grave, he found that for very pity he could not open the propheticmouth. From self-accusation he took shelter behind Annie, saying tohimself: "Babes can best declare what's best revealed to them;" andleft Peter to her ministrations. 

A little money went far to make his last days comfortable; and ere shehad been visiting him for more than a month, he loved her so that hewas able to believe that God might love him, though he knew perfectly(wherein perhaps his drunkenness had taught him more than the prayersof many a pharisee) that he could not deserve it. 

This was the beginning of a new relation between Annie and the poor ofGlamerton. And the soul of the maiden grew and blossomed into divinetenderness, for it was still more blessed to give than to receive. Butshe was only allowed to taste of this blessedness, for she had soon tolearn that even giving itself must be given away cheerfully. 

After three months Bruce called again with the quarter's interest. Before the next period arrived he had an interview with James Dow, towhom he represented that, as he was now paying the interest down incash, he ought not to be exposed to the inconvenience of being calledupon at any moment to restore the principal, but should have the moneysecured to him for ten years. After consultation, James Dow consentedto a three years' loan, beyond which he would not yield. Papers to thiseffect were signed, and one quarter's interest more was placed inAnnie's willing hand. 

In the middle of summer Mr Cupples made his appearance, and was warmlywelcomed. He had at length completed the catalogue of the library, hadgot the books arranged to his mind, and was brimful of enjoyment. Heran about the fields like a child; gathered bunches of white clover;made a great kite, and bought an unmeasureable length of string, withwhich he flew it the first day the wind was worthy of the honour; gotout Alec's boat, and upset himself in the Glamour; was run away with byone of the plough-horses in the attempt to ride him to the water; waslaughed at and loved by everybody about Howglen. At length, that is, inabout ten days, he began to settle down into sobriety of demeanour. Thefirst thing that sobered him was a hint of yellow upon a field of oats. He began at once to go and see the people of Glamerton, and called uponThomas Crann first. 

He found him in one of his gloomy moods, which however were much lessfrequent than they had been. 

"Hoo are ye, auld frien'?" said Cupples. 

"Auld as ye say, sir, and nae muckle farrer on nor whan I begud. Iwhiles think I hae profited less than onybody I ken. But eh, sir, I wadbe sorry, gin I was you, to dee afore I had gotten a glimp o' the faceo' God. "

"Hoo ken ye that I haena gotten a glimp o' that same?"

"Ye wad luik mair solemn like, " answered Thomas. 

"Maybe I wad, " responded Cupples, seriously. 

"Man, strive to get it. Gie Him no rist, day nor nicht, till ye get it. Knock, knock, knock, till it be opened till ye. "

"Weel, Thomas, ye dinna seem sae happy yersel', efter a'. Dinna yethink ye may be like ane that's tryin' to see the face o' whilk yespeyk throu a crack i' the door, in place o' haein patience till it'sopened?"

But the suggestion was quite lost upon Thomas, who, after a gloomypause, went on. 

"Sin's sic an awfu' thing, " he began; when the door opened, and inwalked James Dow. 

His entrance did not interrupt Thomas, however. 

"Sin's sic an awfu' thing! And I hae sinned sae aften and sae lang, that maybe He'll be forced efter a' to sen' me to the bottomless pit. "

"Hoot, hoot, Thamas! dinna speyk sic awfu' things, " said Dow. "They'redreadfu' to hearken till. I s' warran' He's as kin'-hertit as yersel. "

James had no reputation for piety, though much for truthfulness andhonesty. Nor had he any idea how much lay in the words he had hastilyuttered. A light-gleam grew and faded on Thomas's face. 

"I said, he micht be _forced_ to sen' me efter a'. "

"What, Thomas!" cried Cupples. "He _cudna_ save ye! Wi' the Son and theSpeerit to help him? And a willin' hert in you forbye? Fegs! ye hae agreater opinion o' Sawtan nor I gied ye the discredit o'. "

"Na, na; it's nae Sawtan. It's mysel'. I wadna lay mair wyte (blame)upo' Sawtan's shouthers nor's his ain. He has eneuch already, puirfallow!"

"Ye'll be o' auld Robbie Burns's opinion, that he 'aiblins micht stillhae a stake. '"

"Na, na; he has nane. Burns was nae prophet. "

"But jist suppose, Thomas�-gin the de'il war to repent. "

"Man!" exclaimed the stonemason, rising to his full height with slowlabour after the day's toil, "it wad be cruel to gar _him_ repent. Itwad be ower sair upon him. Better kill him. The bitterness o' sicrepentance wad be ower terrible. It wad be mair nor he cud bide. It wadbrak his hert a'thegither. �-Na, na, he has nae chance. "

The last sentence was spoken quickly and with attempted carelessness ashe resumed his seat. 

"Hoo ken ye that?" asked Cupples. 

"There's no sic word i' the Scriptur'. "

"Do ye think He maun tell _us_ a' thing?"

"We hae nae richt to think onything that He doesna tell's. "

"I'm nae sae sure o' that, Thomas. Maybe, whiles, he doesna tell's athing jist to gar's think aboot it, and be ready for the time whan hewill tell's. "

Thomas was silent for a few moments. Then with a smile-�rather a grimone�-he said, "Here's a curious thing, no. �-There's neyther o' you convertit, and yetyer words strenthen my hert as gin they cam frae the airt (region)aboon. "

But his countenance changed, and he added hastily, "It's a mark o' indwellin' sin. To the law and to the testimony�-Gangawa' and lat me to my prayers. "

They obeyed; for either they felt that nothing but his prayers woulddo, or they were awed, and dared not remain. 

Mr Cupples could wait. Thomas could not. 

The Forlorn Hope of men must storm the walls of Heaven. 

Amongst those who sit down at the gate till one shall come and open it, are to be found both the wise and the careless children. 

CHAPTER LXXXIX. 

Mr Cupples returned to his work, for the catalogue had to be printed. 

The weeks and months passed on, and the time drew nigh when it would beno folly to watch the mail-coach in its pride of scarlet and gold, aspossibly bearing the welcome letter announcing Alec's return. Atlength, one morning, Mrs Forbes said:

"We may look for him every day now, Annie. "

She did not know with what a tender echo her words went roaming aboutin Annie's bosom, awaking a thousand thought-birds in the twilight landof memory, which had tucked their heads under their wings to sleep, andthereby to live. 

But the days went on and the hope was deferred. The rush of the_Sea-horse_ did not trouble the sands of the shallow bar, or sweep, with fiercely ramping figure-head, past the long pier-spike, stretchinglike the hand of welcome from the hospitable shore. While they fanciedher full-breasted sails, swelled as with sighs for home, bowing lordlyover the submissive waters, the _Sea-horse_ lay a frozen mass, changedby the might of the winds and the snow and the frost into the grotesqueice-gaunt phantom of a ship, through which, the winter long, the windswould go whistling and raving, crowding upon it the snow and thecrystal icicles, all in the wild waste of the desert north, with no earto hear the sadness, and no eye to behold the deathly beauty. 

At length the hope deferred began to make the heart sick. Dim anxietypassed into vague fear, and then deepened into dull conviction, overwhich ever and anon flickered a pale ghostly hope, like the _fatuus_over the swamp that has swallowed the unwary wanderer. Each would findthe other wistfully watching to read any thought that might haveescaped the vigilance of its keeper, and come up from the dungeon ofthe heart to air itself on the terraces of the face; and each woulddrop the glance hurriedly, as if caught in a fault. But the moment camewhen their meeting eyes were fixed and they burst into tears, eachaccepting the other's confession of hopeless grief as the seal anddoom. 

I will not follow them through the slow shadows of gathering fate. Iwill not record the fancies that tormented them, or describe the blankthat fell upon the duties of the day. I will not tell how, as thewinter drew on, they heard his voice calling in the storm for help, orhow through the snow-drifts they saw him plodding wearily home. Hismother forgot her debt, and ceased to care what became of herself. Annie's anxiety settled into an earnest prayer that she might not rebelagainst the will of God. 

But the anxiety of Thomas Crann was not limited to the earthly fate ofthe lad. It extended to his fate in the other world�-too probably, inhis eyes, that endless, yearless, undivided fate, wherein the breathstill breathed into the soul of man by his Maker is no longer thebreath of life, but the breath of infinite death�-

 Sole Positive of Night, Antipathist of Light, giving to the ideal darkness a real and individual hypostasis inhelpless humanity, keeping men alive that the light in them maycontinue to be darkness. 

Terrible were his agonies in wrestling with God for the life of thelad, and terrible his fear lest his own faith should fail him if hisprayers should not be heard. Alec Forbes was to Thomas Crann as it werethe representative of all his unsaved brothers and sisters of the humanrace, for whose sakes he, like the apostle Paul, would have gladlyundergone what he dreaded for them. He went to see his mother; said"Hoo are ye, mem?" sat down; never opened his lips, except to utter afew commonplaces; rose and left her�-a little comforted. Nor cananything but human sympathy alleviate the pain while it obscures notthe presence of human grief. Do not remind me that the divine isbetter. I know it. But why?-�Because the divine is the highest�-thecreative human. The sympathy of the Lord himself is the more human thatit is divine. 

And in Annie's face, as she ministered to her friend, shone, notwithstanding her full share in the sorrow, a light that came notfrom sun or stars�-as it were a suppressed, waiting light. And MrsForbes felt the holy influences that proceeded both from her and fromThomas Crann. 

How much easier it is to bear a trouble that comes upon a trouble thanone that intrudes a death's head into the midst of a merry-making! MrsForbes scarcely felt it a trouble when she received a note from RobertBruce informing her that, as he was on the point of removing to anotherplace which offered great advantages for the employment of the littlemoney he possessed, he would be obliged to her to pay as soon aspossible the hundred pounds she owed him, along with certain arrears ofinterest specified. She wrote that it was impossible for her atpresent, and forgot the whole affair. But within three days shereceived a formal application for the debt from a new solicitor. Tothis she paid no attention, just wondering what would come next. Afterabout three months a second application was made, according to legalform; and in the month of May a third arrived, with the hint from thelawyer that his client was now prepared to proceed to extremities;whereupon she felt for the first time that she must do something. 

She sent for James Dow. 

"Are you going to the market to-day, James?" she asked. 

"'Deed am I, mem. "

"Well, be sure and go into one of the tents, and have a good dinner. "

"'Deed, mem, I'll do naething o' the sort. It's a sin and a shame towaste gude siller upo' broth an' beef. I'll jist pit a piece(of oatcake) in my pooch, and that'll fess me hame as well's a' theirkail. I can bide onything but wastrie. "

"It's very foolish of you, James. "

"It's yer pleesur to say sae, mem. "

"Well, tell me what to do about that. "

And she handed him the letter. 

James took it and read it slowly. Then he stared at his mistress. Thenhe read it again. At length, with a bewildered look, he said, "Gin ye awe the siller, ye maun pay't, mem. "

"But I can't. "

"The Lord preserve's! What's to be dune? _I_ hae bit thirty poun'hained (saved) up i' my kist. That wadna gang far. "

"No, no, James, " returned his mistress. "I am not going to take yourmoney to pay Mr Bruce. "

"He's an awfu' cratur that, mem. He wad tak the win'in' sheet aff o'the deid. "

"Well, I must see what can be done. I'll go and consult Mr Gibb. "

James took his leave, dejected on his mistress's account, and on hisown. As he went out, he met Annie. 

"Eh, Annie!" he said; "this is awfu'. "

"What's the matter, Dooie?"

"That schochlin' (waddling, mean) cratur, Bruce, is mintin'(threatening) at roupin' the mistress for a wheen siller she's auchthim. "

"He daurna!" exclaimed Annie. 

"He'll daur onything but tyne (lose) siller. Eh! lassie, gin we hadnalen' 't him yours!"

"I'll gang till him direcly. But dinna tell the mistress. She wadnalike it. "

"Na, na. I s' haud my tongue, I s' warran'. �-Ye're the best cratur everwas born. She'll maybe perswaud the ill-faured tyke (dog). "

Murmuring the last two sentences to himself, he walked away. When Annieentered Bruce's shop, the big spider was unoccupied, and ready todevour her. He put on therefore his most gracious reception. 

"Hoo are ye, Miss Anderson? I'm glaid to see ye. Come benn the hoose. "

"No, I thank ye. I want to speak to yersel', Mr Bruce. What's a' thisaboot Mrs Forbes and you?"

"Grit fowk maunna ride ower the tap o' puir fowk like me, MissAnderson. "

"She's a widow, Mr Bruce"-�Annie could not add "and childless"�-"andlays nae claim to be great fowk. It's no a Christian way o' treatin'her. "

"Fowk _maun_ hae their ain. It's mine, and I maun hae't. There'snaething agen that i' the ten tables. There's nae gospel for no giein'fowk their ain. I'm nae a missionar noo. I dinna haud wi' sic things. Icanna beggar my faimily to haud up her muckle hoose. She maun pay me, or I'll tak' it. "

"Gin ye do, Mr Bruce, ye s' no hae my siller ae minute efter the time'sup; and I'm sorry ye hae't till than. "

"That's neither here nor there. Ye wad be wantin' 't or that time onyhoo. "

Now Bruce had given up the notion of leaving Glamerton, for he hadfound that the patronage of the missionars in grocery was not essentialto a certain measure of success; and he had no intention of proceedingto an auction of Mrs Forbes's goods, for he saw that would put him in aworse position with the public than any amount of quiet practice inlying and stealing. But there was every likelihood of Annie's beingmarried some day; and then her money would be recalled, and he would beleft without the capital necessary for carrying on his business uponthe same enlarged scale�-seeing he now supplied many of the littlecountry shops. It would be a grand move then, if, by a far-sightedgeneralship, a careful copying of the example of his great ancestor, hecould get a permanent hold of some of Annie's property. �-Hence had comethe descent upon Mrs Forbes, and here came its success. 

"Ye s' hae as muckle o' mine to yer nainsel' as'll clear Mrs Forbes, "said Annie. 

"Weel. Verra weel. �-But ye see that's mine for twa year and a half onygait. That wad only amunt to losin' her interest for twa year an' ahalf�-a'thegither. That winna do. "

"What will do, than, Mr Bruce?"

"I dinna ken. I want my ain. "

"But ye maunna torment her, Mr Bruce. Ye ken that. "

"Weel! I'm open to onything rizzonable. There's the enterest for twaan' a half�-ca' 't three years�-at what I could mak' o' 't�-say auchtper cent�-four and twenty poun'. Syne there's her arrears o'interest�-and syne there's the loss o' the ower-turn�-and syne there'sthe loss o' the siller that ye winna hae to len' me. �-Gin ye gie me aquittance for a hunner an' fifty poun', I'll gie her a receipt. �-It'llbe a sair loss to me!"

"Onything ye like, " said Annie. 

And Bruce brought out papers already written by his lawyer, one ofwhich he signed and the other she. 

"Ye'll min', " he added, as she was leaving the shop, "that I hae to payye no interest noo excep' upo' fifty poun'?"

He had paid her nothing for the last half year at least. 

He would not have dared to fleece the girl thus, had she had anylegally constituted guardians; or had those who would gladly haveinterfered, had power to protect her. But he took care so to word thequittance, that in the event of any thing going wrong, he might yetclaim his hundred pounds from Mrs Forbes. 

Annie read over the receipt, and saw that she had involved herself in adifficulty. How would Mrs Forbes take it? She begged Bruce not to tellher, and he was ready enough to consent. He did more. He wrote to MrsForbes to the effect that, upon reflection, he had resolved to dropfurther proceedings for the present; and when she carried him ahalf-year's interest, he took it in silence, justifying himself on theground that the whole transaction was of doubtful success, and he musttherefore secure what he could secure. 

As may well be supposed, Annie had very little money to give away now;and this subjected her to a quite new sense of suffering. 

CHAPTER XC. 

It was a dreary wintry summer to all at Howglen. Why should the ripecorn wave deep-dyed in the gold of the sunbeams, when Alec lay frozenin the fields of ice, or sweeping about under them like a brokensea-weed in the waters so cold, so mournful? Yet the work of the worldmust go on. The corn must be reaped. Things must be bought and sold. Even the mourners must eat and drink. The stains which the day hadgathered must be washed from the brow of the morning; and the dust towhich Alec had gone down must be swept from the chair in which he hadbeen wont to sit. So things did go on�-of themselves as it were, for noone cared much about them, although it was the finest harvest that yearthat Howglen had ever borne. It had begun at length to appear that theold labour had not been cast into a dead grave, but into a living soil, like that of which Sir Philip Sidney says in his sixty-fifth psalm:

 "Each clodd relenteth at thy dressing, "

as if it were a human soul that had bethought itself and began to bringforth fruit. �-This might be the beginning of good things. But what didit matter?

Annie grew paler, but relaxed not a single effort to fill her place. She told her poor friends that she had no money now, and could not helpthem; but most were nearly as glad to see her as before; while one ofthem who had never liked receiving alms from a girl in such a lowlyposition, as well as some who had always taken them thankfully, lovedher better when she had nothing to give. 

She renewed her acquaintance with Peter Whaup, the blacksmith, throughhis wife, who was ill, and received her visits gladly. 

"For, " she said, "she's a fine douce lass, and speyks to ye as gin yewar ither fowk, and no as gin she kent a'thing, and cam to tell ye themuckle half o' 't. "

I wonder how much her friends understood of what she read to them? Shedid not confine herself to the Bible, which indeed she was a little shyof reading except they wanted it, but read anything that pleasedherself, never doubting that "ither fowk" could enjoy what she enjoyed. She even tried the _Paradise Lost_ upon Mrs Whaup, as she had tried itlong ago upon Tibbie Dyster; and Mrs Whaup never seemed tired oflistening to it. I daresay she understood about as much of it as poetsdo of the celestial harmonies ever toning around them. 

And Peter Whaup was once known, when more than half drunk, to stop hisswearing in mid-volley, simply because he had caught a glimpse of Annieat the other end of the street. 

So the maiden grew in favour. Her beauty, both inward and outward, wasthat of the twilight, of a morning cloudy with high clouds, or of asilvery sea: it was a spiritual beauty for the most part. And hersorrow gave a quiet grace to her demeanour, peacefully ripening it intowhat is loveliest in ladyhood. She always looked like onewaiting�-sometimes like one listening, as she waited, to "melodiesunheard. "

CHAPTER XCI. 

One night, in the end of October, James Dow was walking by the side ofhis cart along a lonely road, through a peat-moss, on his way to thenearest sea-port for a load of coals. The moon was high and full. Hewas approaching a solitary milestone in the midst of the moss. It wasthe loneliest place. Low swells of peat-ground, the burial places ofold forests, rolled away on every side, with, here and there, patchesof the white-bearded canna-down, or cotton-grass, glimmering doubtfullyas the Wind woke and turned himself on the wide space, where he foundnothing to puff at but those same little old fairies sunning theirhoary beards in the strange moon. As Dow drew near to the milestone hesaw an odd-looking figure seated upon it. He was about to ask him if hewould like a lift, when the figure rose, and cried joyfully, "Jamie Doo!"

James Dow staggered back, and was nearly thrown down by theslow-rolling wheel; for the voice was Alec Forbes's. He gasped forbreath, and felt as if he were recovering from a sudden stroke ofparalysis, during which everything about him had passed away and a neworder come in. All that he was capable of was to cry _wo!_ to hishorse. 

There stood Alec, in rags, with a face thin but brown�-healthy, bold, and firm. He looked ten years older standing there in the moonlight. 

"The Lord preserve's!" cried Dow, and could say no more. 

"He has preserved me, ye see, Jeamie. Hoo's my mother?"

"She's brawly, brawly, Mr Alec. The Lord preserve's! She's beenterrible aboot ye. Ye maunna gang in upo' her. It wad kill her. "

"I hae a grainy sense left, Jeamie. But I'm awfu' tired. Ye maun jistturn yer cairt and tak' me hame. I'll be worth a lade o' coal to mymither ony gait. An' syne ye can brak it till her. "

Without another word, Dow turned his horse, helped Alec into the cart, covered him with his coat and some straw, and strode away beside, notknowing whether he was walking in a dream, or in a real starry night. Alec fell fast asleep, and never waked till the cart stood still, aboutmidnight, at his mother's door. He started up. 

"Lie still, Mr Alec, " said Dow, in a whisper. "The mistress 'll be inher bed. And gin ye gang in upo' her that gait, ye'll drive her daft. "

Alec lay down again, and Dow went to Mary's window, on the other side, to try to wake her. But just as he returned, Alec heard his mother'swindow open. 

"Who's there?" she called. 

"Naebody but me, Jeamie Doo, " answered James. "I was half-gaits toPortlokie, whan I had a mishap upo' the road. Bettie pat her fit upon asharp stane, and fell doon, and bruik baith her legs. "

"How did she come home then?"

"She bude to come hame, mem. "

"Broke her legs!"

"Hoot, mem�-her k-nees. I dinna mean the banes, ye ken, mem; only theskin. But she wasna fit to gang on. And sae I brocht her back. "

"What's that i' the cairt? Is't onything deid?"

"Na, mem, de'il a bit o' 't! It's livin' eneuch. It's a stranger ladthat I gae a lift till upo' the road. He's fell tired. "

But Dow's voice trembled, or�-or something or other revealed all to themother's heart. She gave a great cry. Alec sprung from the cart, rushedinto the house, and was in his mother's arms. 

Annie was asleep in the next room, but she half awoke with a sense ofhis presence. She had heard his voice through the folds of sleep. Andshe thought she was lying on the rug before the dining-room fire, withAlec and his mother at the tea-table, as on that night when he broughther in from the snow-hut. Finding out confusedly that the suppositiondid not correspond with some other vague consciousness, she supposednext that she "had died in sleep and was a blessed ghost, " just goingto find Alec in heaven. That was abandoned in its turn, and all at onceshe knew that she was in her own bed, and that Alec and his mother weretalking in the next room. 

She rose, but could hardly dress herself for trembling. When she wasdressed she sat down on the edge of the bed to bethink herself. 

The joy was almost torture, but it had a certain qualifying bitter init. Ever since she had believed him dead, Alec had been so near to her!She had loved him as much as ever she would. But Life had come insuddenly, and divided those whom Death had joined. Now he was a greatway off; and she dared not speak to him whom she had cherished in herheart. Modesty took the telescope from the hands of Love, and turningit, put the larger end to Annie's eye. Ever since her confession toCurly, she had been making fresh discoveries in her own heart; and nowthe tide of her love swelled so strong that she felt it must break outin an agony of joy, and betray her if once she looked in the face ofAlec alive from the dead. Nor was this all. What she had done about hismother's debt, must come out soon; and although Alec could not thinkthat she meant to lay him under obligation, he might yet feel underobligation, and that she could not bear. These things and many more soworked in the sensitive maiden that as soon as she heard Alec and hismother go to the dining-room she put on her bonnet and cloak, stolelike a thief through the house to the back door, and let herself outinto the night. 

She avoided the path, and went through the hedge into a field ofstubble at the back of the house across which she made her way to theturnpike road and the new bridge over the Glamour. Often she turned tolook back to the window of the room where he that had been dead wasalive and talking with his widowed mother; and only when theintervening trees hid it from her sight did she begin to think what sheshould do. She could think of nothing but to go to her aunt once more, and ask her to take her in for a few days. So she walked on through thesleeping town. 

Not a soul was awake, and the stillness was awful. It was a place oftombs. And those tombs were haunted by dreams. Away towards the west, the moon lay on the steep-sloping edge of a rugged cloud, appearing tohave rolled half-way down from its lofty peak, and about to be launchedoff its baseless bulk into

 "the empty, vast, and wandering air. "

In the middle of the large square of the little gray town she stood andlooked around her. All one side lay in shade; the greater part of theother three lay in moonlight. The old growth of centuries, gables andfronts�-stepping out into the light, retreating into theshadow�-outside stairs and dark gateways, stood up in the night wardinga townful of sleepers. Not one would be awake now. Ah yes! there waslight in the wool-carder's window. His wife was dying. That light overthe dying, wiped the death-look from the face of the sleeping town, Annie roused herself and passed on, fearing to be seen. It was the onlything to be afraid of. But the stillness was awful. One silence onlycould be more awful: the same silence at noon-day. 

So she passed into the western road and through the trees to the bridgeover the Wan Water. They stood so still in the moonlight! And the smellfrom the withering fields laid bare of the harvest and breathing outtheir damp odours, came to her mixed with the chill air from the darkhills around, already spiced with keen atoms of frost, soon to appearin spangly spikes. Beneath the bridge the river flowed maunderingly, blundering out unintelligible news of its parent bog and all the drearyplaces it had come through on its way to the strath of Glamerton, whichnobody listened to but one glad-hearted, puzzle-brained girl, who stoodlooking down into it from the bridge when she ought to have been in bedand asleep. She was not far from Clippenstrae, but she could not gothere so early, for her aunt would be frightened first and angry next. So she wandered up the stream to the old church-forsaken churchyard, and sat on one of the tombstones. It became very cold as the morningdrew on. The moon went down; the stars grew dim; the river ran with alivelier murmur; and through all the fine gradations of dawn-�cloudywind and grey sky�-the gates of orange and red burst open, and the suncame forth rejoicing. The long night was over. It had not been a veryweary one; for Annie had thoughts of her own, and like the earth in thewarm summer nights, could shine and flash up through the dark, seekingthe face of God in the altar-flame of prayer. Yet she was glad when thesun came. With the first bubble of the spring of light bursting out onthe hill-top, she rose and walked through the long shadows of thegraves down to the river and through the long shadows of the stubbledown the side of the river, which shone in the morning light like aflowing crystal of delicate brown-�and so to Clippenstrae, where shefound her aunt still in her night-cap. She was standing at the door, however, shading her eyes with her hand, looking abroad as if for someone that might be crossing hitherward from the east. She did not seeAnnie approaching from the north. 

"What are ye luikin' for, auntie?"

"Naething. Nae for you, ony gait, lassie. "

"Weel, ye see, I'm come ohn luikit for. But ye was luikin' forsomebody, auntie. "

"Na. I was only jist luikin'. "

Even Annie did not then know that it was the soul's hunger, the vaguesense of a need which nothing but the God of human faces, the God ofthe morning and of the starful night, the God of love andself-forgetfulness, can satisfy, that sent her money-loving, poverty-stricken, pining, grumbling old aunt out staring towards theeast. It is this formless idea of something at hand that keeps men andwomen striving to tear from the bosom of the world the secret of theirown hopes. How little they know what they look for in reality is theirGod! This is that for which their heart and their flesh cry out. 

Lead, lead me on, my Hopes. I know that ye are true and not vain. Vanish from my eyes day after day, but arise in new forms. I willfollow your holy deception;�-follow till ye have brought me to the feetof my Father in Heaven, where I shall find you all with folded wingsspangling the sapphire dusk whereon stands His throne, which is ourhome. 

"What do ye want sae ear's this, Annie Anderson?"

Margaret's first thought was always�-"What can the body be wantin'?"

"I want ye to tak' me in for a while, " answered Annie. 

"For an hoor or twa? Ow ay. "

"Na. For a week or twa maybe. "

"'Deed no. I'll do naething o' the kin', Lat them 'at made ye prood, keep ye prood. "

"I'm nae prood, auntie. What gars ye say that?"

"Sae prood 'at ye wadna tak' a gude offer whan it was i' yer pooer. Andsyne they turn ye oot whan it shuits themsels. Gentle fowks is sairmisca'd (misnamed). I'm no gaein' to tak' ye in. There's Dawvid Gordonwants a lass. Ye can jist gang till a place like ither fowk. "

"I'll gang and luik efter 't direckly. Hoo far is't, Auntie?"

"Gaein' and giein' awa' yer siller to beggars as gin 't war stew(dust), jist to be a gran' lady! Ye're nane sae gran', _I_ can tell ye. An' syne comin' to puir fowk like me to tak' ye in for a week or twa!Weel I wat!"

Auntie had been listening to evil tongues�-so much easier to listen tothan just tongues. With difficulty Annie kept back her tears. She madeno defence; tried to eat the porridge which her aunt set before her;and departed. Before three hours were over, she had the charge of thedairy and cooking at Willowcraig for the next six months of comingwinter and spring. Protected from suspicion, her spirits rose all thecheerier for their temporary depression, and she went singing about thehouse like a _lintie_. 

"As she did not appear at breakfast, and was absent from thedinner-table as well, Mrs Forbes set out with Alec to inquire afterher, and not knowing where else to go first, betook herself to RobertBruce. He showed more surprise than pleasure at seeing Alec, smilingwith his own acridness as he said, "I doobt ye haena brocht hame that barrel o' ile ye promised me, MrAlec? It wad hae cleared aff a guid sheave o' yer mither's debts. "

Alec answered cheerily, although his face flushed, "All in good time, I hope, Mr Bruce. I'm obliged to you for yourforbearance, though. "

He was too solemn-glad to be angry. 

"It canna laist for ever, ye ken, " rejoined Bruce, happy to be able tobite, although his poison-bag was gone. 

Alec made no reply. 

"Have you seen Annie Anderson to-day, Mr Bruce?" asked his mother. 

"'Deed no, mem. She doesna aften trouble huz wi' her company. We're nogran' eneuch for her. "

"Hasn't she been here to-day?" repeated Mrs Forbes, with discomposurein her look and tone. 

"Hae ye tint her, mem?" rejoined Bruce. "That _is_ a peety. She'll beawa' wi' that vaigabone, Willie Macwha. He was i' the toon last nicht. I saw him gang by wi' Baubie Peterson. "

They made him no reply, understanding well enough that though the onepremise might be true, the conclusion must be as false as it wasillogical and spiteful. They did not go to George Macwha's, but set outfor Clippenstrae. When they reached the cottage, they found Meg's nosein full vigour. 

"Na. She's no here. What for sud she be here? She has no claim upo' me, although it pleases you to turn her oot-�efter bringin' her up tonotions that hae jist ruined her wi' pride. "

"Indeed I didn't turn her out, Miss Anderson. "

"Weel, ye sud never hae taen her in. "

There was something in her manner which made them certain she knewwhere Annie was; but as she avoided every attempt to draw her into theadmission, they departed foiled, although relieved. She knew wellenough that Annie's refuge could not long remain concealed, but shefound it pleasant to annoy Mrs Forbes. 

And not many days passed before Mrs Forbes did learn where Annie was. But she was so taken up with her son, that weeks even passed beforethat part of her nature which needed a daughter's love began to assertitself again, and turn longingly towards her all but adopted child. 

Alec went away once more to the great town. He had certain remnants ofstudy to gather up at the university, and a certain experience to gothrough in the preparation of drugs, without which he could not obtainhis surgeon's diploma. The good harvest would by and by put a littlemoney in his mother's hands, and the sooner he was ready to practisethe better. 

The very day after he went, Mrs Forbes drove to Willowcraig to seeAnnie. She found her short-coated and short-wrappered, like any othergirl at a farmhouse. Annie was rather embarrassed at the sight of herfriend. Mrs Forbes could easily see, however, that there was no breachin her affection towards her. Yet it must be confessed that havingregard to the final return of her son, she was quite as well pleased toknow that she was bound to remain where she was for some time to come. 

She found the winter very dreary without her, though. 

CHARTER XCII. 

Finding herself in good quarters, Annie re-engaged herself at the endof the half-year. She had spent the winter in house work, combined withthe feeding of pigs and poultry, and partial ministrations to the wantsof the cows, of which she had milked the few continuing to give milkupon turnips and straw, and made the best of their scanty supply forthe use of the household. There was no hardship in her present life. She had plenty of wholesome food to eat, and she lay warm at night. Theold farmer, who was rather overbearing with his men, was kind to herbecause he liked her; and the guidwife was a sonsy (well conditioned)dame, who, when she scolded, never meant anything by it. 

She cherished her love for Alec, but was quite peaceful as to thefuture. How she might have felt had she heard that he was going to bemarried, I cannot take upon me to say. 

When her work was done, she would go out for a lonely walk, withoutasking leave or giving offence, indulging in the same lawlessness asbefore, and seeming incapable of being restrained by other bonds thanthose of duty. 

And now the month of April was nearly over, and the primroses were_glintin'_ on the braes. 

One evening she went out bare-headed to look how a certain den, wont tobe haunted by wild-flowers and singing-birds, was getting on towardsits complement of summer pleasures. As she was climbing over a fence, ahorseman came round the corner of the road. She saw at a glance that itwas Alec, and got down again. 

Change had passed upon both since they parted. He was a full-grown manwith a settled look. She was a lovely woman, even more delicate andgraceful than her childhood had promised. 

As she got down from the fence, he got down from his horse. Without aword on either side, their hands joined, and still they stood silentfor a minute, Annie with her eyes on the ground, Alec gazing in herface, which was pale with more than its usual paleness. 

"I saw Curly yesterday, " said Alec at length, with what seemed to Anniea meaning look. 

Her face flushed as red as fire. �-Could Curly have betrayed her?

She managed to stammer out, "Oh! Did you?

And then silence fell again. 

"Eh! Alec, " she said at length, taking up the conversation, in herturn, "we thought we would never see ye again. "

"I thought so too, " answered Alec, "when the great berg came down on usthrough the snow-storm, and flung the barque upon the floe with herside crushed in. �-How I used to dream about the old school-days, Annie, and finding you in my hut!-�And I did find you in the snow, Annie. "

But a figure came round the other corner�-for the road made a doublesweep at this point�-and cried�-

"Annie, come hame direcly. Ye're wantit. "

"I'm coming to see you again soon, Annie, " said Alec. "But I must goaway for a mouth or two first. "

Annie replied with a smile and an outstretched hand�-nothing more. Shecould wait well enough. 

How lovely the flowers in the dyke-sides looked as she followed MrsGordon home! But the thought that perhaps Curly had told him somethingwas like the serpent under them. Yet somehow she had got so beautifulbefore she reached the house, that her aunt, who had come to see her, called out, "Losh! lassie! What hae ye been aboot? Ye hae a colour by ordinar'. "

"That's easy accoontet for, " said her mistress roguishly. "She wasstan'in' killoguin wi' a bonnie young lad an' a horse. I winna hae sicdoin's aboot my hoose, I can tell ye, lass. "

Margaret Anderson flew into a passion, and abused her with many words, which Annie, so far from resenting, scarcely even heard. At length sheceased, and departed almost without an adieu. But what did itmatter?-�What did any earthly thing matter, if only Curly had not toldhim?

Now, all that Curly had told Alec was that Annie was not engaged tohim. 

So the days and nights passed, and Spring, the girl, changed intoSummer, the woman; and still Alec did not come. 

One evening, when a wind that blew from the west, and seemed to smellof the roses of the sunset, was filling her rosy heart with joy�-Anniesat in a rough little seat, scarcely an arbour, at the bottom of agarden of the true country order, where all the dear old-fashionedglories of sweet-peas, cabbage-roses, larkspur, gardener's garters, honesty, poppies, and peonies, grew in homely companionship withgooseberry and currant bushes, with potatoes and pease. The scent ofthe sunset came in reality from a _cheval de frise_ of wallflower onthe coping of the low stone wall behind where she was sitting with herMilton. She read aloud in a low voice that sonnet beginning "_Lady thatin the prime of earliest youth_. " As she finished it, a voice, as low, said, almost in her ear, "That's you, Annie. "

Alec was looking over the garden wall behind her. 

"Eh, Alec, " she cried, starting to her feet, at once shocked anddelighted, "dinna say that. It's dreidfu' to hear ye say sic a thing. Iwish I was a wee like her. "

"Weel, Annie, I think ye're jist like her. But come oot wi' me. I hae astory to tell ye. Gie me yer han', and pit yer fit upo' the seat. "

She was over the wall in a moment, and they were soon seated under thetrees of the copse near which Annie had met him before. The browntwilight was coming on, and a warm sleepy hush pervaded earth and air, broken only by the stream below them, cantering away over its stones tojoin the Wan Water. Neither of them was inclined to quarrel with thetreeless country about them: they were lapped in foliage; nor with thedesolate moorland hills around them: they only drove them closertogether. 

Time unmeasured by either passed without speech. 

"They tell't me, " said Alec at length, "that you and Curly had made itup. "

"Alec!" exclaimed Annie, and looked up in his face as if he had accusedher of infidelity, but, instantly dropping her eyes, said no more. 

"I wad hae fun' ye oot afore a day was ower, gin it hadna been forthat. "

Annie's heart beat violently, but she said nothing, and, after asilence, Alec went on. 

"Did my mother ever tell ye about how the barque was lost?"

"No, Alec. "

"It was a terrible snow-storm with wind. We couldn't see more than afew yards a-head. We were under bare poles, but we couldn't keep fromdrifting. All in a moment a huge ghastly thing came out of the gloamin'to windward, bore down on us like a spectre, and dashed us on afloating field of ice. The barque was thrown right upon it with oneside stove in; but nobody was killed. It was an awful night, Annie; butI'm not going to tell you about it now. We made a rough sledge, andloaded it with provisions, and set out westward, and were carriedwestward at the same time on the floe, till we came near land. Then welaunched our boat and got to the shore of Greenland. There we set outtravelling southwards. Many of our men died, do what I could to keepthem alive. But I'll tell you all about it another time, if you'll letme. What I want to tell you noo's this. �-Ilka nicht, as sure as I laydoon i' the snaw to sleep, I dreamed I was at hame. A' the auld storiescam' back. I woke ance, thinkin' I was carryin' you throu' the water i'the lobby o' the schuil, and that ye was greitin' upo' my face. Andwhan I woke, my face was weet. I doobt I had been greitin mysel'. A'the auld faces cam' roon' me ilka nicht, Thomas Crann and Jeames Dowand my mother�-whiles ane and whiles anither-�but ye was aye there. 

"Ae mornin', whan I woke up, I was my lane. I dinna ken richtly hoo ithad happened. I think the men war nigh-han' dazed wi' the terriblecauld and the weariness o' the traivel, and I had sleepit ower lang, and they had forgotten a' aboot me. And what think ye was the firstthocht i' my heid, whan I cam' to mysel', i' the terrible whitedesolation o' cauld and ice and snaw? I wantit to run straucht to you, and lay my heid upo' yer shouther. For I had been dreamin' a' nichtthat I was lyin' i' my bed at hame, terrible ill, and ye war gaeinaboot the room like an angel, wi' the glimmer o' white wings aboot ye, which I reckon was the snaw comin' throu' my dream. And ye wad nevercome near me; and I cudna speak to cry to ye to come; till at last, whan my hert was like to brak 'cause ye wadna luik at me, ye turned wi'tears i' yer een, and cam' to the bedside and leaned ower me, and�-"

Here Alec's voice failed him. 

"Sae ye see it was nae wonner that I wantit you, whan I fand mysel' a'my lane i' the dreidfu' place, the very beauty o' which was deidly. 

"Weel, that wasna a'. I got mair that day than I thocht ever to get. Annie, I think what Thomas Crann used to say maun be true. Annie, Ithink a body may some day get a kin' o' a sicht o' the face o' God. �-Iwas sae dooncast, whan I saw mysel' left ahin', that I sat doon upon arock and glowered at naething. It was awfu'. An' it grew waur and waur, till the only comfort I had was that I cudna live lang. And wi' thatthe thocht o' God cam' into my heid, and it seemed as gin I had aricht, as it war, to call upon him-�I was sae miserable. 

"And there cam' ower me a quaietness, and like a warm breath o' springair. I dinna ken what it was-�but it set me upo' my feet, and I startitto follow the lave. Snaw had fa'en, sae that I could hardly see thetrack. And I never cam' up wi' them, and I haena heard o' them sin'syne. 

"The silence at first had been fearfu'; but noo, somehoo or ither, Icanna richtly explain 't, the silence seemed to be God himsel' a' abootme. 

"And I'll never forget him again, Annie. 

"I cam' upo' tracks, but no o' oor ain men. They war the fowk o' thecountry. And they brocht me whaur there was a schooner lyin' ready togang to Archangel. And here I am. "

Was there ever a gladder heart than Annie's? She was weeping as if herlife would flow away in tears. She had known that Alec would come backto God some day. 

He ceased speaking, but she could not cease weeping. If she had triedto stop the tears, she would have been torn with sobs. They sat silentfor a long time. At length Alec spoke again:

"Annie, I don't deserve it�-but _will_ you be my wife some day?"

And all the answer Annie made was to lay her head on his bosom and weepon. 

CHAPTER XCIII. 

Is it worth while, I debate with myself, to write one word more?-�ShallI tie the ends of my warp, or leave them loose?-�I will tie them, butno one needs sit out the process. 

The farm of Howglen prospered. Alec never practised in his profession, but became a first-rate farmer. Within two years Annie and he weremarried, and began a new chapter of their history. 

When Mrs Forbes found that Alec and Annie were engaged, she discoveredthat she had been in reality wishing it for a long time, and that theopposing sense of duty had been worldly. 

Mr Cupples came to see them every summer, and generally remained overthe harvest. He never married. But he wrote a good book. 

Thomas Crann and he had many long disputes, and did each other good. Thomas grew gentler as he grew older. And he learned to hope more forother people. And then he hoped more for himself too. 

The first time Curly saw Annie after the wedding, he was amazed at hisown presumption in ever thinking of marrying such a lady. When aboutthirty, by which time he had a good business of his own, he marriedIsie Constable�-still little, still old-fashioned, and still wise. 

Margaret Anderson was taken good care of by Annie Forbes, but keptherself clear of all obligation by never acknowledging any. 

Robert Bruce had to refund, and content himself with his rights. Hedied worth a good deal of money notwithstanding, which must have been agreat comfort to him at the last. 

Young Robert is a clergyman, has married a rich wife, hopes to beModerator of the Assembly some day, and never alludes to his royalancestor. 

 THE END. 

Note from John Bechard, transcriber of this electronic text. 

The following is a list of Scottish words found in George MacDonald�s_Alec Forbes of Howglen_. I have compiled this list myself and workedout the definitions from context with the help of Margaret West, fromLeven in Fife, Scotland, and also by referring to a word list found ina collection of poems by Robert Burns, _Chamber�s Scots DialectDictionary from the 17th century to the Present_ c. 1911 and_Scots-English English-Scots Dictionary_ Lomond Books c. 1998. I havetried to be as thorough as possible given the limited resources andwelcome any feedback on this list (my e-mail address isJaBBechard@aol. Com). This was never meant to be a comprehensive list ofthe Scots Dialect, but rather an aid to understanding some of theconversations and references that appear in this novel. I do apologisefor any mistakes or omissions. I aimed for my list to be verycomprehensive, and it often repeats the same word in a plural ordiminutive form. As well, it includes words that are quite obvious tonative English speakers, only spelled in such a way to demonstrate theregional pronunciation. 

This list is a compressed format that consists of three columns for�word�, �definition�, and �notes�. It is set up with a comma betweeneach item and a hard return at the end of each definition. This meansthat this section could easily be cut and pasted into its own text fileand imported into a database or spreadsheet as a comma separatedvariable file (. Csv file). Failing that, you could do a search andreplace for commas in this section (I have not used any commas in mywords, definitions or notes) and replace the commas with spaces ortabs. 

Word, Definition, Notesa', all; every, also havea' gait, everywhere, a' thing, everything; anything, abettin', abetting, a'body, everyone; everybody, aboon, above; up; over, also beyond; more thanaboot, about, ac', act, accep', accept, accoont, account, accoontet, accounted, accoontit, accounted, accordin', according, acquant, acquainted, actin', acting, addin', adding, ado, stir; excitement, ae, one, aff, off; away; past; beyond, affeenity, affinity, affoord, afford, affront, affront; disgrace; shame, affrontit, affronted; disgraced, also ashamed; shamedafore, before; in front of, aforehan', beforehand, aften, often, aftener, more often, again', against, agen, against, agin, again, aglintin', twinkling; gleaming, Ahchan, Achan, reference to Joshua 7aheid, ahead, ahin, behind; after; at the back of, ahin', behind; after; at the back of, ahint, behind; after; at the back of, aiblins, perhaps; possibly, aich, ach, also echoAidam, Adam, aidin', aiding, aik, oak, ain, own, also oneairch, arch, airm, arm, airms, arms, also coat of arms; crestairmy, army, airt, quarter; direction; compass point, also artairthly, earthly, aise, ashes, aith, oath, aither, either, alack, alas, alane, alone, alang, along, alloo, allow, allooance, allowance, allooed, allowed, allooin', allowing, alloos, allows, Almichty, Almighty; God, amaist, almost, amo', among, amunt, amount, an', and, anawtomy, anatomy, ance, once, ane, one, also a single person or thinganeath, beneath; under, Anerew, Andrew, anes, ones, also onceanger, anger; make angry, also grieveangert, angered; angry, also grievedanither, another, appeteet, appetite, a'ready, already, arena, are not, arles, money paid as an earnest, also one's deserts; thrashingasclent, obliquely, aside, beside, also asideasides, beside; besides, as'll, as will, aspec', aspect, 'at, that, a'thegeether, all together, a'thegether, all together, a'thegither, all together, a'thing, everything; anything, athort, across; over; through, 'at's, that is; that has, attemp', attempt, atten'in', attending, attoarneys, attorneys, atween, between, aucht, eight; eighth, also ought; anything; own; possess; owedauchteen, eighteen, auld, old, auld-farrand, old-fashioned, also droll; witty; quaintava, at all; of all, exclamation of banter; ridiculeava', at all; of all, exclamation of banter; ridiculeawa, away; distant, also off; be off; go awayawa', away; distant, also off; be off; go awayawar', aware, awauk, awake, Awbrahawm, Abraham, awe, owe, also ownaweel, ah well; well then; well, awfu', awful, awin, owing, ay, yes; indeed, exclamation of surprise; wonderaye, yes; indeed, ayont, beyond; after, ba', ball (snowball), baad, bad, backbane, backbone, backwater, too much water in a mill-lade, hindering the revolution of the wheelback-yett, back-gate, bade, did bide; waited, bairn, child, bairnie, little child, diminutivebairnies, little children, diminutivebairns, children, baith, both, band, bound, bane, bone, banes, bones, barkit, clotted; encrusted, hardened on the skinbarrow, wheelbarrow, bauchles, old pair of shoes, also shoes down at the heelBaudrons, kindly designation for a cat, bauld, bold, bawbee, halfpenny, bawbees, halfpennies, beadin', beading, bearin', bearing, bearin's, bearings, beastie, beast; animal, diminutive to express sympathy or affectionbecomin', becoming, beeriet, buried, beet, boot, beginnin', beginning, begud, began, bein', being, bein's, beings, beir, bear, beirers, bearers, beirin', bearing; allowing, beirs, bears, bejan, first year's student, at a Scottish universitybejans, first year's students, at a Scottish universitybelang, belong, belanged, belonged, believin', believing, belongin's, belongings, belongt, belonged, ben, in; inside; into; within; inwards, also inner roombena, be not; is not, ben-end, best room in the house, pertaining to a two-roomed housebenn, in; inside; into; within; inwards, also inner roombenn the hoose, in/into the parlour, best room of the housebest-natered, best natured, bet, bit, beuk, book, also Biblebeuks, books, bewaur, beware, bick, bitch, bicks, bitches, biddin', bidding, bide, endure; bear; remain; live, also desire; wish; bidebides, endures; bears; remains; lives, also stays for; bidesbidin', enduring; bearing; remaining; living, also desiring; wishing; bidingbig, build, bigget, built, biggin, building, biggit, built, bigs, builds, bilin', boiling, also the whole quantitybin', bind, binna, be not; is not, birk, birch; birch tree, birken, birch (wood), birr, force; energy; violence, birstled, scorched, birthricht, birthright, bit, but; bit; morsel of food, also small; little--diminutivebit and sup, food and drink, bitet, bit, past participle of bitebitter, spiteful, bittie, little bit, diminutivebitties, little bits, diminutiveblackin', blacking, blae, blue, blaeberries, blueberries, blast, blast, also use big words or strong languageblastie, little blast; gust, diminutiveblastin', blasting, also using big words or strong languageblastit, blasted, also used big words or strong languageblaud, spoil; injure; soil, blaudeth, spoileth, King James Bible style of speechblaudin', spoiling; injuring; soiling, blaudit, spoiled; injured; soiled, blaw, blow, blawin', blowing, blawn, blown, blazin', blazing, bleedin', bleeding, blin', blind, blinkin', shining; gleaming; twinkling, blinlins, blindly, blin'ness, blindness, blin's, blinds, blude, blood, bluid, blood, bluidy, bloody, boady, body, boasom, bosom, boatle, bottle (of whisky), bobbin', bobbing, boddom, bottom, bodies, people; fellows; folk, body, person; fellow, also bodybonnie, good; beautiful; pretty; handsome, bonnier, better; more beautiful; prettier, bonniest, best; most beautiful; prettiest, also considerablebonny, good; beautiful; pretty; handsome, booed, bowed, bossie, large wooden bowl, serving bowlbothie, cottage in common for farm-servants, boucht, bought, boun', bound, brack, break, brackin', breaking, bracks, breaks, brae, hill; hillside; high ground by a river, braes, hills; hillsides; high ground by a river, braggin', bragging, braid, broad; having a strong accent, brak, break, brak', break, brakfast, breakfast, brakin', breaking, brat, child, term of contemptbraw, beautiful; good; fine, also lovely (girl); handsome (boy)brawly, admirably; very; very much; well, breathin', breathing, breedin', breeding, breek-pooch, trouser pocket, breeks, breeches; trousers, breest, breast, breid, bread, breist, breast, briest, breast, brig, bridge, brigs, bridges, brimstane, brimstone, bringin', bringing, brither, brother, brithers, brothers; fellows, brithren, brethren; brothers, brocht, brought, brods, boards; (book covers), broo, brow; eyebrow, also brew; liquorbroon, brown, brose, water; soup; meal; oatmeal pudding, broucht, brought, bruik, broke, brunstane, brimstone, brunt, burned, buckie, periwinkle, also trifle of no valuebude, would prefer to; behoved, also must; had tobuik, book, also Biblebuikie, little book, diminutivebuiks, books, buird, board, buirds, boards, bunce, bounce, burnie, little stream, diminutiveburnin', burning, burnin's, burnings, burns, water; streams; brooks, buryin', burying, also funeralbut, main room in a croft; outside, includes kitchen and storage; also butbutt, main room in a croft; outside, includes kitchen and storagebutt the hoose, into the house; into the kitchen, by gangs, passes by; goes by, by ordinar, out of the ordinary; supernatural, also unusual; exceptionalby ordinar', out of the ordinary; supernatural, also unusual; exceptionalbye and aboon, over and above, byganes, bygones, bykes, hives; swarms; crowds, also bees' or wasps' nestsbyous, exceedingly; extraordinary; very, byre, cowshed, byre-wa', cowshed wall, ca, drive; impell; hammer, ca', call; name, ca'd, called, also driven; impelled; hammeredcadger, carrier; peddlar, cairt, card, also cartcairts, cards, calcleation, calculation, callan, stripling; lad, term of affectioncaller, fresh; refreshing; cool, cam, came, cam', came, camna, did not come, camstairie, unmanageable; wild; obstinate, also perversecankert, cross; ill-humoured, also fretfulcan'le, candle, can'le-licht, candle-light, can'les, candles, canna, cannot, also cotton-grasscanna-down, cotton-grass, cannie, cautious; prudent; shrewd; artful, also gentle; snug; pleasantcanny, cautious; prudent; shrewd; artful, also gentle; snug; pleasantcapawcity, capacity, carefu', careful, carin', caring, carl, man; clown; boor in manners; churl, carlin, old woman; shrew; hag, carr, calves, carritchis, catechism, carryin', carrying, ca's, calls, cast, thrown off; discarded (clothes), also appearance; aspect; lose colour; fadecast up, taunt; reproach, castin', casting, ca't, call it, also hammer it; impel it; hammer itcatchin', catching, cat-loup, short distance; moment of time, caud, cold (illness), cauf, calf, also foolcauld, cold, 'cause, because, caution, security; guarantee, caw, drive; impell; hammer, cawed, driven; impelled; hammered, cawpable, capable, ceevil, civil, ceevily, civilly, 'cep, except; but, 'cep', except; but, chairge, charge, chait, cheat, change-hoose, alehouse; tavern, chap, knock; hammer; strike; rap, chappit, knocked; hammered; struck; rapped, chaumer, chamber; room; bedroom, cheap, thoroughly deserving, cheemistry, chemistry, cheerman, chairman, cheese, choose, cheir, chair, cheirs, chairs, chice, choice, chiel', child; young person; fellow, term of fondness or intimacychield, child; young person; fellow, term of fondness or intimacychimley, chimney, chimleys, chimneys, chokin', choking, chop, shop; store, chop-door, shop door, chowin', chewing, chowse, choose, chucken, chicken, civileezed, civilized, claes, clothes; dress, claik, cackle of a hen, also idle or false reportclaiks, cackles of a hen, also idle or false reportsclaisp't, clasped, clampit, made a noise of shoes when walking, clanjamfrie, low worthless people, clappit, patted; stroked; fondled, also pressed downclash, blow; slap; mess, also gossip; tittle-tattle; tale-bearingclave, cleaved, claver, talk idly or foolishly; gossip; chat, clean, altogether; entirely, also comely; shapely; empty; cleancleanin', cleaning, cleckit, hatched; born, cleuks, claws; hands; paws, clift, cleft, clippin', clipping; shearing (sheep), clood, cloud, cloods, clouds, cloot, clout; box (ear); beat; slap, also patch; mendclortit, besmeared; dirtied, close, narrow alley; blind alley, also enclosed landcloured, struck; indented; beat, cluds, clouds, cluiks, hands; claws; paws; clutches, clured, struck; indented; beaten, cnottie, little lump, diminutivecoampliments, compliments, coatie, children's coat; petticoat, coats, petticoats, coch, coach, cockit, cocked, cogues, small wooden vessel, coguie, small wooden vessel, for holding milk (diminutive)collieshangie, uproar; squabble; outbreak, colliginer, college student, also college boycolliginers, college students, college boyscomena, do not come, comin, coming, comin', coming, compaingon, companion, compairateevely, comparatively, compleen, complain, compleenin', complaining, compoon, compound, condeetion, condition, conduc', conduct, conductin', conducting, confoon', confound, conformin', conforming, conneckit, connected, consequens, consequence, consolin', consoling, consortin', consorting, contack, contact, conteenin', containing, conteens, contains, contred, contradicted; thwarted; crossed, contrivin', contriving; designing, convertin', converting, convertit, converted, coo, cow, cooardly, cowardly, cooncellor, councilor, coonsel, counsel, coont, count, coontenance, countenance, coonter, counter, coontit, counted, coonty, county, coorse, coarse, also coursecoortin', courting, copyin', copying, corp, body; corpse, corpus, corpse, corpuses, corpses, correck, correct, corrup', corrupt, cot, cottage, cottar, farm tenant; cottager, couldna, could not, coup, tilt; tumble; drink off, couples, rafters, couthy, kind; snug; comfortable; familiar, coverin', covering, cowerin', cowering, cowmon, common, crack, news; story; chat; gossip, also crack-brainedcrackin', cracking; thundering, cracklin', crackling, craik, to croak; cry out harshly; murmur, crap, top part, also creptcrater, creature, craters, creatures, cratur, creature, cratur', creature, craturs, creatures, crawn, crowed, crayter, creature, creepie, (three legged) stool, a child's chaircrew, crowed, creysh, grease, cried, called; summoned, crinkle-crankle, rustling and creaking, crisping, crackling, sound as ground under foot in a slight frostcronie, crony; friend; companion, crookit, crooked; bent; twisted, croon, crown, crumblin', crumbling, crunkle, crease; wrinkle; crumple, cruppen, crept, cryin', calling; summoning, cud, could, cudna, could not, cummummerate, commemorate, cupples, rafters, curbstane, curbstone, curfufflin', ruffling; disheveling, curst, cursed, cuttin', cutting, cuttit, cut; harvested, cutty-clay, short clay-pipe, dacency, decency, dacent, decent, daft, mentally deranged; delirious; silly, damnin', damning; condemning, dam't, damned, dang, knock; bang; drive, also damndarg, day's work, work done in a daydauner, stroll; saunter; amble, daun'er, stroll; saunter; amble, daur, dare; challenge, daured, dared; challenged, dauredna, did not dare; did not challenge, daurna, dare not; do not dare, daurs, dares; challenges, daursay, dare say, daw, dawn, Dawgon, Dagon; Philistine god, see 1 Samuel 5:2-7dawtie, darling; pet, term of endearmentDawvid, David, daylicht, daylight, dazin', dazing; bemuddling, de, do, dealin', dealing, dearie, sweetheart; darling, deave, deafen, deceesion, decision, dee, do, also diedeed, died, also deed; indeed'deed, indeed, deedie, water in a mill race, deef, deaf, deein', doing, also dyingdeevil, devil, deevilich, devilish, also extraordinary; supernaturaldeevilry, devilry, deevils, devils, defamin', defaming, defen', defend, defyin', defying, deid, dead, also deathdeidly, deadly, deif, deaf, deil, devil, also not ade'il, devil, also not aDeil a bit!, Not at all! Not a bit!, deils, devils, dein', dying, deith, death, delicat, delicate, denner, dinner, denner-time, dinner time, deowty, duty, depairt, depart, depen', depend, depen'in', depending, deuke, duck, deycons, deacons, dictionar', dictionary, didna, did not, differ, difference; dissent, also differdight, wipe; clean, din, sound; din; report; fame, ding, overcome; weary; vex, also drive; dashdingin', overcoming; wearying; vexing, also driving; raining/snowing heavilydinna, do not, direc, direct, direc', direct, direckly, directly; immediately, direcly, directly, dirk, dirk; dagger, dirl, thrill; tingle, dirrty, dirty, dis, does, discipleen, discipline, discoont, discount, discoorse, discourse, disinteresstitness, disinterestedness, disjaskit, worn out; fatigued; exhausted, also dejected; depresseddisna, does not, displeesur, displeasure, displeesur', displeasure, disposin', disposing, disregaird, disregard, disrespeck, disrespect, dist, dust, disturbin', disturbing, disturbit, disturbed, div, do, divna, do not, divot, thin flat piece of sod; turf, dizzen, dozen, dochter, daughter, dochters, daughters, dochtna, could not, dockit, clipped, doctorin', doctoring, doesna, does not, doin', doing, doin's, doings, doited, foolish; stupefied; crazy, dominie, minister; schoolmaster, slightly contemptuousdominies, ministers; schoolmasters, slightly contemptuousdoo, dove, darling--term of endearmentdooble, double; duplicate, also double dealing; deviousdoobt, suspect; know; doubt, have an unpleasant convictiondoobtfu', doubtful, doobtin', suspecting; knowing, also doubtingdoobts, suspects; knows, also doubtsdoom, doom; end; sentence, dooms, extremely; exceedingly; very, doom's, extremely; exceedingly; very; great, doon, down, dooncast, downcast, doonfa', downfall, doonhertit, downhearted, doonricht, downright, doonwith, downward, door-cheek, door-post; threshold; doorway, door-sill, threshold, doot, doubt, also suspect; suspectdo't, do it, dottle, unconsumed tobacco in a pipe, douce, gentle; sensible; sober; prudent, doun, down, doup, bottom; backside; buttocks, dour, hard; stern; stiff; sullen, draan, drawn, draigon, dragon; also boy's paper kite, reference to Revelation 12-13drap, drop; small quantity of, drappit, dropped, drappy, little drop; a little (liquor), diminutivedrap's bluid, related by blood, drave, drove, drawers, chest of drawers, dreadfu', dreadful, dreamin', dreaming, drede, dread, dreidfu', dreadful; dreadfully, drift, snow driven by the wind, drinkin', drinking, drippin', dripping, drivin', driving, droon, drown, drooned, drowned, droonin', drowning, droons, drowns, droont, drowned, drouth, thirst; dryness, also droughtdrucken, drunken; tipsy, drunken, drank; drunk, dryin', drying, dub, mud; small pool of water, dubby, miry; muddy; dirty, duds, clothes; rags; tatters, dune, done, dune't, done it, dwin'lin', dwindling, dyin', dying, dyke, wall of stone or turf, ear', early, eatin', eating, Edam, Adam, edder, adder, edication, education, ee, eye, eebrees, eyebrows, eemage, image, een, eyes, eeran', errand, eesicht, eyesight; by all appearances, effecks, effects, efter, after; afterwards, efterhin, after; afterwards, efternoon, afternoon, efterwards, afterwards, eicht, eight; eighth, elbuck, elbow, elec, elect, chosen by God for salvation (Calvinism)elec', elect, chosen by God for salvation (Calvinism)eleck, elect, chosen by God for salvation (Calvinism)en', end, endeevour, endeavour, endeevours, endeavours, eneuch, enough, enlichten, enlighten, enterest, interest, entick, dam built across a river, everlastin', everlasting, exackly, exactly, excep', except, expec', expect, expecket, expected, expeckin', expecting, expeckit, expected, extrornar, extraordinary, eyther, either, Ezakiel, Ezekiel, book in the Old Testamentfa', fall; befall, fac, fact; truth; reality, fac', fact; truth; reality, fa'en, fallen, faimily, family, fa'in', falling, faintin', fainting, Faith!, Indeed!; Truly!, exclamationfallow, fellow; chap, fallows, fellows; chaps, fand, found, fareweel, farewell, farmin', farming, farrer, farther, fa's, falls, fash, trouble; inconvenience; vex, fashous, troublesome; vexing, faul'd, folded, faun', found, faund, found, fause, false, faushion, fashion, fau't, fault; blame, fauts, faults, fau'ts, faults, fau't's, fault is, feared, afraid; frightened; scared, fearfu', fearful; easily frightened, fearsome, terrifying; fearful; awful, fecht, fight; struggle, fechtin', fighting; struggling, feckless, weak; feeble; incapable, feelin', feeling, feelin's, feelings, fegs!, truly!; really!; goodness!; faith!, mild oath; exclamation of surprisefell, very; potent; keen; harsh; sharp, intensifies; also turf; lot; destinyfeow, few, ferm, farm, fess, fetch; bring, fest, fast, fin, find, also feelfin', find, also feelfin'in', finding; feeling, firs, first, fit, foot; base, also fit; capable; ablefit-haud, foothold, fiver, fever, flamin', flaming, flang, kicked; threw, flannin, flannel, flauchterin', fluttering, flaw, flew, flee, fly; flee, also fly (the insect)fleechin', wheedling; flattering; fawning, fleein', flying; fleeing, fleg, blow; kick; stroke, also scare; frightenfleggin', blowing; kicking; stroking, also scaring; frighteningfleyt, terrified; frightened, fling, kick; throw, fling't, kick it; throw it, flit, shift; remove; depart, floatin', floating, flooer, flower, flooers, flowers, floories, little flowers, diminutiveflure, floor, flutterin', fluttering, followin', following, forbears, ancestors; forefathers, forby, as well; as well as; besides, also over and aboveforbye, as well; as well as; besides, also over and aboveforenichts, fore-nights; early evenings, also late afternoonsforeordeen't, foreordained, foret, forward, forfochten, worn out; exhausted, forgettin', forgetting, forgie, forgive, for's, for his, for't, for it, fortnicht, fortnight; two weeks, fother, fodder; provision, foughten, fought, foul-fa', devil take; evil befall, foul-mou'd, foul-mouthed, fourt, fourth, fower, four, fowk, folk, fowks, folks, fra, from, frae, from, frae't, from it, free, frank; outspoken; genial; familiar, freely, quite; very; thoroughly, frein', friend, frichtit, frightened; scared away, frien', friend, frien's, friends, fu', full; very; much, fule, fool, fules, fools, fumblin', fumbling, fun', found, fundation, foundation, fund't, founded, furth, forth, fushionless, pithless; tasteless; feeble, fusionless, pithless; tasteless; feeble, futteret, weasel, term of contemptfykes, trifles; troubles; cares; whims, gad, iron bar, gae, gave, also goga'e, gave, gaed, went, gaein, going, gaein', going, gaeins, goings, gairden, garden, gait, way; fashion, also route; streetgaither, gather, gaits, ways, also routes; streetsgane, gone, gane hame, gone home, also passed away; diedgang, go; goes; depart; walk, gang yer wa's, go on, gangs, goes; walks, gar, cause; make; compel, garred, made; caused; compelled, garrin', making; causing; compelling, gars, makes; causes; compels, gart, made; caused; compelled, gaun, going, gear, possessions; money; property, also livestockgeid, gave, gentlefowk, gentlefolk; gentry, gerss, grass, gether, gather, gethered, gathered, getna, do not get, gettin', getting, gey, fairly; considerably, also considerablegey and, somewhat; rather, ghaist, ghost; soul; spirit, ghaistly, ghostly, gie, give, gie a lift, give a helping hand, gied, gave, giein, giving, giein', giving, gien, if; as if; then; whether, also givengi'en, given, gien't, if it, also given itgies, gives, gie's, gives; give us; give his, gie't, give it, gif, if; whether, gimp, slender; neat, gin, if; as if; then; whether, gin't, if it, girnel, granary; meal-chest, girnel-kist, meal-chest, girnell, granary; meal-chest, girnin', grimacing; snarling, girns, grimaces; snarls; twists the features, girrl, girl, girse, grass, glaid, glad, glaidle, gladly, glaidness, gladness, glaiss, glass, gleanins, gleanings, gleg, quick; lively; smart; quick-witted, gleg ee, quick or sharp eye (to notice things), gleg-eed, quick-eyed; sharp eyed, gleg-ee'd, quick-eyed; sharp eyed, glimmerin', glimmering, glimmert, glimmered, glimp, glimpse; glance, also the least degreeglimp', glimpse; glance, also the least degreeglinted, twinkled; glittered, glintin', twinkling; glittering, gloamin, twilight; dusk, gloamin', twilight; dusk, glorifeed, glorified, glowered, stared; gazed; scowled, glowerin', staring; gazing; scowling, glowert, stared; gazed; scowled, God-fearin', God-fearing, gomeril, fool; blockhead, goo, taste; odour; smell, goody, old woman, also child's name for a sweetgoon, gown, gowd, gold, gowden, golden, gowk, cuckoo; fool; blockhead, grainie, little particle; little bit, diminutivegrainy, little particle; little bit, graip, three-pronged fork, used in farminggraivitation, gravitation, gran', grand; capital; first-rate, gran'-dochter, grand-daughter, grandur, grandeur, gran'mither, grandmother, grat, cried; wept, gravestanes, gravestones; tombstones; headstones, greet, cry; weep, greetin, crying; weeping, greetin', crying; weeping, greit, cry; weep, greitin, crying; weeping, greitin', crying; weeping, grin', grind, grip, grasp; understand, also holdgrips, grasps; understands, seizures; colicgrit, great; big, grosert, gooseberry, growin, growing, growin', growing, growlin', growling, grue, feeling of horror; tremor, also tremblegrummle, grumble, grun', ground, gruntit, grunted, also grumbled; complainedgrutten, cried; wept, guairdian, guardian, guddle, mangle, guddlet, mangled, gude, good, also Godgude wife, mistress of the house; wife, also farmer's wifegudewife, mistress of the house; wife, also farmer's wifegueed, good, also Godguid, good, also Godguide, treat; handle; look after; manage; keep, guidit, treated; handled; managed, guidman, master; husband; head of household, also farmerguidwife, mistress of the house; wife, also farmer's wifeguiss, guess, guissin', guessing, gumption, common-sense; shrewdness, gurglin', gurgling, gutter-partans, gutter crab, ha', have, also hall; househadna, had not, hae, have; has, also here; understandhaein, having, haein', having, haeing, having, haena, have not; do not have, haena', have not; do not have, hae't, have it, haill, whole, hained, saved; hoard; shield, hairm, harm, Hairries, Harrys, hairst, harvest, hairst-play, school holidays during harvest, Haith!, Faith!, exclamation of surprisehalf-a-croon, half-crown; half a crown, =2 shillings and 6 pencehalf-gaits, half-way, half-hoor, half-hour, hame, home, han', hand, handit, handed, han'fu', handful, hangin', hanging, hangt, hanged, han'le, handle, han's, hands, hantel, much; large quantity; far, hantle, much; large quantity; far, happent, happened, happin', hopping, h'ard, heard, hardent, hardened, hard-hertit, hard-hearted, hards, what of boiled food, adheres to the pothard-workin', hard-working, harlin', rough-casting a wall, with a mixture of mortar and gravelhasna, does not have; has not; hasn't, haud, hold; keep, hauden, held; kept, haudin', holding; keeping, hauds, holds; keeps, hause, neck; throat, haven, heaven, haverin', talking incoherently; babbling, havers, nonsense; foolish talk; babble, haythen, heathen, he that will to Coupar maun to Coupar, a wilful man must have his way, heap, very much, also heaphearin', hearing, heark, listen, hearken, hearken; hear; listen, hearkened, hearkened; heard; listened, hearkenin', hearkening; listening, hearkent, hearkened; heard; listened, hearthstane, hearthstone, Hech!, Oh! strange!, a sighing exclamationheedlong, headlong, heedna, heed not; do not heed, heep, very much, also heapheepocreet, hypocrite, heid, head; heading, heidit, headed, heid-quarters, headquarters, heids, heads; headings, helpin', helping, her lane, on her own; her alone, hermaphrodeet, hermaphrodite, herrin, herring, herrin', herring, hersel, herself, hersel', herself, hersel's, herself has; herself is, hert, heart, herts, hearts, hert-sair, heart sore, herty, heartily; hearty, het, hot; burning, heumble, humble, heumbly, humbly, hidin', hiding, also beating; thrashinghidin'-place, hidding place, Hielanman, Highland man, hillo, ,a call to attract attentionhim lane, on his own; him alone, himsel, himself, himsel', himself, hinder, hinder; hind; latter, hing, hang, hingin', hanging, hinner, hinder; hind; latter, hinner en', end; end of life, hinner-en', end; end of life, hinnie, honey, hirin', hiring, hirple, limp; hobble, hirpling, limping; hobbling, hit, it, emphatichizzie, hussy; silly girl, hizzies, hussies; silly girls, hogsheid, hogshead; large barrel or cask, hoo, how, hooever, however, hooly, slowly; cautiously; gently, also 'take your time'hooly and fairly, slowly and gently, hoor, hour, hoors, hours, hoo's, how is, hoose, house; home, hoose-gear, household goods, hooses, houses; homes, hoose-taps, house-tops, hoosie, little house, diminutivehoot, pshaw, exclamation of doubt or contempthoot toot, tut!, exclamation of annoyancehoots, pshaw, exclamation of doubt or contempthorn, comb, also hornHorney, the devil, horsie, little horse, diminutivehost, cough, hough, man's leg or thigh, houp, hope, houpes, hopes, houpfu', hopeful, houps, hopes, how, hollow; valley; glen, howdie, midwife, howk, dig; excavate, howkin', digging; excavating, hoydenish, inelegantly, also inelegant; homelyhungert, starved, hunner, hundred, hurtit, hurt, huz, us, emphatici', in; into, I doobt, I know; I suspect, I doot, I know; I suspect, I doubt, I know; I suspect, I s' awa. , I'm off. ; I'd better go. , I wad, I know; I assure (you), idleset, idleness; frivolous amusement, also lazinessile, oil, ilka, every; each, also common; ordinaryill, bad; evil; hard; harsh; badly, also misfortune; harm'ill, will, ill-aff, poor; miserable; badly off, ill-contrived, tricky; mischievous, also badly behaved; ill-temperedill-designed, evilly disposed, ill-faured, unbecoming; ill-mannered; clumsy, also unpleasant; unsavouryill-guide, mismanage; ill-treat, ill-guideship, mismanagement; ill-treatment, ill-nater'd, ill-natured, ill-natert, ill-natured, ill-pleased, not pleased; unhappy, ill-tongued, foul-tongued; abusive, 'im, him, imaigin', imagine, imaigine, imagine, impidence, impudence, impident, impudent, impruvment, improvement, incomins, comings in, incontinent, forthwith; immediately, indwellin', indwelling, ingle-neuk, chimney-corner or recess; fireside, in's, in his, insicht, insight, instruc', instruct, instruck, instruct, in't, in it, intendit, intended, interrup', interrupt, intil, into; in; within, intil's, into his; into us, intil't, into it, inveesible, invisible, Is', I should; I shall, isna, is not; is no, isna't, is it not, is't, is it, ither, other; another; further, also else; otherwiseithers, others, itsel, itself, itsel', itself, itsel's, itself is, jabberin', chattering; idle talking, jabble, ripple; small broken waves, jaud, lass; girl; worthless woman, old worn-out horsejawd, lass; girl; worthless woman, old worn-out horsejawds, lasses; girls; worthless women, old worn-out horsesjawin', talking; chattering, jaws, billows; splashes; surges; waves, Jeames, James, jeedge, judge, jeedgement, judgement, jeedgment, judgement, jeerin', mocking, jeest, jest; joke, jeist, jest, jeistin', jesting, jiffie, moment, jine, join, jined, joined, jist, just, jokin', joking, jummlin', jumbling, jumps, tallies; coincides, also eagerly acceptskail, colewort, also food; dinnerkeekin', looking; peeping; prying, keekit, looked; peeped; spied, keepin', keeping, keepit, kept, ken, know; be acquainted with; recognise, kenna, do not know, kenned, known; knew, kennin, knowing, kennin', knowing, kens, knows, kensna, does not know, kent, known; knew, ken't, know it, kentna, did not know, kettlefu', kettleful, key-stane, key-stone, killin', killing, killoguin, plotting; conspiring, killt, killed, kin', kind; nature; sort; agreeable, also somewhat; in some degreekin'-herted, kind-hearted, kin'-hertit, kind-hearted, kin'list, kindliest, kin'ness, kindness, kirk, church, kirk-buiks, kirk-session's records or minute-books, kirkies, little churches, diminutivekirkyard, churchyard, kirk-yard, churchyard, kirsten, christen, kist, chest; coffer; box; chest of drawers, kitchie, kitchen, also addition or relish to plain farekittle, ticklish, kittlin', kitten, kye, cattle; cows, laad, lad; boy, term of commendation or reverencelaads, lads; boys, term of commendation or reverencelabourin', labouring, laddie, boy, term of affectionladdies, boys, term of affectionlade, load, ladles, small wooden box with a long handle, for collecting offerings in churchlaft, loft, laich, low; inferior, lainch, launch, laip, leap, laird, landed proprietor; squire; lord, laist, last, Laitin, Latin, lamentin', lamenting, lammie, little lamb, term of endearmentlammies, little lambs, term of endearmentlan', land; country; ground, lane, lone; alone; lonely; solitary, lanes, lone; alone, lanesome, lonesome, lang, long; big; large; many, also slow; tediouslanger, longer, langheided, shrewd; far-seeing; intelligent, lang-leggit, long legged, lang's, long as, lang-sichtit, far-sighted, langsome, slow; tedious; weary, lap, leaped, lass, girl; young woman, term of addresslass-bairns, female children; girl children, lasses, girls; young women, lassie, girl, term of endearmentlassies, girls, term of endearmentlat, let; allow, lat ower, swallow, lat's, let's; let us; let his, lattin, letting; allowing, lattin', letting; allowing, lauch, laugh, lauchen, laughed, lauchin, laughing, lauchin', laughing, lauchs, laughs, lauchter, laughter, lave, rest; remainder; others, also leavelaverock, lark (type of bird), lay awa', to lay eggs in out-of-the-way places, used of henslayin', laying, lay't, lay it, lea', leave, leal, loyal; faithful; sincere; true, learnin', learning, also teachinglearnt, learned, also taughtleddies, ladies, leddy, lady, also boy; lad; laddylee, pasture; fallow ground, also shelter from wind or rain; lieleeberties, liberties, leeberty, liberty, leebrarian, librarian, leebrary, library, leein', lying; telling lies, lee-lang, whole, leemited, limited, lees, lies, leevin', living; living being, leisur', leisure, leme, gleam, lemin', blazing; gleaming; flashing, len', lend; give; grant, also loanlenth, length, len'th, length, len'ths, lengths, lere, lore, leuch, laughed, leuk, look; watch; appearance, leukin, looking; watching, licht, light, lichter, lighter, licht-heidit, light-headed, lichtlied, made light of; disparaged, also despised; scornedlichtnin', lightning, lichts, lights, lick, thrash; punish; whip, also small quantitylicked, thrashed; punished; whipped, lickin', thrashing; punishment; whipping, licking, thrashing; punishment; whipping, lickins, thrashings; punishments; whippings, lickit, thrashed; punished; whipped, also lickedlicks, thrashes; punishments; whips, lift, load; boost; lift; helping hand, also sky; heavensliftin', lifting, liftit, lifted, liker, more like; better suited, likest, most like, likin', liking, likit, liked, likly, likely, limmer, rascal; rogue, also loose woman; prostitutelinks, stretch of sandy grass-covered ground, near the seashorelintie, linnet; type of finch (bird), lippen, trust; depend on, also look afterlippent, trusted; depended on, also looked afterlitster, dyer, livin', living, 'll, will, loadent, loaded, lockit, locked, lo'e, love, lo'ed, loved, lo'ein', loving, lo'es, loves, longin', longing, lood, loud, loof, palm of the hand, also hooflookin', looking, loon, rascal; rogue; ragamuffin, also boy; ladloons, rascals; rogues; ragamuffins, also boys; ladsloot, let; allowed; permitted, looten, let; allowed, lore, talk; conversation, Losh!, corrupt form of 'Lord', exclamation of surprise or wonderlosin', losing, lot, let, loun, rascal; rogue; ragamuffin, also boy; ladloup, leap; jump; spring, loupin', leaping; jumping; springing, lousened, loosened, low, flame, lowerin', stooping, lowin', flaming, lown, calm; serene; sheltered, lowne, calm; serene; sheltered, lowse, loose; free, also dishonest; immoralluckie, old woman, lucky, old woman, lug, ear; fin (fish); handle, also shallow wooden dishlugs, ears, luik, look, luik'd, looked, luikin, looking, luikin', looking, luikit, looked, luiks, looks, luik't, looked, lum, chimney, lyin', lying, 'm, him, magistrand, student about to become M. A. , at Aberdeen Universitymagistrands, students about to become M. A. , at Aberdeen Universitymainner, manner, mainners, manners, mair, more; greater, mairgin, margin, mairtyrs, martyrs, maist, most; almost, 'maist, almost, maister, master; mister, also schoolmastermaistly, mostly; most of all, maitter, matter, maitters, matters, mak, make; do, mak', make; do, makin', making; doing, maks, makes; does, mak's, makes; does, mappy, bunny; rabbit, mathemawtics, mathematics, mathewmawtics, mathematics, maukin, hare, also a reference to a poem by Burnsmaun, must; have to; has to, maunna, must not; may not, mayhap, perhaps; maybe, mayna, may not, meal-mull, meal mill, mealy-mou'd, mealy-mouthed, meanin', meaning, meddlet, meddled, meeserable, miserable, meetin, meeting, meetin', meeting, mem, Ma'am; Miss; Madam, men', mend, mendit, mended; healed, men'in', mending; healing, menseless, ill-bred; boorish; unmannerly, men't, mended, meowlin, mewing, merchan's, merchants; shopkeepers, mercifu', merciful; favourable, merryin', marrying; getting married, metapheesical, metaphysical, micht, might, michtna, might not, michty, mighty; God, midden, dunghill; manure pile, middlin', tolerable; mediocre; fairly well, midnicht, midnight, mids, midst; middle, mids', midst; middle, millstane, millstone, min', mind; recollection, also recollect; remember; remindmind, mind; recollection, also recollect; remember; remindmin'd, minded; recollected; remembered, also remindedmindit, minded; recollected; remembered, also remindedminds, reminds, ministerin', ministering, minnie, mother; mommy, pet nameminnisters, ministers, min's, minds; reminds; recollects, mint, insinuate; hint; feign, also aim at; attemptmintin', insinuating; hinting; feigning, also aiming at; attemptingmirk, darkness; gloom; night, misbelief, unbelief, misca'd, spoke evil of; scolded; called names, also misnamedmisca's, speaks evil of; scolds; calls names, mischeef, mischief; injury; harm, misdoobt, doubt; disbelieve; suspect, misgreein', growing stunted or crooked, misgrugled, disfigured; marred; handled roughly, misguided, wasted; mismanaged; ill-used, misguidit, wasted; mismanaged; ill-used, missionar, missionary, missionars, missionaries, mista'en, mistaken, mista'en', mistaken, mistak, mistake, mistak', mistake, mistakin', mistaking, mistak's, mistake as, mither, mother, mithers, mothers, mixter, mixture, mock, fun; jest; sham; swindle, Mononday, Monday, mony, many, mooly, earthy; earth-stained, moonlicht, moonlight, moose, mouse, mornin', morning, mou, mouth, mou', mouth, moudiwarp, mole, moufu', mouthful, mou'fu', mouthful, moul', mould; loose earth; top soil, mouls, moulds; soils; graves, mous, mouths, mou's, mouths, mowse, joke; jest, 'msel', himself, muck, wet dung; mud; mire, muckle, huge; enormous; big; great; much, mull, snuff-box, also millmune, moon, munelicht, moonlight, munsie, monsieur; contemptible figure, also spectacle through ill-treatmentmurlocks, crumbs; fragments, murrin', purring; murmuring, mutch, woman's cap with protruding frill, worn under the bonnetmutched, wearing a mutch or woman's cap, mutches, woman's caps with protruding frill, worn under the bonnetmutterin', muttering, muv, move; affect, My certy!, Take my word for it!, my lane, on my own, mysel, myself, mysel', myself, na, no; none; not; by no means, an exclamation of surprisenae, no; none; not, naebody, nobody; no one, naething, nothing, nainsel', one's own self, naisty, nasty, naiteral, natural, nane, none, nate, neat, nater, nature, nateral, natural, natur, nature, natur', nature, naturs, natures, nay-say, to deny; refuse; contradict, nearhan', nearly; almost; near by, near-han', nearly; almost; near by, neb, tip; point; nib; beak; nose, necessar', necessary, neebor, neighbour, neebors, neighbours, needfu', needful; necessary; needy, needin', needing, needna, do not need; need not, neep, turnip, neeps, turnips, neglec, neglect, neglec', neglect, negleck, neglect, neip, turnip, neist, next; nearest, neuk, nook; recess; interior angle, also cornerneyther, neither, nib, point; tip; human nose, nicher, snigger, nicherin', sniggering, nicht, night; evening, nichts, nights, nickerin', neighing; whinnying; sniggering, nickum, mischievous and tricky boy, nigh-han', nearly, niz, nose, no, not, no mowse, not to be meddled with, noathing, nothing, noo, now, noo's, now is, nor, than; although; if, also nornorsin', nursing, nott, (bank) note, notwithstandin', notwithstanding, nowther, neither, nummer, number, o', of; on, objec', object, objecs, objects, obleeged, obliged, Od, disguised form of 'God', mince oathodds, consequence; change, offendin', offending, ohn, without; un-, uses past participle not present progressive'oman, woman, ony, any, ony gait, anyway, onybody, anybody; anyone, onygait, anyway, onyhoo, anyhow, onything, anything, ook, week, oolets, owls, oor, our, oors, ours, oorsels, ourselves, oot, out, ootgang, going out; exit, ootgoins, goings out, ootlandish, outlandish, ootlay, outlay, ootluik, outlook, ootricht, outright, oots, outs, ootside, outside, opeenion, opinion, open'd, opened, openin', opening, opingon, opinion, or, before; ere; until; by, also ororderin', ordering, ordinar, ordinary; usual; natural, also custom; habitordinar', ordinary; usual; natural, also custom; habitoreeginal, original, ou, oh, oucht, anything; all, also oughtoughtna, ought not, ow, oh, exclamation of surpriseower, over; upon; too, owercome, overcome; recover, owerheard, overheard, owerluik, overlook, ower-turn, overturn, Paceefic, Pacific (Ocean), pailace, palace, pairis, parrish, pairt, part, pairtin', parting, pairtit, parted, pairts, parts, pan, skull; head, pandies, strokes on the palm with a cane, form of punishmentpandy, stroke on the palm with a cane, form of punishmentpang, pain; ache, also pack to the utmost; cramParadees, Paradise, parritch, oatmeal porridge, pat, put; made, patchin', patching, pauky, shrewd; cunning; knowing; artful, Pawtmos, Patmos, payin', paying, peat-moss, place where peats are dug, peddlin', peddling, peety, pity, peggin', hammering; beating, peowpils, pupils, perfec, perfect, perishin', perishing, perswaud, persuade, Pheelip, Philip, pheesiology, physiology, Phillisteens, Philistines, philoasophy, philosophy, picket, strike on the knuckles, also choice; dressed;pickit, picked, piece, slice of bread; lunch, also piece (of oat-cake)pig, stone bottle, pikin', picking; gathering; pilfering, pint, point, pints, points, pirn, reel; bobbin, on which thread is woundpit, put; make, also pitpitawta, potato, pitawtas, potatoes, pits, puts; makes, also pitspitten, put; made, pittin, putting; making, pittin', putting; making, pityin', pitying, plack, the smallest coin, worth 1/3 of a pennyplaguesome, annoying; troublesome, plaguit, plagued; troubled, plaid, plaid used as a blanket, plantin', plantation, play, school holidays during harvest, see hairst-play; also holiday; gameplayin', playing, pleesant, pleasant, pleesur, pleasure, pleesur', pleasure, pleuch, plough, pliskie, trick; prank; practical joke, plooed, ploughed, plooin', ploughing, ploy, amusement; sport; escapade, ploys, amusements; sports; escapades, pluckit, plucked, plunky, preparation of treacle and flour, pock, smallpox, pooch, pocket; pouch, pooches, pockets, pooer, power, poor, pour, also poorpose, hoard; secret store; savings, positeevely, positively, potty, putty, poun', pound (sterling), pour, steady flow; heavy shower, powther, powder, praiched, preached, Praise be thankit!, ,exclamation of thanks to Godpraisin', praising, prankin', prancing, prayin', praying, preachin', preaching, preceese, precise, precenter, one who leads the singing, precentor, one who leads the singing, pree, taste; try; prove; experience, preeviledges, privileges, preevileege, privilege, prencipal, principal; capital sum (of a loan), prenciple, principle, prenciples, principles, prent, print, preparet, prepared, press, wall-cupboard with shelves, preten', pretend, pretendit, pretended, pretennin', pretending, prin, pin, proaper, proper, proceedin', proceeding, proceedins, proceedings, procleemed, proclaimed, prood, proud, prophecee, prophecy, prophecees, prophecies, propheseein', prophesying, prospec', prospect, pruv, prove, pu', pull, public, public house; pub, public-hoose, public house; pub, pu'd, pulled, pu'ed, pulled, puir, poor, pump, beer-shop, also pumppun', pound (sterling), pyke, pick; pluck, also steal; pilferquaiet, quiet, quaiet sough, quiet tongue, quaieter, quieter, quaietest, quietest, quaietit, quieted, quaietly, quietly, quaietness, quietness, quawlifee, qualify, quean, queen; young girl; hussy, queston, question, also sumquestons, questions, also sumsquhilk, which; who, quittance, quittance; riddance, quo', swore; said; quoth, rackit, wrenched; strained, rade, rode, rael, real, railly, really, raither, rather, rale, real; true; very, rampaugin', rampaging, rampin', stamping about in fury, rarely, excellently, rase, rose, rashes, rushes, rave, tore, rax, extend; overdo it; stretch, also hand; pass; reachreadin', reading, reamy, creamy, recogneeze, recognize, redd, set in order; tidy; clean; comb, reek, smoke; mist; fog; smell, reeks, billows of smoke, reelin', reeling, reestlin', rustling, reet, root, referrin', referring, regaird, regard, regairdet, regarded, regairds, regards, reglar, regular, reid, red, reid-het, red hot, reid-wud, fiercely or wildly angry, remarkin', remarking, remeid, remedy; cure; redress, remembert, remembered, remin', remind, remin't, reminded, rendert, rendered, repentin', repenting, repentit, repented, reposin', reposing, respec, respect, respec', respect, respeck, respect; consider worthy, restin', resting, rheumateese, rheumatism, rheumateeze, rheumatism, rheumatize, rheumatism, richt, right; correct, also mendrichteous, righteous, richteousness, righteousness, richtful, rightful, richtly, rightly; certainly; positively, richts, rights, richtyisness, righteousness, riddlet, riddled, ridickleous, ridiculous, riggin, ridge; roof, riggin', ridge; roof, riggin-stane, stone forming part of the ridge, of a roofriggin-tree, rooftree; ridge-beam of the house, rigwiddie, stubborn in disposition, rin, run, ringin', ringing, rinnin', running, rins, runs, rintheroot, gadabout; homeless vagrant; tramp, ripe, search thoroughly, also clear an obstructionrisin', rising, rist, rest, rive, rent; tear; tug; wrench, also; fightrivin', renting; tearing; tugging; wrenching, also riven; torn; burst; fightingrizzon, reason, rizzonable, reasonable, road-metal, broken stones used for road repair, roarin', roaring, roddin, mountain-ash (tree), roon, around; round, roon', around; round, roost, rust, roostit, rusted, rory-bories, aurora borealis, rosten, roasting, rottan-holes, rat holes, rottans, rats, rottit, rotted, rouch, rough, roun, around; round, also whisperroun', around; round, roup, sale by auction, roupin', selling by auction, roupit, sold at auction, rousin', rousing, row, roll; wrap up; wind, rowin', rolling; wrapping up; winding, royt, frolicsome; unruly; wild; riotous, ruggin', pulling forcibly; tugging; tearing, rulin', ruling, 's, us; his; as; is, also hass', shall, sae, so; as, saft, muddy; soft; silly; foolish, safter, muddier; softer; sillier, saft-hertit, soft-hearted, saicrifeesed, sacrificed, saiddle, saddle, sailin', sailing, sair, sore; sorely; sad; hard; very; greatly, also serve; satisfysair heid, headache, saired, served, sairer, harder; sadder; sorer, sairest, sorest; hardest; saddest, saitisfeed, satisfied, saiven, seven, saivenpence, sevenpence, saivent, seventh, sall, shall, san', sand, sanct, saint, sancts, saints, sang, song, sang-buik, songbook, sangs, songs, sanna, shall not, sark, shirt, sarks, shirts, sattle, settle, sattled, settled, saut, salt, savin', saving, also exceptsavours, unctions, saw, sow, Sawbath, Sabbath; Sunday, saws, sows, Sawtan, Satan, Sawton, Satan, sax, six, saxpence, sixpence, saxpences, sixpences, saxpenny, sixpence, sayin', saying, say't, say it, scart, scratch; strike a match; scrape, scathe, injury; loss; damage, scatterin', scattering, scaur, cliff; bare place on the side of a hill, schochlin', waddling; mean, schoolin', schooling; education, schuil, school, schule, school, scomfish, suffocate; smother; choke, scoonrel, scoundrel, scraich, shriek; scream; bird's shrill cry, screed, recite rapidly; talk tediously; reel off, also scraping sound; long thin stripscreeds, recites rapidly; talks tediously, also scraping sounds; long thin stripsscrewin', screwing; scraping, scrimpit, stunted, Scripter, Scripture, Scriptur, Scripture, Scriptur', Scripture, scunners, disgusts, scushlin, slide; shuffle in walking, scushlin', sliding; shuffling in walking, seck, sack, seein', seeing, seekin', seeking, see't, see it, sel', self, semi, second year's university student, especially at Aberdeen Universitysen', send, senawtus, senatus, servan', servant, servan's, servants, servin', serving, set, set out; start off; become, also inclined; disposedSetterday, Saturday, settin', setting, Shackspere, Shakespeare, shaidow, shadow, shaidows, shadows, shairper, sharper, shak', shake, shanna, shall not, shargar, thin stunted person; scrag, shaw, show; reveal, also grovesheave, slice, sheued, scared away; frightened away, shillin', shilling, shillins, shillings, shimmerin', shimmering, shinin', shining, shochlin', waddling; in-kneed, shoonless, shoeless; without shoes, shoothers, shoulders, shore, reaped; cut, short-sichtit, near-sighted, shouther, shoulder, shouthers, shoulders, shuits, suits, shune, shoes, sib, relation; akin; closely related, sic, such; so; similar, sicht, sight, sichtit, sighted, sichts, sights, sicker, secure; safe; firm; sure, sickerer, more secure; more sure, signin', signing, siller, silver; money; wealth, sin, since; ago; since then, also sin; sunsin', since; ago; since then, singin', singing, sipple, tipple, sittin', sitting, sizzon, season, skatcher, skate, sleek, smooth, sleepin', sleeping, sleepit, slept, slidin', sliding, slippit, slipped, slocken, slake; drench; quench, sloomin', slinking; sneaking, slow-fittit, slow footed, sma', small; little; slight; narrow; young, smatchit, pert impudent child, smellin', smelling, smiddy, blacksmith's workshop, smilet, smiled, smilin', smiling, smokin', smoking; smouldering, smokit, smoked, smoored, smothered; suffocated; stifled, smore, smother; suffocate; stifle, smo'red, smothered; suffocated; stifled, snaw, snow, sneeshin, snuff, sneeshin', snuff, snod, smooth; neat; trim; tidy; snug, snodded, smoothed; trimmed; tidied, snoot, snout; nose; face, snubbert, nose; snout, contemptuoussock, ploughshare, socks, ploughshares, sod, sad, some, somewhat; rather; quite; very, also somesomehoo, somehow, somewhaur, somewhere, sonsy, well conditioned; good-tempered, soo, ache; throb, also sowsook, sip; drink; suck, sooks, sucks, soord, sword, souffin', whistling in a low tone; humming, sough, sigh; sound of wind; deep breath, soun', sound, soun'est, soundest, sounies, little sounds, diminutivesowl, soul, spait, spate; flood, spak, spoke, spak', spoke, spale, woodchip; woodshaving, spales, woodchips; woodshavings, spanged, leaped; bounded; sprung; spanned, sparin', sparing, spate, spate; flood, speakin', speaking, spean, wean, speerit, spirit, speerits, spirits, speeritual, spiritual, speik, speak, speiken, speaking, speikin', speaking, speir, ask; enquire; question, speired, asked; enquired; questioned, speirin', asking; enquiring; questioning, speirt, asked; enquired; questioned, spells, woodchips; woodshavings, spen'in', spending, speyk, speak, speyks, speaks, spidder, spider, spied, to prophesy?, possible past participle of spaespier, ask; enquire; question, spiered, asked; enquired; questioned, spiers, asks; enquires; questions, spinnin', spinning, spite, provocation; disappointment, spither, spider, squaure, square, stack, stuck, staiggerin', staggering, stammachfu', stomachful, stammack, stomach, stan', stand; stop, stane, stone, also measure of weight; 1 stone = 14 poundsstanes, stones, stan'in, standing, stan'in', standing, stank, ditch; moat; pond, stannin', standing, stan's, stands, starnie, very small quantity, starns, stars, startit, started, statin', stating, stave, short song, stealin', stealing, steekin', shutting; closing; clenching, steekit, shut; closed; clenched, steid, stayed, steikit, shut; closed; clenched; stopped, stent, leave off; cease; stop, sterns, stars, stew, dust; vapour; smoke, also stench; stinksticket, stuck; gored, also unsuccessful or failing in one's professionsticket minister, probationer who fails to obtain a, settled chargestickin', sticking; goring, stickit, stuck; gored, also unsuccessful or failing in one's professionstickit minister, probationer who fails to obtain a, settled chargestile, gate; passage over a wall, stinkin', stinking, stirkie, little steer; stupid fellow, diminutivestockin', stocking, stockin'-fit, feet clothed in stockings, i. E. Without shoesstoon, ache; throb, stoor, dust (cloud); spray; gush, stoorum, thin porridge; gruel, stoppin', stopping, stoppit, stopped, stour, dust (cloud); spray; gush, stown't, stolen it, straik, stroke; blow; caress; comb, also streakstramash, uproar; tumult; fuss; brawl, strand, stream; rivulet;, also gutterstrang, strong, strath, valley or plain, through which a river runsstraucht, straighten; straight, strauchtforet, straightforward; forthwith, straughtways, straightway, stravaguin', saunter; stroll; go about aimlessly, stucken, stuck, stud, stood, study, anvil, stule, stool, stumpin', hobbling; walking with a wooden leg, subjec, subject, subjec', subject, suckin', sucking; nursing, sucklin's, sucklings, sud, should, sudna, should not, sufferin', suffering, sune, soon; early, suner, sooner, sune's, soon as, sung, singed, sunlicht, sunlight, sup, drink, supperstitious, superstitious, supposin', supposing, sutor, shoemaker; cobbler, swall, swell, also swallow; devourswallowin', swallowing, swarmin', swarming, sweepit, swept, sweer, swear, also lazy; slow; reluctantsweerin', swearing, sweir, swear, sweirin', swearing, sweyp, sweep, swimmin', swimming, syne, ago; since; then; at that time, also in (good) time't, it, tae, toe; also tea, also the one; totaed, toad, taen, taken; seized, ta'en, taken; seized, taes, toes, tag, whip; scourge, leather strap cut into stripstaicklet, tackled, taings, tongs; prongs, tak, take; seize, tak', take; seize, tak tent, look out; pay attention; watch; care, tak' tent, look out; pay attention; watch; care, takin', taking, taks, takes; seizes, tak's, takes; seizes, also take hisTam, Tom, tane, the one, also takentap, top; tip; head, tap-dressin', top-dressing, tappit, crested; having a top, tappit hen, Scottish quart-measure of ale/claret, tards, whip; scourge, leather strap cut into stripstauld, told, taws, leather strap cut into strips, used for school punishmenttawse, leather strap cut into strips, used for school punishmenttay, tea; supper, teachin', teaching, ted, child; diminutive person, term of disgustteetles, titles, tellin', telling, tellt, told, tell't, told, telt, told, tent, attention; care; heed; notice, tertians, third year's students in arts, at Aberdeen Universityteuk, took, thack, thatch; cover; roof, thae, those; these, Thamas, Thomas, than, then, also thanthankfu', thankful, thankin', thanking, thankit, thanked, the day, today, the morn, tomorrow, the morn's, tomorrow is, also tomorrowthe nicht, tonight, the noo, just now; now, thegither, together, them-lanes, on their own; alone, themsels, themselves, themsel's, themselves, theroot, outside; out there; out-of-doors, thievin', thieving, thinkin', thinking, thocht, thought, thochtless, thoughtless, thochtna, did not think, thochts, thoughts, thoom, thumb, thoomb, thumb, thoosan', thousand, thoucht, thought, thouchts, thoughts, thow, thaw, thrang, full; well filled; busy; crowded, thrapple, windpipe; throat, thrashin', threshing; beating, thrashol', threshold, thraw, throw; turn; twist, thrawin', throwing; turning; twisting, thrawn, thrown; turned; twisted, thrivin', thriving, throng, intimate, throosh, thrashed; beat, throu, through, throu', through, throughoot, throughout, throuither, confused; disorderly, throu't, through it, throw, through, til, to; till; until; about; at; before, till, to; till; until; about; at; before, till's, to his; to us, till't, to it, timmer, timber; wood, timmer-leg, wooden leg, tint, lost; got lost, tippit, tipped, tither, the other, to the fore, remaining, tobawco, tobacco, tooer, tower, toom, empty; unload, toomed, emptied; unloaded, toon, town; village, toon-en', end of the main street, of a town or villagetoons, towns; villages, toot, tut!, exclamation of annoyanceToots!, Tuts!; Tush!, toun, town; village, tow, rope; string; cable, towie, string, towmon, twelvemonth; year, trail, drag forcibly; haul along, train-ile, train oil; whale oil, traitet, treated, traivel, travel, traivellin', travelling, translatin', translating, treatin', treating, triacle, treacle, tribble, trouble, trimles, trembles, triumphin', triumphing, troublin', troubling, trouth, truth; indeed, also used as an exclamationtrowth, truth; indeed, also used as an exclamationtruf, turf; sod; peat, truff, turf; sod; peat, tryin', trying, 'ts, its, 'tsel', itself, tuik, took, tumler, tumbler; glass (of whisky), turnin', turning, twa, two; a few, twa three, several, twal, twelve, twal', twelve, 'twar, it were, 'twas, it was, 'tween, between, twistin', twisting, 'twixt, betwixt; between, tyke, dog, also rough clownish fellowtykes, dogs, tyne, lose; get lost; miss, tynes, loses; gets lost; misses, ugsome, disgusting; frightful; ghastly, unce, ounce, unceevil, uncivil, unco, unknown; odd; strange; uncouth, also very greatunco', unknown; odd; strange; uncouth, also very greatundertakin', undertaking, ungratefu', ungrateful, unner, under, unnerstan', understand, unnerstans, understands, unnertook, undertook, unrichteous, unrighteous, unshuitable, unsuitable, up the stair, upstairs, also to heavenupbraidin', upbraiding, upbringin', upbringing; education; training, uphaud, uphold; maintain; support, upliftit, uplifted; elated, upmak, make up; compensate, also fabrication; inventionupmak', make up; compensate, also fabrication; inventionupo', upon; on; to; at, upo's, upon us; upon his, upricht, upright, vaigabon', vagabond, vaigabone, vagabond, vainished, vanished, veesion, vision, verra, very; true; real, vertue, virtue, vertues, virtues, visitin', visiting, vratch, wretch, wa', wall, also way; awaywab, web, wacht, weight, also guard; watchwad, would, see also 'I wad'; pledge; promise; wagerwadna, would not, wae, woe; sad; sorrowful, waesome, sorrowful; sad, waitin', waiting, Walawa!, lamentation, exclamation of sorrowwale, welt, waled, thrashed, walkin', walking, walleen, well-eyes; quagmire-springs, wame, belly; stomach; womb; hollow, wan, reached; gained; got, also wanwanner, more wan, wantin', wanting; lacking; without; in want of, wantit, wanted, war, were, wark, work; labour, also show of affectionwarks, works, warl, world; worldly goods, also a large numberwarl', world; worldly goods, also a large numberwarld, world, warlock, wizard, warna, were not, warnin', warning, warpit, warped, warran', warrant; guarantee, warst, worst, warstle, wrestle, warstlin', wrestling, wa's, walls, also wayswashin', washing, wasna, was not, wast, west, was't, was it, wastit, wasted, wastlin, westward; western, wastrie, waste; extravagance, wastry, waste; extravagance, also prodigalwat, wet, see also 'I wat'; pledge promisewatchin', watching, wather, weather, watshod, with wet feet; brimful of tears, watter, water, wauk, wake, waukin', waking, wauk-mill, fulling-mill, waur, worse, also spend moneywaured, spent (money), wee, small; little; bit, also short time; whileweel, well; fine, also happiness; prosperity; wealweel-behaved, well-behaved, weel-deserved, well-deserved, weel-pleased, well-pleased, weel's, well as, weet, wet; dew; rain, weicht, weight, weir, wear, also hedge; fence; enclosurewel, well, weyd, weed, weyds, weeds, weyk, weak, weyver, weaver; knitter, also knitter of stockings; spiderwha, who, whaever, whoever, whan, when, whanever, whenever, wha's, who is, also whosewhase, whose, What for no?, Why not?, What for?, Why?, whaul, whale, whaul-fishin', whale-fishing; whaling, whauls, whales, whaur, where, whaur's, where is; where has, whaur't, where it, whaurupon, whereupon, wheel, eddy; pool; deep still part of the river, also wheel; see also weelwheelie, wheel, diminutivewheen, little; few; number; quantity, whiles, sometimes; at times; now and then, whilie, short time, whilk, which, wholpies, silly stupid fellows, whuch, which, whunstane, whinstone, whups, whipping, whurlin', whirling, whusky, whisky, whustlin', whistling, wi', with, wice, wise, widdiefows, gallows' birds; scamps, also small ill-tempered personswifies, women; landladies, term of endearmentwillin', willing, willin'ly, willingly, wimmen, women, win, reach; gain; get; go; come, win', wind, also reach; gain; get; go; comewindin', winding, win'in', winding, winkit, winked, winna, will not, winnock-lug, window corner; side of the window, winnocks, windows, wins, reaches; gains; gets, also windswi'oot, without, wi's, with us; with his, wiss, wish, wissin', wishing, wi't, with it, wite, blame; reproach; fault, withoot, without, won, reached; gained; got, wonna, will not; won't, wonner, wonder; marvel, wonnerfu, wonderful; great; large, wonnerfu', wonderful; great; large, wonnerin', wondering, wonno, will not, workin', working, worryin', worrying, worshippin', worshipping, wow, woe, exclamation of wonder or grief or satisfactionwrang, wrong; injured, wranged, wronged, wrinklet, wrinkled, wrocht, wrought, wull, will; wish; desire, also astray; stray; wildwumman, woman, wynd, narrow lane or street; alley, wyte, blame; reproach; fault, yairds, yards; gardens, also yards (1 yard = 36 inches)yallow, yellow, ye, you; yourself, ye'll, you will, yer, your, also yearyer lane, on your own, yer lanes, on your own, ye're, you are, yerl, earl, yersel, yourself, yersel', yourself, yersels, yourselves, ye't, it to you, also did you [get] ityett, gate, yetts, gates, ye've, you have, yill, ale, yird, earth, yon, that; those; that there; these, yonner, yonder; over there; in that place, yon's, that is; that (thing) there is, younker, youngster, yoursel', yourself, yowth, youth,