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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/14494-0.txt b/14494-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7193d8b --- /dev/null +++ b/14494-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7141 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14494 *** + +SHORT STORY + +Scottish Sketches + +By +AMELIA E. BARR + + +New York +Dodd, Mead and Company +1898 + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1883, +BY +AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. + + + + +CONTENTS + +CRAWFORD'S SAIR STRAIT 7 + +JAMES BLACKIE'S REVENGE 101 + +FACING HIS ENEMY 163 + +ANDREW CARGILL'S CONFESSION 241 + +ONE WRONG STEP 267 + +LILE DAVIE 309 + + + + +Crawford's Sair Strait. + + + + +CRAWFORD'S SAIR STRAIT. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Alexander Crawford sat reading a book which he studied frequently with +a profound interest. Not the Bible: that volume had indeed its place +of honor in the room, but the book Crawford read was a smaller one; it +was stoutly bound and secured by a brass lock, and it was all in +manuscript. It was his private ledger, and it contained his bank +account. Its contents seemed to give him much solid satisfaction; and +when at last he locked the volume and replaced it in his secretary, it +was with that careful respect which he considered due to the +representative of so many thousand pounds. + +He was in a placid mood, and strangely inclined to retrospection. +Thoughtfully fingering the key which locked up the record of his +wealth, he walked to the window and looked out. It was a dreary +prospect of brown moor and gray sea, but Crawford loved it. The bare +land and the barren mountains was the country of the Crawfords. He had +a fixed idea that it always had been theirs, and whenever he told +himself--as he did this night--that so many acres of old Scotland were +actually his own, he was aggressively a Scotchman. + +"It is a bonnie bit o' land," he murmured, "and I hae done as my +father Laird Archibald told me. If we should meet in another warld +I'll be able to gie a good account o' Crawford and Traquare. It is +thirty years to-night since he gave me the ring off his finger, and +said, 'Alexander, I am going the way o' all flesh; be a good man, and +_grip tight_.' I hae done as he bid me; there is £80,000 in the +Bank o' Scotland, and every mortgage lifted. I am vera weel pleased +wi' mysel' to-night. I hae been a good holder o' Crawford and +Traquare." + +His self-complacent reflections were cut short by the entrance of his +daughter. She stood beside him, and laid her hand upon his arm with a +caressing gesture. No other living creature durst have taken that +liberty with him; but to Crawford his daughter Helen was a being apart +from common humanity. She was small, but very lovely, with something +almost Puritanical in her dainty, precise dress and carefully snooded +golden hair. + +"Father!" + +"Helen, my bird." + +"Colin is coming home. I have just had a letter from him. He has taken +high honors in Glasgow. We'll both be proud of Colin, father." + +"What has he done?" + +"He has written a prize poem in Latin and Greek, and he is second in +mathematics." + +"Latin and Greek! Poor ghostlike languages that hae put off flesh and +blood lang syne. Poetry! Warse than nonsense! David and Solomon hae +gien us such sacred poetry as is good and necessary; and for sinfu' +love verses and such vanities, if Scotland must hae them, Robert Burns +is mair than enough. As to mathematics, there's naething against them. +A study that is founded on figures is to be depended upon; it has nae +flights and fancies. You ken what you are doing wi' figures. When is +this clever fellow to be here?" + +"He is coming by the afternoon packet to-morrow. We must send the +carriage to meet it, for Colin is bringing a stranger with him. I came +to ask you if I must have the best guest-room made ready." + +"Wha for?" + +"He is an English gentleman, from London, father." + +"And you would put an Englishman in the room where the twa last +Stuarts slept? I'll not hear tell o' it. I'm not the man to lift a +quarrel my fathers dropped, but I'll hae no English body in Prince +Charlie's room. Mind that, noo! What is the man's name?" + +"Mr. George Selwyn." + +"George Selwyn! There's nae Scotch Selwyns that I ken o'. He'll be +Saxon altogether. Put him in the East room." + +Crawford was not pleased at his son bringing any visitor. In the first +place, he had important plans to discuss and carry out, and he was +impatient of further delay. In the second, he was intensely jealous of +Helen. Every young man was a probable suitor, and he had quite decided +that Farquharson of Blair was the proper husband for her. Crawford and +Blair had stood shoulder to shoulder in every national quarrel, and a +marriage would put the two estates almost in a ring fence. + +But he went the next day to meet the young men. He had not seen his +son for three years, and the lad was an object very near and dear to +his heart. He loved him tenderly as his son, he respected him highly +as the future heir of Crawford and Traquare. The Crawfords were a very +handsome race; he was anxious that this, their thirteenth +representative, should be worthy, even physically, of his ancestors. +He drew a long sigh of gratification as young Colin, with open hands, +came up to him. The future laird was a noble-looking fellow, a dark, +swarthy Highlandman, with glowing eyes, and a frame which promised in +a few years to fill up splendidly. + +His companion was singularly unlike him. Old Crawford had judged +rightly. He was a pure Saxon, and showed it in his clear, fresh +complexion, pale brown hair, and clear, wide-open blue eyes. But there +was something about this young man which struck a deeper and wider +sympathy than race--he had a heart beating for all humanity. Crawford +looked at him physically only, and he decided at once, "There is no +fear of Helen." He told himself that young Farquharson was six inches +taller and every way a far "prettier man." Helen was not of this +opinion. No hero is so fascinating to a woman as the man mentally and +spiritually above her, and whom she must love from a distance; and if +Crawford could have known how dangerous were those walks over the +springy heather and through the still pine woods, Mr. Selwyn would +have taken them far more frequently alone than he did. + +But Crawford had other things to employ his attention at that time, +and indeed the young English clergyman was far beyond his mental and +spiritual horizon; he could not judge him fairly. So these young +people walked and rode and sailed together, and Selwyn talked like an +apostle of the wrongs that were to be righted and the poor perishing +souls that were to be redeemed. The spiritual warfare in which he was +enlisted had taken possession of him, and he spoke with the martial +enthusiasm of a young soldier buckling on his armor. + +Helen and Colin listened in glowing silence, Helen showing her +sympathy by her flushing cheeks and wet eyes, and Colin by the +impatient way in which he struck down with his stick the thistles by +the path side, as if they were the demons of sin and ignorance and +dirt Selwyn was warring against. But after three weeks of this +intercourse Crawford became sensible of some change in the atmosphere +of his home. When Selwyn first arrived, and Crawford learned that he +was a clergyman in orders, he had, out of respect to the office, +delegated to him the conduct of family worship. Gradually Selwyn had +begun to illustrate the gospel text with short, earnest remarks, which +were a revelation of Bible truth to the thoughtful men and women who +heard them. + +The laird's "exercises" had often been slipped away from, excuses had +been frequent, absentees usual; but they came to listen to Selwyn with +an eagerness which irritated him. In our day, the gospel of Christ has +brought forth its last beautiful blossom--the gospel of humanity. Free +schools, free Bibles, Tract and City Missions, Hospitals and Clothing +Societies, loving helps of all kinds are a part of every church +organization. But in the time of which I am writing they were unknown +in country parishes, they struggled even in great cities for a feeble +life. + +The laird and his servants heard some startling truths, and the laird +began to rebel against them. A religion of intellectual faith, and +which had certain well-recognized claims on his pocket, he was willing +to support, and to defend, if need were; but he considered one which +made him on every hand his brother's keeper a dangerously democratic +theology. + +"I'll hae no socialism in my religion, any more than I'll hae it in my +politics, Colin," he said angrily. "And if yon Mr. Selwyn belongs to +what they call the Church o' England, I'm mair set up than ever wi' +the Kirk o' Scotland! God bless her!" + +They were sitting in the room sacred to business and to the memory of +the late Laird Archibald. Colin was accustomed to receive his father's +opinions in silence, and he made no answer to this remark. This time, +however, the laird was not satisfied with the presumed assent of +silence; he asked sharply, "What say ye to that, son Colin?" + +"I say God bless the Kirk of Scotland, father, and I say it the more +heartily because I would like to have a place among those who serve +her." + +"What are ye saying now?" + +"That I should like to be a minister. I suppose you have no +objections." + +"I hae vera great objections. I'll no hear tell o' such a thing. +Ministers canna mak money, and they canna save it. If you should mak +it, that would be an offence to your congregation; if ye should save +it, they would say ye ought to hae gien it to the poor. There will be +nae Dominie Crawford o' my kin, Colin. Will naething but looking down +on the warld from a pulpit sarve you?" + +"I like art, father. I can paint a little, and I love music." + +"Art! Painting! Music! Is the lad gane daft? God has gien to some men +wisdom and understanding, to ithers the art o' playing on the fiddle +and painting pictures. There shall be no painting, fiddling Crawford +among my kin, Colin." + +The young fellow bit his lip, and his eyes flashed dangerously beneath +their dropped lids. But he said calmly enough, + +"What is your own idea, father? I am twenty-two, I ought to be doing a +man's work of some kind." + +"Just sae. That is warld-like talk. Now I'll speak wi' you anent a +grand plan I hae had for a long time." With these words he rose, and +took from his secretary a piece of parchment containing the plan of +the estate. "Sit down, son Colin, and I'll show you your inheritance." +Then he went carefully over every acre of moor and wood, of moss and +water, growing enthusiastic as he pointed out how many sheep could be +grazed on the hills, what shooting and fishing privileges were worth, +etc. "And the best is to come, my lad. There is coal on the estate, +and I am going to open it up, for I hae the ready siller to do it." + +Colin sat silent; his cold, dissenting air irritated the excited laird +very much. + +"What hae ye got to say to a' this, Colin?" he asked proudly, "for +you'll hae the management o' everything with me. Why, my dear son, if +a' goes weel--and it's sure to--we'll be rich enough in a few years to +put in our claim for the old Earldom o' Crawford, and you may tak your +seat in the House o' Peers yet. The old chevalier promised us a +Dukedom," he said sadly, "but I'm feared that will be aboon our +thumb--" + +"Father, what are you going to do with the clansmen? Do you think +Highlandmen who have lived on the mountains are going to dig coal? Do +you imagine that these men, who, until a generation or two ago, never +handled anything but a claymore, and who even now scorn to do aught +but stalk deer or spear salmon, will take a shovel and a pickaxe and +labor as coal-miners? There is not a Crawford among them who would do +it. I would despise him if he did." + +"There is a glimmer o' good sense in what you say, Colin. I dinna +intend any Crawford to work in my coal mine. Little use they would be +there. I'll send to Glasgow for some Irish bodies." + +"And then you will have more fighting than working on the place; and +you'll have to build a Roman-catholic chapel, and have a Roman priest +in Crawford, and you ken whether the Crawfords will thole _that_ or +not." + +"As to the fighting, I'll gie them no chance. I'm going to send the +Crawfords to Canada. I hae thought it all out. The sheilings will do +for the others; the land I want for sheep grazing. They are doing +naething for themsel's, and they are just a burden to me. It will be +better for them to gang to Canada. I'll pay their passage, and I'll +gie them a few pounds each to start them. You must stand by me in this +matter, for they'll hae to go sooner or later." + +"That is a thing I cannot do, father. There is not a Laird of Crawford +that was not nursed on some clanswoman's breast. We are all kin. Do +you think I would like to see Rory and Jean Crawford packed off to +Canada? And there is young Hector, my foster-brother! And old Ailsa, +your own foster-sister! Every Crawford has a right to a bite and a sup +from the Crawford land." + +"That is a' bygane nonsense. Your great-grandfather, if he wanted +cattle or meal, could just take the clan and go and harry some +Southern body out o' them. That is beyond our power, and it's an unca +charge to hae every Crawford looking to you when hunting and fishing +fails. They'll do fine in Canada. There is grand hunting, and if they +want fighting, doubtless there will be Indians. They will hae to go, +and you will hae to stand by me in this matter." + +"It is against my conscience, sir. I had also plans about these poor, +half-civilized, loving kinsmen of ours. You should hear Selwyn talk of +what we might do with them. There is land enough to give all who want +it a few acres, and the rest could be set up with boats and nets as +fishers. They would like that." + +"Nae doubt. But I don't like it, and I wont hae it. Mr. Selwyn may hae +a big parish in London, but the Crawfords arena in his congregation. I +am king and bishop within my ain estate, Colin." Then he rose in a +decided passion and locked up again the precious parchment, and Colin +understood that, for the present, the subject was dismissed. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +At the very time this conversation was in progress, one strangely +dissimilar was being carried on between George Selwyn and Helen +Crawford. They were sitting in the sweet, old-fashioned garden and +Selwyn had been talking of the work so dear to his heart, but a +silence had fallen between them. Then softly and almost hesitatingly +Helen said "Mr. Selwyn, I cannot help in this grand evangel, except +with money and prayers. May I offer you £300? It is entirely my own, +and it lies useless in my desk. Will you take it?" + +"I have no power to refuse it. 'You give it to God, durst I say no?' +But as I do not return at once, you had better send it in a check to +our treasurer." Then he gave her the necessary business directions, +and was writing the address of the treasurer when the laird stopped in +front of them. + +"Helen, you are needed in the house," he said abruptly; and then +turning to Selwyn, he asked him to take a walk up the hill. The young +man complied. He was quite unconscious of the anger in the tone of the +request. For a few yards neither spoke; then the laird, with an +irritable glance at his placid companion, said, "Mr. Selwyn, +fore-speaking saves after-speaking. Helen Crawford is bespoke for +young Farquharson of Blair, and if you have any hopes o' wiving in my +house--" + +"Crawford, thank you for your warning, but I have no thoughts of +marrying any one. Helen Crawford is a pearl among women; but even if I +wanted a wife, she is unfit for my helpmate. When I took my curacy in +the East End of London I counted the cost. Not for the fairest of the +daughters of men would I desert my first love--the Christ-work to +which I have solemnly dedicated my life." + +His voice fell almost to a whisper, but the outward, upward glance of +the inspired eyes completely disconcerted the aggressive old +chieftain. His supposed enemy, in some intangible way, had escaped +him, and he felt keenly his own mistake. He was glad to see Colin +coming; it gave him an opportunity of escaping honorably from a +conversation which had been very humiliating to him. He had a habit +when annoyed of seeking the sea-beach. The chafing, complaining waves +suited his fretful mood, and leaving the young men, he turned to the +sea, taking the hillside with such mighty strides that Selwyn watched +him with admiration and astonishment. + +"Four miles of that walking will bring him home in the most amiable of +moods," said Colin. And perhaps it would, if he had been left to the +sole companionship of nature. But when he was half way home he met +Dominie Tallisker, a man of as lofty a spirit as any Crawford who ever +lived. The two men were close friends, though they seldom met without +disagreeing on some point. + +"Weel met, dominie! Are you going to the Keep?" + +"Just so, I am for an hour's talk wi' that fine young English +clergyman you hae staying wi' you." + +"Tallisker, let me tell you, man, you hae been seen o'er much wi' him +lately. Why, dominie! he is an Episcopal, and an Arminian o' the vera +warst kind." + +"Hout, laird! Arminianism isna a contagious disease. I'll no mair tak +Arminianism from the Rev. George Selwyn than I'll tak Toryism fra +Laird Alexander Crawford. My theology and my politics are far beyond +inoculation. Let me tell you that, laird." + +"Hae ye gotten an argument up wi' him, Tallisker? I would like weel to +hear ye twa at it." + +"Na, na; he isna one o' them that argues. He maks downright +assertions; every one o' them hits a body's conscience like a +sledge-hammer. He said that to me as we walked the moor last night +that didna let me sleep a wink." + +"He is a vera disagreeable young man. What could he say to you? You +have aye done your duty." + +"I thought sae once, Crawford. I taught the bairns their catechism; I +looked weel to the spiritual life o' young and old; I had aye a word +in season for all. But maybe this I ought to hae done, and not left +the other undone." + +"You are talking foolishness, Tallisker, and that's a thing no usual +wi' you." + +"No oftener wi' me nor other folk. But, laird, I feel there must be a +change. I hae gotten my orders, and I am going to obey them. You may +be certain o' that." + +"I didna think I would ever see Dominie Tallisker taking orders from a +disciple o' Arminius--and an Englishman forbye!" + +"I'll tak my orders, Crawford, from any messenger the Lord chooses to +send them by. And I'll do this messenger justice; he laid down no law +to me, he only spak o' the duty laid on his own conscience; but my +conscience said 'Amen' to his--that's about it. There has been a +breath o' the Holy Ghost through the Church o' England lately, and the +dry bones o' its ceremonials are being clothed upon wi' a new and +wonderfu' life." + +"Humff!" said the laird with a scornful laugh as he kicked a pebble +out of his way. + +"There is a great outpouring at Oxford among the young men, and though +I dinna agree wi' them in a' things, I can see that they hae gotten a +revelation." + +"Ou, ay, the young ken a' things. It is aye young men that are for +turning the warld upside down. Naething is good enough for them." + +The dominie took no notice of the petulant interruption. "Laird," he +said excitedly, "it is like a fresh Epiphany, what this young Mr. +Selwyn says--the hungry are fed, the naked clothed, the prisoners +comforted, the puir wee, ragged, ignorant bairns gathered into homes +and schools, and it is the gospel wi' bread and meat and shelter and +schooling in its hand. That was Christ's ain way, you'll admit that. +And while he was talking, my heart burned, and I bethought me of a +night-school for the little herd laddies and lasses. They could study +their lessons on the hillside all day, and I'll gather them for an +hour at night, and gie them a basin o' porridge and milk after their +lessons. And we ought not to send the orphan weans o' the kirk to the +warkhouse; we ought to hae a hame for them, and our sick ought to be +better looked to. There is many another good thing to do, but we'll +begin wi' these, and the rest will follow." + +The laird had listened thus far in speechless indignation. He now +stood still, and said, + +"I'll hae you to understand, Dominie Tallisker, that I am laird o' +Crawford and Traquare, and I'll hae nae such pliskies played in either +o' my clachans." + +"If you are laird, I am dominie. You ken me weel enough to be sure if +this thing is a matter o' conscience to me, neither king nor kaiser +can stop me. I'd snap my fingers in King George's face if he bid me +'stay,' when my conscience said 'go,'" and the dominie accompanied the +threat with that sharp, resonant fillip of the fingers that is a +Scotchman's natural expression of intense excitement of any kind. + +"King George!" cried the laird, in an ungovernable temper, "there is +the whole trouble. If we had only a Charles Stuart on the throne there +would be nane o' this Whiggery." + +"There would be in its place masses, and popish priests, and a few +private torture-chambers, and whiles a Presbyterian heretic or twa +burned at the Grass-market. Whiggery is a grand thing when it keeps +the Scarlet Woman on her ain seven hills. Scotland's hills and braes +can do weel, weel without her." + +This speech gave the laird time to think. It would never do to quarrel +with Tallisker. If he should set himself positively against his scheme +of sending his clan to Canada it would be almost a hopeless one; and +then he loved and respected his friend. His tall, powerful frame and +his dark, handsome face, all aglow with a passionate conviction of +right, and an invincible determination to do it, commanded his +thorough admiration. He clasped his hands behind his back and said +calmly, + +"Tallisker, you'll be sorry enough for your temper erelong. You hae +gien way mair than I did. Ye ken how you feel about it." + +"I feel ashamed o' mysel', laird. You'll no lay the blame o' it to my +office, but to Dugald Tallisker his ain sel'. There's a deal o' +Dugald Tallisker in me yet, laird; and whiles he is o'er much for +Dominie Tallisker." + +They were at the gate by this time, and Crawford held out his hand and +said, + +"Come in, dominie." + +"No; I'll go hame, laird, and gie mysel' a talking to. Tell Mr. Selwyn +I want to see him." + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Alas, how often do Christ's words, "I come not to bring peace, but a +sword," prove true. George Selwyn went away, but the seed he had +dropped in this far-off corner of Scotland did not bring forth +altogether the peaceable fruits of righteousness. In fact, as we have +seen, it had scarcely begun to germinate before the laird and the +dominie felt it to be a root of bitterness between them. For if +Crawford knew anything he knew that Tallisker would never relinquish +his new work, and perhaps if he yielded to any reasonable object +Tallisker would stand by him in his project. + +He did not force the emigration plan upon his notice. The summer was +far advanced; it would be unjustifiable to send the clan to Canada at +the beginning of winter. And, as it happened, the subject was opened +with the dominie in a very favorable manner. They were returning from +the moors one day and met a party of six men. They were evidently +greatly depressed, but they lifted their bonnets readily to the chief. +There was a hopeless, unhappy look about them that was very painful. + +"You have been unsuccessful on the hills, Archie, I fear." + +"There's few red deer left," said the man gloomily. "It used to be +deer and men; it is sheep and dogs now." + +After a painful silence the dominie said, + +"Something ought to be done for those braw fellows. They canna ditch +and delve like an Irish peasant. It would be like harnessing stags in +a plough." + +Then Crawford spoke cautiously of his intention, and to his delight +the dominie approved it. + +"I'll send them out in Read & Murray's best ships. I'll gie each head +o' a family what you think right, Tallisker, and I'll put £100 in your +hands for special cases o' help. And you will speak to the men and +their wives for me, for it is a thing I canna bear to do." + +But the men too listened eagerly to the proposition. They trusted the +dominie, and they were weary of picking up a precarious living in +hunting and fishing, and relying on the chief in emergencies. Their +old feudal love and reverence still remained in a large measure, but +they were quite sensible that everything had changed in their little +world, and that they were out of tune with it. Some few of their +number had made their way to India or Canada, and there was a vague +dissatisfaction which only required a prospect of change to develop. +As time went on, and the laird's plan for opening the coal beds on his +estate got known, the men became impatient to be gone. + +In the early part of March two large ships lay off the coast waiting +for them, and they went in a body to Crawford Keep to bid the chief +"farewell." It was a hard hour, after all, to Crawford. The great +purpose that he had kept before his eyes for years was not at that +moment sufficient. He had dressed himself in his full chieftain's suit +to meet them. The eagle's feather in his Glengary gave to his great +stature the last grace. The tartan and philibeg, the garters at his +knee, the silver buckles at his shoulder, belt, and shoon, the +jewelled mull and dirk, had all to these poor fellows in this last +hour a proud and sad significance. As he stood on the steps to welcome +them, the wind colored his handsome face and blew out the long black +hair which fell curling on his shoulders. + +Whatever they intended to say to him, when they thus saw him with +young Colin by his side they were unable to say. They could only lift +their bonnets in silence. The instincts and traditions of a thousand +years were over them; he was at this moment the father and the chief +of their deepest affection. One by one they advanced to him. He +pressed the hands of all. Some of the older men--companions of his +youth in play and sport--he kissed with a solemn tenderness. They went +away silently as they came, but every heart was full and every eye was +dim. There was a great feast for them in the clachan that night, but +it was a sombre meeting, and the dominie's cheerful words of advice +and comfort formed its gayest feature. + +The next day was calm and clear. The women and children were safely on +board soon after noon, and about four o'clock the long boats left the +shore full of men. Tallisker was in the front one. As they pulled away +he pointed silently to a steep crag on the shingly beach. The chief +stood upon it. He waved his bonnet, and then the long-pent feelings of +the clan found vent in one long, pitiful Gallic lament, _O hon a rie! +O hon a rie!_ For a few moments the boats lay at rest, no man was able +to lift an oar. Suddenly Tallisker's clear, powerful voice touched the +right chord. To the grand, plaintive melody of St. Mary's he began the +125th Psalm, + + "They in the Lord that firmly trust + shall be like Sion hill, + Which at no time can be removed, + but standeth ever still. + + As round about Jerusalem + the mountains stand alway; + The Lord his folk doth compass so + from henceforth and for aye." + +And thus singing together they passed from their old life into a new +one. + +Colin had been indignant and sorrowful over the whole affair. He and +Helen were still young enough to regret the breaking of a tie which +bound them to a life whose romance cast something like a glamour over +the prosaic one of more modern times. Both would, in the +unreasonableness of youthful sympathy, have willingly shared land and +gold with their poor kinsmen; but in this respect Tallisker was with +the laird. + +"It was better," he said, "that the old feudal tie should be severed +even by a thousand leagues of ocean. They were men and not bairns, and +they could feel their ain feet;" and then he smiled as he remembered +how naturally they had taken to self-dependence. For one night, in a +conversation with the oldest men, he said, "Crawfords, ye'll hae to +consider, as soon as you are gathered together in your new hame, the +matter o' a dominie. Your little flock in the wilderness will need a +shepherd, and the proper authorities maun be notified." + +Then an old gray-headed man had answered firmly, "Dominie, we will +elect our ain minister. We hae been heart and soul, every man o' us, +with the Relief Kirk; but it is ill living in Rome and striving wi' +the pope, and sae for the chief's sake and your sake we hae withheld +our testimony. But we ken weel that even in Scotland the Kirk willna +hirple along much farther wi' the State on her back, and in the +wilderness, please God, we'll plant only a Free Kirk." + +The dominie heard the resolve in silence, but to himself he said +softly, "_They'll do! They'll do!_ They'll be a bit upsetting at +first, maybe, but they are queer folk that have nae failings." + +A long parting is a great strain; it was a great relief when the ships +had sailed quite out of sight. The laird with a light heart now turned +to his new plans. No reproachful eyes and unhappy faces were there to +damp his ardor. Everything promised well. The coal seam proved to be +far richer than had been anticipated, and those expert in such matters +said there were undoubted indications of the near presence of iron +ore. Great furnaces began to loom up in Crawford's mental vision, and +to cast splendid lustres across his future fortunes. + +In a month after the departure of the clan, the little clachan of +Traquare had greatly changed. Long rows of brick cottages, ugly and +monotonous beyond description, had taken the place of the more +picturesque sheilings. Men who seemed to measure everything in life +with a two-foot rule were making roads and building jetties for +coal-smacks to lie at. There was constant influx of strange men and +women--men of stunted growth and white faces, and who had an insolent, +swaggering air, intolerably vulgar when contrasted with the Doric +simplicity and quiet gigantic manhood of the mountain shepherds. + +The new workers were, however, mainly Lowland Scotchmen from the +mining districts of Ayrshire. The dominie had set himself positively +against the introduction of a popish element and an alien people; and +in this position he had been warmly upheld by Farquharson and the +neighboring proprietors. As it was, there was an antagonism likely to +give him full employment. The Gael of the mountains regarded these +Lowland "working bodies" with something of that disdain which a rich +and cultivated man feels for kin, not only poor, but of contemptible +nature and associations. The Gael was poor truly, but he held himself +as of gentle birth. He had lived by his sword, or by the care of +cattle, hunting, and fishing. Spades, hammers, and looms belonged to +people of another kind. + +Besides this great social gulf, there were political and religious +ones still wider. That these differences were traditional, rather than +real, made no distinction. Man have always fought as passionately for +an idea as for a fact. But Dominie Tallisker was a man made for great +requirements and great trusts. He took in the position with the eye of +a general. He watched the two classes passing down the same streets as +far apart as if separated by a continent, and he said, with a very +positive look on his face, "These men are brethren and they ought to +dwell in unity; and, God helping Dugald Tallisker, they will do it, +yes, indeed, they will." + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +In a year after the departure of the clan, the clachans of Crawford +and Traquare had lost almost all traces of their old pastoral +character. The coal pit had been opened, and great iron furnaces built +almost at its mouth. Things had gone well with Crawford; the seam had +proved to be unusually rich; and, though the iron had been found, not +on his land, but on the extreme edge of Blair, he was quite satisfied. +Farquharson had struck hands with him over it, and the Blair iron ore +went to the Crawford furnaces to be smelted into pig iron. + +Crawford had grown younger in the ardent life he had been leading. No +one would have taken him to be fifty-five years old. He hardly thought +of the past; he only told himself that he had never been as strong and +clear-headed and full of endurance, and that it was probable he had +yet nearly half a century before him. What could he not accomplish in +that time? + +But in every earthly success there is a Mordecai sitting in its gate, +and Colin was the uncomfortable feature in the laird's splendid hopes. +He had lounged heartlessly to and from the works; the steady, +mechanical routine of the new life oppressed him, and he had a +thorough dislike for the new order of men with whom he had to come in +contact. The young Crawfords had followed him about the hills with an +almost canine affection and admiration. To them he was always "the +young laird." These sturdy Ayrshire and Galloway men had an old +covenanting rebelliousness about them. They disputed even with Dominie +Tallisker on church government; they sang Robert Burns' most +democratic songs in Crawford's very presence. + +Then Colin contrasted them physically with the great fellows he had +been accustomed to see striding over the hills, and he despised the +forms stunted by working in low seams and unhealthy vapors and the +faces white for lack of sunshine and grimy with the all-pervading coal +dust. The giants who toiled in leather masks and leather suits before +the furnaces suited his taste better. When he watched them moving +about amid the din and flames and white-hot metal, he thought of +Vulcan and Mount Ætna, and thus threw over them the enchantments of +the old Roman age. But in their real life the men disappointed him. +They were vulgar and quarrelsome; the poorest Highland gillie had a +vein of poetry in his nature, but these iron-workers were painfully +matter of fact; they could not even understand a courtesy unless it +took the shape of a glass of whiskey. + +It was evident to the laird that the new life was very distasteful to +his heir; it was evident to the dominie that it was developing the +worst sides of Colin's character. Something of this he pointed out to +Helen one morning. Helen and he had lately become great friends, +indeed, they were co-workers together in all the new labors which the +dominie's conscience had set him. The laird had been too busy and +anxious about other matters to interfere as yet with this alliance, +but he promised himself he would do so very soon. Helen Crawford was +not going to nurse sick babies and sew for all the old women in the +clachan much longer. And the night-school! This was particularly +offensive to him. Some of the new men had gone there, and Crawford was +sure he was in some way defrauded by it. He thought it impossible to +work in the day and study an hour at night. In some way he suffered by +it. + +"If they werna in the schoolroom they would be in the Change House," +Tallisker had argued. + +But the laird thought in his heart that the whiskey would be more to +his advantage than the books. Yet he did not like to say so; there was +something in the dominie's face which restrained him. He had opened +the subject in that blustering way which always hides the white +feather somewhere beneath it, and Tallisker had answered with a solemn +severity, + +"Crawford, it seems to be your wark to mak money; it is mine to save +souls. Our roads are sae far apart we arena likely to run against each +other, if we dinna try to." + +"But I don't like the way you are doing your wark; that is all, +dominie." + +"Mammon never did like God's ways. There is a vera old disagreement +between them. A man has a right to consider his ain welfare, Crawford, +but it shouldna be mair than the twa tables o' the law to him." + +Now Tallisker was one of those ministers who bear their great +commission in their faces. There was something almost imperial about +the man when he took his stand by the humblest altar of his duty. +Crawford had intended at this very time to speak positively on the +subject of his own workers to Tallisker. But when he looked at the +dark face, set and solemn and full of an irresistible authority, he +was compelled to keep silence. A dim fear that Tallisker would say +something to him which would make him uncomfortable crept into his +heart. It was better that both the dominie and conscience should be +quiet at present. + +Still he could not refrain from saying, + +"You hae set yoursel' a task you'll ne'er win over, dominie. You could +as easy mak Ben-Cruchan cross the valley and sit down by Ben-Appin as +mak Gael and Lowlander call each other brothers." + +"We are told, Crawford, that mountains may be moved by faith; why not, +then, by love? I am a servant o' God. I dinna think it any presumption +to expect impossibilities." + +Still it must be acknowledged that Tallisker looked on the situation +as a difficult one. The new workers to a man disapproved of the +Established Church of Scotland. Perhaps of all classes of laborers +Scotch colliers are the most theoretically democratic and the most +practically indifferent in matters of religion. Every one of them had +relief and secession arguments ready for use, and they used them +chiefly as an excuse for not attending Tallisker's ministry. When +conscience is used as an excuse, or as a weapon for wounding, it is +amazing how tender it becomes. It pleased these Lowland workers to +assert a religious freedom beyond that of the dominie and the shepherd +Gael around them. And if men wish to quarrel, and can give their +quarrel a religious basis, they secure a tolerance and a respect which +their own characters would not give them. Tallisker might pooh-pooh +sectional or political differences, but he was himself far too +scrupulous to regard with indifference the smallest theological +hesitation. + +One day as he was walking up the clachan pondering these things, he +noticed before him a Highland shepherd driving a flock to the hills. +There was a party of colliers sitting around the Change House; they +were the night-gang, and having had their sleep and their breakfast, +were now smoking and drinking away the few hours left of their rest. +Anything offering the chance of amusement was acceptable, and Jim +Armstrong, a saucy, bullying fellow from the Lonsdale mines, who had +great confidence in his Cumberland wrestling tricks, thought he saw in +the placid indifference of the shepherd a good opportunity for +bravado. + +"Sawnie, ye needna pass the Change House because we are here. We'll no +hurt you, man." + +The shepherd was as one who heard not. + +Then followed an epithet that no Highlander can hear unmoved, and the +man paused and put his hand under his plaid. Tallisker saw the +movement and quickened his steps. The word was repeated, with the +scornful laugh of the group to enforce it. The shepherd called his +dog-- + +"Keeper, you tak the sheep to the Cruchan corrie, and dinna let are o' +them stray." + +The dumb creature looked in his face assentingly, and with a sharp +bark took the flock charge. Then the shepherd walked up to the group, +and Jim Armstrong rose to meet him. + +"Nae dirks," said an old man quietly; "tak your hands like men." + +Before the speech was over they were clinched in a grasp which meant +gigantic strength on one side, and a good deal of practical bruising +science on the other. But before there was an opportunity of testing +the quality of either the dominie was between the men. He threw them +apart like children, and held each of them at arm's length, almost as +a father might separate two fighting schoolboys. The group watching +could not refrain a shout of enthusiasm, and old Tony Musgrave jumped +to his feet and threw his pipe and his cap in the air. + +"Dugald," said the dominie to the shepherd, "go your ways to your +sheep. I'll hae nae fighting in my parish. + +"Jim Armstrong, you thrawart bully you, dinna think you are the only +man that kens Cumberland cantrips. I could fling you mysel' before you +could tell your own name;" and as if to prove his words, he raised an +immense stone, that few men could have lifted, and with apparent ease +flung it over his right shoulder. A shout of astonishment greeted the +exploit, and Tony Musgrave--whose keen, satirical ill-will had +hitherto been Tallisker's greatest annoyance--came frankly forward and +said, "Dominie, you are a guid fellow! Will you tak some beer wi' me?" + +Tallisker did not hesitate a moment. + +"Thank you, Tony. If it be a drink o' good-will, I'll tak it gladly." + +But he was not inclined to prolong the scene; the interference had +been forced upon him. It had been the only way to stop a quarrel which +there would have been no healing if blood had once been shed. Yet he +was keenly alive to the dignity of his office, and resumed it in the +next moment. Indeed, the drinking of the glass of good-will together +was rather a ceremonial than a convivial affair. Perhaps that also was +the best. The men were silent and respectful, and for the first time +lifted their caps with a hearty courtesy to Tallisker when he left +them. + +"Weel! Wonders never cease!" said Jim Armstrong scornfully. "To see +Tony Musgrave hobnobbing wi' a black-coat! The deil must 'a' had a +spasm o' laughing." + +"Let the deil laugh," said Tony, with a snap of his grimy fingers. +Then, after a moment's pause, he added, "Lads, I heard this morning +that the dominie's wheat was spoiling, because he couldna get help to +cut it. I laughed when I heard it; I didna ken the man then. I'm +going to-morrow to cut the dominie's wheat; which o' you will go wi' +me?" + +"I!" and "I!" and "I!" was the hearty response; and so next day +Traquare saw a strange sight--a dozen colliers in a field of wheat, +making a real holiday of cutting the grain and binding the sheaves, so +that before the next Sabbath it had all been brought safely home. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +But during these very days, when the dominie and his parishioners were +drawing a step closer to each other, the laird and his son were +drifting farther apart. Crawford felt keenly that Colin took no +interest in the great enterprises which filled his own life. The fact +was, Colin inherited his mother's, and not his father's temperament. +The late Lady Crawford had been the daughter of a Zetland Udaller, a +pure Scandinavian, a descendant of the old Vikings, and she inherited +from them a poetic imagination and a nature dreamy and inert, though +capable of rousing itself into fits of courage that could dare the +impossible. Colin would have led a forlorn hope or stormed a battery; +but the bare ugliness and monotony of his life at the works fretted +and worried him. + +Tallisker had repeatedly urged a year's foreign travel. But the laird +had been much averse to the plan. France, in his opinion, was a hotbed +of infidelity; Italy, of popery; Germany, of socialistic and +revolutionary doctrines. There was safety only in Scotland. Pondering +these things, he resolved that marriage was the proper means to +"settle" the lad. So he entered into communication with an old friend +respecting his daughter and his daughter's portion; and one night he +laid the result before Colin. + +Colin was indignant. He wanted to marry no woman, and least of all +women, Isabel McLeod. + +"She'll hae £50,000!" said the laird sententiously. + +"I would not sell myself for £50,000." + +"You'd be a vera dear bargain at half the price to any woman, Colin. +And you never saw Isabel. She was here when you were in Glasgow. She +has the bonniest black e'en in Scotland, and hair like a raven's +wing." + +"When I marry, sir, I shall marry a woman like my mother: a woman with +eyes as blue as heaven, and a face like a rose. I'll go, as you did, +to Shetland for her." + +"There isna a house there fit for you to take a wife from, Colin, save +and except the Earl's ain; and his daughter, the Lady Selina, is near +thirty years old." + +"There are my second cousins, Helga and Saxa Vedder." + +Then the laird was sure in his own heart that Tallisker's advice was +best. France and Italy were less to be feared than pretty, portionless +cousins. Colin had better travel a year, and he proposed it. It hurt +him to see how eagerly his heir accepted the offer. However, if the +thing was to be done, it was best done quickly. Letters of credit +suitable to the young laird's fortune were prepared, and in less than +a month he was ready to begin his travels. It had been agreed that he +should remain away one year, and if it seemed desirable, that his stay +might even be lengthened to two. But no one dreamed that advantage +would be taken of this permission. + +"He'll be hamesick ere a twelvemonth, laird," said the dominie; and +the laird answered fretfully, "A twelvemonth is a big slice o' life to +fling awa in far countries." + +The night before Colin left he was walking with his sister on the +moor. A sublime tranquillity was in the still September air. The +evening crimson hung over the hills like a royal mantle. The old +church stood framed in the deepest blue. At that distance the long +waves broke without a sound, and the few sails on the horizon looked +like white flowers at sea. + +"How beautiful is this mansion of our father!" said Helen softly. "One +blushes to be caught worrying in it, and yet, Colin, I fear to have +you go away." + +"Why, my dear?" + +"I have a presentiment that we shall meet no more in this life. Nay, +do not smile; this strange intelligence of sorrow, this sudden +trembling in a soul at rest, is not all a delusion. We shall part +to-morrow, Colin. Oh, darling brother, where shall we meet again?" + +He looked into the fair, tender face and the eager, questioning eyes, +and found himself unable to reply. + +"Remember, Colin! I give you a rendezvous in heaven." + +He clasped her hand tightly, and they walked on in a silence that +Colin remembered often afterwards. Sometimes, in dreams, to the very +end of his life, he took again with Helen that last evening walk, and +his soul leaned and hearkened after hers. "I give you a rendezvous in +heaven!" + +In the morning they had a few more words alone. She was standing +looking out thoughtfully into the garden. "Are you going to London?" +she asked suddenly. + +"Yes." + +"You will call on Mr. Selwyn?" + +"I think so." + +"Tell him we remember him--and try to follow, though afar off, the +example he sets us." + +"Well, you know, Helen, I may not see him. We never were chums. I have +often wondered why I asked him here. It was all done in a moment. I +had thought of asking Walter Napier, and then I asked Selwyn. I have +often thought it would have pleased me better if I had invited +Walter." + +"Sometimes it is permitted to us to do things for the pleasure of +others, rather than our own. I have often thought that God--who +foresaw the changes to take place here--sent Mr. Selwyn with a message +to Dominie Tallisker. The dominie thinks so too. Then how glad you +ought to be that you asked him. He came to prepare for those poor +people who as yet were scattered over Ayrshire and Cumberland. And +this thought comforts me for you, Colin. God knows just where you are +going, dear, and the people you are going to meet, and all the events +that will happen to you." + +The events and situations of life resemble ocean waves--every one is +alike and yet every one is different. It was just so at Crawford Keep +after Colin left it. The usual duties of the day were almost as +regular as the clock, but little things varied them. There were +letters or no letters from Colin; there were little events at the +works or in the village; the dominie called or he did not call. +Occasionally there were visitors connected with the mines or furnaces, +and sometimes there were social evening gatherings of the neighboring +young people, or formal state dinners for the magistrates and +proprietors who were on terms of intimacy with the laird. + +For the first year of Colin's absence, if his letters were not quite +satisfactory, they were condoned. It did not please his father that +Colin seemed to have settled himself so completely in Rome, among +"artists and that kind o' folk," and he was still more angry when +Colin declared his intention of staying away another year. Poor +father! How he had toiled and planned to aggrandize this only son, who +seemed far more delighted with an old coin or an old picture than with +the great works which bore his name. In all manner of ways he had made +it clear to his family that in the dreamy, sensuous atmosphere of +Italian life he remembered the gray earnestness of Scottish life with +a kind of terror. + +Tallisker said, "Give him his way a little longer, laird. To bring him +hame now is no use. People canna thole blue skies for ever; he'll be +wanting the moors and the misty corries and the gray clouds erelong." +So Colin had another year granted him, and his father added thousand +to thousand, and said to his heart wearily many and many a time, "It +is all vexation of spirit." + +At the end of the second year Crawford wrote a most important letter +to his son. There was an opening for the family that might never come +again. All arrangements had been made for Colin to enter the coming +contest for a seat in Parliament. The Marquis of B---- had been spoken +to, and Crawford and he had come to an understanding Crawford did not +give the particulars of the "understanding," but he told Colin that +his "political career was assured." He himself would take care of the +works. Political life was open to his son, and if money and influence +could put him in the House of Peers, money should not be spared. + +The offer was so stupendous, the future it looked forward to so great, +Crawford never doubted Colin's proud, acquiescence. That much he owed +to a long line of glorious ancestors; it was one of the obligations of +noble birth; he would not dare to, neglect it. + +Impatiently he waited Colin's answer. Indeed, he felt sure Colin would +answer such a call in person. He was disappointed when a letter came; +he had not known, till then, how sure he had felt of seeing his son. +And the letter was a simple blow to him. Very respectfully, but very +firmly, the proposition was declined. Colin said he knew little of +parties and cabals, and was certain, at least, that nothing could +induce him to serve under the Marquis of B----. He could not see his +obligations to the dead Crawfords as his father did. He considered his +life his own. It had come to him with certain tastes, which he meant +to improve and gratify, for only in that way was life of any value to +him. + +The laird laid the letter in Tallisker's hands without a word. He was +almost broken-hearted. He had not yet got to that point where +money-making for money's sake was enough. Family aggrandizement and +political ambition are not the loftiest motives of a man's life, but +still they lift money-making a little above the dirty drudgery of mere +accumulation. Hitherto Crawford had worked for an object, and the +object, at least in his own eyes, had dignified the labor. + +In his secret heart he was angry at Colin's calm respectability. A +spendthrift prodigal, wasting his substance in riotous living, would +have been easier to manage than this young man of æsthetic tastes, +whose greatest extravagance was a statuette or a picture. Tallisker, +too, was more uneasy than he would confess. He had hoped that Colin +would answer his father's summons, because he believed now that the +life he was leading was unmanning him. The poetical element in his +character was usurping an undue mastery. He wrote to Colin very +sternly, and told him plainly that a poetic pantheism was not a whit +less sinful than the most vulgar infidelity. + +Still he advised the laird to be patient, and by no means to answer +Colin's letter in a hurry. But only fixed more firmly the angry +father's determination. Colin must come home and fulfil his wish, or +he must time remain away until he returned as master. As his son, he +would know him no more; as the heir of Crawford, he would receive at +intervals such information as pertained to that position. For the old +man was just in his anger; it never seemed possible to him to deprive +Colin of the right of his heritage. To be the 13th Laird of Crawford +was Colin's birthright; he fully recognized his title to the honor, +and, as the future head of the house, rendered him a definite respect. + +Of course a letter written in such a spirit did no good whatever. +Nothing after it could have induced Colin to come home. He wrote and +declined to receive even the allowance due to him as heir of Crawford. +The letter was perfectly respectful, but cruelly cold and polite, and +every word cut the old man like a sword. + +For some weeks he really seemed to lose all interest in life. Then the +result Tallisker feared was arrived at. He let ambition go, and +settled down to the simple toil of accumulation. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +But Crawford had not a miser's nature. His house, his name, his +children were dearer, after all, to him than gold. Hope springs +eternal in the breast; in a little while he had provided himself with +a new motive: he would marry Helen to young Farquharson, and endow her +so royally that Farquharson would gladly take her name. There should +be another house of Crawford of which Helen should be the root. + +Helen had been long accustomed to consider Hugh Farquharson as her +future husband. The young people, if not very eager lovers, were at +least very warm and loyal friends. They had been in no hurry to finish +the arrangement. Farquharson was in the Scot's Greys; it was +understood that at his marriage he should resign his commission, so, +though he greatly admired Helen, he was in no hurry to leave the +delights of metropolitan and military life. + +But suddenly Crawford became urgent for the fulfilment of the +contract, and Helen, seeing how anxious he was, and knowing how sorely +Colin had disappointed him, could no longer plead for a delay. And yet +a strange sadness fell over her; some inexplicable symptoms as to her +health led her to fear she would never be Farquharson's wife; the gay +wedding attire that came from Edinburgh filled her with a still +sorrow; she could not appropriate any part of it as her own. + +One day when the preparations were nearly finished, Tallisker came up +to the Keep. Helen saw at once that he was moved by some intense +feeling, and there was a red spot on his cheeks which she had been +accustomed to associate with the dominie's anger. The laird was +sitting placidly smoking, and drinking toddy. He had been telling +Helen of the grand house he was going to build on the new estate he +had just bought; and he was now calmly considering how to carry out +his plans on the most magnificent scale, for he had firmly determined +there should be neither Keep nor Castle in the North Country as +splendid as the new Crawfords' Home. + +He greeted Tallisker with a peculiar kindness, and held his hand +almost lovingly. His friendship for the dominie--if he had known +it--was a grain of salt in his fast deteriorating life. He did not +notice the dominie's stern preoccupation, he was so full of his own +new plans. He began at once to lay them before his old friend; he had +that very day got the estimates from the Edinburgh architect. + +Tallisker looked at them a moment with a gathering anger. Then he +pushed them passionately away, saying in a voice that was almost a +sob, "I darena look at them, laird; I darena look at them! Do you ken +that there are fourteen cases o' typhus in them colliers' cottages you +built? Do you remember what Mr. Selwyn said about the right o' +laborers to pure air and pure water? I knew he was right then, and +yet, God forgive me! I let you tak your ain way. Six little bits o' +bairns, twa women, and six o' your pit men! You must awa to Athol +instanter for doctors and medicines and brandy and such things as are +needfu'. There isna a minute to lose, laird." + +Helen had risen while he was speaking with a calm determination that +frightened her father. He did not answer Tallisker, he spoke to her: +"Where are you going, Helen?" + +"Down to the village; I can do something till better help is got." + +"Helen Crawford, you'll bide where you are! Sit still, and I'll do +whatever Tallisker bids me." + +Then he turned angrily to the dominie. + +"You are aye bringing me ill tidings. Am I to blame if death comes?" + +"Am I my brother's keeper? It's an auld question, laird. The first +murderer of a' asked it. I'm bound to say you are to blame. When you +gie fever an invite to your cotters' homes, you darena lay the blame +on the Almighty. You should hae built as Mr. Selwyn advised." + +"Dominie, be quiet. I'm no a bairn, to be hectored o'er in this way. +Say what I must do and I'll do it--anything in reason--only Helen. +I'll no hae her leave the Keep; that's as sure as deathe. Sit down, +Helen. Send a' the wine and dainties you like to, but don't you stir a +foot o'er the threshold." + +His anger was, in its way, as authoritative as the dominie's. Helen +did as she was bid, more especially as Tallisker in this seconded the +laird. + +"There is naething she could do in the village that some old crone +could not do better." + +It was a bitterly annoying interruption to Crawford's pleasant dreams +and plans. He got up and went over to the works. He found things very +bad there. Three more of the men had left sick, and there was an +unusual depression in the village. The next day the tidings were +worse. He foresaw that he would have to work the men half time, and +there had never been so many large and peremptory orders on hand. It +was all very unfortunate to him. + +Tallisker's self-reproaches were his own; he resented them, even while +he acknowledged their truth. He wished he had built as Selwyn advised; +he wished Tallisker had urged him more. It was not likely he would +have listened to any urging, but it soothed him to think he would. And +he greatly aggravated the dominie's trouble by saying, + +"Why did ye na mak me do right, Tallisker? You should hae been mair +determined wi' me, dominie." + +During the next six weeks the dominie's efforts were almost +superhuman. He saw every cottage whitewashed; he was nurse and doctor +and cook. The laird saw him carrying wailing babies and holding raving +men in his strong arms. He watched over the sick till the last ray of +hope fled; he buried them tenderly when all was over. The splendor of +the man's humanity had never shown itself until it stood erect and +feared not, while the pestilence that walked in darkness and the +destruction that wasted at noon-day dogged his every step. + +The laird, too, tried to do his duty. Plenty of people are willing to +play the Samaritan without the oil and the twopence, but that was not +Crawford's way. Tallisker's outspoken blame had really made him +tremble at his new responsibilities; he had put his hand liberally in +his pocket to aid the sufferers. Perhaps at the foundation of all lay +one haunting thought--Helen! If he did what he could for others, Helen +would safer. He never audibly admitted that Helen was in any danger, +but--but--if there should be danger, he was, he hoped, paying a ransom +for her safety. + +In six weeks the epidemic appeared to have spent itself. There was a +talk of resuming full hours at the works. Twenty new hands had been +sent for to fill vacant places. Still there was a shadow on the +dominie's face, and he knew himself there was a shadow on his heart. +Was it the still solemnity of death in which he had lately lived so +much? Or was it the shadow of a coming instead of a departing sorrow? + +One afternoon he thought he would go and sit with Helen a little +while. During his close intimacy with the colliers he had learned many +things which would change his methods of working for their welfare; +and of these changes he wished to speak with Helen. She was just going +for a walk on the moor, and he went with her. It was on such a +September evening she had walked last with Colin. As they sauntered +slowly, almost solemnly home, she remembered it. Some impulse far +beyond her control or understanding urged her to say, "Dominie, when I +am gone I leave Colin to you." + +He looked at her with a sudden enlightenment. Her face had for a +moment a far-away death-like predestination over it. His heart sank +like lead as he looked at her. + +"Are you ill, Helen?" + +"I have not been well for two weeks." + +He felt her hands; they were burning with fever. + +"Let us go home," she said, and then she turned and gave one long, +mournful look at the mountains and the sea and the great stretch of +moorland. Tallisker knew in his heart she was bidding farewell to +them. He had no word to say. There are moods of the soul beyond all +human intermeddling. + +The silence was broken by Helen. She pointed to the mountains. "How +steadfast they are, how familiar with forgotten years! How small we +are beside them!" + +"I don't think so," said Tallisker stoutly. "Mountains are naething to +men. How small is Sinai when the man Moses stands upon it!" + +Then they were at the Keep garden. Helen pulled a handful of white and +golden asters, and the laird, who had seen them coming, opened the +door wide to welcome them. Alas! Alas! Though he saw it not, death +entered with them. At midnight there was the old, old cry of despair +and anguish, the hurrying for help, where no help was of avail, the +desolation of a terror creeping hour by hour closer to the +hearthstone. + +The laird was stricken with a stony grief which was deaf to all +consolation. He wandered up and down wringing his hands, and crying +out at intervals like a man in mortal agony. Helen lay in a stupor +while the fever burned her young life away. She muttered constantly +the word "Colin;" and Tallisker, though he had no hope that Colin +would ever reach his sister, wrote for the young laird. + +Just before the last she became clearly, almost radiantly conscious. +She would be alone with her father, and the old man, struggling +bravely with his grief, knelt down beside her. She whispered to him +that there was a paper in the jewel-box on her table. He went and got +it. It was a tiny scrap folded crosswise. "Read it, father, when I am +beyond all pain and grief. I shall trust you, dear." He could only bow +his head upon her hands and weep. + +"Tallisker!" she whispered, and he rose softly and called him. The two +men stood together by her side. + +"Is it well, my daughter?" said the dominie, with a tone of tender +triumph in his voice. "You fear not, Helen, the bonds of death?" + +"I trust in those pierced hands which have broken the bonds of death. +Oh! the unspeakable riches!" + +These were her last words. Tallisker prayed softly as the mystical +gray shadow stole over the fair, tranquil face. It was soon all over. + + "She had outsoared the shadow of our night, + And that unrest which men misname delight." + +The bridal robes were folded away, the bridegroom went back to his +regiment, the heartsore father tried to take up his life again. But it +seemed to him to have been broken in two by the blow; and besides +this, there was a little strip of paper which lay like a load upon his +heart. It was the paper he had taken from Helen's dying fingers, and +it contained her last request: + +"Father, dear, dear father, whatever you intended to give me--I pray +you--give it to God's poor. + +"HELEN." + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The dominie had felt certain that Colin would answer his letter in +person, but after a long silence he received it back again. Colin had +left Rome, and left no trace behind him. The laird knew that Tallisker +had written, and he too had been hoping and expecting. But he received +the news of his son's disappearance without remark. Life for some time +was a dreary weight to him, he scarce felt as if he could lift it +again. Hope after hope had failed him. He had longed so to be a rich +man, had God in his anger granted him his wish? And was no other thing +to prosper with him? All the same he clung to his gold with a deeper +affection. When all other vices are old avarice is still young. As +ambition and other motives died out, avarice usurped their places, and +Tallisker saw with a feeling half angry, and half pitiful, the laird's +life dwindling down to this most contemptible of all aims. He kept his +duty as proprietor constantly before the laird, but he no longer +seemed to care that people should say, "Crawford's men have the best +laborers' cottages in Scotland." + +"I hae made up my mind, Tallisker," said fretfully, "the warld thinks +more o' the who mak money than o' those who gie it awa." Certainly +this change was not a sudden one; for two years after Helen's death it +was coming slowly forward, yet there were often times when Tallisker +hoped that it was but a temptation, and would be finally conquered. +Men do not lose the noble savor of humanity in a moment. Even on the +downward road good angels wait anxiously, and whisper in every better +moment to the lapsing soul, "Return!" + +But there was a seed of bitterness in Crawford's heart, that was +poisoning the man's spiritual life--a little bit of paper, yet it lay +like a great stone over his noblest feelings, and sealed them up as in +a sepulchre. Oh, if some angel would come and roll it away! He had +never told the dominie of Helen's bequest. He did not dare to destroy +the slip of paper, but he hid it in the most secret drawer of his +secretary. He told himself that it was only a dying sentiment in Helen +to wish it, and that it would be a foolish superstition in him to +regard it. Perhaps in those last moments she had not understood what +she was asking. + +For a little while he found relief in this suggestion; then he +remembered that the request must have been dictated before the fever +had conquered her strength or judgment. The words were clearly written +in Helen's neat, precise manner; there was not a hesitating line in +the whole. She had evidently written it with care and consideration. +No one could tell how that slip of paper haunted him. Even in the +darkness of its secret hiding-place his spiritual eyes saw it clearly +day and night. + +To give to the poor all he had intended to give to Helen! He could +not! He could not! He could not do it! Helen could not have known what +she was asking. He had meant, in one way or another, to give her, as +the founder of the new line of Crawfords, at least one hundred +thousand pounds. Was it reasonable to scatter hither and yon such a +large sum, earned, as he told himself pitifully, "by his ain wisdom +and enterprise!" + +The dominie knew nothing of this terrible struggle going on ever in +the man's soul who sat by his side. He saw that Crawford was irritable +and moody, but he laid the blame of it on Colin. Oh, if the lad would +only write, he would go himself and bring him back to his father, +though he should have to seek him at the ends of the earth. But four +years passed away, and the prodigal sent no backward, homeward sign. +Every night, then, the laird looked a moment into the dominie's face, +and always the dominie shook his head. Ah, life has silences that are +far more pathetic than death's. + +One night Crawford said, almost in a whisper, + +"He'll be dead, Tallisker." + +And Tallisker answered promptly, + +"He'll come hame, laird." + +No other words about Colin passed between the two men in four years. +But destiny loves surprises. One night Tallisker laid a letter on the +table. + +"It is for you, laird; read it." + +It was a singular letter to come after so long a silence, and the +laird's anger was almost excusable. + +"Listen, Tallisker; did e'er you hear the like? + +"'DEAR FATHER: I want, for a very laudable purpose, £4,000. It is not +for myself in any way. If you will let me have it, I will trouble you +with the proper explanations. If not, they will not be necessary. I +have heard that you are well. I pray God to continue his mercy to you. + +"'Your dutiful son, + +"'COLIN CRAWFORD.' + +"'Laudable purpose!'" cried the unhappy father, in a passion. "The lad +is altogether too laudable. The letter is an insult, Tallisker. I'll +ne'er forgive him for it. Oh, what a miserable father I am!" + +And the dominie was moved to tears at the sight of his old friend's +bitter anguish. + +Still he asserted that Colin had meant it to be a kind letter. + +"Dinna tak want o' sense for want o' affection laird. The lad is a +conceited prig. He's set up wi' himsel' about something he is going to +do. Let him hae the money. I would show him you can gie as grandly as +he can ask loftily." + +And, somehow, the idea pleased the laird. It was something that Colin +had been obliged to ask him for money at all. He sat down and wrote +out a check for the amount. Then he enclosed it with these words: + +"SON COLIN CRAWFORD: I send you what you desire. I am glad your +prospects are sae laudable; maybe it may enter your heart, some day, +to consider it laudable to keep the Fifth Command. Your sister is +dead. Life is lonely, but I thole it. I want nae explanations. + +"Your father, + +"ALEX. CRAWFORD." + +"What's the address, Tallisker?" + +"Regent's Place, London." + +The answer arrived in due time. It was as proper as a letter could be. +Colin said he was just leaving for America, but did not expect to be +more than six months there. But he never said a word about coming to +Crawford. Tallisker was downright angry at the young man. It was true +his father had told him he did not wish to see him again, but that had +been said under a keen sense of family wrong and of bitter +disappointment. Colin ought to have taken his father's ready response +to his request as an overture of reconciliation. For a moment he was +provoked with both of them. + +"You are a dour lot, you Crawfords; ane o' you is prouder than the +ither." + +"The Crawfords are as God made them, dominie." + +"And some o' them a little warse." + +Yet, after all, it was Colin Tallisker was really angry at. For the +present he had to let his anger lie by. Colin had gone, and given him +no address in America. + +"He is feared I will be telling him his duty, and when he comes back +that is what I shall do, if I go to London to mak him hear me." + +For a moment the laird looked hopefully into the dominie's face, but +the hope was yet so far off he could not grasp it. Yet, in a dim, +unacknowledged way it influenced him. He returned to his money-making +with renewed vigor. It was evident he had let the hope of Colin's +return steal into his heart. And the giving of that £4,000 Tallisker +considered almost a sign of grace. It had not been given from any +particularly noble motive; but any motive, not sinful, roused in +opposition to simple avarice, was a gain. He was quite determined now +to find Colin as soon as he returned from America. + +In rather less than six months there were a few lines from Colin, +saying that the money sent had been applied to the proper purpose, and +had nobly fulfilled it. The laird had said he wanted no explanations, +and Colin gave him none. + +Tallisker read the letter with a half smile. + +"He is just the maist contrary, conceited young man I e'er heard tell +o'. Laird, as he wont come to us, I am going to him." + +The laird said nothing. Any grief is better than a grief not sure. It +would be a relief to know all, even if that "all" were painful. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Tallisker was a man as quick in action as in resolve; the next night +he left for London, it was no light journey in those days for a man of +his years, and who had never in all his life been farther away from +Perthshire than Edinburgh. But he feared nothing. He was going into +the wilderness after his own stray sheep, and he had a conviction that +any path of duty is a safe path. He said little to any one. The people +looked strangely on him. He almost fancied himself to be Christian +going through Vanity Fair. + +He went first to Colin's old address in Regent's Place. He did not +expect to find him there, but it might lead him to the right place. +Number 34 Regent's Place proved to be a very grand house. As he went +up to the door, an open carriage, containing a lady and a child, left +it. A man dressed in the Crawford tartan opened the door. + +"Crawford?" inquired Tallisker, "is he at home?" + +"Yes, he is at home;" and the servant ushered him into, a +carefully-shaded room, where marble statues gleamed in dusk corners +and great flowering plants made the air fresh and cool. It as the +first time Tallisker had ever seen a calla lily and he looked with +wonder and delight at the gleaming flowers. And somehow he thought of +Helen. Colin sat in a great leathern chair reading. He did not lift +his head until the door closed and he was sensible the servant had +left some one behind. Then for a moment he could hardly realize who it +was; but when he did, he came forward with a glad cry. + +"Dominie! O Tallisker!" + +"Just so, Colin, my dear lad. O Colin, you are the warst man I ever +kenned. You had a good share o' original sin to start wi', but what +wi' pride and self-will and ill-will, the old trouble is sairly +increased." + +Colin smiled gravely. "I think you misjudge me, dominie." Then +refreshments were sent for, and the two men sat down for a long mutual +confidence. + +Colin's life had not been uneventful. He told it frankly, without +reserve and without pride. When he quarrelled with his father about +entering Parliament, he left Rome at once, and went to Canada. He had +some idea of joining his lot with his own people there. But he found +them in a state of suffering destitution. They had been unfortunate in +their choice of location, and were enduring an existence barer than +the one they had left, without any of its redeeming features. Colin +gave them all he had, and left them with promises of future aid. + +Then he went to New York. When he arrived, there was an intense +excitement over the struggle then going on in the little republic of +Texas. He found out something about the country; as for the struggle, +it was the old struggle of freedom against papal and priestly +dominion. That was a quarrel for which Scotchmen have always been +ready to draw the sword. It was Scotland's old quarrel in the New +World, and Colin went into it heart and soul. His reward had been an +immense tract of the noble rolling Colorado prairie. Then he +determined to bring the Crawfords down, and plant them in this garden +of the Lord. It was for this end he had written to his father for +£4,000. This sum had sufficed to transplant them to their new home, +and give them a start. He had left them happy and contented, and felt +now that in this matter he had absolved his conscience of all wrong. + +"But you ought to hae told the laird. It was vera ill-considered. It +was his affair more than yours. I like the thing you did, Colin, but I +hate the way you did it. One shouldna be selfish even in a good wark." + +"It was the laird's own fault; he would not let me explain." + +"Colin, are you married?" + +"Yes. I married a Boston lady. I have a son three years old. My wife +was in Texas with me. She had a large fortune of her own." + +"You are a maist respectable man, Colin, but I dinna like it at all. +What are you doing wi' your time? This grand house costs something." + +"I am an artist--a successful one, if that is not also against me." + +"Your father would think sae. Oh, my dear lad, you hae gane far astray +from the old Crawford ways." + +"I cannot help that, dominie. I must live according to my light. I am +sorry about father." + +Then the dominie in the most forcible manner painted the old laird's +hopes and cruel disappointments. There were tears in Colin's eyes as +he reasoned with him. And at this point his own son came into the +room. Perhaps for the first time Colin looked at the lad as the future +heir of Crawford. A strange thrill of family and national pride +stirred his heart. He threw the little fellow shoulder high, and in +that moment regretted that he had flung away the child's chance of +being Earl of Crawford. He understood then something of the anger and +suffering his father had endured, and he put the boy down very +solemnly. For if Colin was anything, he was just; if his father had +been his bitterest enemy, he would, at this moment, have acknowledged +his own aggravation. + +Then Mrs. Crawford came in. She had heard all about the dominie, and +she met him like a daughter. Colin had kept his word. This fair, +sunny-haired, blue-eyed woman was the wife he had dreamed about; and +Tallisker told him he had at any rate done right in that matter. "The +bonnie little Republican," as he called her, queened it over the +dominie from the first hour of their acquaintance. + +He stayed a week in London, and during it visited Colin's studio. He +went there at Colin's urgent request, but with evident reluctance. A +studio to the simple dominie had almost the same worldly flavor as a +theatre. He had many misgivings as they went down Pall Mall, but he +was soon reassured. There was a singular air of repose and quiet in +the large, cool room. And the first picture he cast his eyes upon +reconciled him to Colin's most un-Crawford-like taste. + +It was "The Farewell of the Emigrant Clan." The dominie's knees shook, +and he turned pale with emotion. How had Colin reproduced that scene, +and not only reproduced but idealized it! There were the gray sea and +the gray sky, and the gray granite boulder rocks on which the chief +stood, the waiting ships, and the loaded boats, and he himself in the +prow of the foremost one. He almost felt the dear old hymn thrilling +through the still room. In some way, too, Colin had grasped the +grandest points of his father's character. In this picture the man's +splendid physical beauty seemed in some mysterious way to give +assurance of an equally splendid spiritual nature. + +"If this is making pictures, Colin, I'll no say but what you could +paint a sermon, my dear lad. I hae ne'er seen a picture before." Then +he turned to another, and his swarthy face glowed with an intense +emotion. There was a sudden sense of tightening in his throat, and he +put his hand up and slowly raised his hat. It was Prince Charlie +entering Edinburgh. The handsome, unfortunate youth rode bareheaded +amid the Gordons and the Murrays and a hundred Highland noblemen. The +women had their children shoulder high to see him, the citizens, +bonnets up, were pressing up to his bridle-rein. It stirred Tallisker +like a peal of trumpets. With the tears streaming down his glowing +face, he cried out, + +"How daur ye, sir! You are just the warst rebel between the seas! King +George ought to hang you up at Carlisle-gate. And this is painting! +This is artist's wark! And you choose your subjects wisely, Colin: it +is a gift the angels might be proud o'." He lingered long in the room, +and when he left it, "Prince Charlie" and the "Clan's Farewell" were +his own. They were to go back with him to the manse at Crawford. + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +It was, upon the whole, a wonderful week to Tallisker; he returned +home with the determination that the laird must recall his banished. +He had tried to induce Colin to condone all past grievances, but Colin +had, perhaps wisely, said that he could not go back upon a momentary +impulse. The laird must know all, and accept him just as he was. He +had once been requested not to come home unless he came prepared to +enter into political life. He had refused the alternative then, and he +should refuse it again. The laird must understand these things, or the +quarrel would probably be renewed, perhaps aggravated. + +And Tallisker thought that, in this respect, Colin was right. He would +at any rate hide nothing from the laird, he should know all; and +really he thought he ought to be very grateful that the "all" was so +much better than might have been. + +The laird was not glad. A son brought down to eat the husk of evil +ways, poor, sick, suppliant, would have found a far readier welcome. +He would gladly have gone to meet Colin, even while he was yet a great +way off, only he wanted Colin to be weary and footsore and utterly +dependent on his love. He heard with a grim silence Tallisker's +description of the house in Regent's Place, with its flowers and +books, its statues, pictures, and conservatory. When Tallisker told +him of the condition of the Crawfords in Canada, he was greatly moved. +He was interested and pleased with the Texan struggle. He knew nothing +of Texas, had never heard of the country, but Mexicans, Spaniards, and +the Inquisition were one in his mind. + +"That at least was Crawford-like," he said warmly, when told of +Colin's part in the struggle. + +But the subsequent settlement of the clan there hurt him terribly. "He +should hae told me. He shouldna hae minded what I said in such a case. +I had a right to know. Colin has used me vera hardly about this. Has +he not, Tallisker?" + +"Yes, laird, Colin was vera wrong there. He knows it now." + +"What is he doing in such a grand house? How does he live?" + +"He is an artist--a vera great one, I should say." + +"He paints pictures for a living! He! A Crawford o' Traquare! I'll no +believe it, Tallisker." + +"There's naught to fret about, laird. You'll ken that some day. Then +his wife had money." + +"His wife! Sae he is married. That is o' a piece wi' the rest. Wha is +she?" + +"He married an American--a Boston lady." + +Then the laird's passion was no longer controllable, and he said some +things the dominie was very angry at. + +"Laird," he answered, "Mrs. Colin Crawford is my friend. You'll no +daur to speak any way but respectful o' her in my presence. She is as +good as any Crawford that ever trod the heather. She came o' the +English Hampdens. Whar will ye get better blood than that?" + +"No Hampdens that ever lived--" + +"Whist! Whist, laird! The Crawfords are like a' ither folk; they have +twa legs and twa hands." + +"He should hae married a Scots lass, though she had carried a +milking-pail." + +"Laird, let me tell you there will be nae special heaven for the Gael. +They that want to go to heaven by themsel's arena likely to win there +at a'. You may as well learn to live with ither folk here; you'll hae +to do it to a' eternity." + +"If I get to heaven, Dominie Tallisker, I'll hae special graces for +the place. I'm no going to put mysel' in a blazing passion for you +to-night. Yon London woman has bewitched you. She's wanting to come to +the Keep, I'll warrant." + +"If ye saw the hame she has you wouldna warrant your ain word a minute +longer, laird. And I'm sure I dinna see what she would want to hae twa +Crawfords to guide for. One is mair than enough whiles. It's a wonder +to me how good women put up wi' us at all!" + +"_Humff!_" said the laird scornfully. "Too many words on a spoiled +subject." + +"I must say one mair, though. There is a little lad, a bonnie, brave, +bit fellow, your ain grandson, Crawford." + +"An American Crawford!" And the laird laughed bitterly. "A foreigner! +an alien! a Crawford born in England! Guid-night, Tallisker! We'll +drop the subject, an it please you." + +Tallisker let it drop. He had never expected the laird to give in at +the first cry of "Surrender." But he reflected that the winter was +coming, and that its long nights would give plenty of time for thought +and plenty of opportunities for further advocacy. He wrote constantly +to Colin and his wife, perhaps oftener to Mrs. Crawford than to the +young laird, for she was a woman of great tact and many resources, and +Tallisker believed in her. + +Crawford had said a bitter word about her coming to the Keep, and +Tallisker could not help thinking what a blessing she would be there; +for one of Crawford's great troubles now was the wretchedness of his +household arrangements. The dainty cleanliness and order which had +ruled it during Helen's life were quite departed. The garden was +neglected, and all was disorder and discomfort. Now it is really +wonderful how much of the solid comfort of life depends upon a +well-arranged home, and the home must depend upon some woman. Men may +mar the happiness of a household, but they cannot make it. Women are +the happiness makers. The laird never thought of it in this light, but +he did know that he was very uncomfortable. + +"I canna even get my porridge made right," he said fretfully to the +dominie. + +"You should hae a proper person o'er them ne'er-do-weel servants o' +yours, laird. I ken one that will do you." + +"Wha is she?" + +"A Mrs. Hope." + +"A widow?" + +"No, not a widow, but she is not living with her husband." + +"Then she'll ne'er win into my house, dominie." + +"She has good and sufficient reasons. I uphold her. Do you think I +would sanction aught wrong, laird?" + +No more was said at that time, but a month afterwards Mrs. Hope had +walked into the Keep and taken everything in her clever little hands. +Drunken, thieving, idle servants had been replaced by men and women +thoroughly capable and efficient. The laird's tastes were studied, his +wants anticipated, his home became bright, restful, and quiet. The +woman was young and wonderfully pretty, and Crawford soon began to +watch her with a genuine interest. + +"She'll be ane o' the Hopes o' Beaton," he thought; "she is vera like +them." + +At any rate he improved under her sway, for being thoroughly +comfortable himself, he was inclined to have consideration for others. + +One afternoon, as he came from the works, it began to snow. He turned +aside to the manse to borrow a plaid of Tallisker. He very seldom went +to the manse, but in the keen, driving snow the cheerful fire gleaming +through the window looked very inviting. He thought he would go in and +take a cup of tea with Tallisker. + +"Come awa in, laird," cried old Janet, "come awa in. You are a sight +good for sair e'en. The dominie will be back anon, and I'll gie ye a +drap o' hot tay till he comes." + +So the laird went in, and the first thing he saw was Colin's picture +of "The Clan's Farewell." It moved him to his very heart. He divined +at once whose work it was, and he felt that it was wonderful. It must +be acknowledged, too, that he was greatly pleased with Colin's +conception of himself. + +"I'm no a bad-looking Crawford," he thought complacently; "the lad has +had a vera clear notion o' what he was doing." + +Personal flattery is very subtle and agreeable. Colin rose in his +father's opinion that hour. + +Then he turned to Prince Charlie. How strange is that vein of romantic +loyalty marbling the granite of Scotch character! The common-place man +of coal and iron became in the presence of his ideal prince a feudal +chieftain again. His heart swelled to that pictured face as the great +sea swells to the bending moon. He understood in that moment how his +fathers felt it easy to pin on the white cockade and give up +everything for an impossible loyalty. + +The dominie found him in this mood. He turned back to every-day life +with a sigh. + +"Weel, dominie, you are a man o' taste. When did you begin buying +pictures?" + +"I hae no money for pictures, laird. The artist gave me them." + +"You mean Colin Crawford gave you them." + +"That is what I mean." + +"Weel, I'm free to say Colin kens how to choose grand subjects. I +didna think there was so much in a picture. I wouldna dare to keep +that poor dear prince in my house. I shouldna be worth a bawbee at the +works. It was a wonderfu' wise step, that forbidding o' pictures in +the kirks. I can vera weel see how they would lead to a sinfu' +idolatry." + +"Yes, John Knox kent well the temper o' the metal he had to work. +There's nae greater hero-worshippers than Scots folk. They are aye +making idols for themsel's. Whiles it's Wallace, then it's Bruce or +Prince Charlie; nay, there are decent, pious folk that gie Knox +himsel' a honoring he wouldna thank them for. But, laird, there is a +mair degraded idolatry still--that o' gold. We are just as ready as +ever the Jews were to fall down before a calf, an' it only be a golden +one." + +"Let that subject alane, dominie. It will tak a jury o' rich men to +judge rich men. A poor man isna competent. The rich hae straits the +poor canna fathom." + +And then he saw in light as clear as crystal a slip of paper hid away +in a secret drawer. + +Just at this moment a little lad bairn entered the room; a child with +bright, daring eyes, and a comically haughty, confident manner. He +attracted Crawford's attention at once. + +"What's your name, my wee man?" + +"Alexander is my name." + +"That is my name." + +"It is not," he answered positively; "don't say that any more." + +"Will you hae a sixpence?" + +"Yes, I will. Money is good. It buys sweeties." + +"Whose boy is that, dominie?" + +"Mrs. Hope's. I thought he would annoy you. He is a great pleasure to +me." + +"Let him come up to the Keep whiles. I'll no mind him." + +When he rose to go he stood a moment before each picture, and then +suddenly asked, + +"Whar is young Crawford?" + +"In Rome." + +"A nice place for him to be! He'd be in Babylon, doubtless, if it was +on the face o' the earth." + +When he went home he shut himself in his room and almost stealthily +took out that slip of paper. It had begun to look yellow and faded, +and Crawford had a strange fancy that it had a sad, pitiful +appearance. He held it in his hand a few moments and then put it back +again. It would be the new year soon, and he would decide then. He had +made similar promises often; they always gave him temporary comfort. + +Then gradually another element of pleasure crept into his life--Mrs. +Hope's child. The boy amused him; he never resented his pretty, +authoritative ways; a queer kind of companionship sprang up between +them. It was one of perfect equality every way; an old man easily +becomes a little child. And those who only knew Crawford among coals +and pig iron would have been amazed to see him keeping up a mock +dispute with this baby. + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +One day, getting towards the end of December, the laird awoke in a +singular mood. He had no mind to go to the works, and the weather +promised to give him a good excuse. Over the dreary hills there was a +mournful floating veil of mist. Clouds were flying rapidly in great +masses, and showers streaming through the air in disordered ranks, +driven furiously before a mad wind--a wind that before noon shook the +doors and windows, and drove the bravest birds into hiding. + +The laird wandered restlessly up and down. + +"There is the dominie," cried Mrs. Hope, about one o'clock. "What +brings him here through such a storm?" + +Crawford walked to the door to meet him. He came striding over the +soaking moor with his plaid folded tightly around him and his head +bent before the blast. He was greatly excited. + +"Crawford, come wi' me. The Athol passenger packet is driving before +this wind, and there is a fishing smack in her wake." + +"Gie us some brandy wi' us, Mrs. Hope, and you'll hae fires and +blankets and a' things needfu' in case O' accident, ma'am." He was +putting on his bonnet and plaid as he spoke, and in five minutes the +men were hastening to the seaside. + +It was a deadly coast to be on in a storm with a gale blowing to land. +A long reef of sharp rocks lay all along it, and now the line of +foaming breakers was to any ship a terrible omen of death and +destruction. The packet was almost helpless, and the laird and +Tallisker found a crowd of men waiting the catastrophe that was every +moment imminent. + +"She ought to hae gien hersel' plenty o' sea room," said the laird. He +was half angry to see all the interest centred on the packet. The +little fishing cobble was making, in his opinion, a far more sensible +struggle for existence. She was managing her small resources with +desperate skill. + +"Tallisker," said the laird, "you stay here with these men. Rory and I +are going half a mile up the coast. If the cobble drives on shore, the +current will take a boat as light as she is over the Bogie Rock and +into the surf yonder. There are doubtless three or four honest men in +her, quite as weel worth the saving as those stranger merchant bodies +that will be in the packet." + +So Crawford and Rory hastened to the point they had decided on, and +just as they reached it the boat became unmanageable. The wind took +her in its teeth, shook her a moment or two like a thing of straw and +rags, and then flung her, keel upwards, on the Bogie Rock. Two of the +men were evidently good swimmers; the others were a boy and an old +man. Crawford plunged boldly in after the latter. The waves buffeted +him, and flung him down, and lifted him up, but he was a fine surf +swimmer, and he knew every rock on that dangerous coast. After a hard +struggle, all were brought safe to land. + +Then they walked back to where the packet had been last seen. She had +gone to pieces. A few men waited on the beach, picking up the dead, +and such boxes and packages as were dashed on shore. Only three of all +on board had been rescued, and they had been taken to the Keep for +succor and rest. + +The laird hastened home. He had not felt as young for many years. The +struggle, though one of life and death, had not wearied him like a +day's toil at the works, for it had been a struggle to which the soul +had girded itself gladly, and helped and borne with it the mortal +body. He came in all glowing and glad; a form lay on his own couch +before the fire. The dominie and Mrs. Hope were bending over it. As he +entered, Mrs. Hope sprang forward-- + +"Father!" + +"Eh? Father? What is this?" + +"Father, it is Colin." + +Then he knew it all. Colin stretched out a feeble hand towards him. He +was sorely bruised and hurt, he was white and helpless and death-like. + +"Father!" + +And the father knelt down beside him. Wife and friend walked softly +away. In the solemn moment when these two long-parted souls met again +there was no other love that could inter-meddle. + +"My dear father--forgive me!" + +Then the laird kissed his recovered son, and said tenderly, + +"Son Colin, you are all I have, and all I have is yours." + +"Father, my wife and son." + +Then the old man proudly and fondly kissed Hope Crawford too, and he +clasped the little lad in his arms. He was well pleased that Hope had +thought it worth while to minister to his comfort, and let him learn +how to know her fairly. + +"But it was your doing, Tallisker, I ken it was; it has your mark on +it." And he grasped his old friend's hand with a very hearty grip. + +"Not altogether, laird. Colin had gone to Rome on business, and you +were in sair discomfort, and I just named it to Mrs. Hope. After a' it +was her proposal. Naebody but a woman would hae thought o' such a way +to win round you." + +Perhaps it was well that Colin was sick and very helpless for some +weeks. During them the two men learned to understand and to respect +each other's peculiarities. Crawford himself was wonderfully happy; he +would not let any thought of the past darken his heart. He looked +forward as hopefully as if he were yet on the threshold of life. + +O mystery of life! from what depths proceed thy comforts and thy +lessons! One morning at very early dawn Crawford awoke from a deep +sleep in an indescribable awe. In some vision of the night he had +visited that piteous home which memory builds, and where only in sleep +we walk. Whom had he seen there? What message had he received? This he +never told. He had been "spoken to." + +Tallisker was not the man to smile at any such confidence. He saw no +reason why God's messengers should not meet his children in the +border-land of dreams. Thus he had counselled and visited the +patriarchs and prophets of old. He was a God who changeth not; and if +he had chosen to send Crawford a message in this way, it was doubtless +some special word, for some special duty or sorrow. But he had really +no idea of what Crawford had come to confess to him. + +"Tallisker, I hae been a man in a sair strait for many a year. I hae +not indeed hid the Lord's talent in a napkin, but I hae done a warse +thing; I hae been trading wi' it for my ain proper advantage. O +dominie, I hae been a wretched man through it all. Nane ken better +than I what a hard master the deil is." + +Then he told the dominie of Helen's bequest. He went over all the +arguments with which he had hitherto quieted his conscience, and he +anxiously watched their effect upon Tallisker. He had a hope even yet +that the dominie might think them reasonable. But the table at which +they sat was not less demonstrative than Tallisker's face; for once he +absolutely controlled himself till the story was told. Then he said to +Crawford, + +"I'll no tak any responsibility in a matter between you and your +conscience. If you gie it, gie it without regret and without holding +back. Gie it cheerfully; God loves a cheerful giver. But it isna wi' +me you'll find the wisdom to guide you in this matter. Shut yoursel' +in your ain room, and sit down at the foot o' the cross and think it +out. It is a big sum to gie away, but maybe, in the face o' that +stupendous Sacrifice it willna seem so big. I'll walk up in the +evening, laird; perhaps you will then hae decided what to do." + +Crawford was partly disappointed. He had hoped that Tallisker would in +some way take the burden from him--he had instead sent him to the foot +of the cross. He did not feel as if he dared to neglect the advice; so +he went thoughtfully to his own room and locked the door. Then he took +out his private ledger. Many a page had been written the last ten +years. It was the book of a very rich man. He thought of all his +engagements and plans and hopes, and of how the withdrawal of so large +a sum would affect them. + +Then he took out Helen's last message, and sat down humbly with it +where Tallisker had told him to sit. Suddenly Helen's last words came +back to him, "Oh! the unspeakable riches!" What of? The cross of +Christ--the redemption from eternal death--the promise of eternal +life! Sin is like a nightmare; when we stir under it, we awake. +Crawford sat thinking until his heart burned and softened, and great +tears rolled slowly down his cheeks and dropped upon the paper in his +hands. Then he thought of the richness of his own life--Colin and +Hope, and the already beloved child Alexander--of his happy home, of +the prosperity of his enterprises, of his loyal and loving friend +Tallisker. What a contrast to the Life he had been told to remember! +that pathetic Life that had not where to lay its head, that mysterious +agony in Gethsemane, that sublime death on Calvary, and he cried out, +"O Christ! O Saviour of my soul! all that I have is too little!" + +When Tallisker came in the evening, Hope noticed a strange solemnity +about the man. He, too, had been in the presence of God all day. He +had been praying for his friend. But as soon as he saw Crawford he +knew how the struggle had ended. Quietly they grasped each other's +hand, and the evening meal was taken by Colin's side in pleasant +cheerfulness. After it, when all were still, the laird spoke: + +"Colin and Hope, I hae something I ought to tell you. When your sister +Helen died she asked me to gie her share o' the estate to the poor +children of our Father. I had intended giving Helen £100,000. It is a +big sum, and I hae been in a sair strait about it. What say you, +Colin?" + +"My dear father, I say there is only one way out of that strait. The +money must be given as Helen wished it. Helen was a noble girl. It was +just like her." + +"Ah, Colin, if you could only tell what a burden this bit o' paper has +been to me! I left the great weight at the foot o' the cross this +morning." As he spoke the paper dropped from his fingers and fell upon +the table. Colin lifted it reverently and kissed it. "Father," he +said, "may I keep it now? The day will come when the Crawfords will +think with more pride of it than of any parchment they possess." + +Then there was an appeal to Tallisker about its disposal. "Laird," he +answered, "such a sum must be handled wi' great care. It is not enough +to gie money, it must be gien wisely." But he promised to take on +himself the labor of inquiry into different charities, and the +consideration of what places and objects needed help most. "But, +Crawford," he said, "if you hae any special desire, I think it should +be regarded." + +Then Crawford said he had indeed one. When he was himself young he had +desired greatly to enter the ministry, but his father had laid upon +him a duty to the family and estate which he had accepted instead. + +"Now, dominie," he said, "canna I keep aye a young man in my place?" + +"It is a worthy thought, Crawford." + +So the first portion of Helen's bequest went to Aberdeen University. +This endowment has sent out in Crawford's place many a noble young man +into the harvest-field of the world, and who shall say for how many +centuries it will keep his name green in earth and heaven! The +distribution of the rest does not concern our story. It may safely be +left in Dominie Tallisker's hands. + +Of course, in some measure it altered Crawford's plans. The new house +was abandoned and a wing built to the Keep for Colin's special use. In +this portion the young man indulged freely his poetic, artistic +tastes. And the laird got to like it. He used to tread softly as soon +as his feet entered the large shaded rooms, full of skilful lights and +white gleaming statues. He got to enjoy the hot, scented atmosphere +and rare blossoms of the conservatory, and it became a daily delight +to him to sit an hour in Colin's studio and watch the progress of some +favorite picture. + +But above all his life was made rich by his grandson. Nature, as she +often does, reproduced in the second generation what she had totally +omitted in the first. The boy was his grandfather over again. They +agreed upon every point. It was the laird who taught Alexander to +spear a salmon, and throw a trout-line, and stalk a deer. They had +constant confidences about tackle and guns and snares. They were all +day together on the hills. The works pleased the boy better than his +father's studio. He trotted away with his grandfather gladly to them. +The fires and molten metal, the wheels and hammers and tumult, were +all enchantments to him. He never feared to leap into a collier's +basket and swing down the deep, black shaft. He had also an +appreciative love of money; he knew just how many sixpences he owned, +and though he could give if asked to do so, he always wanted the +dominie to give him a good reason for giving. The child gave him back +again his youth, and a fuller and nobler one than he himself had +known. + +And God was very gracious to him, and lengthened out this second youth +to a green old age. These men of old Gaul had iron constitutions; they +did not begin to think themselves old men until they had turned +fourscore. It was thirty years after Helen's death when Tallisker one +night sent this word to his life-long friend, + +"I hae been called, Crawford; come and see me once more." + +They all went together to the manse. The dominie was in his +ninety-first year, and he was going home. No one could call it dying. +He had no pain. He was going to his last sleep + + "As sweetly as a child, + Whom neither thought disturbs nor care encumbers, + Tired with long play, at close of summer's day + Lies down and slumbers." + +"Good-by, Crawford--for a little while. We'll hae nae tears. I hae +lived joyfully before my God these ninety years; I am going out o' the +sunshine into the sunshine. Crawford, through that sair strait o' +yours you hae set a grand, wide-open door for a weight o' happiness. I +am glad ye didna wait. A good will is a good thing, but a good life is +far better. It is a grand thing to sow your ain good seed. Nae ither +hand could hae done it sae well and sae wisely. Far and wide there are +lads and lasses growing up to call you blessed. This is a thought to +mak death easy, Crawford. Good-night, dears." + +And then "God's finger touched him and he slept." + +Crawford lived but a few weeks longer. After the dominie's death he +simply sat waiting. His darling Alexander came home specially to +brighten these last hours, and in his company he showed almost to the +last hour the true Crawford spirit. + +"Alexander," he would say, "you'll ding for your ain side and the +Crawfords always, but you'll be a good man; there is nae happiness +else, dear. Never rest, my lad, till ye sit where your fathers sat in +the House o' Peers. Stand by the State and the Kirk, and fear God, +Alexander. The lease o' the Cowden Knowes is near out; don't renew it. +Grip tight what ye hae got, but pay every debt as if God wrote the +bill. Remember the poor, dear lad. Charity gies itsel' rich. Riches +mak to themselves wings, but charity clips the wings. The love o' God, +dear, the love o' God--that is the best o' all." + +Yes, he had a sair struggle with his lower nature to the very last, +but he was constantly strengthened by the conviction of a "Power +closer to him than breathing, nearer than hands or feet." Nine weeks +after the dominie's death they found him sitting in his chair, fallen +on that sleep whose waking is eternal day. His death was like +Tallisker's--a perfectly natural one. He had been reading. The Bible +lay open at that grand peroration of St. Paul's on faith, in the +twelfth of Hebrews. The "great cloud of witnesses," "the sin which +doth so easily beset us," "Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our +faith"--these were probably his last earthly thoughts, and with them +he passed into + + "That perfect presence of His face + Which we, for want of words, call heaven." + + + + +James Blackie's Revenge. + + + + +JAMES BLACKIE'S REVENGE. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Few people who have travelled will deny that of all cities Glasgow is +apparently the least romantic. Steeped in wet, white mist, or wrapped +in yellow fog vapor, all gray stone and gray sky, dirty streets, and +sloppy people, it presents none of the features of a show town. Yet it +has great merits; it is enterprising, persevering, intensely national, +and practically religious; and people who do not mind being damp have +every chance to make a good living there. Even the sombre appearance +of the dark gray granite of which it is built is not unsuitable to the +sterling character of its people; for though this stone may be dull +and ugly, there is a natural nobility about it, and it never can be +mean. + +I have said that, as a city, Glasgow is practically religious, and +certainly this was the case something less than half a century ago. +The number of its churches was not more remarkable than the piety and +learning of its clergy; and the "skailing" of their congregations on a +Sabbath afternoon was one of the most impressive sights, of its kind, +in the world. + +My true little story opens with the skailing of the Ramshorn Kirk, a +very favorite place of worship with the well-to-do burghers of the +east end of the city, and it was a peculiarly douce, decent, +solemn-looking crowd that slowly and reverently passed out of its +gates into the absolutely silent streets. For no vehicles of any kind +disturbed the Sabbath stillness, and not until the people had gone +some distance from the house of God did they begin to think their own +thoughts, and with a certain grave reserve put them into words. + +Among the groups who proceeded still farther east, towards the +pleasant houses facing the "Green," one alone was remarkable enough to +have elicited special notice from an observing stranger. It consisted +of an old man and a young girl, evidently his daughter. Both were +strikingly handsome, and the girl was much better dressed than the +majority of women who took the same road. Long before they reached the +Green they were joined by a younger man, whom the elder at once +addressed in a reproving voice. + +"Ye didna pay as much attention to the sermon as it behooved ye to do, +James Blackie; and what for did ye speak to Robert Laird a'most within +'the Gates'?" + +"I only asked if he had heard of the 'Bonnie Bess;' she is overdue +five days, and eight good men in her, not to speak of the cargo." + +"It's no cannie to be aye asking questions. Sit still and the news +will come to ye: forbye, I'm no sure if yon was a lawfu' question; the +Sabbath sun hasna set yet." + +James Blackie mechanically turned to the west, and then slowly let his +glance fall on the lovely face at his side. + +"Christine," he asked softly, "how is all with you?" + +"All is well, James." + +Not another word was spoken until they reached David Cameron's home. +He was carefully reconsidering the sermon--going over every point on +his finger ends, lest he should drop any link of the argument; and +James and Christine were listening to his criticisms and remarks. They +all stopped before a shop over the windows of which was painted, +"David Cameron, Dealer in Fine Teas;" and David, taking a large key +from his pocket, opened the door, and said, + +"Come in and eat wi' us, James; ye ken ye're welcome." + +"Our friendship, Mr. Cameron, is a kind of Montgomery division--all on +one side, nothing on the other; but I am 'so by myself' that I thank +you heartily." + +So David, followed by Christine and James, passed slowly through the +darkened store, with its faint smells of Eastern spices and fragrant +teas, into the little parlor beyond. The early winter night had now +fallen, and the room, having only an outlet into a small court, would +have been dark also but for the red glow of the "covered" fire. David +took the poker and struck the great block of coal, and instantly the +cheerful blaze threw an air of cosey and almost picturesque comfort +over the homelike room. + +The two men sat down beside the fire, spreading their hands to its +warmth, and apparently finding their own thoughts excellent company, +for neither of them spoke or moved until Christine reappeared. She had +divested herself of the handsome black satin and velvet which formed +her kirk suit; but in her long, plain dress of gray winsey, with a +snowy lawn kerchief and cuffs, she looked still more fair and lovable. + +James watched her as she spread the cloth and produced from various +cupboards cold meats and pastries, bread and cakes, and many kinds of +delicate preserves and sweetmeats. Her large, shapely hands among the +gold-and-white china fascinated him, while her calm, noiseless, +unhurried movements induced a feeling of passive repose that it +required an effort to dispel, when she said in a low, even voice, + +"Father, the food is waiting for the blessing." + +It was a silent but by no means an unhappy meal. David was a good man, +and he ate his food graciously and gratefully, dropping now and then a +word of praise or thanks; and James felt it delightful enough to watch +Christine. For James, though he had not yet admitted the fact to his +own heart, loved Christine Cameron as men love only once, with that +deep, pure affection that has perchance a nearer kindred than this +life has hinted of. + +He thought her also exquisitely beautiful, though this opinion would +not have been indorsed by a majority of men. For Christine had one of +those pale, statuesque faces apt to be solemn in repose; its beauty +was tender and twilight, its expression serious and steadfast, and her +clear, spiritual eyes held in them no light of earthly passion. She +had grown up in that little back parlor amid the din and tumult of the +city, under the gray, rainy skies, and surrounded by care and sin, as +a white lily grows out of the dark, damp soil, drawing from the +elements around only sweetness and purity. + +She was very silent this afternoon, but apparently very happy. Indeed, +there was an expression on her face which attracted her father's +attention, and he said, + +"The sermon has pleased thee well, I see, Christine." + +"The sermon was good, but the text was enough, father. I think it over +in my heart, and it leaves a light on all the common things of life." +And she repeated it softly, "O Thou preserver of men, unto Thee shall +all flesh come." + +David lifted his bonnet reverently, and James, who was learned in what +the Scotch pleasantly call "the humanities," added slowly, + + "'But I, the mortal, + Planted so lowly, with death to bless me, + I sorrow no longer.'" + +When people have such subjects of conversation, they talk +moderately--for words are but poor interpreters of emotions whose +sources lie in the depths of eternity. But they were none the less +happy, and James felt as if he had been sitting at one of those tables +which the Lord "prepareth in the wilderness," where the "cup runneth +over" with joy and content. + +Such moments rarely last long; and it is doubtful if we could bear to +keep the soul always to its highest bent. When Christine had sided +away the dishes and put in order the little room, David laid down his +pipe, and said, "The Lord's day being now over, I may speak anent my +ain matters. I had a letter, Christine, on Saturday, from my +brother-in-law, McFarlane. He says young Donald will be in Glasgow +next week." + +"Will he stay here, father?" + +"Na, na; he'll bide wi' the McFarlanes. They are rich folk; but siller +is nae sin--an' it be clean-won siller." + +"Then why did Uncle McFarlane write to you, father?" + +"He wrote concerning the lad's pecuniary matters, Christine. Young +Donald will need gude guiding; and he is my sister Jessie's only +bairn--blood is thicker than water, ye'll allow that--and Donald is o' +gentle blood. I'm no saying that's everything; but it is gude to come +o' a gude kind." + +"The McFarlanes have aye been for the pope and the Stuarts," said +James, a little scornfully. "They were 'out' in the '79'; and they +would pin the white cockade on to-morrow, if there was ever a Stuart +to bid them do it." + +"Maybe they would, James. Hielandmen hae a way o' sticking to auld +friends. There's Camerons I wadna go bail for, if Prince Charlie could +come again; but let that flea stick to the wa'. And the McFarlanes +arena exactly papist noo; the twa last generations hae been +'Piscopals--that's ane step ony way towards the truth. Luther mayna be +John Knox, but they'll win up to him some time, dootless they will." + +"How old is young McFarlane?" asked James. + +"He is turned twenty--a braw lad, his father says. I hae ne'er seen +him, but he's Jessie's bairn, and my heart gaes out to meet him." + +"Why did you not tell me on Saturday, father? I could have spoken for +Maggie Maclean to help me put the house in order." + +"I didna get the letter till the evening post. It was most as good as +Sabbath then. Housecleaning is an unco temptation to women-folk, so I +keepit the news till the Sabbath sun was weel set." + +During this conversation James Blackie's heart had become heavy with +some sad presentiment of trouble, such as arise very naturally in +similar circumstances. As a poet says, + + "Ah, no! it is not all delusion, + That strange intelligence of sorrow + Searching the tranquil heart's seclusion, + Making us quail before the morrow. + 'Tis the farewell of happiness departing, + The sudden tremor of a soul at rest; + The wraith of coming grief upstarting + Within the watchful breast." + +He listened to David Cameron's reminiscences of his bonnie sister +Jessie, and of the love match she had made with the great Highland +chieftain, with an ill-disguised impatience. He had a Lowlander's +scorn for the thriftless, fighting, freebooting traditions of the +Northern clans and a Calvinist's dislike to the Stuarts and the +Stuarts' faith; so that David's unusual emotion was exceedingly and, +perhaps, unreasonably irritating to him. He could not bear to hear him +speak with trembling voice and gleaming eyes of the grand mountains +and the silent corries around Ben-Nevis, the red deer trooping over +the misty steeps, and the brown hinds lying among the green plumes of +fern, and the wren and the thrush lilting in song together. + +"Oh, the bonnie, bonnie Hielands!" cried David with a passionate +affection; "it is always Sabbath up i' the mountains, Christine. I +maun see them once again ere I lay by my pilgrim-staff and shoon for +ever." + +"Then you are not Glasgow born, Mr. Cameron," said James, with the air +of one who finds out something to another's disadvantage. + +"Me! Glasgo' born! Na, na, man! I was born among the mountains o' +Argyle. It was a sair downcome fra them to the Glasgo' pavements. But +I'm saying naething against Glasgo'. I was but thinking o' the days +when I wore the tartan and climbed the hills in the white dawns, and, +kneeling on the top o' Ben Na Keen, saw the sun sink down wi' a smile. +It's little ane sees o' sunrising or sunsetting here, James," and +David sighed heavily and wiped away the tender mist from his sight. + +James looked at the old man with some contempt; he himself had been +born and reared in one or other of the closest and darkest streets of +the city. The memories of his loveless, hard-worked childhood were +bitter to him, and he knew nothing of the joy of a boyhood spent in +the hills and woods. + +"Life is the same everywhere, Mr. Cameron. I dare say there is as much +sin and as much worry and care among the mountains as on the Glasgow +pavements." + +"You may 'daur say' it, James, but that winna mak it true. Even in +this warld our Father's house has many mansions. Gang your way up and +up through thae grand solitudes and ye'll blush to be caught worrying +among them." + +And then in a clear, jubilant voice he broke into the old Scotch +version of the 121st Psalm: + + "I to the hills will lift mine eyes + from whence doth come mine aid; + My safety cometh from the Lord, + who heaven and earth hath made." + +And he sang it to that loveliest of all psalm tunes, Rathiel's "St. +Mary's." It was impossible to resist the faith, the enthusiasm, the +melody. At the second bar Christine's clear, sweet voice joined in, +and at the second line James was making a happy third. + + "Henceforth thy goings out and in + God keep for ever will." + +"Thae twa lines will do for a 'Gude-night,'" said David in the pause +at the end of the psalm, and James rose with a sigh and wrapped his +plaid around him. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +James had gone into the house so happy and hopeful, he left it so +anxious and angry--yes, angry. He knew well that he had no just cause +for anger, but that knowledge only irritated him the more. Souls, as +well as bodies, are subject to malignant diseases, and to-night envy +and jealousy were causing James Blackie more acute suffering than any +attack of fever or contagion. A feeling of dislike towards young +Donald McFarlane had taken possession of his heart; he lay awake to +make a mental picture of the youth, and then he hated the picture he +had made. + +Feverish and miserable, he went next morning to the bank in which he +was employed, and endeavored amid the perplexities of compound +interest to forget the anxieties he had invented for himself. But it +was beyond his power, and he did not pray about them; for the burdens +we bind on our own shoulders we rarely dare to go to God with, and +James might have known from this circumstance alone that his trouble +was no lawful one. He nursed it carefully all day and took it to bed +with him again at night. The next day he had begun to understand how +envy grew to hatred, and hatred to murder. Still he did not go to God +for help, and still he kept ever before his eyes the image of the +youth that he had determined was to be his enemy. + +On Thursday night he could no longer bear his uncertainties. He +dressed himself carefully and went to David Cameron's. David was in +his shop tasting and buying teas, and apparently absorbed in business. +He merely nodded to James, and bid him "walk through." He had no +intention of being less kindly than usual, but James was in such a +suspicious temper that he took his preoccupation for coolness, and so +it was almost with a resentful feeling he opened the half-glass door +dividing the shop from the parlor. + +As his heart had foretold him, there sat the youth whom he had +determined to hate, but his imagination had greatly deceived him with +regard to his appearance. He had thought of Donald only as a "fair, +false Highlander" in tartan, kilt, and philibeg. He found him a tall, +dark youth, richly dressed in the prevailing Southern fashion, and +retaining no badge of his country's costume but the little Glengary +cap with its chieftain's token of an eagle's feather. His manners were +not rude and haughty, as James had decided they would be; they were +singularly frank and pleasant. Gracious and graceful, exceedingly +handsome and light-hearted, he was likely to prove a far more +dangerous rival than even James' jealous heart had anticipated. + +He rose at Christine's introduction, and offered his hand with a +pleasant smile to James. The latter received the courtesy with such +marked aversion that Donald slightly raised his eyebrows ere he +resumed his interrupted conversation with Christine. And now that +James sat down with a determination to look for offences he found +plenty. Christine was sewing, and Donald sat beside her winding and +unwinding her threads, playing with her housewife, or teasingly hiding +her scissors. Christine, half pleased and half annoyed, gradually fell +into Donald's mood, and her still face dimpled into smiles. James very +quickly decided that Donald presumed in a very offensive manner on his +relationship to Christine. + +A little after nine o'clock David, having closed his shop, joined them +in the parlor. He immediately began to question James about the loss +of the "Bonnie Bess," and from that subject they drifted easily into +others of a local business interest. It was very natural that Donald, +being a stranger both to the city and its business, should take no +part in this discourse, and that he should, in consequence, devote +himself to Christine. But James felt it an offence, and rose much +earlier than was his wont to depart. David stayed him, almost +authoritatively: + +"Ye maun stop, baith o' ye lads, and join in my meat and worship. They +are ill visitors that canna sit at ane board and kneel at ane altar." + +For David had seen, through all their drifting talk of ships and +cargoes, the tumult in James' heart, and he did not wish him to go +away in an ungenerous and unjust temper. So both Donald and James +partook of the homely supper of pease brose and butter, oatmeal cakes +and fresh milk, and then read aloud with David and Christine the +verses of the evening Psalm that came to each in turn. James was much +softened by the exercise; so much so that when Donald asked permission +to walk with him as far as their way lay together, he very pleasantly +acceded to the request. And Donald was so bright and unpretentious it +was almost impossible to resist the infectious good temper which +seemed to be his characteristic. + +Still James was very little happier or more restful. He lay awake +again, but this night it was not to fret and fume, but to calmly think +over his position and determine what was best and right to do. For +James still thought of "right," and would have been shocked indeed if +any angel of conscience had revealed to him the lowest depths of his +desires and intentions. In the first place, he saw that David would +tolerate no element of quarrelling and bitterness in his peaceful +home, and that if he would continue to visit there he must preserve +the semblance of friendship for Donald McFarlane. In the second, he +saw that Donald had already made so good his lien upon his uncle's and +cousin's affections that it would be very hard to make them believe +wrong of the lad, even if he should do wrong, though of this James +told himself there would soon be abundance. + +"For the things David will think sinful beyond all measure," he +argued, "will seem but Puritanical severity to him; forbye, he is +rich, gay, handsome, and has little to do with his time, he'll get +well on to Satan's ground before he knows it;" and then some whisper +dim and low in his soul made him blush and pause and defer the +following out of a course which was to begin in such a way. + +So Donald and he fell into the habit of meeting at David's two or +three nights every week, and an apparent friendship sprang up between +them. It was only apparent, however. On Donald's side was that +good-natured indifference that finds it easy enough to say smooth +words, and is not ready to think evil or to take offence; on James' +part a wary watchfulness, assuming the rôle of superior wisdom, half +admiring and half condemning Donald's youthful spirits and ways. + +David was quite deceived; he dropped at once the authoritative manner +which had marked his displeasure when he perceived James' disposition +to envy and anger; he fell again into his usual pleasant familiar +talks with the young man, for David thought highly of James as of one +likely to do his duty to God and himself. + +In these conversations Donald soon began to take a little share, and +when he chose to do so, evinced a thought and shrewdness which greatly +pleased his uncle; more generally, however, he was at Christine's +side, reading her some poem he had copied, or telling her about some +grand party he had been at. Sometimes James could catch a few words of +reproof addressed in a gentle voice to Donald by Christine; more often +he heard only the murmur of an earnest conversation, or Christine's +low laugh at some amusing incident. + +The little room meanwhile had gradually become a far brighter place. +Donald kept it sweet and bright with his daily offerings of fresh +flowers; the pet canary he had given Christine twittered and sang to +her all the day through. Over Christine herself had come the same +bright change; her still, calm face often dimpled into smiles, her +pale-gold hair was snooded with a pretty ribbon, and her dress a +little richer. Yet, after all, the change was so slight that none but +a lover would have noticed it. But there was not a smile or a shade of +brighter color that James did not see; and he bore it with an +equanimity which used often to astonish himself, though it would not +have done so if he had dared just once to look down into his heart; he +bore it because he knew that Donald was living two lives--one that +Christine saw, and one that she could not even have imagined. + +It was, alas, too true that this gay, good-natured young man, who had +entered the fashionable world without one bad habit, was fast becoming +proficient in all its follies and vices. That kind of negative +goodness which belonged naturally to him, unfortified by strict habits +and strong principles, had not been able to repel the seductions and +temptations that assail young men, rich, handsome, and well-born. +There was an evil triumph in James' heart one night when Donald said +to him, as they walked home after an evening at David's, + +"Mr. Blackie, I wish you could lend me £20. I am in a little trouble, +and I cannot ask Uncle David for more, as I have already overdrawn my +father's allowance." + +James loaned it with an eager willingness, though he was usually very +cautious and careful of every bawbee of his hard-earned money. He knew +it was but the beginning of confidence, and so it proved; in a very +little while Donald had fallen into the habit of going to James in +every emergency, and of making him the confidant of all his youthful +hopes and follies. + +James even schooled himself to listen patiently to Donald's praises of +his cousin Christine. "She is just the wife I shall need when I settle +down in three or four years," Donald would say complacently, "and I +think she loves me. Of course no man is worthy of such a woman, but +when I have seen life a little I mean to try and be so." + +"Umph!" answered James scornfully, "do you suppose, Mr. McFarlane, +that ye'll be fit for a pure lassie like Christine Cameron when you +have played the prodigal and consorted with foolish women, and wasted +your substance in riotous living?" + +And Donald said with an honest blush, "By the memory of my mother, no, +I do not, James. And I am ashamed when I think of Christine's white +soul and the stained love I have to offer it. But women forgive! Oh, +what mothers and wives and sisters there are in this world!" + +"Well, don't try Christine too far, Donald. She is of an old +Covenanting stock; her conscience feels sin afar off. I do not believe +she would marry a bad, worldly man, though it broke her heart to say +'No.' I have known her far longer than you have." + +"Tut, man, I love her! I know her better in an hour than you could do +in a lifetime;" and Donald looked rather contemptuously on the plain +man who was watching him with eyes that might have warned any one more +suspicious or less confident and self-satisfied. + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +The summer brought some changes. Christine went to the seaside for a +few weeks, and Donald went away in Lord Neville's yacht with a party +of gay young men; James and David passed the evenings generally +together. If it was wet, they remained in the shop or parlor; if fine, +they rambled to the "Green," and sitting down by the riverside talked +of business, of Christine, and of Donald. In one of these confidential +rambles James first tried to arouse in David's mind a suspicion as to +his nephew's real character. David himself introduced the subject by +speaking of a letter he had received from Donald. + +"He's wi' the great Earl o' Egremont at present," said David proudly, +for he had all a Scotsman's respect for good birth; "and there is wi' +them young Argyle, and Lord Lovat, and ithers o' the same quality. But +our Donald can cock his bonnet wi' ony o' them; there is na better +blood in Scotland than the McFarlanes'. It taks money though to +foregather wi' nobeelity, and Donald is wanting some. So, James, I'll +gie ye the siller to-night, and ye'll send it through your bank as +early as may be in the morn." + +"Donald wanting money is an old want, Mr. Cameron." + +David glanced quickly at James, and answered almost haughtily, "It's a +common want likewise, James Blackie. But if Donald McFarlane wants +money, he's got kin that can accommodate him, James; wanters arena +always that fortunate." + +"He has got friends likewise, Mr. Cameron; and I am sure I was proud +enough to do him a kindness, and he knows it well." + +"And how much may Donald be owing you, I wonder?" + +"Only a little matter of £20. You see he had got into--" + +"Dinna fash yoursel' wi' explanations, James. Dootless Donald has his +faults; but I may weel wink at his small faults, when I hae sae mony +great faults o' my ain." + +And David's personal accusation sounded so much like a reproof, that +James did not feel it safe to pursue the subject. + +That very night David wrote thus to his nephew: + +"Donald, my dear lad, if thou owest James Blackie £20, pay it +immediate. Lying is the second vice, owing money is the first. I +enclose draft for £70 instead o' £50, as per request." + +That £70 was a large sum in the eyes of the careful Glasgow trader; in +the young Highlander's eyes it seemed but a small sum. He could not +form any conception of the amount of love it represented, nor of the +struggle it had cost David to "gie awa for nae consideration" the +savings of many days, perhaps weeks, of toil and thought. + +In September Christine came back, and towards the end of October, +Donald. He was greatly improved externally by his trip and his +associations--more manly and more handsome--while his manners had +acquired a slight touch of hauteur that both amused and pleased his +uncle. It had been decided that he should remain in Glasgow another +winter, and then select his future profession. But at present Donald +troubled himself little about the future. He had returned to Christine +more in love with the peace and purity of her character than ever; and +besides, his pecuniary embarrassments in Glasgow were such as to +require his personal presence until they were arranged. + +This arrangement greatly troubled him. He had only a certain allowance +from his father--a loving but stern man--who having once decided what +sum was sufficient for a young man in Donald's position, would not, +under any ordinary circumstances, increase it. David Cameron had +already advanced him £70. James Blackie was a resource he did not care +again to apply to. In the meantime he was pressed by small debts on +every hand, and was living among a class of young men whose habits led +him into expenses far beyond his modest income. He began to be very +anxious and miserable. In Christine's presence he was indeed still the +same merry-hearted gentleman; but James saw him in other places, and +he knew from long experience the look of care that drew Donald's +handsome brows together. + +One night, towards the close of this winter, James went to see an old +man who was a broker or trader in bills and money, doing business in +the Cowcaddens. James also did a little of the same business in a +cautious way, and it was some mutual transaction in gold and silver +that took him that dreary, soaking night into such a locality. + +The two men talked for some time in a low and earnest voice, and then +the old man, opening a greasy leather satchel, displayed a quantity of +paper which he had bought. James looked it over with a keen and +practised eye. Suddenly his attitude and expression changed; he read +over and over one piece of paper, and every time he read it he looked +at it more critically and with a greater satisfaction. + +"Andrew Starkie," he said, "where did you buy this?" + +"Weel, James, I bought it o' Laidlaw--Aleck Laidlaw. Ye wadna think a +big tailoring place like that could hae the wind in their faces; but +folks maun hae their bad weather days, ye ken; but it blew me gude, so +I'll ne'er complain. Ye see it is for £89, due in twenty days now, and +I only gied £79 for it--a good name too, nane better." + +"David Cameron! But what would he be owing Laidlaw £89 for clothes +for?" + +"Tut, tut! The claithes were for his nephew. There was some trouble +anent the bill, but the old man gied a note for the amount at last, at +three months. It's due in twenty days now. As he banks wi' your firm, +ye may collect it for me; it will be an easy-made penny or twa." + +"I would like to buy this note. What will you sell it for?" + +"I'm no minded to sell it. What for do ye want it?" + +"Nothing particular. I'll give you £90 for it." + +"If it's worth that to you, it is worth mair. I'm no minded to tak +£90." + +"I'll give you £95." + +"I'm no minded to tak it. It's worth mair to you, I see that. What are +you going to mak by it? I'll sell it for half o' what you are counting +on." "Then you would not make a bawbee. I am going to ware £95 on--on +a bit of revenge. Now will you go shares?" + +"Not I. Revenge in cold blood is the deil's own act. I dinna wark wi' +the deil, when it's a losing job to me." + +"Will you take £95 then?" + +"No. When lads want whistles they maun pay for them." + +"I'll give no more. For why? Because in twenty days you will do my +work for me; then it will cost me nothing, and it will cost you £89, +that is all about it, Starkie." + +Starkie lifted the note which James had flung carelessly down, and his +skinny hands trembled as he fingered it. "This is David Cameron's note +o' hand, and David Cameron is a gude name." + +"Yes, very good. Only that is not David Cameron's writing, it is +a--forgery. Light your pipe with it, Andrew Starkie." + +"His nephew gave it himsel' to Aleck Laidlaw--" + +"I know. And I hate his nephew. He has come between me and Christine +Cameron. Do you see now?" + +"Oh! oh! oh! I see, I see! Well, James, you can have it for £100--as a +favor." + +"I don't want it now. He could not have a harder man to deal with than +you are. You suit me very well." + +"James, such business wont suit me. I can't afford to be brought into +notice. I would rather lose double the money than prosecute any +gentleman in trouble." + +The older man had reasoned right--James dared not risk the note out of +sight, dared not trust to Starkie's prosecution. He longed to have the +bit of paper in his own keeping, and after a wary battle of a full +hour's length Andrew Starkie had his £89 back again, and James had the +note in his pocket-book. + +Through the fog, and through the wind, and through the rain he went, +and he knew nothing, and he felt nothing but that little bit of paper +against his breast. Oh, how greedily he remembered Donald's handsome +looks and stately ways, and all the thousand little words and acts by +which he imagined himself wronged and insulted. Now he had his enemy +beneath his feet, and for several days this thought satisfied him, and +he hid his secret morsel of vengeance and found it sweet--sharply, +bitterly sweet--for even yet conscience pleaded hard with him. + +As he sat counting his columns of figures, every gentle, forgiving +word of Christ came into his heart. He knew well that Donald would +receive his quarterly allowance before the bill was due, and that he +must have relied on this to meet it. He also knew enough of Donald's +affairs to guess something of the emergency that he must have been in +ere he would have yielded to so dangerous an alternative. There were +times when he determined to send for Donald, show him the frightful +danger in which he stood, and then tear the note before his eyes, and +leave its payment to his honor. He even realized the peace which would +flow from such a deed. Nor were these feelings transitory, his better +nature pleaded so hard with him that he walked his room hour after +hour under their influence, and their power over him was such as +delayed all action in the matter for nearly a week. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +At length one morning David Cameron came into the bank, and having +finished his business, walked up to James and said, "I feared ye were +ill, James. Whatna for hae ye stayed awa sae lang? I wanted ye sairly +last night to go o'er wi' me the points in this debate at our kirk. We +are to hae anither session to-night; ye'll come the morn and talk it +o'er wi' me?" + +"I will, Mr. Cameron." + +But James instantly determined to see Christine that night. Her father +would be at the kirk session, and if Donald was there, he thought he +knew how to whisper him away. He meant to have Christine all to +himself for an hour or two, and if he saw any opportunity he would +tell her all. When he got to David's the store was still open, but the +clerk said, "David has just gone," and James, as was his wont, walked +straight to the parlor. + +Donald was there; he had guessed that, because a carriage was in +waiting, and he knew it could belong to no other caller at David +Cameron's. And never had Donald roused in him such an intense +antagonism. He was going to some National Celebration, and he stood +beside Christine in all the splendid picturesque pomp of the McFarlane +tartans. He was holding Christine's hand, and she stood as a white +lily in the glow and color of his dark beauty. Perhaps both of them +felt James' entrance inopportune. At any rate they received him +coldly, Donald drew Christine a little apart, said a few whispered +words to her, and lifting his bonnet slightly to James, he went away. + +In the few minutes of this unfortunate meeting the devil entered into +James' heart. Even Christine was struck with the new look on his face. +It was haughty, malicious, and triumphant, and he leaned against the +high oaken chimney-piece in a defiant way that annoyed Christine, +though she could not analyze it. + +"Sit down, James," she said with a touch of authority--for his +attitude had unconsciously put her on the defensive. "Donald has gone +to the Caledonian club; there is to be a grand gathering of Highland +gentlemen there to-night." + +"_Gentlemen!_" + +"Well, yes, _gentlemen!_ And there will be none there more worthy the +name than our Donald." + +"The rest of them are much to be scorned at, then." + +"James, James, that speech was little like you. Sit down and come to +yourself; I am sure you are not so mean as to grudge Donald the rights +of his good birth." + +"Donald McFarlane shall have all the rights he has worked for; and +when he gets his just payment he will be in Glasgow jail." + +"James, you are ill. You have not been here for a week, and you look +so unlike yourself. I know you must be ill. Will you let me send for +our doctor?" And she approached him kindly, and looked with anxious +scrutiny into his face. + +He put her gently away, and said in a thick, rapid voice, + +"Christine, I came to-night to tell you that Donald McFarlane is +unworthy to come into your presence--he has forged your father's +name." + +"James, you are mad, or ill, what you say is just impossible!" + +"I am neither mad nor ill. I will prove it, if you wish." + +At these words every trace of sympathy or feeling vanished from her +face; and she said in a low, hoarse whisper, + +"You cannot prove it. I would not believe such a thing possible." + +Then with a pitiless particularity he went over all the events +relating to the note, and held it out for her to examine the +signature. + +"Is that David Cameron's writing?" he cried; "did you ever see such a +weak imitation? The man is a fool as well as a villain." + +Christine gazed blankly at the witness of her cousin's guilt, and +James, carried away with the wicked impetuosity of his passionate +accusations of Donald's life, did not see the fair face set in white +despair and the eyes close wearily, as with a piteous cry she fell +prostrate at his feet. + +Ah, how short was his triumph! When he saw the ruin that his words had +made he shrieked aloud in his terror and agony. Help was at hand, and +doctors were quickly brought, but she had received a shock from which +it seemed impossible to revive her. David was brought home, and knelt +in speechless distress by the side of his insensible child, but no +hope lightened the long, terrible night, and when the reaction came in +the morning, it came in the form of fever and delirium. + +Questioned closely by David, James admitted nothing but that while +talking to him about Donald McFarlane she had fallen at his feet, and +Donald could only say that he had that evening told her he was going +to Edinburgh in two weeks, to study law with his cousin, and that he +had asked her to be his wife. + +This acknowledgement bound David and Donald in a closer communion of +sorrow. James and his sufferings were scarcely noticed. Yet, probably +of all that unhappy company, he suffered the most. He loved Christine +with a far deeper affection than Donald had ever dreamed of. He would +have given his life for hers, and yet he had, perhaps, been her +murderer. How he hated Donald in those days! What love and remorse +tortured him! And what availed it that he had bought the power to ruin +the man he hated? He was afraid to use it. If Christine lived, and he +did use it, she would never forgive him; if she died, he would be her +murderer. + +But the business of life cannot be delayed for its sorrows. David must +wait in his shop, and James must be at the bank; and in two weeks +Donald had to leave for Edinburgh, though Christine was lying in a +silent, broken-hearted apathy, so close to the very shoal of Time that +none dared say, "She will live another day." + +How James despised Donald for leaving her at all; he desired nothing +beyond the permission to sit by her side, and watch and aid the slow +struggle of life back from the shores and shades of death. + +It was almost the end of summer before she was able to resume her +place in the household, but long before that she had asked to see +James. The interview took place one Sabbath afternoon while David was +at church. Christine had been lifted to a couch, but she was unable to +move, and even speech was exhausting and difficult to her. James knelt +down by her side, and, weeping bitterly, said, + +"O Christine, forgive me!" + +She smiled faintly. + +"You--have--not--used--yonder--paper,--James?" + +"Oh, no, no." + +"It--would--kill--me. You--would--not--kill--me?" + +"I would die to make you strong again." + +"Don't--hurt--Donald. Forgive--for--Christ's--sake,--James!" + +Poor James! It was hard for him to see that still Donald was her first +thought, and, looking on the wreck of Christine's youth and beauty, it +was still harder not to hate him worse than ever. + +Nor did the temptation to do so grow less with time. He had to listen +every evening to David's praises of his nephew: how "he had been +entered wi' Advocate Scott, and was going to be a grand lawyer," or +how he had been to some great man's house and won all hearts with his +handsome face and witty tongue. Or, perhaps, he would be shown some +rich token of his love that had come for Christine; or David would +say, "There's the 'Edinbro' News,' James; it cam fra Donald this morn; +tak it hame wi' you. You're welcome." And James feared not to take it, +feared to show the slightest dislike to Donald, lest David's anger at +it should provoke him to say what was in his heart, and Christine only +be the sufferer. + +One cold night in early winter, James, as was his wont now, went to +spend the evening in talking with David and in watching Christine. +That was really all it was; for, though she had resumed her house +duties, she took little part in conversation. She had always been +inclined to silence, but now a faint smile and a "Yes" or "No" were +her usual response, even to her father's remarks. This night he found +David out, and he hesitated whether to trouble Christine or not. He +stood for a moment in the open door and looked at her. She was sitting +by the table with a little Testament open in her hand; but she was +rather musing on what she had been reading than continuing her +occupation. + +"Christine!" + +"James!" + +"May I come in?" + +"Yes, surely." + +"I hear your father has gone to a town-meeting." + +"Yes." + +"And he is to be made a bailie." + +"Yes." + +"I am very glad. It will greatly please him, and there is no citizen +more worthy of the honor." + +"I think so also." + +"Shall I disturb you if I wait to see him?" + +"No, James; sit down." + +Then Christine laid aside her book and took her sewing, and James sat +thinking how he could best introduce the subject ever near his heart. +He felt that there was much to say in his own behalf, if he only knew +how to begin. Christine opened the subject for him. She laid down her +work and went and stood before the fire at his side. The faintest +shadow of color was in her face, and her eyes were unspeakably sad and +anxious. He could not bear their eager, searching gaze, and dropped +his own. + +"James, have you destroyed yonder paper?" + +"Nay, Christine; I am too poor a man to throw away so much hard-won +gold. I am keeping it until I can see Mr. McFarlane and quietly +collect my own." + +"You will never use it in any way against him?" + +"Will you ever marry him? Tell me that." + +"O sir!" she cried indignantly, "you want to make a bargain with my +poor heart. Hear, then. If Donald wants me to marry him I'll never +cast him off. Do you think God will cast him off for one fault? You +dare not say it." + +"I do not say but what God will pardon. But we are human beings; we +are not near to God yet." + +"But we ought to be trying to get near him; and oh, James, you never +had so grand a chance. See the pitiful face of Christ looking down on +you from the cross. If that face should turn away from you, James--if +it should!" + +"You ask a hard thing of me, Christine." + +"Yes, I do." + +"But if you will only try and love me--" + +"Stop, James! I will make no bargain in a matter of right and wrong. +If for Christ's sake, who has forgiven you so much, you can forgive +Donald, for Christ's dear sake do it. If not, I will set no earthly +love before it. Do your worst. God can find out a way. I'll trust +him." + +"Christine! dear Christine!" + +"Hush! I am Donald's promised wife. May God speak to you for me. I am +very sad and weary. Good-night." + +James did not wait for David's return. He went back to his own +lodging, and, taking the note out of his pocket-book, spread it before +him. His first thought was that he had wared £89 on his enemy's fine +clothes, and James loved gold and hated foppish, extravagant dress; +his next that he had saved Andrew Starkie £89, and he knew the old +usurer was quietly laughing at his folly. But worse than all was the +alternative he saw as the result of his sinful purchase: if he used it +to gratify his personal hatred, he deeply wounded, perhaps killed, his +dearest love and his oldest friend. Hour after hour he sat with the +note before him. His good angel stood at his side and wooed him to +mercy. There was a fire burning in the grate, and twice he held the +paper over it, and twice turned away from his better self. + +The watchman was calling "half-past two o'clock," when, cold and weary +with his mental struggle, he rose and went to his desk. There was a +secret hiding-place behind a drawer there, in which he kept papers +relating to his transactions with Andrew Starkie, and he put it among +them. "I'll leave it to its chance," he muttered; "a fire might come +and burn it up some day. If it is God's will to save Donald, he could +so order it, and I am fully insured against pecuniary loss." He did +not at that moment see how presumptuously he was throwing his own +responsibility on God; he did not indeed want to see anything but some +plausible way of avoiding a road too steep for a heart weighed down +with earthly passion to dare. + +Then weeks and months drifted away in the calm regular routine of +David's life. But though there were no outward changes, there was a +very important inward one. About sixteen months after Donald's +departure he returned to visit Christine. James, at Christine's urgent +request, absented himself during this visit; but when he next called +at David's, he perceived at once that all was not as had been +anticipated. David had little to say about him; Christine looked paler +and sadder than ever. Neither quite understood why. There had been no +visible break with Donald, but both father and daughter felt that he +had drifted far away from them and their humble, pious life. Donald +had lost the child's heart he had brought with him from the mountains; +he was ambitious of honors, and eager after worldly pleasures and +advantages. He had become more gravely handsome, and he talked more +sensibly to David; but David liked him less. + +After this visit there sprang up a new hope in James' heart, and he +waited and watched, though often with very angry feelings; for he was +sure that Donald was gradually deserting Christine. + +She grew daily more sad and silent; it was evident she was suffering. +The little Testament lay now always with her work, and he noticed that +she frequently laid aside her sewing and read it earnestly, even while +David and he were quietly talking at the fireside. + +One Sabbath, two years after Donald's departure, James met David +coming out of church alone. He could only say, "I hope Christine is +well." + +"Had she been well, she had been wi' me; thou kens that, James." + +"I might have done so. Christine is never absent from God's house when +it is open." + +"It is a good plan, James; for when they who go regular to God's house +are forced to stay away, God himself asks after them. I hae no doubt +but what Christine has been visited." + +They walked on in silence until David's house was in sight. "I'm no +caring for any company earth can gie me the night, James; but the morn +I hae something to tell you I canna speak anent to-day." + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +The next day David came into the bank about noon, and said, "Come wi' +me to McLellan's, James, and hae a mutton pie, it's near by +lunch-time." While they were eating it David said, "Donald McFarlane +is to be wedded next month. He's making a grand marriage." + +James bit his lip, but said nothing. + +"He's spoken for Miss Margaret Napier; her father was ane o' the Lords +o' Session; she's his sole heiress, and that will mean £50,000, foreby +the bonnie place and lands o' Ellenshawe." + +"And Christine?" + +"Dinna look that way, man. Christine is content; she kens weel enough +she isna like her cousin." + +"God be thanked she is not. Go away from me, David Cameron, or I shall +say words that will make more suffering than you can dream off. Go +away, man." + +David was shocked and grieved at his companion's passion. "James," he +said solemnly, "dinna mak a fool o' yoursel'. I hae long seen your +ill-will at Donald. Let it go. Donald's aboon your thumb now, and the +anger o' a poor man aye falls on himsel'." + +"For God's sake don't tempt me farther. You little know what I could +do if I had the ill heart to do it." + +"Ow! ay!" said David scornfully, "if the poor cat had only wings it +would extirpate the race of sparrows from the world; but when the +wings arena there, James lad, it is just as weel to mak no boast o' +them." + +James had leaned his head in his hands, and was whispering, +"Christine! Christine! Christine!" in a rapid inaudible voice. He took +no notice of David's remark, and David was instantly sorry for it. +"The puir lad is just sorrowful wi' love for Christine, and that's nae +sin that I can see," he thought. "James," he said kindly, "I am sorry +enough to grieve you. Come as soon as you can like to do it. You'll be +welcome." + +James slightly nodded his head, but did not move; and David left him +alone in the little boarded room where they had eaten. In a few +minutes he collected himself, and, like one dazed, walked back to his +place in the bank. Never had its hours seemed so long, never had the +noise and traffic, the tramping of feet, and the banging of doors +seemed so intolerable. As early as possible he was at David's, and +David, with that fine instinct that a kind heart teaches, said as he +entered, "Gude evening, James. Gae awa ben and keep Christine company. +I'm that busy that I'll no shut up for half an hour yet." + +James found Christine in her usual place. The hearth had been freshly +swept, the fire blazed brightly, and she sat before it with her white +seam in her hand. She raised her eyes at James' entrance, and +smilingly nodded to a vacant chair near her. He took it silently. +Christine seemed annoyed at his silence in a little while, and asked, +"Why don't you speak, James? Have you nothing to say?" + +"A great deal, Christine. What now do you think of Donald McFarlane?" + +"I think well of Donald." + +"And of his marriage also?" + +"Certainly I do. When he was here I saw how unfit I was to be his +wife. I told him so, and bid him seek a mate more suitable to his +position and prospects." + +"Do you think it right to let yonder lady wed such a man with her eyes +shut?" + +"Are you going to open them?" Her face was sad and mournful, and she +laid her hand gently on James' shoulder. + +"I think it is my duty, Christine." + +"Think again, James. Be sure it is your duty before you go on such an +errand. See if you dare kneel down and ask God to bless you in this +duty." + +"Christine, you treat me very hardly. You know how I love you, and you +use your power over me unmercifully." + +"No, no, James, I only want you to keep yourself out of the power of +Satan. If indeed I have any share in your heart, do not wrong me by +giving Satan a place there also. Let me at least respect you, James." + +Christine had never spoken in this way before to him; the majesty and +purity of her character lifted him insensibly to higher thoughts, her +gentleness soothed and comforted him. When David came in he found them +talking in a calm, cheerful tone, and the evening that followed was +one of the pleasantest he could remember. Yet James understood that +Christine trusted in his forbearance, and he had no heart to grieve +her, especially as she did her best to reward him by striving to make +his visits to her father unusually happy. + +So Donald married Miss Napier, and the newspapers were full of the +bridegroom's beauty and talents, and the bride's high lineage and +great possessions. After this Donald and Donald's affairs seemed to +very little trouble David's humble household. His marriage put him far +away from Christine's thoughts, for her delicate conscience would have +regarded it as a great sin to remember with any feeling of love +another woman's affianced husband; and when the struggle became one +between right and wrong, it was ended for Christine. David seldom +named him, and so Donald McFarlane gradually passed out of the lives +he had so sorely troubled. + +Slowly but surely James continued to prosper; he rose to be cashier in +the bank, and he won a calm but certain place in Christine's regard. +She had never quite recovered the shock of her long illness; she was +still very frail, and easily exhausted by the least fatigue or +excitement. But in James' eyes she was perfect; he was always at his +best in her presence, and he was a very proud and happy man when, +after eight years' patient waiting and wooing, he won from her the +promise to be his wife; for he knew that with Christine the promise +meant all that it ought to mean. + +The marriage made few changes in her peaceful life. James left the +bank, put his savings in David's business, and became his partner. But +they continued to live in the same house, and year after year passed +away in that happy calm which leaves no records, and has no fate days +for the future to date from. + +Sometimes a letter, a newspaper, or some public event, would bring +back the memory of the gay, handsome lad that had once made so bright +the little back parlor. Such strays from Donald's present life were +always pleasant ones. In ten years he had made great strides forward. +Every one had a good word for him. His legal skill was quoted as +authority, his charities were munificent, his name unblemished by a +single mean deed. + +Had James forgotten? No, indeed. Donald's success only deepened his +hatred of him. Even the silence he was compelled to keep on the +subject intensified the feeling. Once after his marriage he attempted +to discuss the subject with Christine, but the scene had been so +painful he had never attempted it again; and David was swift and +positive to dismiss any unfavorable allusion to Donald. Once, on +reading that "Advocate McFarlane had joined the Free Kirk of Scotland +on open confession of faith," James flung down the paper and said +pointedly, "I wonder whether he confessed his wrong-doing before his +faith or not." + +"There's nane sae weel shod, James, that they mayna slip," answered +David, with a stern face. "He has united wi' Dr. Buchan's +kirk--there's nane taken into that fellowship unworthily, as far as +man can judge." + +"He would be a wise minister that got at all Advocate McFarlane's +sins, I am thinking." + +"Dinna say all ye think, James. They walk too fair for earth that +naebody can find fault wi'." + +So James nursed the evil passion in his own heart; indeed, he had +nursed it so long that he could not of himself resign it, and in all +his prayers--and he did pray frequently, and often sincerely--he never +named this subject to God, never once asked for his counsel or help in +the matter. + +Twelve years after his marriage with Christine David died, died as he +had often wished to die, very suddenly. He was well at noon; at night +he had put on the garments of eternal Sabbath. He had but a few +moments of consciousness in which to bid farewell to his children. +"Christine," he said cheerfully, "we'll no be lang parted, dear +lassie;" and to James a few words on his affairs, and then almost with +his last breath, "James, heed what I say: 'Blessed are the merciful, +for they shall--obtain mercy.'" + +There seemed to have been some prophetic sense in David's parting +words to his daughter, for soon after his death she began to fail +rapidly. What James suffered as he saw it only those can tell who have +watched their beloved slowly dying, and hoped against hope day after +day and week after week. Perhaps the hardest part was the knowledge +that she had never recovered the health she had previous to the +terrible shock which his revelation of Donald's guilt had been to her. +He forgot his own share in the shock and threw the whole blame of her +early decay on Donald. "And if she dies," he kept saying in his angry +heart, "I will make him suffer for it." + +And Christine was drawing very near to death, though even when she was +confined to her room and bed James would not believe it. And it was at +this time that Donald came once more to Glasgow. There was a very +exciting general election for a new Parliament, and Donald stood for +the Conservative party in the city of Glasgow. Nothing could have so +speedily ripened James' evil purpose. Should a forger represent his +native city? Should he see the murderer of his Christine win honor +upon honor, when he had but to speak and place him among thieves? + +During the struggle he worked frantically to defeat him--and failed. +That night he came home like a man possessed by some malicious, +ungovernable spirit of hell. He would not go to Christine's room, for +he was afraid she would discover his purpose in his face, and win him +from it. For now he had sworn to himself that he would only wait until +the congratulatory dinner. He could get an invitation to it. All the +bailies and the great men of the city would be there. The newspaper +reporters would be there. His triumph would be complete. Donald would +doubtless make a great speech, and after it _he_ would say his few +words. + +Then he thought of Christine. But she did not move him now, for she +was never likely to hear of it. She was confined to her bed; she read +nothing but her Bible; she saw no one but her nurse. He would charge +the nurse, and he would keep all papers and letters from her. He +thought of nothing now but the near gratification of a revengeful +purpose for which he had waited twenty years. Oh, how sweet it seemed +to him! + +The dinner was to be in a week, and during the next few days he was +like a man in a bad dream. He neglected his business, and wandered +restlessly about the house, and looked so fierce and haggard that +Christine began to notice, to watch, and to fear. She knew that Donald +was in the city, and her heart told her that it was his presence only +that could so alter her husband; and she poured it out in strong +supplications for strength and wisdom to avert the calamity she felt +approaching. + +That night her nurse became sick and could not remain with her, and +James, half reluctantly, took her place, for he feared Christine's +influence now. She would ask him to read the Bible, to pray with her; +she might talk to him of death and heaven; she might name Donald, and +extract some promise from him. And he was determined now that nothing +should move him. So he pretended great weariness, drew a large chair +to her bedside, and said, + +"I shall try and sleep a while, darling; if you need me you have only +to speak." + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +He was more weary than he knew, and ere he was aware he fell asleep--a +restless, wretched sleep, that made him glad when the half-oblivion +was over. Christine, however, was apparently at rest, and he soon +relapsed into the same dark, haunted state of unconsciousness. +Suddenly he began to mutter and moan, and then to speak with a hoarse, +whispered rapidity that had in it something frightful and unearthly. +But Christine listened with wide-open eyes, and heard with sickening +terror the whole wicked plot. It fell from his half-open lips over and +over in every detail; and over and over he laughed low and terribly at +the coming shame of the hated Donald. + +She had not walked alone for weeks, nor indeed been out of her room +for months, but she must go now; and she never doubted her strength. +As if she had been a spirit, she slipped out of bed, walked rapidly +and noiselessly into the long-unfamiliar parlor. A rushlight was +burning, and the key of the old desk was always in it. Nothing +valuable was kept there, and people unacquainted with the secret of +the hidden drawer would have looked in vain for the entrance to it. +Christine had known it for years, but her wifely honor had held it +more sacred than locks or keys could have done. She was aware only +that James kept some private matter of importance there, and she would +as readily have robbed her husband's purse as have spied into things +of which he did not speak to her. + +Now, however, all mere thoughts of courtesy or honor must yield before +the alternative in which James and Donald stood. She reached the desk, +drew out the concealing drawer, pushed aside the slide, and touched +the paper. There were other papers there, but something taught her at +once the right one. To take it and close the desk was but the work of +a moment, then back she flew as swiftly and noiselessly as a spirit +with the condemning evidence tightly clasped in her hand. + +James was still muttering and moaning in his troubled sleep, and with +the consciousness of her success all her unnatural strength passed +away. She could hardly secrete it in her bosom ere she fell into a +semi-conscious lethargy, through which she heard with terror her +husband's low, weird laughter and whispered curses. + +At length the day for the dinner came. James had procured an +invitation, and he made unusual personal preparations for it. He was +conscious that he was going to do a very mean action, but he would +look as well as possible in the act. He had even his apology for it +ready; he would say that "as long as it was a private wrong he had +borne the loss patiently for twenty years, but that the public welfare +demanded honest men, men above reproach, and he could no longer feel +it his duty," etc., etc. + +After he was dressed he bid Christine "Good-by." + +"He would only stay an hour," he said, "and he must needs go, as +Donald was her kin." + +Then he went to the desk, and with hands trembling in their eagerness +sought the bill. It was not there. _Impossible!_ He looked +again--again more carefully--could not believe his eyes, and looked +again and again. It was really gone. If the visible hand of God had +struck him, he could not have felt it more consciously. He +mechanically closed the desk and sat down like one stunned. Cain might +have felt as James did when God asked him, "Where is thy brother?" He +did not think of prayer. No "God be merciful to me a sinner" came as +yet from his dry, white lips. The fountains of his heart seemed dry as +dust. The anger of God weighed him down till + + "He felt as one + Who, waking after some strange, fevered dream, + Sees a dim land and things unspeakable, + And comes to know at last that it is hell." + +Meantime Christine was lying with folded hands, praying for him. She +knew what an agony he was going through, and ceaselessly with pure +supplications she prayed for his forgiveness. About midnight one came +and told him his wife wanted to see him. He rose with a wretched sigh, +and looked at the clock. He had sat there six hours. He had thought +over everything, over and over--the certainty that the paper was +there, the fact that no other paper had been touched, and that no +human being but Christine knew of the secret place. These things +shocked him beyond expression. It was to his mind a visible assertion +of the divine prerogative; he had really heard God say to him, +"Vengeance is mine." The lesson that in these materialistic days we +would reason away, James humbly accepted. His religious feelings were, +after all, his deepest feelings, and in those six hours he had so +palpably felt the frown of his angry Heavenly Father that he had quite +forgotten his poor, puny wrath at Donald McFarlane. + +As he slowly walked up stairs to Christine he determined to make to +her a full confession of the deed he had meditated. But when he +reached her bedside he saw that she was nearly dead. She smiled +faintly and said, + +"Send all away, James. I must speak alone with you, dear; we are going +to part, my husband." + +Then he knelt down by her side and held her cold hands, and the +gracious tears welled up in his hot eyes, and he covered them with the +blessed rain. + +"O James, how you have suffered--since six o'clock." + +"You know then, Christine! I would weep tears of blood over my sin. O +dear, dear wife, take no shameful memory of me into eternity with +you." + +"See how I trust you, James. Here is poor, weak Donald's note. I know +now you will never use it against him. What if your six hours were +lengthened out through life--through eternity? I ask no promise from +you now, dear." + +"But I give it. Before God I give it, with all my heart. My sin has +found me out this night. How has God borne with me all these years? +Oh, how great is his mercy!" + +Then Christine told him how he had revealed his wicked plot, and how +wonderful strength had been given her to defeat it; and the two souls, +amid their parting sighs and tears, knew each other as they had never +done through all their years of life. + +For a week James remained in his own room. Then Christine was laid +beside her father, and the shop was reopened, and the household +returned to its ways. But James was not seen in house or shop, and the +neighbors said, + +"Kirsty Cameron has had a wearisome sickness, and nae doobt her +gudeman was needing a rest. Dootless he has gane to the Hielands a +bit." + +But it was not northward James Blackie went. It was south; south past +the bonnie Cumberland Hills and the great manufacturing towns of +Lancashire and the rich valleys of Yorkshire; southward until he +stopped at last in London. Even then, though he was weary and sick and +the night had fallen, he did not rest. He took a carriage and drove at +once to a fashionable mansion in Baker street. The servant looked +curiously at him and felt half inclined to be insolent to such a +visitor. + +"Take that card to your master at once," he said in a voice whose +authority could not be disputed, and the man went. + +His master was lying on a sofa in a luxuriously-furnished room, +playing with a lovely girl about four years old, and listening +meanwhile to an enthusiastic account of a cricket match that two boys +of about twelve and fourteen years were giving him. He was a +strikingly handsome man, in the prime of life, with a thoroughly happy +expression. He took James' card in a careless fashion, listened to the +end of his sons' story, and then looked at it. Instantly his manner +changed; he stood up, and said promptly, + +"Go away now, Miss Margaret, and you also, Angus and David; I have an +old friend to see." Then to the servant, "Bring the gentleman here at +once." + +When he heard James' step he went to meet him with open hand; but +James said, + +"Not just yet, Mr. McFarlane; hear what I have to say. Then if you +offer your hand I will take it." + +"Christine is dead?" + +"Dead, dead." + +They sat down opposite each other, and James did not spare himself. +From his discovery of the note in old Starkie's possession until the +death of Christine, he confessed everything. Donald sat with downcast +eyes, quite silent. Once or twice his fierce Highland blood surged +into his face, and his hand stole mechanically to the place where his +dirk had once been, but the motion was as transitory as a thought. +When James had finished he sat with compressed lips for a few moments, +quite unable to control his speech; but at length he slowly said, + +"I wish I had known all this before; it would have saved much sin and +suffering. You said that my indifference at first angered you. I must +correct this. I was not indifferent. No one can tell what suffering +that one cowardly act cost me. But before the bill fell due I went +frankly to Uncle David and confessed all my sin. What passed between +us you may guess; but he forgave me freely and fully, as I trust God +did also. Hence there was no cause for its memory to darken life." + +"I always thought Christine had told her father," muttered James. + +"Nay, but I told him myself. He said he would trace the note, and I +have no doubt he knew it was in your keeping from the first." + +Then James took it from his pocket-book. + +"There it is, Mr. McFarlane. Christine gave it back to me the hour she +died. I promised her to bring it to you and tell you all." + +"Christine's soul was a white rose without a thorn. I count it an +honor to have known and loved her. But the paper is yours, Mr. +Blackie, unless I may pay for it." + +"O man, man! what money could pay for it? I would not dare to sell it +for the whole world! Take it, I pray you." + +"I will not. Do as you wish with it, James, I can trust you." + +Then James walked towards the table. There were wax lights burning on +it, and he held it in the flame and watched it slowly consume away to +ashes. The silence was so intense that they heard each other +breathing, and the expression on James' face was so rapt and noble +that even Donald's stately beauty was for the moment less attractive. +Then he walked towards Donald and said, + +"Now give me your hand, McFarlane, and I'll take it gladly." + +And that was a handclasp that meant to both men what no words could +have expressed. + +"Farewell, McFarlane; our ways in this world lie far apart; but when +we come to die it will comfort both of us to remember this meeting. +God be with you!" + +"And with you also, James. Farewell." + +Then James went back to his store and his shadowed household life. And +people said he looked happier than ever he had done, and pitied him +for his sick wife, and supposed he felt it a happy release to be rid +of her. So wrongly does the world, which knows nothing of our real +life, judge us. + +You may see his gravestone in Glasgow Necropolis to-day, and people +will tell you that he was a great philanthropist, and gave away a +noble fortune to the sick and the ignorant; and you will probably +wonder to see only beneath his name the solemn text, "Vengeance is +mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." + + + + +Facing His Enemy. + + + + +FACING HIS ENEMY. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Forty years ago there stood in the lower part of the city of Glasgow a +large, plain building which was to hundreds of very intelligent +Scotchmen almost sacred ground. It stood among warehouses and +factories, and in a very unfashionable quarter; but for all that, it +was Dr. William Morrison's kirk. And Dr. Morrison was in every respect +a remarkable man--a Scotchman with the old Hebrew fervor and +sublimity, who accepted the extremest tenets of his creed with a deep +religious faith, and scorned to trim or moderate them in order to suit +what he called "a sinfu' latitudinarian age." + +Such a man readily found among the solid burghers of Glasgow a large +"following" of a very serious kind, douce, dour men, whose +strongly-marked features looked as if they had been chiselled out of +their native granite--men who settled themselves with a grave kind of +enjoyment to listen to a full hour's sermon, and who watched every +point their minister made with a critical acumen that seemed more +fitting to a synod of divines than a congregation of weavers and +traders. + +A prominent man in this remarkable church was Deacon John Callendar. +He had been one of its first members, and it was everything to his +heart that Jerusalem is to the Jew, or Mecca to the Mohammedan. He +believed his minister to be the best and wisest of men, though he was +by no means inclined to allow himself a lazy confidence in this +security. It was the special duty of deacons to keep a strict watch +over doctrinal points, and though he had never had occasion to dissent +in thirty years' scrutiny, he still kept the watch. + +In the temporal affairs of the church it had been different. There was +no definite creed for guidance in these matters, and eight or ten men +with strong, rugged wills about £, _s_., _d_., each thinking highly of +his own discretion in monetary affairs, and rather indifferently of +the minister's gifts in this direction, were not likely to have always +harmonious sessions. + +They had had a decidedly inharmonious one early in January of 184-, +and Deacon Callendar had spoken his mind with his usual blunt +directness. He had been a good deal nettled at the minister's +attitude, for, instead of seconding his propositions, Dr. Morrison had +sat with a faraway, indifferent look, as if the pending discussion was +entirely out of his range of interest. John could have borne +contradiction better. An argument would have gratified him. But to +have the speech and statistics which he had so carefully prepared fall +on the minister's ear without provoking any response was a great trial +of his patience. He was inwardly very angry, though outwardly very +calm; but Dr. Morrison knew well what a tumult was beneath the dour +still face of the deacon as he rose from his chair, put on his plaid, +and pulled his bonnet over his brows. + +"John," he said kindly, "you are a wise man, and I aye thought so. It +takes a Christian to lead passion by the bridle. A Turk is a placid +gentleman, John, but he cannot do it." + +"Ou, ay! doubtless! There is talk o' the Turk and the Pope, but it is +my neighbors that trouble me the maist, minister. Good-night to ye +all. If ye vote to-night you can e'en count my vote wi' Dr. +Morrison's; it will be as sensible and warld-like as any o' the lave." + +With this parting reflection he went out. It had begun to snow, and +the still, white solitude made him ashamed of his temper. He looked up +at the quiet heavens above him, then at the quiet street before him, +and muttered with a spice of satisfaction, "Speaking comes by nature, +and silence by understanding. I am thankfu' now I let Deacon Strang +hae the last word. I'm saying naught against Strang; he may gie good +counsel, but they'll be fools that tak it." + +"Uncle!" + +"Hout, Davie! Whatna for are you here?" + +"It began to snow, and I thought you would be the better of your cloak +and umbrella. You seem vexed, uncle." + +"Vexed? Ay. The minister is the maist contrary o' mortals. He kens +naething about church government, and he treats gude siller as if it +wasna worth the counting; but he's a gude man, and a great man, Davie, +and folk canna serve the altar and be money-changers too. I ought to +keep that i' mind. It's Deacon Strang, and no the minister." + +"Well, uncle, you must just thole it; you know what the New Testament +says?" + +"Ay, ay; I ken it says if a man be struck on one cheek, he must turn +the other; but, Davie, let me tell you that the man who gets the first +blow generally deserves the second. It is gude Christian law no to +permit the first stroke. That is my interpretation o' the matter." + +"I never thought of that." + +"Young folk don't think o' everything." + +There was something in the tone of this last remark which seemed to +fit best into silence, and David Callendar had a particular reason for +not further irritating his uncle. The two men without any other remark +reached the large, handsome house in Blytheswood Square which was +their home. Its warmth and comfort had an immediate effect on the +deacon. He looked pleasantly at the blazing fire and the table on the +hearthrug, with its basket of oaten cakes, its pitcher of cream, and +its whiskey-bottle and toddy glasses. The little brass kettle was +simmering before the fire, his slippers were invitingly warm, his +loose coat lying over the back of his soft, ample chair, and just as +he had put them on, and sank down with a sigh of content, a bright old +lady entered with a spicy dish of kippered salmon. + +"I thought I wad bring ye a bit relish wi' your toddy, deacon. Talking +is hungry wark. I think a man might find easier pleasuring than going +to a kirk session through a snowstorm." + +"A man might, Jenny. They'd suit women-folk wonderfu'; there's plenty +o' talk and little wark." + +"Then I dinna see ony call to mak a change, deacon." + +"Now, Jenny, you've had the last word, sae ye can go to bed wi' an +easy mind. And, Jenny, woman, dinna let your quarrel wi' Maggie +Launder come between you and honest sleep. I think that will settle +her," he observed with a pawky smile, as his housekeeper shut the door +with unnecessary haste. + +Half an hour afterwards, David, mixing another glass of toddy, drew +his chair closer to the fire, and said, "Uncle John, I want to speak +to you." + +"Speak on, laddie;" but David noticed that even with the permission, +cautious curves settled round his uncle's eyes, and his face assumed +that business-like immobility which defied his scrutiny. + +"I have had a very serious talk with Robert Leslie; he is thinking of +buying Alexander Hastie out." + +"Why not think o' buying out Robert Napier, or Gavin Campbell, or +Clydeside Woolen Works? A body might as weel think o' a thousand +spindles as think o' fifty." + +"But he means business. An aunt, who has lately died in Galloway, has +left him £2,000." + +"That isna capital enough to run Sandy Hastie's mill." + +"He wants me to join him." + +"And how will that help matters? Twa thousand pounds added to Davie +Callendar will be just £2,000." + +"I felt sure you would lend me £2,000; and in that case it would be a +great chance for me. I am very anxious to be--" + +"Your ain maister." + +"Not that altogether, uncle, although you know well the Callendars +come of a kind that do not like to serve. I want to have a chance to +make money." + +"How much of your salary have you saved?" + +"I have never tried to save anything yet, uncle, but I am going to +begin." + +The old man sat silent for a few moments, and then said, "I wont do +it, Davie." + +"It is only £2,000, Uncle John." + +"_Only_ £2,000! Hear the lad! Did ye ever mak £2,000? Did ye ever save +£2,000? When ye hae done that ye'll ne'er put in the adverb, Davie. +_Only £2,000, indeed!_" + +"I thought you loved me, uncle." + +"I love no human creature better than you. Whatna for should I not +love you? You are the only thing left to me o' the bonnie brave +brother who wrapped his colors round him in the Afghan Pass, the +brave-hearted lad who died fighting twenty to one. And you are whiles +sae like him that I'm tempted--na, na, that is a' byganes. I will not +let you hae the £2,000, that is the business in hand." + +"What for?" + +"If you will hear the truth, that second glass o' whiskey is reason +plenty. I hae taken my ane glass every night for forty years, and I +hae ne'er made the ane twa, except New Year's tide." + +"That is fair nonsense, Uncle John. There are plenty of men whom you +trust for more than £2,000 who can take four glasses for their +nightcap always." + +"That may be; I'm no denying it; but what is lawfu' in some men is +sinfu' in others." + +"I do not see that at all." + +"Do you mind last summer, when we were up in Argyleshire, how your +cousin, Roy Callendar, walked, with ne'er the wink o' an eyelash, on a +mantel-shelf hanging over a three-hundred-feet precipice? Roy had the +trained eyesight and the steady nerve which made it lawfu' for him; +for you or me it had been suicide--naething less sinfu'. Three or four +glasses o' whiskey are safer for some men than twa for you. I hae been +feeling it my duty to tell you this for some time. Never look sae +glum, Davie, or I'll be thinking it is my siller and no mysel' you +were caring for the night when ye thought o' my cloak and umbrella." + +The young man rose in a perfect blaze of passion. + +"Sit down, sit down," said his uncle. "One would think you were your +grandfather, Evan Callendar, and that some English red-coat had trod +on your tartan. Hout! What's the use o' a temper like that to folk wha +hae taken to the spindle instead o' the claymore?" + +"I am a Callendar for all that." + +"Sae am I, sae am I, and vera proud o' it fore-bye. We are a' kin, +Davie; blood is thicker than water, and we wont quarrel." + +David put down his unfinished glass of toddy. He could not trust +himself to discuss the matter any farther, but as he left the room he +paused, with the open door in his hand, and said, + +"If you are afraid I am going to be a drunkard, why did you not care +for the fear before it became a question of £2,000? And if I ever do +become one, remember this, Uncle John--you mixed my first glass for +me!" + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +A positive blow could hardly have stunned John Callendar as this +accusation did. He could not have answered it, even if he had had an +opportunity, and the shock was the greater that it brought with it a +sudden sense of responsibility, yea, even guilt. At first the feeling +was one of anger at this sudden charge of conscience. He began to +excuse himself; he was not to blame if other people could not do but +they must o'erdo; then to assure himself that, being God's child, +there could be no condemnation in the matter to him. But his heart was +too tender and honest to find rest in such apologies, and close upon +his anger at the lad crowded a host of loving memories that would not +be put away. + +David's father had been very dear to him. He recalled his younger +brother in a score of tender situations: the schoolhouse in which they +had studied cheek to cheek over one book; the little stream in which +they had paddled and fished on holidays, the fir-wood, the misty +corries, and the heathery mountains of Argyle; above all, he +remembered the last time that he had ever seen the bright young face +marching at the head of his company down Buchanan street on his way to +India. David's mother was a still tenderer memory, and John +Callendar's eyes grew misty as his heart forced him to recall that +dark, wintry afternoon when she had brought David to him, and he had +solemnly promised to be a father to the lad. It was the last promise +between them; three weeks afterwards he stood at her grave's side. +Time is said to dim such memories as these. It never does. After many +years some sudden event recalls the great crises of any life with all +the vividness of their first occurrence. + +Confused as these memories were, they blended with an equal confusion +of feelings. Love, anger, regret, fear, perplexity, condemnation, +excuse, followed close on each other, and John's mind, though +remarkably clear and acute, was one trained rather to the +consideration of things point by point than to the catching of the +proper clew in a mental labyrinth. After an hour's miserable +uncertainty he was still in doubt what to do. The one point of comfort +he had been able to reach was the hope that David had gone straight to +Jenny with his grievance. "And though women-folk arena much as +counsellors," thought John, "they are wonderfu' comforters; and Jenny +will ne'er hear tell o' his leaving the house; sae there will be time +to put right what is wrong." + +But though David had always hitherto, when lessons were hard or +lassies scornful, gone with his troubles to the faithful Jenny, he did +not do so at this time. He did not even bid her "Good-night," and +there was such a look on his face that she considered it prudent not +to challenge the omission. + +"It will be either money or marriage," she thought. "If it be money, +the deacon has mair than is good for him to hae; if it be marriage, it +will be Isabel Strang, and that the deacon wont like. But it is his +ain wife Davie is choosing, and I am for letting the lad hae the lass +he likes best." + +Jenny had come to these conclusions in ten minutes, but she waited +patiently for an hour before she interrupted her master. Then the +clock struck midnight, and she felt herself aggrieved. "Deacon," she +said sharply, "ye should mak the day day and the night night, and ye +would if ye had a three weeks' ironing to do the morn. It has chappit +twelve, sir." + +"Jenny, I'm not sleeplike to-night. There hae been ill words between +David and me." + +"And I am mair than astonished at ye, deacon. Ye are auld enough to +ken that ill words canna be wiped out wi' a sponge. Our Davie isna an +ordinar lad; he can be trusted where the lave would need a watcher. Ye +ken that, deacon, for he is your ain bringing up." + +"But, Jenny, £2,000 for his share o' Hastie's mill! Surely ye didna +encourage the lad in such an idea?" + +"Oh, sae it's money," thought Jenny. "What is £2,000 to you, deacon? +Why should you be sparing and saving money to die wi'? The lad isna a +fool." + +"I dinna approve o' the partner that is seeking him, Jenny. I hae +heard things anent Robert Leslie that I dinna approve of; far from +it." + +"Hae ye _seen_ anything wrong?" + +"I canna say I hae." + +"Trust to your eyes, deacon; they believe themselves, and your ears +believe other people; ye ken which is best. His father was a decent +body." + +"Ay, ay; but Alexander Leslie was different from his son Robert. He +was a canny, cautious man, who could ding for his ain side, and who +always stood by the kirk. Robert left Dr. Morrison's soon after his +father died. The doctor was too narrow for Robert Leslie. Robert +Leslie has wonderfu' broad ideas about religion now. Jenny, I dinna +like the men who are their ain Bibles and ministers." + +"But there are good folk outside Dr. Morrison's kirk, deacon, surely." + +"We'll trust so, surely, we'll trust so, Jenny; but a man wi' broad +notions about religion soon gets broad notions about business and all +other things. Why, Jenny, I hae heard that Robert Leslie once spoke o' +the house o' John Callendar & Co. as 'old fogyish!'" + +"That's no hanging matter, deacon, and ye must see that the world is +moving." + +"Maybe, maybe; but I'se never help it to move except in the safe, +narrow road. Ye ken the Garloch mill-stream? It is narrow enough for a +good rider to leap, but it is deep, and it does its wark weel summer +and winter. They can break down the banks, woman, and let it spread +all over the meadow; bonnie enough it will look, but the mill-clapper +would soon stop. Now there's just sae much power, spiritual or +temporal, in any man; spread it out, and it is shallow and no to be +depended on for any purpose whatever. But narrow the channel, Jenny, +narrow the channel, and it is a driving force." + +"Ye are getting awa from the main subject, deacon. It is the £2,000, +and ye had best mak up your mind to gie it to Davie. Then ye can gang +awa to your bed and tak your rest." + +"You talk like a--like a woman. It is easy to gie other folks' siller +awa. I hae worked for my siller." + +"Your siller, deacon? Ye hae naught but a life use o' it. Ye canna +take it awa wi' ye. Ye can leave it to the ane you like best, but that +vera person may scatter it to the four corners o' the earth. And why +not? Money was made round that it might roll. It is little good yours +is doing lying in the Clyde Trust." + +"Jenny Callendar, you are my ain cousin four times removed, and you +hae a kind o' right to speak your mind in my house; but you hae said +enough, woman. It isna a question of money only; there are ither +things troubling me mair than that. But women are but one-sided +arguers. Good-night to you." + +He turned to the fire and sat down, but after a few moments of the +same restless, confused deliberation, he rose and went to his Bible. +It lay open upon its stand, and John put his hand lovingly, reverently +upon the pages. He had no glasses on, and he could not see a letter, +but he did not need to. + +"It is my Father's word," he whispered; and, standing humbly before +it, he recalled passage after passage, until a great calm fell upon +him. Then he said, + +"I will lay me down and sleep now; maybe I'll see clearer in the +morning light." + +Almost as soon as he opened his eyes in the morning there was a tap at +his door, and the gay, strong voice he loved so dearly asked, + +"Can I come in, Uncle John?" + +"Come in, Davie." + +"Uncle, I was wrong last night, and I cannot be happy with any shadow +between us two." + +Scotchmen are not demonstrative, and John only winked his eyes and +straightened out his mouth; but the grip of the old and young hand +said what no words could have said half so eloquently. Then the old +man remarked in a business-like way, + +"I hae been thinking, Davie, I would go and look o'er Hastie's +affairs, and if I like the look o' them I'll buy the whole concern out +for you. Partners are kittle cattle. Ye will hae to bear their +shortcomings as well as your ain. Tak my advice, Davie; rule your +youth well, and your age will rule itsel'." + +"Uncle, you forget that Robert Leslie is in treaty with Hastie. It +would be the height of dishonor to interfere with his bargain. You +have always told me never to put my finger in another man's bargain. +Let us say no more on the subject. I have another plan now. If it +succeeds, well and good; if not, there are chances behind this one." + +John fervently hoped there would be no more to say on this subject, +and when day after day went by without any reference to Hastie or +Robert Leslie, John Callendar felt much relieved. David also had +limited himself to one glass of toddy at night, and this unspoken +confession and reformation was a great consolation to the old man. He +said to himself that the evil he dreaded had gone by his door, and he +was rather complacent over the bold stand he had taken. + +That day, as he was slowly walking through the Exchange, pondering a +proposal for Virginia goods, Deacon Strang accosted him. "Callendar, a +good day to ye; I congratulate ye on the new firm o' Callendar & +Leslie. They are brave lads, and like enough--if a' goes weel--to do +weel." + +John did not allow an eyelash to betray his surprise and chagrin. "Ah, +Strang!" he answered, "the Callendars are a big clan, and we are a' +kin; sae, if you tak to congratulating me on every Callendar whose +name ye see aboon a doorstep, you'll hae mair business on hand than +you'll ken how to manage. A good day to you!" But Deacon Callendar +went up Great George street that day with a heavy, angry heart. His +nephew opened the door for him. "Uncle John, I have been looking all +over for you. I have something to tell you." + +"Fiddler's news, Davie. I hae heard it already. Sae you hae struck +hands wi' Robert Leslie after a', eh?" + +"He had my promise, uncle, before I spoke to you. I could not break +it." + +"H'm! Where did you get the £2,000?" + +"I borrowed it." + +"Then I hope 'the party' looked weel into the business." + +"They did not. It was loaned to me on my simple representation." + +"'Simple representation!' Vera simple! It was some woman, dootless." + +"It was my mother's aunt, Lady Brith." + +"Ou, ay! I kent it. Weel, when a bargain is made, wish it good luck; +sae, Jenny, put a partridge before the fire, and bring up a bottle O' +Madeira." + +It was not however a lively meal. John was too proud and hurt to ask +for information, and David too much chilled by his reserve to +volunteer it. The wine, being an unusual beverage to John, made him +sleepy; and when David said he had to meet Robert Leslie at nine +o'clock, John made no objection and no remark. But when Jenny came in +to cover up the fire for the night, she found him sitting before it, +rubbing his hands in a very unhappy manner. + +"Cousin," he said fretfully, "there is a new firm in Glasgo' to-day." + +"I hae heard tell o' it. God send it prosperity." + +"It isna likely, Jenny; auld Lady Brith's money to start it! The +godless auld woman! If Davie taks her advice, he's a gane lad." + +"Then, deacon, it's your ain fault. Whatna for did ye not gie him the +£2,000?" + +"Just hear the woman! It taks women and lads to talk o' £2,000 as if +it were picked up on the planestanes." + +"If ye had loaned it, deacon, ye would hae had the right to spier into +things, and gie the lad advice. He maun tak his advice where he taks +his money. Ye flung that chance o' guiding Davie to the four winds. +And let me tell ye, Cousin Callendar, ye hae far too tight a grip on +this warld's goods. The money is only loaned to you to put out at +interest for the Master. It ought to be building kirks and +schoolhouses, and sending Bibles to the far ends o' the earth. When +you are asked what ye did wi' it, how will you like to answer, 'I hid +it safely awa, Lord, in the Clyde Trust and in Andrew Fleming's +bank!'" + +"That will do, woman. Now you hae made me dissatisfied wi' my guiding +o' Davie, and meeserable anent my bank account, ye may gang to your +bed; you'll doobtless sleep weel on the thought." + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +However, sometimes things are not so ill as they look. The new firm +obtained favor, and even old, cautious men began to do a little +business with it. For Robert introduced some new machinery, and the +work it did was allowed, after considerable suspicion, to be "vera +satisfactory." A sudden emergency had also discovered to David that he +possessed singularly original ideas in designing patterns; and he set +himself with enthusiasm to that part of the business. Two years +afterwards came the Great Fair of 1851, and Callendar & Leslie took a +first prize for their rugs, both design and workmanship being +honorably mentioned. + +Their success seemed now assured. Orders came in so fast that the mill +worked day and night to fill them; and David was so gay and happy that +John could hardly help rejoicing with him. Indeed, he was very proud +of his nephew, and even inclined to give Robert a little cautious +kindness. The winter of 1851 was a very prosperous one, but the spring +brought an unlooked-for change. + +One evening David came home to dinner in a mood which Jenny +characterized as "_thrawart_." He barely answered her greeting, and +shut his room-door with a bang. He did not want any dinner, and he +wanted to be let alone. John looked troubled at this behavior. Jenny +said, "It is some lass in the matter; naething else could mak a +sensible lad like Davie act sae child-like and silly." And Jennie was +right. Towards nine o'clock David came to the parlor and sat down +beside his uncle. He said he had been "greatly annoyed." + +"Annoyances are as certain as the multiplication table," John remarked +quietly, "and ye ought to expect them--all the mair after a long run +o' prosperity." + +"But no man likes to be refused by the girl he loves." + +"Eh? Refused, say ye? Wha has refused you?" + +"Isabel Strang. I have loved her, as you and Jenny know, since we went +to school together, and I was sure that she loved me. Two days ago I +had some business with Deacon Strang, and when it was finished I spoke +to him anent Isabel. He made me no answer then, one way or the other, +but told me he would have a talk with Isabel, and I might call on him +this afternoon. When I did so he said he felt obligated to refuse my +offer." + +"Weel?" + +"That is all." + +"Nonsense! Hae you seen Isabel hersel'?" + +"She went to Edinburgh last night." + +"And if you were your uncle, lad, you would hae been in Edinburgh too +by this time. Your uncle would not stay refused twenty-four hours, if +he thought the lass loved him. Tut, tut, you ought to hae left at +once; that would hae been mair like a Callendar than ganging to your +ain room to sit out a scorning. There is a train at ten o'clock +to-night; you hae time to catch it if ye dinna lose a minute, and if +you come back wi' Mrs. David Callendar, I'll gie her a warm welcome +for your sake." + +The old man's face was aglow, and in his excitement he had risen to +his feet with the very air of one whom no circumstances could depress +or embarrass. David caught his mood and his suggestion, and in five +minutes he was on his way to the railway dépôt. The thing was done so +quickly that reflection had formed no part of it. But when Jenny heard +the front-door clash impatiently after David, she surmised some +imprudence, and hastened to see what was the matter. John told her the +"affront" David had received, and looked eagerly into the strong, +kindly face for an assurance that he had acted with becoming +promptitude and sympathy. Jenny shook her head gravely, and regarded +the deacon with a look of pitying disapproval. "To think," she said, +"of twa men trying to sort a love affair, when there was a woman +within call to seek counsel o'." + +"But we couldna hae done better, Jenny." + +"Ye couldna hae done warse, deacon. Once the lad asked ye for money, +and ye wouldna trust him wi' it; and now ye are in sic a hurry to send +him after a wife that he maun neither eat nor sleep. Ye ken which is +the maist dangerous. And you, wi' a' your years, to play into auld +Strang's hand sae glibly! Deacon, ye hae made a nice mess o' it. Dinna +ye see that Strang knew you twa fiery Hielandmen would never tak +'No,' and he sent Isabel awa on purpose for our Davie to run after her. +He kens weel they will be sure to marry, but he'll say now that his +daughter disobeyed him; sae he'll get off giving her a bawbee o' her +fortune, and he'll save a' the plenishing and the wedding expenses. +Deacon, I'm ashamed o' you. Sending a love-sick lad on sic a fool's +errand. And mair, I'm not going to hae Isabel Strang, or Isabel +Callendar here. A young woman wi' bridish ways dawdling about the +house, I canna, and I willna stand. You'll hae to choose atween Deacon +Strang's daughter and your auld cousin, Jenny Callendar." + +John had no answer ready, and indeed Jenny gave him no time to make +one: she went off with a sob in her voice, and left the impulsive old +matchmaker very unhappy indeed. For he had an unmitigated sense of +having acted most imprudently, and moreover, a shrewd suspicion that +Jenny's analysis of Deacon Strang's tactics was a correct one. For the +first time in many a year, a great tide of hot, passionate anger swept +away every other feeling. He longed to meet Strang face to face, and +with an hereditary and quite involuntary instinct he put his hand to +the place where his forefathers had always carried their dirks. The +action terrified and partly calmed him. "My God!" he exclaimed, +"forgive thy servant. I hae been guilty in my heart o' murder." + +He was very penitent, but still, as he mused the fire burned; and he +gave vent to his feelings in odd, disjointed sentences thrown up from +the very bottom of his heart, as lava is thrown up by the +irrepressible eruption: "Wha shall deliver a man from his ancestors? +Black Evan Callendar was never much nearer murder than I hae been this +night, only for the grace of God, which put the temptation and the +opportunity sae far apart. I'll hae Strang under my thumb yet. God +forgie me! what hae I got to do wi' sorting my ain wrongs? What for +couldna Davie like some other lass? It's as easy to graft on a good +stock as an ill one. I doobt I hae done wrong. I am in a sair swither. +The righteous dinna always see the right way. I maun e'en to my Psalms +again. It is a wonderfu' comfort that King David was just a weak, +sinfu' mortal like mysel'." So he went again to those pathetic, +self-accusing laments of the royal singer, and found in them, as he +always had done, words for all the great depths of his sin and fear, +his hopes and his faith. + +In the morning one thing was clear to him; David must have his own +house now--David must leave him. He could not help but acknowledge +that he helped on this consummation, and it was with something of the +feeling of a man doing a just penance that he went to look at a +furnished house, whose owner was going to the south of France with a +sick daughter. The place was pretty, and handsomely furnished, and +John paid down the year's rent. So when David returned with his young +bride, he assumed at once the dignity and the cares of a householder. + +Jenny was much offended at the marriage of David. She had looked +forward to this event as desirable and probable, but she supposed it +would have come with solemn religious rites and domestic feasting, and +with a great gathering in Blytheswood Square of all the Callendar +clan. That it had been "a wedding in a corner," as she contemptuously +called it, was a great disappointment to her. But, woman-like, she +visited it on her own sex. It was all Isabel's fault, and from the +very first day of the return of the new couple she assumed an air of +commiseration for the young husband, and always spoke of him as "poor +Davie." + +This annoyed John, and after his visits to David's house he was +perhaps unnecessarily eloquent concerning the happiness of the young +people. Jenny received all such information with a dissenting silence. +She always spoke of Isabel as "Mistress David," and when John reminded +her that David's wife was "Mistress Callendar," she said, "It was weel +kent that there were plenty o' folk called Callendar that werna +Callendars for a' that." And it soon became evident to her womanly +keen-sightedness that John did not always return from his visits to +David and Isabel in the most happy of humors. He was frequently too +silent and thoughtful for a perfectly satisfied man; but whatever his +fears were, he kept them in his own bosom. They were evidently as yet +so light that hope frequently banished them altogether; and when at +length David had a son and called it after his uncle, the old man +enjoyed a real springtime of renewed youth and pleasure. Jenny was +partly reconciled also, for the happy parents treated her with special +attention, and she began to feel that perhaps David's marriage might +turn out better than she had looked for. + +Two years after this event Deacon Strang became reconciled to his +daughter, and as a proof of it gave her a large mansion situated in +the rapidly-growing "West End." It had come into his possession at a +bargain in some of the mysterious ways of his trade; but it was, by +the very reason of its great size, quite unsuitable for a young +manufacturer like David. Indeed, it proved to be a most unfortunate +gift in many ways. + +"It will cost £5,000 to furnish it," said John fretfully, "and that +Davie can ill afford--few men could; but Isabel has set her heart on +it." + +"And she'll hae her will, deacon. Ye could put £5,000 in the business +though, or ye could furnish for them." + +"My way o' furnishing wouldna suit them; and as for putting back money +that David is set on wasting, I'll no do it. It is a poor well, Jenny, +into which you must put water. If David's business wont stand his +drafts on it, the sooner he finds it out the better." + +So the fine house was finely furnished; but that was only the +beginning of expenses. Isabel now wanted dress to suit her new +surroundings, and servants to keep the numerous rooms clean. Then she +wanted all her friends and acquaintances to see her splendid +belongings, so that erelong David found his home turned into a +fashionable gathering-place. Lunches, dinners, and balls followed +each other quickly, and the result of all this visiting was that +Isabel had long lists of calls to make every day, and that she finally +persuaded David that it would be cheaper to buy their own carriage +than to pay so much hire to livery-stables. + +These changes did not take place all at once, nor without much +disputing. John Callendar opposed every one of them step by step till +opposition was useless. David only submitted to them in order to +purchase for himself a delusive peace during the few hours he could +afford to be in his fine home; for his increased expenditure was not a +thing he could bear lightly. Every extra hundred pounds involved extra +planning and work and risks. He gradually lost all the cheerful +buoyancy of manner and the brightness of countenance that had been +always part and parcel of David Callendar. A look of care and +weariness was on his face, and his habits and hours lost all their +former regularity. It had once been possible to tell the time of day +by the return home of the two Callendars. Now no one could have done +that with David. He stayed out late at night; he stayed out all night +long. He told Isabel the mill needed him, and she either believed him +or pretended to do so. + +So that after the first winter of her fashionable existence she +generally "entertained" alone. "Mr. Callendar had gone to Stirling, or +up to the Highlands to buy wool," or, "he was so busy money-making she +could not get him to recognize the claims of society." And society +cared not a pin's point whether he presided or not at the expensive +entertainments given in his name. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +But things did not come to this pass all at once; few men take the +steps towards ruin so rapidly as to be themselves alarmed by it. It +was nearly seven years after his marriage when the fact that he was in +dangerously embarrassed circumstances forced itself suddenly on +David's mind. I say "suddenly" here, because the consummation of evil +that has been long preparing comes at last in a moment; a string +holding a picture gets weaker and weaker through weeks of tension, and +then breaks. A calamity through nights and days moves slowly towards +us step by step, and then some hour it has come. So it was with +David's business. It had often lately been in tight places, but +something had always happened to relieve him. One day, however, there +was absolutely no relief but in borrowing money, and David went to his +uncle again. + +It was a painful thing for him to do; not that they had any quarrel, +though sometimes David thought a quarrel would be better than the +scant and almost sad intercourse their once tender love had fallen +into. By some strange mental sympathy, hardly sufficiently recognized +by us, John was thinking of his nephew when he entered. He greeted him +kindly, and pulled a chair close, so that David might sit beside him. +He listened sympathizingly to his cares, and looked mournfully into +the unhappy face so dear to him; then he took his bank-book and wrote +out a check for double the amount asked. + +The young man was astonished; the tears sprang to his eyes, and he +said, "Uncle, this is very good of you. I wish I could tell you how +grateful I am." + +"Davie, sit a moment, you dear lad. I hae a word to say to ye. I hear +tell that my lad is drinking far mair than is good either for himsel' +or his business. My lad, I care little for the business; let it go, if +its anxieties are driving thee to whiskey. David, remember what thou +accused me of, yonder night, when this weary mill was first spoken of; +and then think how I suffer every time I hear tell o' thee being the +warse o' liquor. And Jenny is greeting her heart out about thee. And +there is thy sick wife, and three bonnie bit bairns." + +"Did Isabel tell you this?" + +"How can she help complaining? She is vera ill, and she sees little o' +thee, David, she says." + +"Yes, she is ill. She took cold at Provost Allison's ball, and she has +dwined away ever since. That is true. And the house is neglected and +the servants do their own will both with it and the poor children. I +have been very wretched, Uncle John, lately, and I am afraid I have +drunk more than I ought to have done. Robert and I do not hit together +as we used to; he is always fault-finding, and ever since that visit +from his cousin who is settled in America he has been dissatisfied and +heartless. His cousin has made himself a rich man in ten years there; +and Robert says we shall ne'er make money here till we are too old to +enjoy it." + +"I heard tell, too, that Robert has been speculating in railway stock. +Such reports, true or false, hurt you, David. Prudent men dinna like +to trust speculators." + +"I think the report is true; but then it is out of his private savings +he speculates." + +"Davie, gie me your word that you wont touch a drop o' whiskey for a +week--just for a week." + +"I cannot do it, uncle. I should be sure to break it. I don't want to +tell you a lie." + +"O Davie, Davie! Will you try, then?" + +"I'll try, uncle. Ask Jenny to go and see the children." + +"'Deed she shall go; she'll be fain to do it. Let them come and stay +wi' me till their mother is mair able to look after them." + +Jenny heard the story that night with a dour face. She could have said +some very bitter things about Deacon Strang's daughter, but in +consideration of her sickness she forbore. The next morning she went +to David's house and had a talk with Isabel. The poor woman was so ill +that Jenny had no heart to scold her; she only gave the house "a good +sorting," did what she could for Isabel's comfort, and took back with +her the children and their nurse. It was at her suggestion John saw +David the next day, and offered to send Isabel to the mild climate of +Devonshire. "She'll die if she stays in Glasgo' through the winter," +he urged, and David consented. Then, as David could not leave his +business, John himself took the poor woman to Torbay, and no one but +she and God ever knew how tenderly he cared for her, and how solemnly +he tried to prepare her for the great change he saw approaching. She +had not thought of death before, but when they parted he knew she had +understood him, for weeping bitterly, she said, "You will take care of +the children, Uncle John? I fear I shall see them no more." + +"I will, Isabel. While I live I will." + +"And, O uncle, poor David! I have not been a good wife to him. +Whatever happens, think of that and judge him mercifully. It is my +fault, uncle, my fault, my fault! God forgive me!" + +"Nae, nae, lassie; I am far from innocent mysel';" and with these +mournful accusations they parted for ever. + +For Isabel's sickness suddenly assumed an alarming character, and her +dissolution was so rapid that John had scarcely got back to Glasgow +ere David was sent for to see his wife die. He came back a bereaved +and very wretched man; the great house was dismantled and sold, and he +went home once more to Blytheswood Square. + +But he could not go back to his old innocent life and self; and the +change only revealed to John how terribly far astray his nephew had +gone. And even Isabel's death had no reforming influence on him; it +only roused regrets and self-reproaches, which made liquor all the +more necessary to him. Then the breaking up of the house entailed much +bargain-making, all of which was unfortunately cemented with glasses +of whiskey toddy. Still his uncle had some new element of hope on +which to work. David's home was now near enough to his place of +business to afford no excuse for remaining away all night. The +children were not to be hid away in some upper room; John was +determined they should be at the table and on the hearthstone; and +surely their father would respect their innocence and keep himself +sober for their sakes. + +"It is the highest earthly motive I can gie him," argued the anxious +old man, "and he has aye had grace enough to keep out o' my sight when +he wasna himsel'; he'll ne'er let wee John and Flora and Davie see him +when the whiskey is aboon the will and the wit--that's no to be +believed." + +And for a time it seemed as if John's tactics would prevail. There +were many evenings when they were very happy. The children made so gay +the quiet old parlor, and David learning to know his own boys and +girl, was astonished at their childish beauty and intelligence. Often +John could not bear to break up the pleasant evening time, and David +and he would sit softly talking in the firelight, with little John +musing quietly between them, and Flora asleep on her uncle's lap. Then +Jenny would come gently in and out and say tenderly, "Hadna the bairns +better come awa to their beds?" and the old man would answer, "Bide a +bit, Jenny, woman," for he thought every such hour was building up a +counter influence against the snare of strong drink. + +But there is no voice in human nature that can say authoritatively, +"_Return!_" David felt all the sweet influences with which he was +surrounded, but, it must be admitted, they were sometimes an +irritation to him. His business troubles, and his disagreements with +his partner, were increasing rapidly; for Robert--whose hopes were set +on America--was urging him to close the mill before their liabilities +were any larger. He refused to believe longer in the future making +good what they had lost; and certainly it was uphill work for David to +struggle against accumulating bills, and a partner whose heart was not +with him. + +One night at the close of the year, David did not come home to dinner, +and John and the children ate it alone. He was very anxious, and he +had not much heart to talk; but he kept the two eldest with him until +little Flora's head dropped, heavy with sleep, on his breast. Then a +sudden thought seemed to strike him, and he sent them, almost +hurriedly, away. He had scarcely done so when there was a shuffling +noise in the hall, the parlor-door was flung open with a jar, and +David staggered towards him--_drunk_! + +In a moment, John's natural temper conquered him; he jumped to his +feet, and said passionately, "How daur ye, sir? Get out o' my house, +you sinfu' lad!" Then, with a great cry he smote his hands together +and bowed his head upon them, weeping slow, heavy drops, that came +each with a separate pang. His agony touched David, though he scarcely +comprehended it. Not all at once is the tender conscience seared, and +the tender heart hardened. + +"Uncle," he said in a maudlin, hesitating way, which it would be a sin +to imitate--"Uncle John, I'm not drunk, I'm in trouble; I'm in +trouble, Uncle John. Don't cry about me. I'm not worth it." + +Then he sank down upon the sofa, and, after a few more incoherent +apologies, dropped into a deep sleep. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +John sat and looked at his fallen idol with a vacant, tear-stained +face. He tried to pray a few words at intervals, but he was not yet +able to gird up his soul and wrestle with this grief. When Jenny came +in she was shocked at the gray, wretched look with which her master +pointed to the shameful figure on the sofa. Nevertheless, she went +gently to it, raised the fallen head to the pillow, and then went and +got a blanket to cover the sleeper, muttering, + +"Poor fellow! There's nae need to let him get a pleurisy, ony gate. +Whatna for did ye no tell me, deacon? Then I could hae made him a cup +o' warm tea." + +She spoke as if she was angry, not at David, but at John; and, though +it was only the natural instinct of a woman defending what she dearly +loved, John gave it a different meaning, and it added to his +suffering. + +"You are right, Jenny, woman," he said humbly, "it is my fault. I +mixed his first glass for him." + +"Vera weel. Somebody aye mixes the first glass. Somebody mixed your +first glass. That is a bygane, and there is nae use at a' speiring +after it. How is the lad to be saved? That is the question now." + +"O Jenny, then you dare to hope for his salvation?" + +"I would think it far mair sinfu' to despair o' it. The Father has twa +kinds o' sons, deacon. Ye are ane like the elder brother; ye hae +'served him many years and transgressed not at any time his +commandment;' but this dear lad is his younger son--still his son, +mind ye--and he'll win hame again to his Father's house. What for not? +He's the bairn o' many prayers. Gae awa to your ain room, deacon; I'll +keep the watch wi' him. He'd rather see me nor you when he comes to +himsel'." + +Alas! the watch begun that night was one Jenny had very often to keep +afterwards. David's troubles gathered closer and closer round him, and +the more trouble he had the deeper he drank. Within a month after that +first shameful homecoming the firm of Callendar & Leslie went into +sequestration. John felt the humiliation of this downcome in a far +keener way than David did. His own business record was a stainless +one; his word was as good as gold on Glasgow Exchange; the house of +John Callendar & Co. was synonymous with commercial integrity. The +prudent burghers who were his nephew's creditors were far from +satisfied with the risks David and Robert Leslie had taken, and they +did not scruple to call them by words which hurt John Callendar's +honor like a sword-thrust. He did not doubt that many blamed him for +not interfering in his nephew's extravagant business methods; and he +could not explain to these people how peculiarly he was situated with +regard to David's affairs; nor, indeed, would many of them have +understood the fine delicacy which had dictated John's course. + +It was a wretched summer every way. The accountant who had charge of +David's affairs was in no hurry to close up a profitable engagement, +and the creditors, having once accepted the probable loss, did not +think it worth while to deny themselves their seaside or Highland +trips to attend meetings relating to Callendar & Leslie. So there was +little progress made in the settlement of affairs all summer, and +David was literally out of employment. His uncle's and his children's +presence was a reproach to him, and Robert and he only irritated each +other with mutual reproaches. Before autumn brought back manufacturers +and merchants to their factories and offices David had sunk still +lower. He did not come home any more when he felt that he had drunk +too much. He had found out houses where such a condition was the +natural and the most acceptable one--houses whose doors are near to +the gates of hell. + +This knowledge shocked John inexpressibly, and in the depth of his +horror and grief he craved some human sympathy. + +"I must go and see Dr. Morrison," he said one night to Jenny. + +"And you'll do right, deacon; the grip o' his hand and the shining o' +his eyes in yours will do you good; forbye, you ken weel you arena fit +to guide yoursel', let alane Davie. You are too angry, and angry men +tell many a lie to themsel's." + +There is often something luminous in the face of a good man, and Dr. +Morrison had this peculiarity in a remarkable degree. His face seemed +to radiate light; moreover, he was a man anointed with the oil of +gladness above his fellows, and John no sooner felt the glow of that +radiant countenance on him than his heart leaped up to welcome it. + +"Doctor," he said, choking back his sorrow, "doctor, I'm fain to see +you." + +"John, sit down. What is it, John?" + +"It's David, minister." + +And then John slowly, and weighing every word so as to be sure he +neither over-stated nor under-stated the case, opened up his whole +heart's sorrow. + +"I hae suffered deeply, minister; I didna think life could be such a +tragedy." + +"A tragedy indeed, John, but a tragedy with an angel audience. Think +of that. Paul says 'we are a spectacle unto men and angels.' Mind how +you play your part. What is David doing now?" + +"Nothing. His affairs are still unsettled." + +"But that wont do, John. Men learn to do ill by doing what is next to +it--nothing. Without some duty life cannot hold itself erect. If a man +has no regular calling he is an unhappy man and a cross man, and I +think prayers should be offered up for his wife and children and a' +who have to live with him. Take David into your own employ at once." + +"O minister, that I canna do! My office has aye had God-fearing, +steady men in it, and I canna, and--" + +"'And that day Jesus was guest in the house of a man that was a +sinner.' John, can't you take a sinner as a servant into your office?" + +"I'll try it, minister." + +"And, John, it will be a hard thing to do, but you must watch David +constantly. You must follow him to his drinking-haunts and take him +home; if need be, you must follow him to warse places and take him +home. You must watch him as if all depended on your vigilance, and you +must pray for him as if nothing depended on it. You hae to conquer on +your knees before you go into the world to fight your battle, John. +But think, man, what a warfare is set before you--the saving of an +immortal soul! And I'm your friend and helper in the matter; the lad +is one o' my stray lambs; he belongs to my fold. Go your ways in God's +strength, John, for this grief o' yours shall be crowned with +consolation." + +It is impossible to say how this conference strengthened John +Callendar. Naturally a very choleric man, he controlled himself into a +great patience with his erring nephew. He watched for him like a +father; nay, more like a mother's was the thoughtful tenderness of his +care. And David was often so touched by the love and forbearance shown +him, that he made passionate acknowledgments of his sin and earnest +efforts to conquer it. Sometimes for a week together he abstained +entirely, though during these intervals of reason he was very trying. +His remorse, his shame, his physical suffering, were so great that he +needed the most patient tenderness; and yet he frequently resented +this tenderness in a moody, sullen way that was a shocking contrast to +his once bright and affectionate manner. + +So things went on until the close of the year. By that time the +affairs of the broken firm had been thoroughly investigated, and it +was found that its liabilities were nearly £20,000 above its assets. +Suddenly, however, bundle wools took an enormous rise, and as the +stock of "Callendar & Leslie" was mainly of this kind, they were +pushed on the market, and sold at a rate which reduced the firm's +debts to about £17,000. This piece of good fortune only irritated +David; he was sure now that if Robert had continued the fight they +would have been in a position to clear themselves. Still, whatever +credit was due the transaction was frankly given to David. It was his +commercial instinct that had divined the opportunity and seized it, +and a short item in the "Glasgow Herald" spoke in a cautiously +flattering way of the affair. + +Both John and David were greatly pleased at the circumstance. David +also had been perfectly sober during the few days he had this stroke +of business in hand, and the public acknowledgment of his service to +the firm's creditors was particularly flattering to him. He came down +to breakfast that morning as he had not come for months. It was a +glimpse of the old Davie back again, and John was as happy as a child +in the vision. Into his heart came at once Dr. Morrison's assertion +that David must have some regular duty to keep his life erect. It was +evident that the obligation of a trust had a controlling influence +over him. + +"David," he said cheerfully, "you must hae nearly done wi' that first +venture o' yours. The next will hae to redeem it; that is all about +it. Everything is possible to a man under forty years auld." + +"We have our final meeting this afternoon, uncle. I shall lock the +doors for ever to-night." + +"And your debts are na as much as you expected." + +"They will not be over £17,000, and they may be considerably less. I +hope to make another sale this morning. There are yet three thousand +bundles in the stock." + +"David, I shall put £20,000 in your ain name and for your ain use, +whatever that use may be, in the Western Bank this morning. I think +you'll do the best thing you can do to set your name clear again. If +you are my boy you will." + +"Uncle John, you cannot really mean that I may pay every shilling I +owe, and go back on the Exchange with a white name? O uncle, if you +should mean this, what a man you would make of me!" + +"It is just what I mean to do, Davie. Is na all that I have yours and +your children's? But oh, I thank God that you hae still a heart that +counts honor more than gold. David, after this I wont let go one o' +the hopes I have ever had for you." + +"You need not, uncle. Please God, and with his help, I will make every +one of them good." + +And he meant to do it. He never had felt more certain of himself or +more hopeful for the future than when he went out that morning. He +touched nothing all day, and as the short, dark afternoon closed in, +he went cheerfully towards the mill, with his new check-book in his +pocket and the assurance in his heart that in a few hours he could +stand up among his fellow-citizens free from the stain of debt. + +His short speech at the final meeting was so frank and manly, and so +just and honorable to his uncle, that it roused a quiet but deep +enthusiasm. Many of the older men had to wipe the mist from their +glasses, and the heaviest creditor stood up and took David's hand, +saying, "Gentlemen, I hae made money, and I hae saved money, and I hae +had money left me; but I never made, nor saved, nor got money that +gave me such honest pleasure as this siller I hae found in twa honest +men's hearts. Let's hae in the toddy and drink to the twa Callendars." + +Alas! alas! how often is it our friends from whom we ought to pray to +be preserved. The man meant kindly; he was a good man, he was a +God-fearing man, and even while he was setting temptation before his +poor, weak brother, he was thinking "that money so clean and fair and +unexpected should be given to some holy purpose." But the best of us +are the slaves of habit and chronic thoughtlessness. All his life he +had signalled every happy event by a libation of toddy; everybody else +did the same; and although he knew David's weakness, he did not think +of it in connection with that wisest of all prayers, "Lead us not into +temptation." + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +David ought to have left then, but he did not; and when his uncle's +health was given, and the glass of steaming whiskey stood before him, +he raised it to his lips and drank. It was easy to drink the second +glass and the third, and so on. The men fell into reminiscence and +song, and no one knew how many glasses were mixed; and even when they +stood at the door they turned back for "a thimbleful o' raw speerit to +keep out the cold," for it had begun to snow, and there was a chill, +wet, east wind. + +Then they went; and when their forms were lost in the misty gloom, and +even their voices had died away, David turned back to put out the +lights, and lock the mill-door for the last time. Suddenly it struck +him that he had not seen Robert Leslie for an hour at least, and while +he was wondering about it in a vague, drunken way, Robert came out of +an inner room, white with scornful anger, and in a most quarrelsome +mood. + +"You have made a nice fool of yoursel', David Callendar! Flinging awa +so much gude gold for a speech and a glass o' whiskey! Ugh!" + +"You may think so, Robert. The Leslies have always been 'rievers and +thievers;' but the Callendars are of another stock." + +"The Callendars are like ither folk--good and bad, and mostly bad. +Money, not honor, rules the warld in these days; and when folk have +turned spinners, what is the use o' talking about honor! Profit is a +word more fitting." + +"I count mysel' no less a Callendar than my great-grandfather, Evan +Callendar, who led the last hopeless charge on Culloden. If I am a +spinner, I'll never be the first to smirch the roll o' my house with +debt and dishonesty, if I can help it." + +"Fair nonsense! The height of nonsense! Your ancestors indeed! Mules +make a great to-do about their ancestors having been horses!" + +David retorted with hot sarcasm on the freebooting Leslies, and their +kin the Armstrongs and Kennedys; and to Scotchmen this is the very +sorest side of a quarrel. They can forgive a bitter word against +themselves perhaps, but against their clan, or their dead, it is an +unpardonable offence. And certainly Robert had an unfair advantage; he +was in a cool, wicked temper of envy and covetousness. He could have +struck himself for not having foreseen that old John Callendar would +be sure to clear the name of dishonor, and thus let David and his +£20,000 slip out of his control. + +David had drunk enough to excite all the hereditary fight in his +nature, and not enough to dull the anger and remorse he felt for +having drunk anything at all. The dreary, damp atmosphere and the +cold, sloppy turf of Glasgow Green might have brought them back to the +ordinary cares and troubles of every-day life, but it did not. This +grim oasis in the very centre of the hardest and bitterest existences +was now deserted. The dull, heavy swash of the dirty Clyde and the +distant hum of the sorrowful voices of humanity in the adjacent +streets hardly touched the sharp, cutting accents of the two +quarrelling men. No human ears heard them, and no human eyes saw the +uplifted hands and the sway and fall of Robert Leslie upon the smutty +and half melted snow, except David's. + +Yes; David saw him fall, and heard with a strange terror the peculiar +thud and the long moan that followed it. It sobered him at once and +completely. The shock was frightful. He stood for a moment looking at +the upturned face, and then with a fearful horror he stooped and +touched it. There was no response to either entreaties or movement, +and David was sure after five minutes' efforts there never would be. +Then his children, his uncle, his own life, pressed upon him like a +surging crowd. His rapid mind took in the situation at once. There was +no proof. Nobody had seen them leave together. Robert had certainly +left the company an hour before it scattered; none of them could know +that he was waiting in that inner room. With a rapid step he took his +way through Kent street into a region where he was quite unknown, and +by a circuitous route reached the foot of Great George street. + +He arrived at home about eight o'clock. John had had his dinner, and +the younger children had gone to bed. Little John sat opposite him on +the hearthrug, but the old man and the child were both lost in +thought. David's face at once terrified his uncle. + +"Johnnie," he said, with a weary pathos in his voice, "your father +wants to see me alane. You had best say 'Gude-night,' my wee man." + +The child kissed his uncle, and after a glance into his father's face +went quietly out. His little heart had divined that he "must not +disturb papa." David's eyes followed him with an almost overmastering +grief and love, but when John said sternly, "Now, David Callendar, +what is it this time?" he answered with a sullen despair, + +"It is the last trouble I can bring you. I have killed Robert Leslie!" + +The old man uttered a cry of horror, and stood looking at his nephew +as if he doubted his sanity. + +"I am not going to excuse mysel', sir. Robert said some aggravating +things, and he struck me first; but that is neither here nor there. I +struck him and he fell. I think he hit his head in falling; but it was +dark and stormy, I could not see. I don't excuse mysel' at all. I am +as wicked and lost as a man can be. Just help me awa, Uncle John, and +I will trouble you no more for ever." + +"Where hae you left Robert?" + +"Where he fell, about 300 yards above Rutherglen Bridge." + +"You are a maist unmerciful man! I ne'er liked Robert, but had he been +my bitterest enemy I would hae got him help if there was a chance for +life, and if not, I would hae sought a shelter for his corpse." + +Then he walked to the parlor door, locked it, and put the key in his +pocket. + +"As for helping you awa, sir, I'll ne'er do it, ne'er; you hae sinned, +and you'll pay the penalty, as a man should do." + +"Uncle, have mercy on me." + +"Justice has a voice as weel as mercy. O waly, waly!" cried the +wretched old man, going back to the pathetic Gælic of his childhood, +"O waly, waly! to think o' the sin and the shame o' it. Plenty o' +Callendars hae died before their time, but it has been wi' their faces +to their foes and their claymores in their hands. O Davie, Davie! my +lad, my lad! My Davie!" + +His agony shook him as a great wind shakes the tree-tops, and David +stood watching him in a misery still keener and more hopeless. For a +few moments neither spoke. Then John rose wearily and said, + +"I'll go with you, David, to the proper place. Justice must be +done--yes, yes, it is just and right." + +Then he lifted up his eyes, and clasping his hands, cried out, + +"But, O my heavenly Father, be merciful, be merciful, for love is the +fulfilling of the law. Come, David, we hae delayed o'er long." + +"Where are you going, uncle?" + +"You ken where weel enough." + +"Dear uncle, be merciful. At least let us go see Dr. Morrison first. +Whatever he says I will do." + +"I'll do that; I'll be glad to do that; maybe he'll find me a road out +o' this sair, sair strait. God help us all, for vain is the help o' +man." + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +When they entered Dr. Morrison's house the doctor entered with them. +He was wet through, and his swarthy face was in a glow of excitement. +A stranger was with him, and this stranger he hastily took into a room +behind the parlor, and then he came back to his visitors. + +"Well, John, what is the matter?" + +"Murder. Murder is the matter, doctor," and with a strange, quiet +precision he went over David's confession, for David had quite broken +down and was sobbing with all the abandon of a little child. During +the recital the minister's face was wonderful in its changes of +expression, but at the last a kind of adoring hopefulness was the most +decided. + +"John," he said, "what were you going to do wi' that sorrowfu' lad?" + +"I was going to gie him up to justice, minister, as it was right and +just to do; but first we must see about--about the body." + +"That has, without doot, been already cared for. On the warst o' +nights there are plenty o' folk passing o'er Glasgow Green after the +tea-hour. It is David we must care for now. Why should we gie him up +to the law? Not but what 'the law is good, if a man use it lawfully.' +But see how the lad is weeping. Dinna mak yoursel' hard to a broken +heart, deacon. God himsel' has promised to listen to it. You must go +back hame and leave him wi' me. And, John," he said, with an air of +triumph, as they stood at the door together, with the snow blowing in +their uplifted faces, "John, my dear old brother John, go hame and +bless God; for, I tell you, this thing shall turn out to be a great +salvation." + +So John went home, praying as he went, and conscious of a strange +hopefulness in the midst of his grief. The minister turned back to the +sobbing criminal, and touching him gently, said, + +"Davie, my son, come wi' me." + +David rose hopelessly and followed him. They went into the room where +they had seen the minister take the stranger who had entered the house +with them. The stranger was still there, and as they entered he came +gently and on tiptoe to meet them. + +"Dr. Fleming," said the minister, "this is David Callendar, your +patient's late partner in business; he wishes to be the poor man's +nurse, and indeed, sir, I ken no one fitter for the duty." + +So Dr. Fleming took David's hand, and then in a low voice gave him +directions for the night's watch, though David, in the sudden hope and +relief that had come to him, could scarcely comprehend them. Then the +physician went, and the minister and David sat by the bedside alone. +Robert lay in the very similitude and presence of death, unconscious +both of his sufferings and his friends. Congestion of the brain had +set in, and life was only revealed by the faintest pulsations, and by +the appliances for relief which medical skill thought it worth while +to make. + +"'And sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death,'" said the +doctor solemnly. "David, there is your work." + +"God knows how patiently and willingly I'll do it, minister. Poor +Robert, I never meant to harm him." + +"Now listen to me, and wonder at God's merciful ways. Auld Deacon +Galbraith, who lives just beyond Rutherglen Bridge, sent me word this +afternoon that he had gotten a summons from his Lord, and he would +like to see my face ance mair before he went awa for ever. He has been +my right hand in the kirk, and I loved him weel. Sae I went to bid him +a short Gude-by--for we'll meet again in a few years at the maist--and +I found him sae glad and solemnly happy within sight o' the heavenly +shore, that I tarried wi' him a few hours, and we ate and drank his +last sacrament together. He dropped my hand wi' a smile at half-past +six o'clock, and after comforting his wife and children a bit I turned +my face hameward. But I was in that mood that I didna care to sit i' a +crowded omnibus, and I wanted to be moving wi' my thoughts. The +falling snow and the deserted Green seemed good to me, and I walked on +thinking o'er again the deacon's last utterances, for they were wise +and good even beyond the man's nature. That is how I came across +Robert Leslie. I thought he was dead, but I carried him in my arms to +the House o' the Humane Society, which, you ken, isna one hundred +yards from where Robert fell. The officer there said he wasna dead, +sae I brought him here and went for the physician you spoke to. Now, +Davie, it is needless for me to say mair. You ken what I expect o' +you. You'll get no whiskey in this house, not a drop o' it. If the +sick man needs anything o' that kind, I shall gie it wi' my ain hand; +and you wont leave this house, David, until I see whether Robert is to +live or die. You must gie me your word o' honor for that." + +"Minister, pray what is my word worth?" + +"Everything it promises, David Callendar. I would trust your word +afore I'd trust a couple o' constables, for a' that's come and gane." + +"Thank you, thank you, doctor! You shall not trust, and be deceived. I +solemnly promise you to do my best for Robert, and not to leave your +house until I have your permission." + +The next morning Dr. Morrison was at John Callendar's before he sat +down to breakfast. He had the morning paper with him, and he pointed +out a paragraph which ran thus: "Robert Leslie, of the late firm of +Callendar & Leslie, was found by the Rev. Dr. Morrison in an +unconscious condition on the Green last night about seven o'clock. It +is supposed the young gentleman slipped and fell, and in the fall +struck his head, as congestion of the brain has taken place. He lies +at Dr. Morrison's house, and is being carefully nursed by his late +partner, though there is but little hope of his recovery." + +"Minister, it wasna you surely wha concocted this lie?" + +"Nobody has told a lie, John. Don't be overrighteous, man; there is an +unreasonableness o' virtue that savors o' pride. I really thought +Robert had had an accident, until you told me the truth o' the matter. +The people at the Humane Society did the same; sae did Dr. Fleming. I +suppose some reporter got the information from one o' the latter +sources. But if Robert gets well, we may let it stand; and if he +doesna get well, I shall seek counsel o' God before I take a step +farther. In the meantime David is doing his first duty in nursing him; +and David will stay in my house till I see whether it be a case o' +murder or not." + +For three weeks there was but the barest possibility of Robert's +recovery. But his youth and fine constitution, aided by the skill of +his physician and the unremitting care of his nurse, were at length, +through God's mercy, permitted to gain a slight advantage. The +discipline of that three weeks was a salutary though a terrible one to +David. Sometimes it became almost intolerable; but always, when it +reached this point, Dr. Morrison seemed, by some fine spiritual +instinct, to discover the danger and hasten to his assistance. Life +has silences more pathetic than death's; and the stillness of that +darkened room, with its white prostrate figure, was a stillness in +which David heard many voices he never would have heard in the crying +out of the noisy world. + +What they said to him about his wasted youth and talents, and about +his neglected Saviour, only his own heart knew. But he must have +suffered very much, for, at the end of a month, he looked like a man +who had himself walked through the valley and shadow of death. About +this time Dr. Morrison began to drop in for an hour or two every +evening; sometimes he took his cup of tea with the young men, and then +he always talked with David on passing events in such a way as to +interest without fatiguing the sick man. His first visit of this kind +was marked by a very affecting scene. He stood a moment looking at +Robert and then taking David's hand, he laid it in Robert's. But the +young men had come to a perfect reconciliation one midnight when the +first gleam of consciousness visited the sick man, and Dr. Morrison +was delighted to see them grasp each other with a smile, while David +stooped and lovingly touched his friend's brow. + +"Doctor, it was my fault," whispered Robert. "If I die, remember that. +I did my best to anger Davie, and I struck him first. I deserved all I +have had to suffer." + +After this, however, Robert recovered rapidly, and in two months he +was quite well. + +"David," said the minister to him one morning, "your trial is nearly +over. I have a message from Captain Laird to Robert Leslie. Laird +sails to-night; his ship has dropped down the river a mile, and Robert +must leave when the tide serves; that will be at five o'clock." + +For Robert had shrunk from going again into his Glasgow life, and had +determined to sail with his friend Laird at once for New York. There +was no one he loved more dearly than David and Dr. Morrison, and with +them his converse had been constant and very happy and hopeful. He +wished to leave his old life with this conclusion to it unmingled with +any other memories. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +So that evening the three men went in a coach to the Broomilaw +together. A boat and two watermen were in waiting at the bridge-stair, +and though the evening was wet and chilly they all embarked. No one +spoke. The black waters washed and heaved beneath them, the myriad +lights shone vaguely through the clammy mist and steady drizzle, and +the roar of the city blended with the stroke of the oars and the +patter of the rain. Only when they lay under the hull of a large ship +was the silence broken. But it was broken by a blessing. + +"God bless you, Robert! The Lord Jesus, our Redeemer, make you a gude +man," said Dr. Morrison fervently, and David whispered a few broken +words in his friend's ear. Then Captain Laird's voice was heard, and +in a moment or two more they saw by the light of a lifted lantern +Robert's white face in the middle of a group on deck. + +"Farewell!" he shouted feebly, and Dr. Morrison answered it with a +lusty, "God speed you, Robert! God speed the good ship and all on +board of her!" + +So they went silently back again, and stepped into the muddy, +dreamlike, misty streets, wet through and quite weary with emotion. + +"Now gude-night, David. Your uncle is waiting dinner for you. I hae +learned to love you vera much." + +"Is there anything I can do, doctor, to show you how much I love and +respect you?" + +"You can be a good man, and you can let me see you every Sabbath in +your place at kirk. Heaven's gate stands wide open on the Sabbath day, +David; sae it is a grand time to offer your petitions." + +Yes, the good old uncle was waiting, but with that fine instinct which +is born of a true love he had felt that David would like no fuss made +about his return. He met him as if he had only been a few hours away, +and he had so tutored Jenny that she only betrayed her joy by a look +which David and she understood well. + +"The little folks," said John, "have a' gane to their beds; the day +has been that wet and wearisome that they were glad to gae to sleep +and forget a' about it." + +David sat down in his old place, and the two men talked of the Russian +war and the probable storming of the Alamo. Then John took his usual +after-dinner nap, and David went up stairs with Jenny and kissed his +children, and said a few words to them and to the old woman, which +made them all very happy. + +When he returned to the parlor his uncle was still sleeping, and he +could see how weary and worn he had become. + +"So patient, so generous, so honorable, so considerate for my +feelings," said the young man to himself. "I should be an ingrate +indeed if I did not, as soon as he wakes, say what I know he is so +anxious to hear." + +With the thought John opened his eyes, and David nodded and smiled +back to him. How alert and gladly he roused himself! How cheerily he +said, + +"Why, Davie, I hae been sleeping, I doot. Hech, but it is gude to see +you, lad." + +"Please God, uncle, it shall always be gude to see me. Can you give me +some advice to-night?" "I'll be mair than glad to do it." + +"Tell me frankly, Uncle John, what you think I ought to do. I saw +Robert off to America to-night. Shall I follow him?" + +"Davie, mind what I say. In the vera place where a man loses what he +values, there he should look to find it again. You hae lost your good +name in Glasgow; stay in Glasgow and find it again." + +"I will stay here then. What shall I do?" + +"You'll go back to your old place, and to your old business." + +"But I heard that Deacon Strang had bought the looms and the lease." + +"He bought them for me, for us, I mean. I will tell you how that came +about. One day when I was cross, and sair put out wi' your affairs, +Davie, Dr. Morrison came into my office. I'm feared I wasna glad to +see him; and though I was ceevil enough, the wise man read me like a +book. 'John,' says he, 'I am not come to ask you for siller to-day, +nor am I come to reprove you for staying awa from the service o' God +twice lately. I am come to tell you that you will hae the grandest +opportunity to-day, to be, not only a man, but a Christ-man. If you +let the opportunity slip by you, I shall feel sairly troubled about +it.' + +"Then he was gone before I could say, 'What is it?' and I wondered and +wondered all day what he could hae meant. But just before I was ready +to say, 'Mr. MacFarlane, lock the safe,' in walks Deacon Strang. He +looked vera downcast and shamefaced, and says he, 'Callendar, you can +tak your revenge on me to-morrow, for a' I hae said and done against +you for thirty years. You hold twa notes o' mine, and I canna meet +them. You'll hae to protest and post them to-morrow, and that will +ruin me and break my heart.' + +"David, I had to walk to the window and hide my face till I could +master mysel', I was that astonished. Then I called out, 'Mr. +MacFarlane, you hae two notes o' Deacon Strang's, bring them to me.' +When he did sae, I said, 'Well, deacon, we a' o' us hae our ain +fashes. How long time do you want, and we'll renew these bits o' +paper?' + +"And the thing was done, Davie, and done that pleasantly that it made +me feel twenty years younger. We shook hands when we parted, and as we +did sae, the deacon said, 'Is there aught I can do to pleasure you or +David?' and a' at once it struck me about the sales o' the looms and +lease. Sae I said, 'Yes, deacon, there is something you can do, and +I'll be vera much obligated to you for the same. Davie is sae tied +down wi' Robert's illness, will you go to the sale o' Callendar & +Leslie's looms and lease, and buy them for me? You'll get them on +better terms than I will.' And he did get them on excellent terms, +Davie; sae your mill is just as you left it--for Bailie Nicol, wha +took it at the accountant's valuation, never opened it at all. And you +hae twenty months' rent paid in advance, and you hae something in the +bank I expect." + +"I have £3,600, uncle." + +"Now, I'll be your partner this time. I'll put in the business £4,000, +but I'll hae it run on a solid foundation, however small that +foundation may be. I'll hae no risks taken that are dishonest risks; +I'll hae a broad mark made between enterprise and speculation; and +above a', I'll hae the right to examine the books, and see how things +are going on, whenever I wish to do sae. We will start no more looms +than our capital will work, and we'll ask credit from no one." + +"Uncle John, there is not another man in the world so generous and +unselfish as you are." + +"There are plenty as good men in every congregation o' the Lord; if +there wasna they would scatter in no time. Then you are willing, are +you? Gie me your hand, Davie. I shall look to you to do your best for +baith o' us." + +"I have not drunk a drop for two months, uncle. I never intend to +drink again." + +"I hae given it up mysel'," said the old man, with an affected +indifference that was pathetic in its self-abnegation. "I thought twa +going a warfare together might do better than ane alone. Ye ken Christ +sent out the disciples by twa and twa. And, Davie, when you are hard +beset, just utter the name of Christ down in your heart, and see how +much harder it is to sin." + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +The arrangement had been a very pleasant one, every way, but somehow +John did not feel as if David had as much outside help as he needed. +The young man was not imaginative; an ideal, however high, was a far +less real thing to David than to old John. He pondered during many +sleepless hours the advisability of having David sign the pledge. +David had always refused to do it hitherto. He had a keen sense of +shame in breaking a verbal promise on this subject; but he had an +almost superstitious feeling regarding the obligation of anything he +put his name to; and this very feeling made John hesitate to press the +matter. For, he argued, and not unwisely, "if David should break this +written obligation, his condition would seem to himself irremediable, +and he would become quite reckless." + +In the morning this anxiety was solved. When John came down to +breakfast, he found David walking about the room with a newspaper in +his hand, and in a fever heat of martial enthusiasm. "Uncle," he +cried, "O Uncle John, such glorious news! The Alamo is taken. Colin +Campbell and his Highlanders were first at the ramparts, and Roy and +Hector Callendar were with them. Listen?" and he threw the passion and +fervor of all his military instincts into the glowing words which +told, how in a storm of fire and shot, Sir Colin and his Highland +regiment had pushed up the hill; and how when the Life Guards were +struggling to reach their side, the brave old commander turned round +and shouted, "We'll hae nane but Hieland bonnets here!" "O Uncle John, +what would I not have given to have marched with Roy and Hector behind +him? With such a leader I would not turn my back on any foe." + +"David, you have a far harder fight before you, and a far grander +Captain." + +"Uncle, uncle, if I could see my foe; if I could meet him face to face +in a real fight; but he steals into my heart, even by my nostrils, and +unmans me, before I am aware." + +John rang the bell sharply, and when Jenny came, he amazed her by +saying, "Bring me here from the cellar three bottles of whiskey." He +spoke so curt and determined that for once Jenny only wondered, and +obeyed. + +"That will do, my woman." Then he turned to David, and putting one +bottle on the table said, "There is your foe! Face your enemy, sir! +Sit down before him morning, noon, and night. Dare him to master you! +Put this bottle on the table in your ain room; carry this in your hand +to your office, and stand it before your eyes upon your desk. If you +want a foe to face and to conquer, a foe that you can see and touch, +here is one mighty enough to stir the bravest soul. And, if you turn +your back on him you are a coward; a mean, poor-hearted coward, sir. +And there ne'er was a coward yet, o' the Callendar blood, nor o' the +Campbell line! Your Captain is nane less than the Son o' God. Hear +what he says to you! 'To him that overcometh! To him that overcometh!' +O Davie, you ken the rest!" and the old man was so lifted out of and +above himself, that his face shone and his keen gray eyes scintillated +with a light that no market-place ever saw in them. + +David caught the holy enthusiasm; he seized the idea like a visible +hand of God for his help. The black bottle became to him the +materialization of all his crime and misery. It was a foe he could +see, and touch, and defy. It seemed to mock him, to tempt him, to beg +him just to open the cork, if only to test the strength of his +resolutions. + +Thank God he never did it. He faced his enemy the first thing in the +morning and the last thing at night. He kept him in sight through the +temptations of a business day. He faced him most steadily in the +solitude of his own room. There, indeed, his most dangerous struggles +took place, and one night John heard him after two hours of restless +hurried walking up and down, throw open his window, and dash the +bottle upon the pavement beneath it. That was the last of his hard +struggles; the bottle which replaced the one flung beyond his reach +stands to-day where it has stood for nearly a quarter of a century, +and David feels now no more inclination to open it than if it +contained strychnine. + +This is no fancy story. It is a fact. It is the true history of a +soul's struggle, and I write it--God knows I do--in the strong hope +that some brave fellow, who is mastered by a foe that steals upon him +in the guise of good fellowship, or pleasure, or hospitality, may +locate his enemy, and then face and conquer him in the name of Him who +delivers his people from their sins. I do not say that all natures +could do this. Some may find safety and final victory in flight, or in +hiding from their foe; but I believe that the majority of souls would +rise to a warfare in which the enemy was confronting them to face and +fight, and would conquer. + +I have little more to say of David Callendar. It was the story of his +fall and his redemption I intended to write. But we cannot separate +our spiritual and mortal life; they are the warp and woof which we +weave together for eternity. Therefore David's struggle, though a +palpable one in some respects, was, after all, an intensely spiritual +one; for it was in the constant recognition of Christ as the Captain +of his salvation, and in the constant use of such spiritual aids as +his Bible and his minister gave him, that he was enabled to fight a +good fight and to come off more than conqueror in a contest wherein so +many strive and fail. + +David's reformation had also a very sensible influence on his business +prosperity. He has won back again now all, and far more than all, he +lost, and in all good and great works for the welfare of humanity +David Callendar is a willing worker and a noble giver. The new firm of +John and David Callendar acquired a world-wide reputation. It is still +John and David Callendar, for when the dear old deacon died he left +his interest in it to David's eldest son, a pious, steady young fellow +for whom nobody ever mixed a first glass. But God was very kind to +John in allowing him to see the full harvest of his tender love, his +patience, and his unselfishness. Out of his large fortune he left a +noble endowment for a church and college in his native town, making +only two requests concerning its management: first, that no whiskey +should ever go within the college walls: second, that all the children +in the town might have a holiday on the anniversary of his death; +"for," said he, "I have aye loved children, and I would fain connect +the happiness of childhood with the peace o' the dead." + +Dr. Morrison lived long enough to assist in filling in the grave of +his old friend and helper, but attained unto the beginning of peace +and glory soon afterwards. And I have often pictured to myself the +meeting of those two upon the hills of God. The minister anticipated +it, though upon his dying bed his great soul forgot all +individualities, and thought only of the church universal, and his +last glowing words were, "For Jerusalem that is above is free, which +is the mother of us all." + +Robert Leslie has done well in America, and no man is a more warm and +earnest advocate of "the faith once delivered to the saints." I read a +little speech of his some time ago at the dedication of a church, and +it greatly pleased me. + +"Many things," he said, "have doubtless been improved in this age, for +man's works are progressive and require improvement; but who," he +asked, "can improve the sunshine and the flowers, the wheat and the +corn? And who will give us anything worthy to take the place of the +religion of our fathers and mothers? And what teachers have come +comparable to Christ, to David, Isaiah, and Paul?" + +Jenny only died a year ago. She brought up David's children admirably, +and saw, to her great delight, the marriage of Flora and young Captain +Callendar. For it had long been her wish to go back to Argyleshire +"among her ain folk and die among the mountains," and this marriage +satisfied all her longings. One evening they found her sitting in her +open door with her face turned towards the cloud-cleaving hills. Her +knitting had fallen upon her lap, her earthly work was done for ever, +and she had put on the garments of the eternal Sabbath. But there was +a wonderful smile on her simple, kindly face. Soul and body had parted +with a smile. Oh, how happy are those whom the Master finds waiting +for him, and who, when he calls, pass gently away! + + "Up to the golden citadel they fare, + And as they go their limbs grow full of might; + And One awaits them at the topmost stair, + One whom they had not seen, but knew at sight." + + + + +Andrew Cargill's Confession. + + + + +ANDREW CARGILL'S CONFESSION. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Between Sinverness and Creffel lies the valley of Glenmora. +Sca Fells and Soutra Fells guard it on each hand, and the long, +treacherous sweep of Solway Frith is its outlet. It is a region of +hills and moors, inhabited by a people of singular gravity and +simplicity of character, a pastoral people, who in its solemn high +places have learned how to interpret the voices of winds and +watersand to devoutly love their God. + +Most of them are of the purest Saxon origin; but here and there one +meets the massive features and the blue bonnet of the Lowland Scots, +descendants of those stern Covenanters who from the coasts of Galloway +and Dumfries sought refuge in the strength of these lonely hills. They +are easily distinguished, and are very proud of their descent from +this race whom + + "God anointed with his odorous oil + To wrestle, not to reign." + +Thirty years ago their leader and elder was Andrew Cargill, a man of +the same lineage as that famous Donald Cargill who was the Boanerges +of the Covenant, and who suffered martyrdom for his faith at the town +of Queensferry. Andrew never forgot this fact, and the stern, just, +uncompromising spirit of the old Protester still lived in him. He was +a man well-to-do in the world, and his comfortable stone house was one +of the best known in the vale of Glenmora. + +People who live amid grand scenery are not generally sensitive to it, +but Andrew was. The adoring spirit in which he stood one autumn +evening at his own door was a very common mood with him. He looked +over the moors carpeted with golden brown, and the hills covered with +sheep and cattle, at the towering crags, more like clouds at sunset +than things of solid land, at the children among the heather picking +bilberries, at the deep, clear, purple mist that filled the valley, +not hindering the view, but giving everything a strangely solemn +aspect, and his face relaxed into something very like a smile as he +said, "It is the wark o' my Father's hand, and praised be his name." + +He stood at his own open door looking at these things, and inside his +wife Mysie was laying the supper-board with haver bread and cheese and +milk. A bright fire blazed on the wide hearth, and half a dozen +sheep-dogs spread out their white breasts to the heat. Great settles +of carved oak, bedded deep with fleeces of long wool, were on the +sides of the fireplace, and from every wall racks of spotless deal, +filled with crockery and pewter, reflected the shifting blaze. + +Suddenly he stepped out and looked anxiously towards the horizon on +all sides. "Mysie, woman," said he, "there is a storm coming up from +old Solway; I maun e'en gae and fauld the ewes wi' their young +lammies. Come awa', Keeper and Sandy." + +The dogs selected rose at once and followed Andrew with right +good-will. Mysie watched them a moment; but the great clouds of mist +rolling down from the mountains soon hid the stalwart figure in its +bonnet and plaid from view, and gave to the dogs' fitful barks a +distant, muffled sound. So she went in and sat down upon the settle, +folding her hands listlessly on her lap, and letting the smile fall +from her face as a mask might fall. Oh, what a sad face it was then! + +She sat thus in a very trance of sorrow until the tears dropped +heavily and slowly down, and her lips began to move in broken +supplications. Evidently these brought her the comfort she sought, for +erelong she rose, saying softly to herself, "The lost bit o' siller +was found, and the strayed sheep was come up wi', and the prodigal won +hame again, and dootless, dootless, my ain dear lad will no be lost +sight o'." + +By this time the storm had broken, but Mysie was not uneasy. Andrew +knew the hills like his own ingle, and she could tell to within five +minutes how long it would take him to go to the fauld and back. But +when it was ten minutes past his time Mysie stood anxiously in the +open door and listened. Her ears, trained to almost supernatural +quickness, soon detected above the winds and rain a sound of +footsteps. She called a wise old sheep-dog and bid him listen. The +creature held his head a moment to the ground, looked at her +affirmatively, and at her command went to seek his master. + +In a few moments she heard Andrew's peculiar "hallo!" and the joyful +barking of the dog, and knew that all was right. Yet she could not go +in; she felt that something unusual had happened, and stood waiting +for whatever was coming. It was a poor, little, half-drowned baby. +Andrew took it from under his plaid, and laid it in her arms, saying, + +"I maun go now and look after the mither. I'll need to yoke the cart +for her; she's past walking, and I'm sair feared she's past living; +but you'll save the bit bairn, Mysie, nae doot; for God disna smite +aften wi' baith hands." + +"Where is she, Andrew?" + +"'Mang the Druids' stanes, Mysie, and that's an ill place for a +Christian woman to die. God forbid it!" he muttered, as he lit a +lantern and went rapidly to the stable; "an evil place! under the vera +altar-stane o' Satan. God stay the parting soul till it can hear a +word o' his great mercy!" + +With such a motive to prompt him, Andrew was not long in reaching the +ruins of the old Druidical temple. Under a raised flat stone, which +made a kind of shelter, a woman was lying. She was now insensible, and +Andrew lifted her carefully into the cart. Perhaps it was some +satisfaction to him that she did not actually die within such +unhallowed precincts; but the poor creature herself was beyond such +care. When she had seen her child in Mysie's arms, and comprehended +Mysie's assurance that she would care for it, all anxiety slipped away +from her. Andrew strove hard to make her understand the awful +situation in which she was; but the girl lay smiling, with upturned +eyes, as if she was glad to be relieved of the burden of living. + +"You hae done your duty, gudeman," at length said Mysie, "and now you +may leave the puir bit lassie to me; I'll dootless find a word o' +comfort to say to her." + +"But I'm feared, I am awfu' feared, woman, that she is but a prodigal +and an--" + +"Hush, gudeman! There is mercy for the prodigal daughter as weel as +for the prodigal son;" and at these words Andrew went out with a dark, +stern face, while she turned with a new and stronger tenderness to the +dying woman. + +"God is love," she whispered; "if you hae done aught wrang, there's +the open grave o' Jesus, dearie; just bury your wrang-doing there." +She was answered with a happy smile. "And your little lad is my lad +fra this hour, dearie!" The dying lips parted, and Mysie knew they had +spoken a blessing for her. + +Nothing was found upon the woman that could identify her, nothing +except a cruel letter, which evidently came from the girl's father; +but even in this there was neither date nor locality named. It had no +term of endearment to commence with, and was signed simply, "John +Dunbar." Two things were, however, proven by it: that the woman's +given name was Bessie, and that by her marriage she had cut herself +off from her home and her father's affection. + +So she was laid by stranger hands within that doorless house in the +which God sometimes mercifully puts his weary ones to sleep. Mysie +took the child to her heart at once, and Andrew was not long able to +resist the little lad's beauty and winning ways. The neighbors began +to call him "wee Andrew;" and the old man grew to love his namesake +with a strangely tender affection. + +Sometimes there was indeed a bitter feeling in Mysie's heart, as she +saw how gentle he was with this child and remembered how stern and +strict he had been with their own lad. She did not understand that the +one was in reality the result of the other, the acknowledgement of his +fault, and the touching effort to atone, in some way, for it. + +One night, when wee Andrew was about seven years old, this wrong +struck her in a manner peculiarly painful. Andrew had made a most +extraordinary journey, even as far as Penrith. A large manufactory had +been begun there, and a sudden demand for his long staple of white +wool had sprung up. Moreover, he had had a prosperous journey, and +brought back with him two books for the boy, Æsop's Fables and +Robinson Crusoe. + +When Mysie saw them, her heart swelled beyond control. She remembered +a day when her own son Davie had begged for these very books and been +refused with hard rebukes. She remembered the old man's bitter words +and the child's bitter tears; but she did not reflect that the present +concession was the result of the former refusal, nor yet that the +books were much easier got and the money more plentiful than thirty +years previous. When wee Andrew ran away with his treasures to the +Druids' stones, Mysie went into the shippen, and did her milking to +some very sad thoughts. + +She was poisoning her heart with her own tears. When she returned to +the "houseplace" and saw the child bending with rapt, earnest face +over the books, she could not avoid murmuring that the son of a +strange woman should be sitting happy in Cargill spence, and her own +dear lad a banished wanderer. She had come to a point when rebellion +would be easy for her. Andrew saw a look on her face that amazed and +troubled him: and yet when she sat so hopelessly down before the fire, +and without fear or apology + + "Let the tears downfa'," + +he had no heart to reprove her. Nay, he asked with a very unusual +concern, "What's the matter, Mysie, woman?" + +"I want to see Davie, and die, gudeman!" + +"You'll no dare to speak o' dying, wife, until the Lord gies you +occasion; and Davie maun drink as he's brewed." + +"Nay, gudeman, but you brewed for him; the lad is drinking the cup you +mixed wi' your ain hands." + +"I did my duty by him." + +"He had ower muckle o' your duty, and ower little o' your indulgence. +If Davie was wrang, ither folk werena right. Every fault has its +forefault." + +Andrew looked in amazement at this woman, who for thirty and more +years had never before dared to oppose his wishes, and to whom his +word had been law. + +"Davie's wrang-doing was weel kent, gude-wife; he hasted to sin like a +moth to a candle." + +"It's weel that our faults arena written i' our faces." + +"I hae fallen on evil days, Mysie; saxty years syne wives and bairns +werena sae contrarie." + +"There was gude and bad then, as now, gudeman." + +Mysie's face had a dour, determined look that no one had ever seen on +it before. Andrew began to feel irritated at her. "What do you want, +woman?" he said sternly. + +"I want my bairn, Andrew Cargill." + +"Your bairn is i' some far-awa country, squandering his share o' +Paradise wi' publicans and sinners." + +"I hope not, I hope not; if it werena for this hope my heart would +break;" and then all the barriers that education and habit had built +were suddenly overthrown as by an earthquake, and Mysie cried out +passionately, "I want my bairn, Andrew Cargill! the bonnie bairn that +lay on my bosom, and was dandled on my knees, and sobbed out his +sorrows i' my arms. I want the bairn you were aye girding and +grumbling at! that got the rod for this, and the hard word and the +black look for that! My bonnie Davie, wha ne'er had a playtime nor a +story-book! O gudeman, I want my bairn! I want my bairn!" + +The repressed passion and sorrow of ten long years had found an outlet +and would not be controlled. Andrew laid down his pipe in amazement +and terror, and for a moment he feared his wife had lost her senses. +He had a tender heart beneath his stern, grave manner, and his first +impulse was just to take the sobbing mother to his breast and promise +her all she asked. But he did not do it the first moment, and he could +not the second. Yet he did rise and go to her, and in his awkward way +try to comfort her. "Dinna greet that way, Mysie, woman," he said; "if +I hae done amiss, I'll mak amends." + +That was a great thing for Andrew Cargill to say; Mysie hardly knew +how to believe it. Such a confession was a kind of miracle, for she +judged things by results and was not given to any consideration of the +events that led up to them. She could not know, and did not suspect, +that all the bitter truths she had spoken had been gradually forcing +themselves on her husband's mind. She did not know that wee Andrew's +happy face over his story-books, and his eager claim for sympathy, had +been an accusation and a reproach which the old man had already humbly +and sorrowfully accepted. Therefore his confession and his promise +were a wonder to the woman, who had never before dared to admit that +it was possible Andrew Cargill should do wrong in his own household. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The confidence that came after this plain speaking was very sweet and +comforting to both, although in their isolation and ignorance they +knew not what steps to take in order to find Davie. Ten years had +elapsed since he had hung for one heart-breaking moment on his +mother's neck, and bid, as he told her, a farewell for ever to the +miserable scenes of his hard, bare childhood. Mysie had not been able +to make herself believe that he was very wrong; dancing at pretty Mary +Halliday's bridal and singing two or three love-songs did not seem to +the fond mother such awful transgressions as the stern, strict +Covenanter really believed them to be, though even Mysie was willing +to allow that Davie, in being beguiled into such sinful folly, "had +made a sair tumble." + +However, Davie and his father had both said things that neither could +win over, and the lad had gone proudly down the hill with but a few +shillings in his pocket. Since then there had been ten years of +anxious, longing grief that had remained unconfessed until this night. +Now the hearts of both yearned for their lost son. But how should they +find him? Andrew read nothing but his Bible and almanac; he had no +conception of the world beyond Kendal and Keswick. He could scarcely +imagine David going beyond these places, or, at any rate, the coast of +Scotland. Should he make a pilgrimage round about all those parts? + +Mysie shook her head. She thought Andrew had better go to Keswick and +see the Methodist preacher there. She had heard they travelled all +over the world, and if so, it was more than likely they had seen Davie +Cargill; "at ony rate, he would gie advice worth speiring after." + +Andrew had but a light opinion of Methodists, and had never been +inside the little chapel at Sinverness; but Mysie's advice, he +allowed, "had a savor o' sense in it," and so the next day he rode +over to Keswick and opened his heart to John Sugden, the +superintendent of the Derwent Circuit. He had assured himself on the +road that he would only tell John just as much as was necessary for +his quest; but he was quite unable to resist the preacher's hearty +sympathy. There never were two men more unlike than Andrew Cargill and +John Sugden, and yet they loved each other at once. + +"He is a son o' consolation, and dootless ane o' God's chosen," said +Andrew to Mysie on his return. + +"He is a far nobler old fellow than he thinks he is," said John to his +wife when he told her of Andrew's visit. + +John had advised advertising for Davie in "The Watchman;" for John +really thought this organ of the Methodist creed was the greatest +paper in existence, and honestly believed that if Davie was anywhere +in the civilized world "The Watchman" would find him out. He was so +sure of it that both Mysie and Andrew caught his hopeful tone, and +began to tell each other what should be done when Davie came home. + +Poor Mysie was now doubly kind to wee Andrew. She accused herself +bitterly of "grudging the bit lammie his story-books," and persuaded +her husband to bring back from Keswick for the child the "Pilgrim's +Progress" and "The Young Christian." John Sugden, too, visited them +often, not only staying at Cargill during his regular appointments, +but often riding over to take a day's recreation with the old +Cameronian. True, they disputed the whole time. John said very +positive things and Andrew very contemptuous ones; but as they each +kept their own opinions intact, and were quite sure of their grounds +for doing so, no words that were uttered ever slackened the grip of +their hands at parting. + +One day, as John was on the way to Cargill, he perceived a man sitting +among the Druids' stones. The stranger was a pleasant fellow, and +after a few words with the preacher he proposed that they should ride +to Sinverness together. John soon got to talking of Andrew and his +lost son, and the stranger became greatly interested. He said he +should like to go up to Andrew's and get a description of Davie, +adding that he travelled far and wide, and might happen to come across +him. + +The old man met them at the door. + +"My sight fails, John," he said, "but I'd hae kent your step i' a +thousand. You too are welcome, sir, though I ken you not, and doubly +welcome if you bring God's blessing wi' you." + +The stranger lifted his hat, and Andrew led the way into the house. +John had been expected, for haver bread and potted shrimps were on the +table, and he helped himself without ceremony, taking up at the same +time their last argument just where he had dropped it at the gate of +the lower croft. But it had a singular interruption. The sheep-dogs +who had been quietly sleeping under the settle began to be strangely +uneasy. Keeper could scarcely be kept down, even by Andrew's command, +and Sandy bounded towards the stranger with low, rapid barks that made +John lose the sense of the argument in a new thought. But before he +could frame it into words Mysie came in. + +"See here, John," she cried, and then she stopped and looked with +wide-open eyes at the man coming towards her. With one long, thrilling +cry she threw herself into his arms. + +"Mother! mother! darling mother, forgive me!" + +John had instantly gone to Andrew's side, but Andrew had risen at once +to the occasion. "I'm no a woman to skirl or swoon," he said, almost +petulantly, "and it's right and fit the lad should gie his mither the +first greeting." + +But he stretched out both hands, and his cheeks were flushed and his +eyes full when Davie flung himself on his knees beside him. + +"My lad! my ain dear lad!" he cried, "I'll see nae better day than +this until I see His face." + +No one can tell the joy of that hour. The cheese curds were left in +the dairy and the wool was left at the wheel, and Mysie forget her +household, and Andrew forgot his argument, and the preacher at last +said, + +"You shall tell us, Davie, what the Lord has done for you since you +left your father's house." + +"He has been gude to me, vera gude. I had a broad Scot's tongue in my +head, and I determined to go northward. I had little siller and I had +to walk, and by the time I reached Ecclefechan I had reason enough to +be sorry for the step I had taken. As I was sitting by the fireside o' +the little inn there a man came in who said he was going to Carlisle +to hire a shepherd. I did not like the man, but I was tired and had +not plack nor bawbee, so I e'en asked him for the place. When he heard +I was Cumberland born, and had been among sheep all my life, he was +fain enough, and we soon 'greed about the fee. + +"He was a harder master than Laban, but he had a daughter who was as +bonnie as Rachel, and I loved the lass wi' my whole soul, and she +loved me. I ne'er thought about being her father's hired man. I was +aye Davie Cargill to mysel', and I had soon enough told Bessie all +about my father and mither and hame. I spoke to her father at last, +but he wouldna listen to me. He just ordered me off his place, and +Bessie went wi' me. + +"I know now that we did wrang, but we thought then that we were right. +We had a few pounds between us and we gaed to Carlisle. But naething +went as it should hae done. I could get nae wark, and Bessie fell into +vera bad health; but she had a brave spirit, and she begged me to +leave her in Carlisle and go my lane to Glasgow. 'For when wark an' +siller arena i' one place, Davie,' she said, 'then they're safe to be +in another.' + +"I swithered lang about leaving her, but a good opportunity came, and +Bessie promised me to go back to her father until I could come after +her. It was July then, and when Christmas came round I had saved money +enough, and I started wi' a blithe heart to Ecclefechan. I hadna any +fear o' harm to my bonnie bit wifie, for she had promised to go to her +hame, and I was sure she would be mair than welcome when she went +without me. I didna expect any letters, because Bessie couldna write, +and, indeed, I was poor enough wi' my pen at that time, and only wrote +once to tell her I had good wark and would be for her a New Year. + +"But when I went I found that Bessie had gane, and none knew where. I +traced her to Keswick poor-house, where she had a little lad; the +matron said she went away in a very weak condition when the child was +three weeks old, declaring that she was going to her friends. Puir, +bonnie, loving Bessie; that was the last I ever heard o' my wife and +bairn." + +Mysie had left the room, and as she returnee with a little bundle +Andrew was anxiously asking, "What was the lassie's maiden name, +Davie?" + +"Bessie Dunbar, father." + +"Then this is a wun'erful day; we are blessed and twice blessed, for I +found your wife and bairn, Davie, just where John Sugden found you, +'mang the Druids' stanes; and the lad has my ain honest name and is +weel worthy o' it." + +"See here, Davie," and Mysie tenderly touched the poor faded dress and +shawl, and laid the wedding-ring in his palm. As she spoke wee Andrew +came across the yard, walking slowly, reading as he walked. "Look at +him, Davie! He's a bonnie lad, and a gude are; and oh, my ain dear +lad, he has had a' things that thy youth wanted." + +It pleased the old man no little that, in spite of his father's loving +greeting, wee Andrew stole away to his side. + +"You see, Davie," he urged in apology, "he's mair at hame like wi' +me." + +And then he drew the child to him, and let his whole heart go out now, +without check or reproach, to "Davie's bairn." + +"But you have not finished your story, Mr. Cargill," said John, and +David sighed as he answered, + +"There is naething by the ordinar in it. I went back to the warks I +had got a footing in, the Glencart Iron Warks, and gradually won my +way to the topmost rungs o' the ladder. I am head buyer now, hae a +gude share i' the concern, and i' money matters there's plenty folk +waur off than David Cargill. When I put my father's forgiveness, my +mither's love, and my Bessie's bonnie lad to the lave, I may weel say +that 'they are weel guided that God guides.' A week ago I went into +the editor's room o' the Glasgow Herald,' and the man no being in I +lifted a paper and saw in it my father's message to me. It's sma' +credit that I left a' and answered it." + +"What paper, Mr. Cargill, what paper?" + +"They ca' it 'The Watchman.' I hae it in my pocket." + +"I thought so," said John triumphantly. "It's a grand paper; every one +ought to have it." + +"It is welcome evermore in my house," said Davie. + +"It means weel, it means weel," said Andrew, with a great stretch of +charity, "but I dinna approve o' its doctrines at a', and--" + +"It found David for you, Andrew." + +"Ay, ay, God uses a' kinds o' instruments. 'The Watchman' isna as auld +as the Bible yet, John, and it's ill praising green barley." + +"Now, Andrew, I think--" + +"Tut, tut, John, I'se no sit i' Rome and strive wi' the pope; there's +naething ill said, you ken, if it's no ill taken." + +John smiled tolerantly, and indeed there was no longer time for +further discussion, for the shepherds from the hills and the farmers +from the glen had heard of David's return, and were hurrying to +Cargill to see him. Mysie saw that there would be a goodly company, +and the long harvest-table was brought in and a feast of +thanksgiving spread. Conversation in that house could only set one +way, and after all had eaten and David had told his story again, one +old man after another spoke of the dangers they had encountered and +the spiritual foes they had conquered. + +Whether it was the speaking, or the sympathy of numbers, or some +special influence of the Holy Ghost, I know not; but suddenly Andrew +lifted his noble old head and spoke thus: + +"Frien's, ye hae some o' you said ill things o' yoursel's, but to the +sons o' God there is nae condemnation; not that I hae been althegither +faultless, but I meant weel, an' the lad was a wilfu' lad, and ye ken +what the wisest o' men said anent such. Just and right has been my +walk before you, but--still--" Then, with a sudden passion, and rising +to his feet, he cried out, "Frien's, I'm a poor sinfu' man, but I'll +play no mair pliskies wi' my conscience. I hae dootless been a hard +master, hard and stern, and loving Sinai far beyond Bethlehem. Hard +was I to my lad, and hard hae I been to the wife o' my bosom, and hard +hae I been to my ain heart. It has been my ain will and my ain way all +my life lang. God forgie me! God forgie me! for this night he has +brought my sins to my remembrance. I hae been your elder for mair than +forty years, but I hae ne'er been worthy to carry his holy vessels. +I'll e'en sit i' the lowest seat henceforward." + +"Not so," said John. And there was such eager praise, and such warm +love rose from every mouth, that words began to fail, and as the old +man sat down smiling, happier than he had ever been before, song took +up the burden speech laid down; for John started one of those old +triumphant Methodist hymns, and the rafters shook to the melody, and +the stars heard it, and the angels in heaven knew a deeper joy. +Singing, the company departed, and Andrew, standing in the moonlight +between David and John, watched the groups scatter hither and thither, +and heard, far up the hills and down the glen, that sweet, sweet +refrain, + + "Canaan, bright Canaan! + Will you go to the land of Canaan?" + +After this David stayed a week at Glenmora, and then it became +necessary for him to return to Glasgow. But wee Andrew was to have a +tutor and remain with his grandparents for some years at least. Andrew +himself determined to "tak a trip" and see Scotland and the wonderful +iron works of which he was never weary of hearing David talk. + +When he reached Kendal, however, and saw for the first time the +Caledonian Railway and its locomotives, nothing could induce him to go +farther. + +"It's ower like the deil and the place he bides in, Davie," he said, +with a kind of horror. "Fire and smoke and iron bands! I'll no ride at +the deil's tail-end, not e'en to see the land o' the Covenant." + +So he went back to Glenmora, and was well content when he stood again +at his own door and looked over the bonny braes of Sinverness, its +simmering becks and fruitful vales. "These are the warks o' His hands, +Mysie," he said, reverently lifting his bonnet and looking up to +Creffel and away to Solway, "and you'd ken that, woman, if you had +seen Satan as I saw him rampaging roun' far waur than any roaring +lion." + +After this Andrew never left Sinverness; but, the past unsighed for +and the future sure, passed through + + "----an old age serene and bright, + And lovely as a Lapland night," + +until, one summer evening, he gently fell on that sleep which God +giveth his beloved. + + "For such Death's portal opens not in gloom, + But its pure crystal, hinged on solid gold, + Shows avenues interminable--shows + Amaranth and palm quivering in sweet accord + Of human mingled with angelic song." + + + + +One Wrong Step. + + + + +ONE WRONG STEP. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +"There's few folk ken Ragon Torr as I do, mother. He is better at +heart than thou wad think; indeed he is!" + +"If better were within, better wad come out, John. He's been drunk or +dovering i' the chimney-corner these past three weeks. Hech! but he'd +do weel i' Fool's Land, where they get half a crown a day for +sleeping." + +"There's nane can hunt a seal or spear a whale like Ragon; thou saw +him theesel', mother, among the last school i' Stromness Bay." + +"I saw a raving, ranting heathen, wi' the bonnie blue bay a sea o' +blood around him, an' he shouting an' slaying like an old pagan +sea-king. Decent, God-fearing fisher-folk do their needful wark ither +gate than yon. Now there is but one thing for thee to do: thou must +break wi' Ragon Torr, an' that quick an' soon." + +"Know this, my mother, a friend is to be taken wi' his faults." + +"Thou knows this, John: I hae forty years mair than thou hast, an' +years ken mair than books. An' wi' a' thy book skill hast thou ne'er +read that 'Evil communications corrupt gude manners'? Mak up thy mind +that I shall tak it vera ill if thou sail again this year wi' that +born heathen;" and with these words Dame Alison Sabay rose up from the +stone bench at her cottage door and went dourly into the houseplace. + +John stood on the little jetty which ran from the very doorstep into +the bay, and looked thoughtfully over towards the sweet green isle of +Graemsay; but neither the beauty of land or sea, nor the splendor of +skies bright with the rosy banners of the Aurora gave him any answer +to the thoughts which troubled him. "I'll hae to talk it o'er wi' +Christine," he said decidedly, and he also turned into the house. + +Christine was ten years older than her brother John. She had known +much sorrow, but she had lived through and lived down all her trials +and come out into the peace on the other side. She was sitting by the +peat fire knitting, and softly crooning an old Scotch psalm to the +click of her needles. She answered John's look with a sweet, grave +smile, and a slight nod towards the little round table, upon which +there was a plate of smoked goose and some oaten cake for his supper. + +"I carena to eat a bite, Christine; this is what I want o' thee: the +skiff is under the window; step into it, an' do thou go on the bay wi' +me an hour." + +"I havena any mind to go, John. It is nine by the clock, an' to-morrow +the peat is to coil an' the herring to kipper; yes, indeed." + +"Well an' good. But here is matter o' mair account than peat an' +herring. Wilt thou come?" + +"At the end I ken weel thou wilt hae thy way. Mother, here is John, +an' he is for my going on the bay wi' him." + +"Then thou go. If John kept aye as gude company he wouldna be like to +bring my gray hairs wi' sorrow to the grave." + +John did not answer this remark until they had pushed well off from +the sleeping town, then he replied fretfully, "Yes, what mother says +is true enough; but a man goes into the warld. A' the fingers are not +alike, much less one's friends. How can a' be gude?" + +"To speak from the heart, John, wha is it?" + +"Ragon Torr. Thou knows we hae sat i' the same boat an' drawn the same +nets for three years; he is gude an' bad, like ither folk." + +"Keep gude company, my brother, an' thou wilt aye be counted ane o' +them. When Ragon is gude he is ower gude, and when he is bad he is +just beyont kenning." + +"Can a man help the kin he comes o'? Have not his forbears done for +centuries the vera same way? Naething takes a Norseman frae his bed or +his cup but some great deed o' danger or profit; but then wha can +fight or wark like them?" + +"Christ doesna ask a man whether he be Norse or Scot. If Ragon went +mair to the kirk an' less to the change-house, he wouldna need to +differ. Were not our ain folk cattle-lifting Hieland thieves lang +after the days o' the Covenant?" + +"Christine, ye'll speak nae wrang o' the Sabays. It's an ill bird +'files its ain nest." + +"Weel, weel, John! The gude name o' the Sabays is i' thy hands now. +But to speak from the heart, this thing touches thee nearer than Ragon +Torr. Thou did not bring me out to speak only o' him." + +"Thou art a wise woman, Christine, an' thou art right. It touches +Margaret Fae, an' when it does that, it touches what is dearer to me +than life." + +"I see it not." + +"Do not Ragon an' I sail i' Peter Fae's boats? Do we not eat at his +table, an' bide round his house during the whole fishing season? If I +sail no more wi' Ragon, I must quit Peter's employ; for he loves Ragon +as he loves no ither lad i' Stromness or Kirkwall. The Norse blood we +think little o', Peter glories in; an' the twa men count thegither +o'er their glasses the races o' the Vikings, an' their ain generations +up to Snorro an' Thorso." + +"Is there no ither master but Peter Fae? ask theesel' that question, +John." + +"I hae done that, Christine. Plenty o' masters, but nane o' them hae +Margaret for a daughter. Christine, I love Margaret, an' she loves me +weel. Thou hast loved theesel', my sister." + +"I ken that, John," she said tenderly; "I hae loved, therefore I hae +got beyont doots, an' learned something holier than my ain way. Thou +trust Margaret now. Thou say 'Yes' to thy mother, an' fear not." + +"Christine thou speaks hard words." + +"Was it to speak easy anes thou brought me here? An' if I said, 'I +counsel thee to tak thy ain will i' the matter,' wad my counsel mak +bad gude, or wrang right? Paul Calder's fleet sails i' twa days; seek +a place i' his boats." + +"Then I shall see next to naught o' Margaret, an' Ragon will see her +every day." + +"If Margaret loves thee, that can do thee nae harm." + +"But her father favors Ragon, an' of me he thinks nae mair than o' the +nets, or aught else that finds his boats for sea." + +"Well an' good; but no talking can alter facts. Thou must now choose +atween thy mother an' Margaret Fae, atween right an' wrang. God doesna +leave that choice i' the dark; thy way may be narrow an' unpleasant, +but it is clear enough. Dost thou fear to walk i' it?" + +"There hae been words mair than plenty, Christine. Let us go hame." + +Silently the little boat drifted across the smooth bay, and silently +the brother and sister stood a moment looking up the empty, flagged +street of the sleeping town. The strange light, which was neither +gloaming nor dawning, but a mixture of both, the waving boreal +banners, the queer houses, gray with the storms of centuries, the +brown undulating heaths, and the phosphorescent sea, made a strangely +solemn picture which sank deep into their hearts. After a pause, +Christine went into the house, but John sat down on the stone bench to +think over the alternatives before him. + +Now the power of training up a child in the way it should go asserted +itself. It became at once a fortification against self-will. John +never had positively disobeyed his mother's explicit commands; he +found it impossible to do so. He must offer his services to Paul +Calder in the morning, and try to trust Margaret Fae's love for him. + +He had determined now to do right, but he did not do it very +pleasantly--it is a rare soul that grows sweeter in disappointments. +Both mother and sister knew from John's stern, silent ways that he had +chosen the path of duty, and they expected that he would make it a +valley of Baca. This Dame Alison accepted as in some sort her desert. +"I ought to hae forbid the lad three years syne," she said +regretfully; "aft ill an' sorrow come o' sich sinfu' putting aff. +There's nae half-way house atween right an' wrang." + +Certainly the determination involved some unpleasant explanations to +John. He must first see old Peter Fae and withdraw himself from his +service. He found him busy in loading a small vessel with smoked geese +and kippered fish, and he was apparently in a very great passion. +Before John could mention his own matters, Peter burst into a torrent +of invectives against another of his sailors, who, he said, had given +some information to the Excise which had cost him a whole cargo of +Dutch specialties. The culprit was leaning against a hogshead, and was +listening to Peter's intemperate words with a very evil smile. + +"How much did ye sell yoursel' for, Sandy Beg? It took the son of a +Hieland robber like you to tell tales of a honest man's cargo. It was +an ill day when the Scots cam to Orkney, I trow." + +"She'll hae petter right to say tat same 'fore lang time." And Sandy's +face was dark with a subdued passion that Peter might have known to be +dangerous, but which he continued to aggravate by contemptuous +expressions regarding Scotchmen in general. + +This John Sabay was in no mood to bear; he very soon took offence at +Peter's sweeping abuse, and said he would relieve him at any rate of +one Scot. "He didna care to sail again wi' such a crowd as Peter +gathered round him." + +It was a very unadvised speech. Ragon lifted it at once, and in the +words which followed John unavoidably found himself associated with +Sandy Beg, a man whose character was of the lowest order. And he had +meant to be so temperate, and to part with both Peter and Ragon on the +best terms possible. How weak are all our resolutions! John turned +away from Peter's store conscious that he had given full sway to all +the irritation and disappointment of his feelings, and that he had +spoken as violently as either Peter, Ragon, or even the half-brutal +Sandy Beg. Indeed, Sandy had said very little; but the malignant look +with which he regarded Peter, John could never forget. + +This was not his only annoyance. Paul Calder's boats were fully +manned, and the others had already left for Brassey's Sound. The +Sabays were not rich; a few weeks of idleness would make the long +Orkney winter a dreary prospect. Christine and his mother sat from +morning to night braiding straw into the once famous Orkney Tuscans, +and he went to the peat-moss to cut a good stock of winter fuel; but +his earnings in money were small and precarious, and he was so anxious +that Christine's constant cheerfulness hurt him. + +Sandy Beg had indeed said something of an offer he could make "if +shentlemans wanted goot wages wi' ta chance of a lucky bit for +themsel's; foive kuineas ta month an' ta affsets. Oigh! oigh!" But +John had met the offer with such scorn and anger that Sandy had +thought it worth while to bestow one of his most wicked looks upon +him. The fact was, Sandy felt half grateful to John for his apparent +partisanship, and John indignantly resented any disposition to put him +in the same boat with a man so generally suspected and disliked. + +"It might be a come-down," he said, "for a gude sailor an' fisher to +coil peats and do days' darg, but it was honest labor; an', please +God, he'd never do that i' the week that wad hinder him fra going to +the kirk on Sabbath." + +"Oigh! she'll jist please hersel'; she'll pe owing ta Beg naething by +ta next new moon." And with a mocking laugh Sandy loitered away +towards the seashore. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Just after this interview a little lad put a note in John's hand from +Margaret Fae. It only asked him to be on Brogar Bridge at eight +o'clock that night. Now Brogar Bridge was not a spot that any Orcadian +cared to visit at such an hour. In the pagan temple whose remains +stood there it was said pale ghosts of white-robed priests still +offered up shadowy human sacrifices, and though John's faith was firm +and sure, superstitions are beyond reasoning with, and he recalled the +eerie, weird aspect of the grim stones with an unavoidable +apprehension. What could Margaret want with him in such a place and at +an hour so near that at which Peter usually went home from his shop? +He had never seen Margaret's writing, and he half suspected Sandy Beg +had more to do with the appointment than she had; but he was too +anxious to justify himself in Margaret's eyes to let any fears or +doubts prevent him from keeping the tryst. + +He had scarcely reached the Stones of Stennis when he saw her leaning +against one of them. The strange western light was over her thoughtful +face. She seemed to have become a part of the still and solemn +landscape. John had always loved her with a species of reverence; +to-night he felt almost afraid of her beauty and the power she had +over him. She was a true Scandinavian, with the tall, slender, and +rather haughty form which marks Orcadian and Zetland women. Her hair +was perhaps a little too fair and cold, and yet it made a noble +setting to the large, finely-featured, tranquil face. + +She put out her hand as John approached, and said, "Was it well that +thou shouldst quarrel with my father? I thought that thou didst love +me." + +Then John poured out his whole heart--his love for her, his mother's +demand of him, his quarrel with Ragon and Peter and Sandy Beg. "It has +been an ill time, Margaret," he said, "and thou hast been long in +comforting me." + +Well, Margaret had plenty of reasons for her delay and plenty of +comfort for her lover. Naturally slow of pulse and speech, she had +been long coming to a conclusion; but, having satisfied herself of its +justice, she was likely to be immovable in it. She gave John her hand +frankly and lovingly, and promised, in poverty or wealth, in weal or +woe, to stand truly by his side. It was not a very hopeful +troth-plighting, but they were both sure of the foundations of their +love, and both regarded the promise as solemnly binding. + +Then Margaret told John that she had heard that evening that the +captain of the Wick steamer wanted a mate, and the rough Pentland +Frith being well known to John, she hoped, if he made immediate +application, he would be accepted. If he was, John declared his +intention of at once seeing Peter and asking his consent to their +engagement. In the meantime the Bridge of Brogar was to be their +tryst, when tryst was possible. Peter's summer dwelling lay not far +from it, and it was Margaret's habit to watch for his boat and walk up +from the beach to the house with him. She would always walk over first +to Brogar, and if John could meet her there that would be well; if +not, she would understand that it was out of the way of duty, and be +content. + +John fortunately secured the mate's place. Before he could tell +Margaret this she heard her father speak well of him to the captain. +"There is nae better sailor, nor better lad, for that matter," said +Peter. "I like none that he wad hang roun' my bonnie Marg'et; but +then, a cat may look at a king without it being high treason, I wot." + +A week afterwards Peter thought differently. When John told him +honestly how matters stood between him and Margaret he was more angry +than when Sandy Beg swore away his whole Dutch cargo. He would listen +to neither love nor reason, and positively forbid him to hold any +further intercourse with his daughter. John had expected this, and was +not greatly discouraged. He had Margaret's promise. Youth is hopeful, +and they could wait; for it never entered their minds absolutely to +disobey the old man. + +In the meantime there was a kind of peacemaking between Ragon and +John. The good Dominie Sinclair had met them both one day on the +beach, and insisted on their forgiving and shaking hands. Neither of +them were sorry to do so. Men who have shared the dangers of the +deep-sea fishing and the stormy Northern Ocean together cannot look +upon each other as mere parts of a bargain. There was, too, a wild +valor and a wonderful power in emergencies belonging to Ragon that had +always dazzled John's more cautious nature. In some respects, he +thought Ragon Torr the greatest sailor that left Stromness harbor, and +Ragon was willing enough to admit that John "was a fine fellow," and +to give his hand at the dominie's direction. + +Alas! the good man's peacemaking was of short duration. As soon as +Peter told the young Norse sailor of John's offer for Margaret's hand, +Ragon's passive good-will turned to active dislike and bitter +jealousy. For, though he had taken little trouble to please Margaret, +he had come to look upon her as his future wife. He knew that Peter +wished it so, and he now imagined that it was also the only thing on +earth he cared for. + +Thus, though John was getting good wages, he was not happy. It was +rarely he got a word with Margaret, and Peter and Ragon were only too +ready to speak. It became daily more and more difficult to avoid an +open quarrel with them, and, indeed, on several occasions sharp, cruel +words, that hurt like wounds, had passed between them on the public +streets and quays. + +Thus Stromness, that used to be so pleasant to him, was changing fast. +He knew not how it was that people so readily believed him in the +wrong. In Wick, too, he had been troubled with Sandy Beg, and a kind +of nameless dread possessed him about the man; he could not get rid of +it, even after he had heard that Sandy had sailed in a whaling ship +for the Arctic seas. + +Thus things went on until the end of July. John was engaged now until +the steamer stopped running in September, and the little sum of ready +money necessary for the winter's comfort was assured. Christine sat +singing and knitting, or singing and braiding straw, and Dame Alison +went up and down her cottage with a glad heart. They knew little of +John's anxieties. Christine had listened sympathizingly to his trouble +about Margaret, and said, "Thou wait an' trust; John dear, an' at the +end a' things will be well." Even Ragon's ill-will and Peter's ill +words had not greatly frightened them--"The wrath o' man shall praise +Him," read old Alison, with just a touch of spiritual satisfaction, +"an' the rest o' the wrath he will restrain." + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +It was a Saturday night in the beginning of August, and John was at +home until the following Monday. He dressed himself and went out +towards Brogar, and Christine watched him far over the western moor, +and blessed him as he went. He had not seen Margaret for many days, +but he had a feeling to-night that she would be able to keep her +tryst. And there, standing amid the rushes on the lakeside, he found +her. They had so much to say to each other that Margaret forgot her +father's return, and delayed so long that she thought it best to go +straight home, instead of walking down the beach to meet him. + +He generally left Stromness about half-past eight, and his supper was +laid for nine o'clock. But this night nine passed, and he did not +come; and though the delay could be accounted for in various ways, she +had a dim but anxious forecasting of calamity in her heart. The +atmosphere of the little parlor grew sorrowful and heavy, the lamp did +not seem to light it, her father's chair had a deserted, lonely +aspect, the house was strangely silent; in fifteen minutes she had +forgotten how happy she had been, and wandered to and from the door +like some soul in an uneasy dream. + +All at once she heard the far-away shouting of angry and alarmed +voices, and to her sensitive ears her lover's and her father's names +were mingled. It was her nature to act slowly; for a few moments she +could not decide what was to be done. The first thought was the +servants. There were only two, Hacon Flett and Gerda Vedder. Gerda had +gone to bed, Hacon was not on the place. As she gathered her energies +together she began to walk rapidly over the springy heath towards the +white sands of the beach. Her father, if he was coming, would come +that way. She was angry with herself for the _if_. Of course he was +coming. What was there to prevent it? She told herself, Nothing, and +the next moment looked up and saw two men coming towards her, and in +their arms a figure which she knew instinctively was her father's. + +She slowly retraced her steps, set open the gate and the door, and +waited for the grief that was coming to her. But however slow her +reasoning faculties, her soul knew in a moment what it needed. It was +but a little prayer said with trembling lips and fainting heart; but +no prayer loses its way. Straight to the heart of Christ it went. And +the answer was there and the strength waiting when Ragon and Hacon +brought in the bleeding, dying old man, and laid him down upon his +parlor floor. + +Ragon said but one word, "Stabbed!" and then, turning to Hacon, bid +him ride for life and death into Stromness for a doctor. Most sailors +of these islands know a little rude surgery, and Ragon stayed beside +his friend, doing what he could to relieve the worst symptoms. +Margaret, white and still, went hither and thither, bringing whatever +Ragon wanted, and fearing, she knew not why, to ask any questions. + +With the doctor came the dominie and two of the town bailies. There +was little need of the doctor; Peter Fae's life was ebbing rapidly +away with every moment of time. There was but little time now for +whatever had yet to be done. The dominie stooped first to his ear, and +in a few solemn words bid him lay himself at the foot of the cross. +"Thou'lt never perish there, Peter," he said; and the dying man seemed +to catch something of the comfort of such an assurance. + +Then Bailie Inkster said, "Peter Fae, before God an' his +minister--before twa o' the town bailies an' thy ain daughter +Margaret, an' thy friend Ragon Torr, an' thy servants Hacon Flett an' +Gerda Vedder, thou art now to say what man stabbed thee." + +Peter made one desperate effort, a wild, passionate gleam shot from +the suddenly-opened eyes, and he cried out in a voice terrible in its +despairing anger, "_John Sabay! John Sabay--stabb-ed--me! +Indeed--he--did_!" + +"Oh, forgive him, man! forgive him! Dinna think o' that now, Peter! +Cling to the cross--cling to the cross, man! Nane ever perished that +only won to the foot o' it." Then the pleading words were whispered +down into fast-sealing ears, and the doctor quietly led away a poor +heart-stricken girl, who was too shocked to weep and too humbled and +wretched to tell her sorrow to any one but God. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +The bailies, after hearing the deposition, immediately repaired to +John Sabay's cottage. It was Saturday night, and no warrant could now +be got, but the murderer must be secured. No two men bent on such an +errand ever found it more difficult to execute. The little family had +sat later than usual. John had always news they were eager to hear--of +tourists and strangers he had seen in Wick, or of the people the +steamer had brought to Kirkwall. + +He was particularly cheerful this evening; his interview with Margaret +had been hopeful and pleasant, and Christine had given the houseplace +and the humble supper-table quite a festival look. They had sat so +long over the meal that when the bailies entered John was only then +reading the regular portion for the evening exercise. All were a +little amazed at the visit, but no one thought for a moment of +interrupting the Scripture; and the two men sat down and listened +attentively while John finished the chapter. + +Bailie Tulloch then rose and went towards the dame. He was a far-off +cousin of the Sabays, and, though not on the best of terms with them, +his relationship was considered to impose the duty particularly on +him. + +"Gude-e'en, if thou comes on a gude errand," said old Dame Alison, +suspiciously; "but that's no thy custom, bailie." + +"I came, dame, to ask John anent Peter Fae." + +The dame laughed pleasantly. "If thou had asked him anent Margaret +Fae, he could tell thee more about it." + +"This is nae laughing matter, dame. Peter Fae has been murdered--yes, +murdered! An' he said, ere he died, that John Sabay did the deed." + +"Then Peter Fae died wi' a lie on his lips--tell them that, John," and +the old woman's face was almost majestic in its defiance and anger. + +"I hae not seen Peter Fae for a week," said John. "God knows that, +bailie. I wad be the vera last man to hurt a hair o' his gray head; +why he is Margaret's father!" + +"Still, John, though we hae nae warrant to hold thee, we are beholden +to do sae; an' thou maun come wi' us," said Bailie Inkster. + +"Wrang has nae warrant at ony time, an' ye will no touch my lad," said +Alison, rising and standing before her son. + +"Come, dame, keep a still tongue." + +"My tongue's no under thy belt, Tulloch; but it's weel kenned that +since thou wranged us thou ne'er liked us." + +"Mother, mother, dinna fash theesel'. It's naught at a' but a mistake; +an' I'll gae wi' Bailie Inkster, if he's feared to tak my word." + +"I could tak thy word fain enough, John--" + +"But the thing isna possible, Inkster. Besides, if he were missing +Monday morn, I, being i' some sort a relation, wad be under suspicion +o' helping him awa." + +"Naebody wad e'er suspect thee o' a helping or mercifu' deed, Tulloch. +Indeed na!" + +"Tak care, dame; thou art admitting it wad be a mercifu' deed. I heard +Peter Fae say that John Sabay stabbed him, an' Ragon Torr and Hacon +Flett saw John, as I understan' the matter." + +"Mother," said John, "do thou talk to nane but God. Thou wilt hae to +lead the prayer theesel' to-night; dinna forget me. I'm as innocent o' +this matter as Christine is; mak up thy mind on that." + +"God go wi' thee, John. A' the men i' Orkney can do nae mair than they +may against thee." + +"It's an unco grief an' shame to me," said Tulloch, "but the Sabays +hae aye been a thorn i' the flesh to me, an' John's the last o' them, +the last o' them!" + +"Thou art makin' thy count without Providence, Tulloch. There's mair +Sabays than Tullochs; for there's Ane for them that counts far beyont +an' above a' that can be against them. Now, thou step aff my honest +hearthstane--there is mair room for thee without than within." + +Then John held his mother's and sister's hands a moment, and there was +such _virtue_ in the clasp, and such light and trust in their faces, +that it was impossible for him not to catch hope from them. Suddenly +Bailie Tulloch noticed that John was in his Sabbath-day clothes. In +itself this was not remarkable on a Saturday night. Most of the people +kept this evening as a kind of preparation for the Holy Day, and the +best clothing and the festival meal were very general. But just then +it struck the bailies as worth inquiring about. + +"Where are thy warking-claes, John--the uniform, I mean, o' that +steamship company thou sails for--and why hast na them on thee?" + +"I had a visit to mak, an' I put on my best to mak it in. The ithers +are i' my room." + +"Get them, Christine." + +Christine returned in a few minutes pale-faced and empty-handed. "They +are not there, John, nor yet i' thy kist." + +"I thought sae." + +"Then God help me, sister! I know not where they are." + +Even Bailie Inkster looked doubtful and troubled at this circumstance. +Silence, cold and suspicious, fell upon them, and poor John went away +half-bereft of all the comfort his mother's trust and Christine's look +had given him. + +The next day being Sabbath, no one felt at liberty to discuss the +subject; but as the little groups passed one another on their way to +church their solemn looks and their doleful shakes of the head +testified to its presence in their thoughts. The dominie indeed, +knowing how nearly impossible it would be for them not to think their +own thoughts this Lord's day, deemed it best to guide those thoughts +to charity. He begged every one to be kind to all in deep affliction, +and to think no evil until it was positively known who the guilty +person was. + +Indeed, in spite of the almost overwhelming evidence against John +Sabay, there was a strong disposition to believe him innocent. "If ye +believe a' ye hear, ye may eat a' ye see," said Geordie Sweyn. "Maybe +John Sabay killed old Peter Fae, but every maybe has a may-not-be." +And to this remark there were more nods of approval than shakes of +dissent. + +But affairs, even with this gleam of light, were dark enough to the +sorrowful family. John's wages had stopped, and the winter fuel was +not yet all cut. A lawyer had to be procured, and they must mortgage +their little cottage to do it; and although ten days had passed, +Margaret Fae had not shown, either by word or deed, what was her +opinion regarding John's guilt or innocence. + +But Margaret, as before said, was naturally slow in all her movements, +so slow that even Scotch caution had begun to call her cruel or +careless. But this was a great injustice. She had weighed carefully in +her own mind everything against John, and put beside it his own letter +to her and her intimate knowledge of his character, and then solemnly +sat down in God's presence to take such counsel as he should put into +her heart. After many prayerful, waiting days she reached a conclusion +which was satisfactory to herself; and she then put away from her +every doubt of John's innocence, and resolved on the course to be +pursued. + +In the first place she would need money to clear the guiltless and to +seek the guilty, and she resolved to continue her father's business. +She had assisted him so long with his accounts that his methods were +quite familiar to her; all she needed was some one to handle the rough +goods, and stand between her and the rude sailors with whom the +business was mainly conducted. + +Who was this to be? Ragon Torr? She was sure Ragon would have been her +father's choice. He had taken all charge of the funeral, and had since +hung round the house, ready at any moment to do her service. But Ragon +would testify against John Sabay, and she had besides an unaccountable +antipathy to his having any nearer relation with her. "I'll ask +Geordie Sweyn," she said, after a long consultation with her own slow +but sure reasoning powers; "he'll keep the skippers an' farmers i' awe +o' him; an' he's just as honest as any ither man." + +So Geordie was sent for and the proposal made and accepted. "Thou wilt +surely be true to me, Geordie?" + +"As sure as death, Miss Margaret;" and when he gave her his great +brawny hand on it, she knew her affairs in that direction were safe. + +Next morning the shop was opened as usual, and Geordie Sweyn stood in +Peter Fae's place. The arrangement had been finally made so rapidly +that it had taken all Stromness by surprise. But no one said anything +against it; many believed it to be wisely done, and those who did not, +hardly cared to express dissatisfaction with a man whose personal +prowess and ready hand were so well known. + +The same day Christine received a very sisterly letter from Margaret, +begging her to come and talk matters over with her. There were such +obvious reasons why Margaret could not go to Christine, that the +latter readily complied with the request; and such was the influence +that this calm, cool, earnest girl had over the elder woman, that she +not only prevailed upon her to accept money to fee the lawyer in +John's defence, but also whatever was necessary for their comfort +during the approaching winter. Thus Christine and Margaret mutually +strengthened each other, and both cottage and prison were always the +better for every meeting. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +But soon the summer passed away, and the storms and snows of winter +swept over the lonely island. There would be no court until December +to try John, and his imprisonment in Kirkwall jail grew every day more +dreary. But no storms kept Christine long away from him. Over almost +impassable roads and mosses she made her way on the little ponies of +the country, which had to perform a constant steeple-chase over the +bogs and chasms. + +All things may be borne when they are sure; and every one who loved +John was glad when at last he could have a fair hearing. Nothing +however was in his favor. The bailies and the murdered man's servants, +even the dominie and his daughter could tell but one tale. "Peter Fae +had declared with his last breath that John Sabay had stabbed him." +The prosecution also brought forward strong evidence to show that very +bitter words had passed, a few days before the murder, between the +prisoner and the murdered man. + +In the sifting of this evidence other points were brought out, still +more convincing. Hacon Flett said that he was walking to Stromness by +the beach to meet his sweetheart, when he heard the cry of murder, and +in the gloaming light saw John Sabay distinctly running across the +moor. When asked how he knew certainly that it was John, he said that +he knew him by his peculiar dress, its bright buttons, and the glimmer +of gold braid on his cap. He said also, in a very decided manner, that +John Sabay passed Ragon Torr so closely that he supposed they had +spoken. + +Then Ragon being put upon his oath, and asked solemnly to declare who +was the man that had thus passed him, tremblingly answered, + +"_John Sabay!_" + +John gave him such a look as might well haunt a guilty soul through +all eternity; and old Dame Alison, roused by a sense of intolerable +wrong, cried out, + +"Know this, there's a day coming that will show the black heart; but +traitors' words ne'er yet hurt the honest cause." + +"Peace, woman!" said an officer of the court, not unkindly. + +"Weel, then, God speak for me! an' my thoughts are free; if I daurna +say, I may think." + +In defence Margaret Fae swore that she had been with John on Brogar +Bridge until nearly time to meet her father, and that John then wore a +black broadcloth suit and a high hat; furthermore, that she believed +it utterly impossible for him to have gone home, changed his clothes, +and then reached the scene of the murder at the time Hacon Flett and +Ragon Torr swore to his appearance there. + +But watches were very uncommon then; no one of the witnesses had any +very distinct idea of the time; some of them varied as much as an hour +in their estimate. It was also suggested by the prosecution that John +probably had the other suit secreted near the scene of the murder. +Certain it was that he had not been able either to produce it or to +account for its mysterious disappearance. + +The probability of Sandy Beg being the murderer was then advanced; but +Sandy was known to have sailed in a whaling vessel before the murder, +and no one had seen him in Stromness since his departure for Wick +after his dismissal from Peter Fae's service. + +No one? Yes, some one had seen him. That fatal night, as Ragon Torr +was crossing the moor to Peter's house--he having some news of a very +particular vessel to give--he heard the cry of "Murder," and he heard +Hacon Flett call out, "I know thee, John Sabay. Thou hast stabbed my +master!" and he instantly put himself in the way of the flying man. +Then he knew at once that it was Sandy Beg in John Sabay's clothes. +The two men looked a moment in each other's face, and Sandy saw in +Ragon's something that made him say, + +"She'll pat Sandy safe ta night, an' that will mak her shure o' ta +lass she's seeking far." + +There was no time for parley; Ragon's evil nature was strongest, and +he answered, "There is a cellar below my house, thou knows it weel." + +Indeed, most of the houses in Stromness had underground passages, and +places of concealment used for smuggling purposes, and Ragon's lonely +house was a favorite rendezvous. The vessel whose arrival he had been +going to inform Peter of was a craft not likely to come into Stromness +with all her cargo. + +Towards morning Ragon had managed to see Sandy and send him out to her +with such a message as insured her rapid disappearance. Sandy had also +with him a sum of money which he promised to use in transporting +himself at once to India, where he had a cousin in the forty-second +Highland regiment. + +Ragon had not at first intended to positively swear away his friend's +life; he had been driven to it, not only by Margaret's growing +antipathy to him and her decided interest in John's case and family, +but also by that mysterious power of events which enable the devil to +forge the whole chain that binds a man when the first link is given +him. But the word once said, he adhered positively to it, and even +asserted it with quite unnecessary vehemence and persistence. + +After such testimony there was but one verdict possible. John Sabay +was declared guilty of murder, and sentenced to death. But there was +still the same strange and unreasonable belief in his innocence, and +the judge, with a peculiar stretch of clemency, ordered the sentence +to be suspended until he could recommend the prisoner to his majesty's +mercy. + +A remarkable change now came over Dame Alison. Her anger, her sense of +wrong, her impatience, were over. She had come now to where she could +do nothing else but trust implicitly in God; and her mind, being thus +stayed, was kept in a strange exultant kind of perfect peace. Lost +confidence? Not a bit of it! Both Christine and her mother had reached +a point where they knew + + "That right is right, since God is God, + And right the day must win; + To doubt would be disloyalty, + To falter would be sin." + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Slowly the weary winter passed away. And just as spring was opening +there began to be talk of Ragon Torr's going away. Margaret continued +to refuse his addresses with a scorn he found it ill to bear; and he +noticed that many of his old acquaintances dropped away from him. +There is a distinct atmosphere about every man, and the atmosphere +about Ragon people began to avoid. No one could have given a very +clear reason for doing so; one man did not ask another why; but the +fact needed no reasoning about, it was there. + +One day, when Paul Calder was making up his spring cargoes, Ragon +asked for a boat, and being a skilful sailor, he was accepted. But no +sooner was the thing known, than Paul had to seek another crew. + +"What was the matter?" + +"Nothing; they did not care to sail with Ragon Torr, that was all." + +This circumstance annoyed Ragon very much. He went home quite +determined to leave Stromness at once and for ever. Indeed he had been +longing to do so for many weeks, but had stayed partly out of bravado, +and partly because there were few opportunities of getting away during +the winter. + +He went home and shut himself in his own room, and began to count his +hoarded gold. While thus employed, there was a stir or movement under +his feet which he quite understood. Some one was in the secret cellar, +and was coming up. He turned hastily round, and there was Sandy Beg. + +"Thou scoundrel!" and he fairly gnashed his teeth at the intruder, +"what dost thou want here?" + +"She'll be wanting money an' help." + +Badly enough Sandy wanted both; and a dreadful story he told. He had +indeed engaged himself at Wick for a whaling voyage, but at the last +moment had changed his mind and deserted. For somewhere among the +wilds of Rhiconich in Sutherland he had a mother, a wild, +superstitious, half-heathen Highland woman, and he wanted to see her. +Coming back to the coast, after his visit, he had stopped a night at a +little wayside inn, and hearing some drovers talking of their gold in +Gallic, a language which he well understood, he had followed them into +the wild pass of Gualon, and there shot them from behind a rock. For +this murder he had been tracked, and was now so closely pursued that +he had bribed with all the gold he had a passing fishing-smack to drop +him at Stromness during the night. + +"She'll gae awa now ta some ither place; 'teet will she! An' she's +hungry--an' unco dry;" all of which Sandy emphasized by a desperate +and very evil look. + +The man was not to be trifled with, and Ragon knew that he was in his +power. If Sandy was taken, he would confess all, and Ragon knew well +that in such case transportation for life and hard labor would be his +lot. Other considerations pressed him heavily--the shame, the loss, +the scorn of Margaret, the triumph of all his ill-wishers. No, he had +gone too far to retreat. + +He fed the villain, gave him a suit of his own clothes, and £50, and +saw him put off to sea. Sandy promised to keep well out in the bay, +until some vessel going North to Zetland or Iceland, or some Dutch +skipper bound for Amsterdam, took him up. All the next day Ragon was +in misery, but nightfall came and he had heard nothing of Sandy, +though several craft had come into port. If another day got over he +would feel safe; but he told himself that he was in a gradually +narrowing circle, and that the sooner he leaped outside of it the +better. + +When he reached home the old couple who hung about the place, and who +had learned to see nothing and to hear nothing, came to him and +voluntarily offered a remark. + +"Queer folk an' strange folk have been here, an' ta'en awa some claes +out o' the cellar." + +Ragon asked no questions. He knew what clothes they were--that suit of +John Sabay's in which Sandy Beg had killed Peter Fae, and the rags +which Sandy had a few hours before exchanged for one of his own +sailing-suits. He needed no one to tell him what had happened. Sandy +had undoubtedly bespoke the very vessel containing the officers in +search of him, and had confessed all, as he said he would. The men +were probably at this moment looking for him. + +He lifted the gold prepared for any such emergency, and, loosening his +boat, pulled for life and death towards Mayness Isle. Once in the +rapid "race" that divides it and Olla from the ocean, he knew no boat +would dare to follow him. While yet a mile from it he saw that he was +rapidly pursued by a four-oared boat. Now all his wild Norse nature +asserted itself. He forgot everything but that he was eluding his +pursuers, and as the chase grew hotter, closer, more exciting, his +enthusiasm carried him far beyond all prudence. + +He began to shout or chant to his wild efforts some old Norse +death-song, and just as they gained on him he shot into the "race" and +defied them. Oars were useless there, and they watched him fling them +far away and stand up with outstretched arms in the little skiff. The +waves tossed it hither and thither, the boiling, racing flood hurried +it with terrific force towards the ocean. The tall, massive figure +swayed like a reed in a tempest, and suddenly the half despairing, +half defying song was lost in the roar of the bleak, green surges. All +knew then what had happened. + +"Let me die the death o' the righteous," murmured one old man, piously +veiling his eyes with his bonnet; and then the boat turned and went +silently back to Stromness. + +Sandy Beg was in Kirkwall jail. He had made a clean breast of all his +crimes, and measures were rapidly taken for John Sabay's enlargement +and justification. When he came out of prison Christine and Margaret +were waiting for him, and it was to Margaret's comfortable home he was +taken to see his mother. "For we are ane household now, John," she +said tenderly, "an' Christine an' mother will ne'er leave me any +mair." + +Sandy's trial came on at the summer term. He was convicted on his own +confession, and sentenced to suffer the penalty of his crime upon the +spot where he stabbed Peter Fae. For some time he sulkily rejected all +John's efforts to mitigate his present condition, or to prepare him +for his future. But at last the tender spot in his heart was found. +John discovered his affection for his half-savage mother, and promised +to provide for all her necessities. + +"It's only ta poun' o' taa, an' ta bit cabin ta shelter her she'll +want at a'," but the tears fell heavily on the red, hairy hands; "an' +she'll na tell her fat ill outsent cam to puir Sandy." + +"Thou kens I will gie her a' she needs, an' if she chooses to come to +Orkney--" + +"Na, na, she wullna leave ta Hieland hills for naught at a'." + +"Then she shall hae a siller crown for every month o' the year, +Sandy." + +The poor, rude creature hardly knew how to say a "thanks;" but John +saw it in his glistening eyes and heard it in the softly-muttered +words, "She was ta only are tat e'er caret for Santy Beg." + +It was a solemn day in Stromness when he went to the gallows. The +bells tolled backward, the stores were all closed, and there were +prayers both in public and private for the dying criminal. But few +dared to look upon the awful expiation, and John spent the hour in +such deep communion with God and his own soul that its influence +walked with him to the end of life. + +And when his own sons were grown up to youths, one bound for the sea +and the other for Marischal College, Aberdeen, he took them aside and +told them this story, adding, + +"An' know this, my lads: the shame an' the sorrow cam a' o' ane +thing--I made light o' my mother's counsel, an' thought I could do +what nane hae ever done, gather mysel' with the deil's journeymen, an' +yet escape the wages o' sin. Lads! lads! there's nae half-way house +atween right and wrang; know that." + +"But, my father," said Hamish, the younger of the two, "thou did at +the last obey thy mother." + +"Ay, ay, Hamish; but mak up thy mind to this: it isna enough that a +man rins a gude race; he maun also _start at the right time_. This is +what I say to thee, Hamish, an' to thee, Donald: fear God, an' ne'er +lightly heed a gude mother's advice. It's weel wi' the lads that carry +a mother's blessing through the warld wi' them." + + + + +Lile Davie. + + + + +LILE DAVIE. + + +In Yorkshire and Lancashire the word "lile" means "little," but in the +Cumberland dales it has a far wider and nobler definition. There it is +a term of honor, of endearment, of trust, and of approbation. David +Denton won the pleasant little prefix before he was ten years old. +When he saved little Willy Sabay out of the cold waters of Thirlmere, +the villagers dubbed him "Lile Davie." When he took a flogging to +spare the crippled lad of Farmer Grimsby, men and women said proudly, +"He were a lile lad;" and when he gave up his rare half-holiday to +help the widow Gates glean, they had still no higher word of praise +than "kind lile Davie." + +However, it often happens that a prophet has no honor among his own +people, and David was the black sheep of the miserly household of +Denton Farm. It consisted of old Christopher Denton, his three sons, +Matthew, Sam, and David, and his daughter Jennie. They had the +reputation of being "people well-to-do," but they were not liked among +the Cumberland "states-men," who had small sympathy for their +niggardly hospitality and petty deeds of injustice. + +One night in early autumn Christopher was sitting at the great black +oak table counting over the proceeds of the Kendal market, and Matt +and Sam looked greedily on. There was some dispute about the wool and +the number of sheep, and Matt said angrily, "There's summat got to be +done about Davie. He's just a clish-ma-saunter, lying among the ling +wi' a book in his hand the lee-long day. It is just miff-maff and +nonsense letting him go any longer to the schoolmaster. I am fair +jagged out wi' his ways." + +"That's so," said Sam. + +"Then why don't you gie the lad a licking, and make him mind the sheep +better? I saw him last Saturday playing sogers down at Thirlston with +a score or more of idle lads like himsel'." The old man spoke +irritably, and looked round for the culprit. "I'll lay thee a penny +he's at the same game now. Gie him a licking when he comes in, son +Matt." + +"Nay, but Matt wont," said Jennie Denton, with a quiet decision. She +stood at her big wheel, spinning busily, though it was nine o'clock; +and though her words were few and quiet, the men knew from her face +and manner that Davie's licking would not be easily accomplished. In +fact, Jennie habitually stood between Davie and his father and +brothers. She had nursed him through a motherless babyhood, and had +always sympathized in his eager efforts to rise above the sordid life +that encompassed him. It was Jennie who had got him the grudging +permission to go in the evening to the village schoolmaster for some +book-learning. But peculiar circumstances had favored her in this +matter, for neither the old man nor his sons could read or write, and +they had begun to find this, in their changed position, and in the +rapid growth of general information, a serious drawback in business +matters. + +Therefore, as Davie could not be spared in the day, the schoolmaster +agreed for a few shillings a quarter to teach him in the evening. This +arrangement altered the lad's whole life. He soon mastered the simple +branches he had been sent to acquire, and then master and pupil far +outstepped old Christopher's programme, and in the long snowy nights, +and in the balmy summer ones, pored with glowing cheeks over old +histories and wonderful lives of great soldiers and sailors. + +In fact, David Denton, like most good sons, had a great deal of his +mother in him, and she had been the daughter of a long line of brave +Westmoreland troopers. The inherited tendencies which had passed over +the elder boys asserted themselves with threefold force in this last +child of a dying woman. And among the sheepcotes in the hills he felt +that he was the son of the men who had defied Cromwell on the banks of +the Kent and followed Prince Charlie to Preston. + +But the stern discipline of a Cumberland states-man's family is not +easily broken. Long after David had made up his mind to be a soldier +he continued to bear the cuffs and sneers and drudgery that fell to +him, watching eagerly for some opportunity of securing his father's +permission. But of this there was little hope. His knowledge of +writing and accounts had become of service, and his wish to go into +the world and desert the great cause of the Denton economies was an +unheard-of piece of treason and ingratitude. + +David ventured to say that he "had taught Jennie to write and count, +and she was willing to do his work." + +The ignorant, loutish brothers scorned the idea of "women-folk +meddling wi' their 'counts and wool," and, "besides," as Matt argued, +"Davie's going would necessitate the hiring of two shepherds; no hired +man would do more than half of what folk did for their ain." + +These disputes grew more frequent and more angry, and when Davie had +added to all his other faults the unpardonable one of falling in love +with the schoolmaster's niece, there was felt to be no hope for the +lad. The Dentons had no poor relations; they regarded them as the one +thing _not_ needful, and they concluded it was better to give Davie a +commission and send him away. + +Poor Jennie did all the mourning for the lad; his father and brothers +were in the midst of a new experiment for making wool water-proof, and +pretty Mary Butterworth did not love David as David wished her to love +him. It was Jennie only who hung weeping on his neck and watched him +walk proudly and sorrowfully away over the hills into the wide, wide +world beyond. + +Then for many, many long years no more was heard of "Lile Davie +Denton." The old schoolmaster died and Christopher followed him. But +the Denton brothers remained together. However, when men make saving +money the sole end of their existence, their life soon becomes as +uninteresting as the multiplication table, and people ceased to care +about the Denton farm, especially as Jennie married a wealthy squire +over the mountains, and left her brothers to work out alone their new +devices and economies. + +Jennie's marriage was a happy one, but she did not forget her brother. +There was in Esthwaite Grange a young man who bore his name and who +was preparing for a like career. And often Jennie Esthwaite told to +the lads and lasses around her knees the story of their "lile uncle," +whom every one but his own kin had loved, and who had gone away to the +Indies and never come back again. "Lile Davie" was the one bit of +romance in Esthwaite Grange. + +Jennie's brothers had never been across the "fells" that divided +Denton from Esthwaite; therefore, one morning, twenty-seven years +after Davie's departure, she was astonished to see Matt coming slowly +down the Esthwaite side. But she met him with hearty kindness, and +after he had been rested and refreshed he took a letter from his +pocket and said, "Jennie, this came from Davie six months syne, but I +thought then it would be seeking trouble to answer it." + +"Why, Matt, this letter is directed to me! How dared you open and keep +it?" + +"Dared, indeed! That's a nice way for a woman to speak to her eldest +brother!' Read it, and then you'll see why I kept it from you." + +Poor Jennie's eyes filled fuller at every line. He was sick and +wounded and coming home to die, and wanted to see his old home and +friends once more. + +"O Matt! Matt!" she cried; "how cruel, how shameful, not to answer +this appeal." + +"Well, I did it for the best; but it seems I have made a mistake. Sam +and I both thought an ailing body dovering round the hearthstone and +doorstone was not to be thought of--and nobody to do a hand's turn but +old Elsie, who is nearly blind--and Davie never was one to do a decent +hand job, let by it was herding sheep, and that it was not like he'd +be fit for; so we just agreed to let the matter lie where it was." + +"Oh, it was a cruel shame, Matt." + +"Well, it was a mistake; for yesterday Sam went to Kendall, and there, +in the Stramon-gate, he met Tom Philipson, who is just home from +India. And what does Tom say but, 'Have you seen the general yet?' +and, 'Great man is Gen. Denton,' and, 'Is it true that he is going to +buy the Derwent estate?' and, 'Wont the Indian Government miss Gen. +Denton!' Sam wasn't going to let Tom see how the land lay, and Tom +went off saying that Sam had no call to be so pesky proud; that it +wasn't him who had conquered the Mahrattas and taken the Ghiznee +Pass." + +Jennie was crying bitterly, and saying softly to herself, "O my brave +laddie! O my bonnie lile Davie!" + +"Hush, woman! No good comes of crying. Write now as soon as you like, +and the sooner the better." + +In a very few hours Jennie had acted on this advice, and, though the +writing and spelling were wonderful, the poor sick general, nursing +himself at the Bath waters, felt the love that spoke in every word. He +had not expected much from his brothers; it was Jennie and Jennie's +bairns he wanted to see. He was soon afterwards an honored guest in +Esthwaite Grange, and the handsome old soldier, riding slowly among +the lovely dales, surrounded by his nephews and nieces, became a +well-known sight to the villages around. + +Many in Thirlston remembered him, and none of his old companions found +themselves forgotten. Nor did he neglect his brothers. These cautious +men had become of late years manufacturers, and it was said were +growing fabulously rich. They had learned the value of the low coppice +woods on their fell-side, and had started a bobbin-mill which Sam +superintended, while Matt was on constant duty at the great steam-mill +on Milloch-Force, where he spun his own wools into blankets and +serges. + +The men were not insensible to the honor of their brother's career; +they made great capital of it privately. But they were also intensely +dissatisfied at the reckless way in which he spent his wealth. Young +David Esthwaite had joined a crack regiment with his uncle's +introduction and at his uncle's charges, and Jennie and Mary Esthwaite +had been what the brothers considered extravagantly dowered in order +that they might marry two poor clergymen whom they had set their +hearts on. + +"It is just sinful, giving women that much good gold," said Matt +angrily: "and here we are needing it to keep a great business afloat." + +It was the first time Matt had dared to hint that the mill under his +care was not making money, and he was terribly shocked when Sam made a +similar confession. In fact, the brothers, with all their cleverness +and industry, were so ignorant that they were necessarily at the mercy +of those they employed, and they had fallen into roguish hands. Sam +proposed that David should be asked to look over their affairs and +tell them where the leakage was: "He was always a lile-hearted chap, +and I'd trust him, Matt, up hill and down dale, I would." + +But Matt objected to this plan. He said David must be taken through +the mills and the most made of everything, and then in a week or two +afterwards be offered a partnership; and Matt, being the eldest, +carried the day. A great festival was arranged, everything was seen to +the best advantage, and David was exceedingly interested. He lingered +with a strange fascination among the steam-looms, and Matt saw the +bait had taken, for as they walked back together to the old homestead +David said, "You were ever a careful man, Matt, but it must take a +deal of money--you understand, brother--if you need at any time--I +hope I don't presume." + +"Certainly not. Yes, we are doing a big business--a very good business +indeed; perhaps when you are stronger you may like to join us." + +"I sha'n't get stronger, Matt--so I spoke now." + +Sam, in his anxiety, thought Matt had been too prudent; he would have +accepted Davie's offer at once; but Matt was sure that by his plan +they would finally get all the general's money into their hands. +However, the very clever always find some quantity that they have +failed to take into account. After this long day at the mills General +Denton had a severe relapse, and it was soon evident that his work was +nearly finished. + +"But you must not fret, Jennie dear," he said cheerfully; "I am indeed +younger in years than you, but then I have lived a hundred times as +long. What a stirring, eventful life I have had! I must have lived a +cycle among these hills to have evened it; and most of my comrades are +already gone." + +One day, at the very last, he said, "Jennie, there is one bequest in +my will may astonish you, but it is all right. I went to see her a +month ago. She is a widow now with a lot of little lads around her. +And I loved her, Jennie--never loved any woman but her. Poor Mary! She +has had a hard time; I have tried to make things easier." + +"You had always a lile heart, Davie; you could do no wrong to any +one." + +"I hope not. I--hope--not." And with these words and a pleasant smile +the general answered some call that he alone heard, and trusting in +his Saviour, passed confidently + + "The quicks and drift that fill the rift + Between this world and heaven." + +His will, written in the kindest spirit, caused a deal of angry +feeling; for it was shown by it that after his visit to the Denton +Mills he had revoked a bequest to the brothers of £20,000, because, as +he explicitly said, "My dear brothers do not need it;" and this +£20,000 he left to Mary Butterworth Pierson, "who is poor and +delicate, and does sorely need it." And the rest of his property he +divided between Jennie and Jennie's bairns. + +In the first excitement of their disappointment and ruin, Sam, who +dreaded his brother's anger, and who yet longed for some sympathetic +word, revealed to Jennie and her husband the plan Matt had laid, and +how signally it had failed. + +"I told him, squire, I did for sure, to be plain and honest with +Davie. Davie was always a lile fellow, and he would have helped us out +of trouble. Oh, dear! oh, dear! that £20,000 would just have put a' +things right." + +"A straight line, lad, is always the shortest line in business and +morals, as well as in geometry; and I have aye found that to be true +in my dealings is to be wise. Lying serves no one but the devil, as +ever I made out." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Scottish sketches, by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14494 *** diff --git a/14494-h/14494-h.htm b/14494-h/14494-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5af333f --- /dev/null +++ b/14494-h/14494-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8577 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + Scottish Sketches, by Amelia E. Barr + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-family: Times New Roman; font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14494 ***</div> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + SCOTTISH SKETCHES + </h1> + <h2> + By Amelia E. Barr + </h2> + <h4> + 1883 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> CRAWFORD'S SAIR STRAIT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> JAMES BLACKIE'S REVENGE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> FACING HIS ENEMY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> ANDREW CARGILL'S CONFESSION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> ONE WRONG STEP. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> LILE DAVIE. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CRAWFORD'S SAIR STRAIT. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + Alexander Crawford sat reading a book which he studied frequently with a + profound interest. Not the Bible: that volume had indeed its place of + honor in the room, but the book Crawford read was a smaller one; it was + stoutly bound and secured by a brass lock, and it was all in manuscript. + It was his private ledger, and it contained his bank account. Its contents + seemed to give him much solid satisfaction; and when at last he locked the + volume and replaced it in his secretary, it was with that careful respect + which he considered due to the representative of so many thousand pounds. + </p> + <p> + He was in a placid mood, and strangely inclined to retrospection. + Thoughtfully fingering the key which locked up the record of his wealth, + he walked to the window and looked out. It was a dreary prospect of brown + moor and gray sea, but Crawford loved it. The bare land and the barren + mountains was the country of the Crawfords. He had a fixed idea that it + always had been theirs, and whenever he told himself—as he did this + night—that so many acres of old Scotland were actually his own, he + was aggressively a Scotchman. + </p> + <p> + "It is a bonnie bit o' land," he murmured, "and I hae done as my father + Laird Archibald told me. If we should meet in another warld I'll be able + to gie a good account o' Crawford and Traquare. It is thirty years + to-night since he gave me the ring off his finger, and said, 'Alexander, I + am going the way o' all flesh; be a good man, and <i>grip tight</i>.' I + hae done as he bid me; there is #80,000 in the Bank o' Scotland, and every + mortgage lifted. I am vera weel pleased wi' mysel' to-night. I hae been a + good holder o' Crawford and Traquare." + </p> + <p> + His self-complacent reflections were cut short by the entrance of his + daughter. She stood beside him, and laid her hand upon his arm with a + caressing gesture. No other living creature durst have taken that liberty + with him; but to Crawford his daughter Helen was a being apart from common + humanity. She was small, but very lovely, with something almost + Puritanical in her dainty, precise dress and carefully snooded golden + hair. + </p> + <p> + "Father!" + </p> + <p> + "Helen, my bird." + </p> + <p> + "Colin is coming home. I have just had a letter from him. He has taken + high honors in Glasgow. We'll both be proud of Colin, father." + </p> + <p> + "What has he done?" + </p> + <p> + "He has written a prize poem in Latin and Greek, and he is second in + mathematics." + </p> + <p> + "Latin and Greek! Poor ghostlike languages that hae put off flesh and + blood lang syne. Poetry! Warse than nonsense! David and Solomon hae gien + us such sacred poetry as is good and necessary; and for sinfu' love verses + and such vanities, if Scotland must hae them, Robert Burns is mair than + enough. As to mathematics, there's naething against them. A study that is + founded on figures is to be depended upon; it has nae flights and fancies. + You ken what you are doing wi' figures. When is this clever fellow to be + here?" + </p> + <p> + "He is coming by the afternoon packet to-morrow. We must send the carriage + to meet it, for Colin is bringing a stranger with him. I came to ask you + if I must have the best guest-room made ready." + </p> + <p> + "Wha for?" + </p> + <p> + "He is an English gentleman, from London, father." + </p> + <p> + "And you would put an Englishman in the room where the twa last Stuarts + slept? I'll not hear tell o' it. I'm not the man to lift a quarrel my + fathers dropped, but I'll hae no English body in Prince Charlie's room. + Mind that, noo! What is the man's name?" + </p> + <p> + "Mr. George Selwyn." + </p> + <p> + "George Selwyn! There's nae Scotch Selwyns that I ken o'. He'll be Saxon + altogether. Put him in the East room." + </p> + <p> + Crawford was not pleased at his son bringing any visitor. In the first + place, he had important plans to discuss and carry out, and he was + impatient of further delay. In the second, he was intensely jealous of + Helen. Every young man was a probable suitor, and he had quite decided + that Farquharson of Blair was the proper husband for her. Crawford and + Blair had stood shoulder to shoulder in every national quarrel, and a + marriage would put the two estates almost in a ring fence. + </p> + <p> + But he went the next day to meet the young men. He had not seen his son + for three years, and the lad was an object very near and dear to his + heart. He loved him tenderly as his son, he respected him highly as the + future heir of Crawford and Traquare. The Crawfords were a very handsome + race; he was anxious that this, their thirteenth representative, should be + worthy, even physically, of his ancestors. He drew a long sigh of + gratification as young Colin, with open hands, came up to him. The future + laird was a noble-looking fellow, a dark, swarthy Highlandman, with + glowing eyes, and a frame which promised in a few years to fill up + splendidly. + </p> + <p> + His companion was singularly unlike him. Old Crawford had judged rightly. + He was a pure Saxon, and showed it in his clear, fresh complexion, pale + brown hair, and clear, wide-open blue eyes. But there was something about + this young man which struck a deeper and wider sympathy than race—he + had a heart beating for all humanity. Crawford looked at him physically + only, and he decided at once, "There is no fear of Helen." He told himself + that young Farquharson was six inches taller and every way a far "prettier + man." Helen was not of this opinion. No hero is so fascinating to a woman + as the man mentally and spiritually above her, and whom she must love from + a distance; and if Crawford could have known how dangerous were those + walks over the springy heather and through the still pine woods, Mr. + Selwyn would have taken them far more frequently alone than he did. + </p> + <p> + But Crawford had other things to employ his attention at that time, and + indeed the young English clergyman was far beyond his mental and spiritual + horizon; he could not judge him fairly. So these young people walked and + rode and sailed together, and Selwyn talked like an apostle of the wrongs + that were to be righted and the poor perishing souls that were to be + redeemed. The spiritual warfare in which he was enlisted had taken + possession of him, and he spoke with the martial enthusiasm of a young + soldier buckling on his armor. + </p> + <p> + Helen and Colin listened in glowing silence, Helen showing her sympathy by + her flushing cheeks and wet eyes, and Colin by the impatient way in which + he struck down with his stick the thistles by the path side, as if they + were the demons of sin and ignorance and dirt Selwyn was warring against. + But after three weeks of this intercourse Crawford became sensible of some + change in the atmosphere of his home. When Selwyn first arrived, and + Crawford learned that he was a clergyman in orders, he had, out of respect + to the office, delegated to him the conduct of family worship. Gradually + Selwyn had begun to illustrate the gospel text with short, earnest + remarks, which were a revelation of Bible truth to the thoughtful men and + women who heard them. + </p> + <p> + The laird's "exercises" had often been slipped away from, excuses had been + frequent, absentees usual; but they came to listen to Selwyn with an + eagerness which irritated him. In our day, the gospel of Christ has + brought forth its last beautiful blossom—the gospel of humanity. + Free schools, free Bibles, Tract and City Missions, Hospitals and Clothing + Societies, loving helps of all kinds are a part of every church + organization. But in the time of which I am writing they were unknown in + country parishes, they struggled even in great cities for a feeble life. + </p> + <p> + The laird and his servants heard some startling truths, and the laird + began to rebel against them. A religion of intellectual faith, and which + had certain well-recognized claims on his pocket, he was willing to + support, and to defend, if need were; but he considered one which made him + on every hand his brother's keeper a dangerously democratic theology. + </p> + <p> + "I'll hae no socialism in my religion, any more than I'll hae it in my + politics, Colin," he said angrily. "And if yon Mr. Selwyn belongs to what + they call the Church o' England, I'm mair set up than ever wi' the Kirk o' + Scotland! God bless her!" + </p> + <p> + They were sitting in the room sacred to business and to the memory of the + late Laird Archibald. Colin was accustomed to receive his father's + opinions in silence, and he made no answer to this remark. This time, + however, the laird was not satisfied with the presumed assent of silence; + he asked sharply, "What say ye to that, son Colin?" + </p> + <p> + "I say God bless the Kirk of Scotland, father, and I say it the more + heartily because I would like to have a place among those who serve her." + </p> + <p> + "What are ye saying now?" + </p> + <p> + "That I should like to be a minister. I suppose you have no objections." + </p> + <p> + "I hae vera great objections. I'll no hear tell o' such a thing. Ministers + canna mak money, and they canna save it. If you should mak it, that would + be an offence to your congregation; if ye should save it, they would say + ye ought to hae gien it to the poor. There will be nae Dominie Crawford o' + my kin, Colin. Will naething but looking down on the warld from a pulpit + sarve you?" + </p> + <p> + "I like art, father. I can paint a little, and I love music." + </p> + <p> + "Art! Painting! Music! Is the lad gane daft? God has gien to some men + wisdom and understanding, to ithers the art o' playing on the fiddle and + painting pictures. There shall be no painting, fiddling Crawford among my + kin, Colin." + </p> + <p> + The young fellow bit his lip, and his eyes flashed dangerously beneath + their dropped lids. But he said calmly enough, + </p> + <p> + "What is your own idea, father? I am twenty-two, I ought to be doing a + man's work of some kind." + </p> + <p> + "Just sae. That is warld-like talk. Now I'll speak wi' you anent a grand + plan I hae had for a long time." With these words he rose, and took from + his secretary a piece of parchment containing the plan of the estate. "Sit + down, son Colin, and I'll show you your inheritance." Then he went + carefully over every acre of moor and wood, of moss and water, growing + enthusiastic as he pointed out how many sheep could be grazed on the + hills, what shooting and fishing privileges were worth, etc. "And the best + is to come, my lad. There is coal on the estate, and I am going to open it + up, for I hae the ready siller to do it." + </p> + <p> + Colin sat silent; his cold, dissenting air irritated the excited laird + very much. + </p> + <p> + "What hae ye got to say to a' this, Colin?" he asked proudly, "for you'll + hae the management o' everything with me. Why, my dear son, if a' goes + weel—and it's sure to—we'll be rich enough in a few years to + put in our claim for the old Earldom o' Crawford, and you may tak your + seat in the House o' Peers yet. The old chevalier promised us a Dukedom," + he said sadly, "but I'm feared that will be aboon our thumb—" + </p> + <p> + "Father, what are you going to do with the clansmen? Do you think + Highlandmen who have lived on the mountains are going to dig coal? Do you + imagine that these men, who, until a generation or two ago, never handled + anything but a claymore, and who even now scorn to do aught but stalk deer + or spear salmon, will take a shovel and a pickaxe and labor as + coal-miners? There is not a Crawford among them who would do it. I would + despise him if he did." + </p> + <p> + "There is a glimmer o' good sense in what you say, Colin. I dinna intend + any Crawford to work in my coal mine. Little use they would be there. I'll + send to Glasgow for some Irish bodies." + </p> + <p> + "And then you will have more fighting than working on the place; and + you'll have to build a Roman-catholic chapel, and have a Roman priest in + Crawford, and you ken whether the Crawfords will thole <i>that</i> or + not." + </p> + <p> + "As to the fighting, I'll gie them no chance. I'm going to send the + Crawfords to Canada. I hae thought it all out. The sheilings will do for + the others; the land I want for sheep grazing. They are doing naething for + themsel's, and they are just a burden to me. It will be better for them to + gang to Canada. I'll pay their passage, and I'll gie them a few pounds + each to start them. You must stand by me in this matter, for they'll hae + to go sooner or later." + </p> + <p> + "That is a thing I cannot do, father. There is not a Laird of Crawford + that was not nursed on some clanswoman's breast. We are all kin. Do you + think I would like to see Rory and Jean Crawford packed off to Canada? And + there is young Hector, my foster-brother! And old Ailsa, your own + foster-sister! Every Crawford has a right to a bite and a sup from the + Crawford land." + </p> + <p> + "That is a' bygane nonsense. Your great-grandfather, if he wanted cattle + or meal, could just take the clan and go and harry some Southern body out + o' them. That is beyond our power, and it's an unca charge to hae every + Crawford looking to you when hunting and fishing fails. They'll do fine in + Canada. There is grand hunting, and if they want fighting, doubtless there + will be Indians. They will hae to go, and you will hae to stand by me in + this matter." + </p> + <p> + "It is against my conscience, sir. I had also plans about these poor, + half-civilized, loving kinsmen of ours. You should hear Selwyn talk of + what we might do with them. There is land enough to give all who want it a + few acres, and the rest could be set up with boats and nets as fishers. + They would like that." + </p> + <p> + "Nae doubt. But I don't like it, and I wont hae it. Mr. Selwyn may hae a + big parish in London, but the Crawfords arena in his congregation. I am + king and bishop within my ain estate, Colin." Then he rose in a decided + passion and locked up again the precious parchment, and Colin understood + that, for the present, the subject was dismissed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + At the very time this conversation was in progress, one strangely + dissimilar was being carried on between George Selwyn and Helen Crawford. + They were sitting in the sweet, old-fashioned garden and Selwyn had been + talking of the work so dear to his heart, but a silence had fallen between + them. Then softly and almost hesitatingly Helen said "Mr. Selwyn, I cannot + help in this grand evangel, except with money and prayers. May I offer you + #300? It is entirely my own, and it lies useless in my desk. Will you take + it?" + </p> + <p> + "I have no power to refuse it. 'You give it to God, durst I say no?' But + as I do not return at once, you had better send it in a check to our + treasurer." Then he gave her the necessary business directions, and was + writing the address of the treasurer when the laird stopped in front of + them. + </p> + <p> + "Helen, you are needed in the house," he said abruptly; and then turning + to Selwyn, he asked him to take a walk up the hill. The young man + complied. He was quite unconscious of the anger in the tone of the + request. For a few yards neither spoke; then the laird, with an irritable + glance at his placid companion, said, "Mr. Selwyn, fore-speaking saves + after-speaking. Helen Crawford is bespoke for young Farquharson of Blair, + and if you have any hopes o' wiving in my house—" + </p> + <p> + "Crawford, thank you for your warning, but I have no thoughts of marrying + any one. Helen Crawford is a pearl among women; but even if I wanted a + wife, she is unfit for my helpmate. When I took my curacy in the East End + of London I counted the cost. Not for the fairest of the daughters of men + would I desert my first love—the Christ-work to which I have + solemnly dedicated my life." + </p> + <p> + His voice fell almost to a whisper, but the outward, upward glance of the + inspired eyes completely disconcerted the aggressive old chieftain. His + supposed enemy, in some intangible way, had escaped him, and he felt + keenly his own mistake. He was glad to see Colin coming; it gave him an + opportunity of escaping honorably from a conversation which had been very + humiliating to him. He had a habit when annoyed of seeking the sea-beach. + The chafing, complaining waves suited his fretful mood, and leaving the + young men, he turned to the sea, taking the hillside with such mighty + strides that Selwyn watched him with admiration and astonishment. + </p> + <p> + "Four miles of that walking will bring him home in the most amiable of + moods," said Colin. And perhaps it would, if he had been left to the sole + companionship of nature. But when he was half way home he met Dominie + Tallisker, a man of as lofty a spirit as any Crawford who ever lived. The + two men were close friends, though they seldom met without disagreeing on + some point. + </p> + <p> + "Weel met, dominie! Are you going to the Keep?" + </p> + <p> + "Just so, I am for an hour's talk wi' that fine young English clergyman + you hae staying wi' you." + </p> + <p> + "Tallisker, let me tell you, man, you hae been seen o'er much wi' him + lately. Why, dominie! he is an Episcopal, and an Arminian o' the vera + warst kind." + </p> + <p> + "Hout, laird! Arminianism isna a contagious disease. I'll no mair tak + Arminianism from the Rev. George Selwyn than I'll tak Toryism fra Laird + Alexander Crawford. My theology and my politics are far beyond + inoculation. Let me tell you that, laird." + </p> + <p> + "Hae ye gotten an argument up wi' him, Tallisker? I would like weel to + hear ye twa at it." + </p> + <p> + "Na, na; he isna one o' them that argues. He maks downright assertions; + every one o' them hits a body's conscience like a sledge-hammer. He said + that to me as we walked the moor last night that didna let me sleep a + wink." + </p> + <p> + "He is a vera disagreeable young man. What could he say to you? You have + aye done your duty." + </p> + <p> + "I thought sae once, Crawford. I taught the bairns their catechism; I + looked weel to the spiritual life o' young and old; I had aye a word in + season for all. But maybe this I ought to hae done, and not left the other + undone." + </p> + <p> + "You are talking foolishness, Tallisker, and that's a thing no usual wi' + you." + </p> + <p> + "No oftener wi' me nor other folk. But, laird, I feel there must be a + change. I hae gotten my orders, and I am going to obey them. You may be + certain o' that." + </p> + <p> + "I didna think I would ever see Dominie Tallisker taking orders from a + disciple o' Arminius—and an Englishman forbye!" + </p> + <p> + "I'll tak my orders, Crawford, from any messenger the Lord chooses to send + them by. And I'll do this messenger justice; he laid down no law to me, he + only spak o' the duty laid on his own conscience; but my conscience said + 'Amen' to his—that's about it. There has been a breath o' the Holy + Ghost through the Church o' England lately, and the dry bones o' its + ceremonials are being clothed upon wi' a new and wonderfu' life." + </p> + <p> + "Humff!" said the laird with a scornful laugh as he kicked a pebble out of + his way. + </p> + <p> + "There is a great outpouring at Oxford among the young men, and though I + dinna agree wi' them in a' things, I can see that they hae gotten a + revelation." + </p> + <p> + "Ou, ay, the young ken a' things. It is aye young men that are for turning + the warld upside down. Naething is good enough for them." + </p> + <p> + The dominie took no notice of the petulant interruption. "Laird," he said + excitedly, "it is like a fresh Epiphany, what this young Mr. Selwyn says—the + hungry are fed, the naked clothed, the prisoners comforted, the puir wee, + ragged, ignorant bairns gathered into homes and schools, and it is the + gospel wi' bread and meat and shelter and schooling in its hand. That was + Christ's ain way, you'll admit that. And while he was talking, my heart + burned, and I bethought me of a night-school for the little herd laddies + and lasses. They could study their lessons on the hillside all day, and + I'll gather them for an hour at night, and gie them a basin o' porridge + and milk after their lessons. And we ought not to send the orphan weans o' + the kirk to the warkhouse; we ought to hae a hame for them, and our sick + ought to be better looked to. There is many another good thing to do, but + we'll begin wi' these, and the rest will follow." + </p> + <p> + The laird had listened thus far in speechless indignation. He now stood + still, and said, + </p> + <p> + "I'll hae you to understand, Dominie Tallisker, that I am laird o' + Crawford and Traquare, and I'll hae nae such pliskies played in either o' + my clachans." + </p> + <p> + "If you are laird, I am dominie. You ken me weel enough to be sure if this + thing is a matter o' conscience to me, neither king nor kaiser can stop + me. I'd snap my fingers in King George's face if he bid me 'stay,' when my + conscience said 'go,'" and the dominie accompanied the threat with that + sharp, resonant fillip of the fingers that is a Scotchman's natural + expression of intense excitement of any kind. + </p> + <p> + "King George!" cried the laird, in an ungovernable temper, "there is the + whole trouble. If we had only a Charles Stuart on the throne there would + be nane o' this Whiggery." + </p> + <p> + "There would be in its place masses, and popish priests, and a few private + torture-chambers, and whiles a Presbyterian heretic or twa burned at the + Grass-market. Whiggery is a grand thing when it keeps the Scarlet Woman on + her ain seven hills. Scotland's hills and braes can do weel, weel without + her." + </p> + <p> + This speech gave the laird time to think. It would never do to quarrel + with Tallisker. If he should set himself positively against his scheme of + sending his clan to Canada it would be almost a hopeless one; and then he + loved and respected his friend. His tall, powerful frame and his dark, + handsome face, all aglow with a passionate conviction of right, and an + invincible determination to do it, commanded his thorough admiration. He + clasped his hands behind his back and said calmly, + </p> + <p> + "Tallisker, you'll be sorry enough for your temper erelong. You hae gien + way mair than I did. Ye ken how you feel about it." + </p> + <p> + "I feel ashamed o' mysel', laird. You'll no lay the blame o' it to my + office, but to Dugald Tallisker his ain sel'. There's a deal o' Dugald + Tallisker in me yet, laird; and whiles he is o'er much for Dominie + Tallisker." + </p> + <p> + They were at the gate by this time, and Crawford held out his hand and + said, + </p> + <p> + "Come in, dominie." + </p> + <p> + "No; I'll go hame, laird, and gie mysel' a talking to. Tell Mr. Selwyn I + want to see him." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + Alas, how often do Christ's words, "I come not to bring peace, but a + sword," prove true. George Selwyn went away, but the seed he had dropped + in this far-off corner of Scotland did not bring forth altogether the + peaceable fruits of righteousness. In fact, as we have seen, it had + scarcely begun to germinate before the laird and the dominie felt it to be + a root of bitterness between them. For if Crawford knew anything he knew + that Tallisker would never relinquish his new work, and perhaps if he + yielded to any reasonable object Tallisker would stand by him in his + project. + </p> + <p> + He did not force the emigration plan upon his notice. The summer was far + advanced; it would be unjustifiable to send the clan to Canada at the + beginning of winter. And, as it happened, the subject was opened with the + dominie in a very favorable manner. They were returning from the moors one + day and met a party of six men. They were evidently greatly depressed, but + they lifted their bonnets readily to the chief. There was a hopeless, + unhappy look about them that was very painful. + </p> + <p> + "You have been unsuccessful on the hills, Archie, I fear." + </p> + <p> + "There's few red deer left," said the man gloomily. "It used to be deer + and men; it is sheep and dogs now." + </p> + <p> + After a painful silence the dominie said, + </p> + <p> + "Something ought to be done for those braw fellows. They canna ditch and + delve like an Irish peasant. It would be like harnessing stags in a + plough." + </p> + <p> + Then Crawford spoke cautiously of his intention, and to his delight the + dominie approved it. + </p> + <p> + "I'll send them out in Read & Murray's best ships. I'll gie each head + o' a family what you think right, Tallisker, and I'll put #100 in your + hands for special cases o' help. And you will speak to the men and their + wives for me, for it is a thing I canna bear to do." + </p> + <p> + But the men too listened eagerly to the proposition. They trusted the + dominie, and they were weary of picking up a precarious living in hunting + and fishing, and relying on the chief in emergencies. Their old feudal + love and reverence still remained in a large measure, but they were quite + sensible that everything had changed in their little world, and that they + were out of tune with it. Some few of their number had made their way to + India or Canada, and there was a vague dissatisfaction which only required + a prospect of change to develop. As time went on, and the laird's plan for + opening the coal beds on his estate got known, the men became impatient to + be gone. + </p> + <p> + In the early part of March two large ships lay off the coast waiting for + them, and they went in a body to Crawford Keep to bid the chief + "farewell." It was a hard hour, after all, to Crawford. The great purpose + that he had kept before his eyes for years was not at that moment + sufficient. He had dressed himself in his full chieftain's suit to meet + them. The eagle's feather in his Glengary gave to his great stature the + last grace. The tartan and philibeg, the garters at his knee, the silver + buckles at his shoulder, belt, and shoon, the jewelled mull and dirk, had + all to these poor fellows in this last hour a proud and sad significance. + As he stood on the steps to welcome them, the wind colored his handsome + face and blew out the long black hair which fell curling on his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Whatever they intended to say to him, when they thus saw him with young + Colin by his side they were unable to say. They could only lift their + bonnets in silence. The instincts and traditions of a thousand years were + over them; he was at this moment the father and the chief of their deepest + affection. One by one they advanced to him. He pressed the hands of all. + Some of the older men—companions of his youth in play and sport—he + kissed with a solemn tenderness. They went away silently as they came, but + every heart was full and every eye was dim. There was a great feast for + them in the clachan that night, but it was a sombre meeting, and the + dominie's cheerful words of advice and comfort formed its gayest feature. + </p> + <p> + The next day was calm and clear. The women and children were safely on + board soon after noon, and about four o'clock the long boats left the + shore full of men. Tallisker was in the front one. As they pulled away he + pointed silently to a steep crag on the shingly beach. The chief stood + upon it. He waved his bonnet, and then the long-pent feelings of the clan + found vent in one long, pitiful Gallic lament, <i>O hon a rie! O hon a + rie!</i> For a few moments the boats lay at rest, no man was able to lift + an oar. Suddenly Tallisker's clear, powerful voice touched the right + chord. To the grand, plaintive melody of St. Mary's he began the 125th + Psalm, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "They in the Lord that firmly trust + shall be like Sion hill, + Which at no time can be removed, + but standeth ever still. + + As round about Jerusalem + the mountains stand alway; + The Lord his folk doth compass so + from henceforth and for aye." +</pre> + <p> + And thus singing together they passed from their old life into a new one. + </p> + <p> + Colin had been indignant and sorrowful over the whole affair. He and Helen + were still young enough to regret the breaking of a tie which bound them + to a life whose romance cast something like a glamour over the prosaic one + of more modern times. Both would, in the unreasonableness of youthful + sympathy, have willingly shared land and gold with their poor kinsmen; but + in this respect Tallisker was with the laird. + </p> + <p> + "It was better," he said, "that the old feudal tie should be severed even + by a thousand leagues of ocean. They were men and not bairns, and they + could feel their ain feet;" and then he smiled as he remembered how + naturally they had taken to self-dependence. For one night, in a + conversation with the oldest men, he said, "Crawfords, ye'll hae to + consider, as soon as you are gathered together in your new hame, the + matter o' a dominie. Your little flock in the wilderness will need a + shepherd, and the proper authorities maun be notified." + </p> + <p> + Then an old gray-headed man had answered firmly, "Dominie, we will elect + our ain minister. We hae been heart and soul, every man o' us, with the + Relief Kirk; but it is ill living in Rome and striving wi' the pope, and + sae for the chief's sake and your sake we hae withheld our testimony. But + we ken weel that even in Scotland the Kirk willna hirple along much + farther wi' the State on her back, and in the wilderness, please God, + we'll plant only a Free Kirk." + </p> + <p> + The dominie heard the resolve in silence, but to himself he said softly, "<i>They'll + do! They'll do!</i> They'll be a bit upsetting at first, maybe, but they + are queer folk that have nae failings." + </p> + <p> + A long parting is a great strain; it was a great relief when the ships had + sailed quite out of sight. The laird with a light heart now turned to his + new plans. No reproachful eyes and unhappy faces were there to damp his + ardor. Everything promised well. The coal seam proved to be far richer + than had been anticipated, and those expert in such matters said there + were undoubted indications of the near presence of iron ore. Great + furnaces began to loom up in Crawford's mental vision, and to cast + splendid lustres across his future fortunes. + </p> + <p> + In a month after the departure of the clan, the little clachan of Traquare + had greatly changed. Long rows of brick cottages, ugly and monotonous + beyond description, had taken the place of the more picturesque sheilings. + Men who seemed to measure everything in life with a two-foot rule were + making roads and building jetties for coal-smacks to lie at. There was + constant influx of strange men and women—men of stunted growth and + white faces, and who had an insolent, swaggering air, intolerably vulgar + when contrasted with the Doric simplicity and quiet gigantic manhood of + the mountain shepherds. + </p> + <p> + The new workers were, however, mainly Lowland Scotchmen from the mining + districts of Ayrshire. The dominie had set himself positively against the + introduction of a popish element and an alien people; and in this position + he had been warmly upheld by Farquharson and the neighboring proprietors. + As it was, there was an antagonism likely to give him full employment. The + Gael of the mountains regarded these Lowland "working bodies" with + something of that disdain which a rich and cultivated man feels for kin, + not only poor, but of contemptible nature and associations. The Gael was + poor truly, but he held himself as of gentle birth. He had lived by his + sword, or by the care of cattle, hunting, and fishing. Spades, hammers, + and looms belonged to people of another kind. + </p> + <p> + Besides this great social gulf, there were political and religious ones + still wider. That these differences were traditional, rather than real, + made no distinction. Man have always fought as passionately for an idea as + for a fact. But Dominie Tallisker was a man made for great requirements + and great trusts. He took in the position with the eye of a general. He + watched the two classes passing down the same streets as far apart as if + separated by a continent, and he said, with a very positive look on his + face, "These men are brethren and they ought to dwell in unity; and, God + helping Dugald Tallisker, they will do it, yes, indeed, they will." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + In a year after the departure of the clan, the clachans of Crawford and + Traquare had lost almost all traces of their old pastoral character. The + coal pit had been opened, and great iron furnaces built almost at its + mouth. Things had gone well with Crawford; the seam had proved to be + unusually rich; and, though the iron had been found, not on his land, but + on the extreme edge of Blair, he was quite satisfied. Farquharson had + struck hands with him over it, and the Blair iron ore went to the Crawford + furnaces to be smelted into pig iron. + </p> + <p> + Crawford had grown younger in the ardent life he had been leading. No one + would have taken him to be fifty-five years old. He hardly thought of the + past; he only told himself that he had never been as strong and + clear-headed and full of endurance, and that it was probable he had yet + nearly half a century before him. What could he not accomplish in that + time? + </p> + <p> + But in every earthly success there is a Mordecai sitting in its gate, and + Colin was the uncomfortable feature in the laird's splendid hopes. He had + lounged heartlessly to and from the works; the steady, mechanical routine + of the new life oppressed him, and he had a thorough dislike for the new + order of men with whom he had to come in contact. The young Crawfords had + followed him about the hills with an almost canine affection and + admiration. To them he was always "the young laird." These sturdy Ayrshire + and Galloway men had an old covenanting rebelliousness about them. They + disputed even with Dominie Tallisker on church government; they sang + Robert Burns' most democratic songs in Crawford's very presence. + </p> + <p> + Then Colin contrasted them physically with the great fellows he had been + accustomed to see striding over the hills, and he despised the forms + stunted by working in low seams and unhealthy vapors and the faces white + for lack of sunshine and grimy with the all-pervading coal dust. The + giants who toiled in leather masks and leather suits before the furnaces + suited his taste better. When he watched them moving about amid the din + and flames and white-hot metal, he thought of Vulcan and Mount Ftna, and + thus threw over them the enchantments of the old Roman age. But in their + real life the men disappointed him. They were vulgar and quarrelsome; the + poorest Highland gillie had a vein of poetry in his nature, but these + iron-workers were painfully matter of fact; they could not even understand + a courtesy unless it took the shape of a glass of whiskey. + </p> + <p> + It was evident to the laird that the new life was very distasteful to his + heir; it was evident to the dominie that it was developing the worst sides + of Colin's character. Something of this he pointed out to Helen one + morning. Helen and he had lately become great friends, indeed, they were + co-workers together in all the new labors which the dominie's conscience + had set him. The laird had been too busy and anxious about other matters + to interfere as yet with this alliance, but he promised himself he would + do so very soon. Helen Crawford was not going to nurse sick babies and sew + for all the old women in the clachan much longer. And the night-school! + This was particularly offensive to him. Some of the new men had gone + there, and Crawford was sure he was in some way defrauded by it. He + thought it impossible to work in the day and study an hour at night. In + some way he suffered by it. + </p> + <p> + "If they werna in the schoolroom they would be in the Change House," + Tallisker had argued. + </p> + <p> + But the laird thought in his heart that the whiskey would be more to his + advantage than the books. Yet he did not like to say so; there was + something in the dominie's face which restrained him. He had opened the + subject in that blustering way which always hides the white feather + somewhere beneath it, and Tallisker had answered with a solemn severity, + </p> + <p> + "Crawford, it seems to be your wark to mak money; it is mine to save + souls. Our roads are sae far apart we arena likely to run against each + other, if we dinna try to." + </p> + <p> + "But I don't like the way you are doing your wark; that is all, dominie." + </p> + <p> + "Mammon never did like God's ways. There is a vera old disagreement + between them. A man has a right to consider his ain welfare, Crawford, but + it shouldna be mair than the twa tables o' the law to him." + </p> + <p> + Now Tallisker was one of those ministers who bear their great commission + in their faces. There was something almost imperial about the man when he + took his stand by the humblest altar of his duty. Crawford had intended at + this very time to speak positively on the subject of his own workers to + Tallisker. But when he looked at the dark face, set and solemn and full of + an irresistible authority, he was compelled to keep silence. A dim fear + that Tallisker would say something to him which would make him + uncomfortable crept into his heart. It was better that both the dominie + and conscience should be quiet at present. + </p> + <p> + Still he could not refrain from saying, + </p> + <p> + "You hae set yoursel' a task you'll ne'er win over, dominie. You could as + easy mak Ben-Cruchan cross the valley and sit down by Ben-Appin as mak + Gael and Lowlander call each other brothers." + </p> + <p> + "We are told, Crawford, that mountains may be moved by faith; why not, + then, by love? I am a servant o' God. I dinna think it any presumption to + expect impossibilities." + </p> + <p> + Still it must be acknowledged that Tallisker looked on the situation as a + difficult one. The new workers to a man disapproved of the Established + Church of Scotland. Perhaps of all classes of laborers Scotch colliers are + the most theoretically democratic and the most practically indifferent in + matters of religion. Every one of them had relief and secession arguments + ready for use, and they used them chiefly as an excuse for not attending + Tallisker's ministry. When conscience is used as an excuse, or as a weapon + for wounding, it is amazing how tender it becomes. It pleased these + Lowland workers to assert a religious freedom beyond that of the dominie + and the shepherd Gael around them. And if men wish to quarrel, and can + give their quarrel a religious basis, they secure a tolerance and a + respect which their own characters would not give them. Tallisker might + pooh-pooh sectional or political differences, but he was himself far too + scrupulous to regard with indifference the smallest theological + hesitation. + </p> + <p> + One day as he was walking up the clachan pondering these things, he + noticed before him a Highland shepherd driving a flock to the hills. There + was a party of colliers sitting around the Change House; they were the + night-gang, and having had their sleep and their breakfast, were now + smoking and drinking away the few hours left of their rest. Anything + offering the chance of amusement was acceptable, and Jim Armstrong, a + saucy, bullying fellow from the Lonsdale mines, who had great confidence + in his Cumberland wrestling tricks, thought he saw in the placid + indifference of the shepherd a good opportunity for bravado. + </p> + <p> + "Sawnie, ye needna pass the Change House because we are here. We'll no + hurt you, man." + </p> + <p> + The shepherd was as one who heard not. + </p> + <p> + Then followed an epithet that no Highlander can hear unmoved, and the man + paused and put his hand under his plaid. Tallisker saw the movement and + quickened his steps. The word was repeated, with the scornful laugh of the + group to enforce it. The shepherd called his dog— + </p> + <p> + "Keeper, you tak the sheep to the Cruchan corrie, and dinna let are o' + them stray." + </p> + <p> + The dumb creature looked in his face assentingly, and with a sharp bark + took the flock charge. Then the shepherd walked up to the group, and Jim + Armstrong rose to meet him. + </p> + <p> + "Nae dirks," said an old man quietly; "tak your hands like men." + </p> + <p> + Before the speech was over they were clinched in a grasp which meant + gigantic strength on one side, and a good deal of practical bruising + science on the other. But before there was an opportunity of testing the + quality of either the dominie was between the men. He threw them apart + like children, and held each of them at arm's length, almost as a father + might separate two fighting schoolboys. The group watching could not + refrain a shout of enthusiasm, and old Tony Musgrave jumped to his feet + and threw his pipe and his cap in the air. + </p> + <p> + "Dugald," said the dominie to the shepherd, "go your ways to your sheep. + I'll hae nae fighting in my parish. + </p> + <p> + "Jim Armstrong, you thrawart bully you, dinna think you are the only man + that kens Cumberland cantrips. I could fling you mysel' before you could + tell your own name;" and as if to prove his words, he raised an immense + stone, that few men could have lifted, and with apparent ease flung it + over his right shoulder. A shout of astonishment greeted the exploit, and + Tony Musgrave—whose keen, satirical ill-will had hitherto been + Tallisker's greatest annoyance—came frankly forward and said, + "Dominie, you are a guid fellow! Will you tak some beer wi' me?" + </p> + <p> + Tallisker did not hesitate a moment. + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, Tony. If it be a drink o' good-will, I'll tak it gladly." + </p> + <p> + But he was not inclined to prolong the scene; the interference had been + forced upon him. It had been the only way to stop a quarrel which there + would have been no healing if blood had once been shed. Yet he was keenly + alive to the dignity of his office, and resumed it in the next moment. + Indeed, the drinking of the glass of good-will together was rather a + ceremonial than a convivial affair. Perhaps that also was the best. The + men were silent and respectful, and for the first time lifted their caps + with a hearty courtesy to Tallisker when he left them. + </p> + <p> + "Weel! Wonders never cease!" said Jim Armstrong scornfully. "To see Tony + Musgrave hobnobbing wi' a black-coat! The deil must 'a' had a spasm o' + laughing." + </p> + <p> + "Let the deil laugh," said Tony, with a snap of his grimy fingers. Then, + after a moment's pause, he added, "Lads, I heard this morning that the + dominie's wheat was spoiling, because he couldna get help to cut it. I + laughed when I heard it; I didna ken the man then. I'm going to-morrow to + cut the dominie's wheat; which o' you will go wi' me?" + </p> + <p> + "I!" and "I!" and "I!" was the hearty response; and so next day Traquare + saw a strange sight—a dozen colliers in a field of wheat, making a + real holiday of cutting the grain and binding the sheaves, so that before + the next Sabbath it had all been brought safely home. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + But during these very days, when the dominie and his parishioners were + drawing a step closer to each other, the laird and his son were drifting + farther apart. Crawford felt keenly that Colin took no interest in the + great enterprises which filled his own life. The fact was, Colin inherited + his mother's, and not his father's temperament. The late Lady Crawford had + been the daughter of a Zetland Udaller, a pure Scandinavian, a descendant + of the old Vikings, and she inherited from them a poetic imagination and a + nature dreamy and inert, though capable of rousing itself into fits of + courage that could dare the impossible. Colin would have led a forlorn + hope or stormed a battery; but the bare ugliness and monotony of his life + at the works fretted and worried him. + </p> + <p> + Tallisker had repeatedly urged a year's foreign travel. But the laird had + been much averse to the plan. France, in his opinion, was a hotbed of + infidelity; Italy, of popery; Germany, of socialistic and revolutionary + doctrines. There was safety only in Scotland. Pondering these things, he + resolved that marriage was the proper means to "settle" the lad. So he + entered into communication with an old friend respecting his daughter and + his daughter's portion; and one night he laid the result before Colin. + </p> + <p> + Colin was indignant. He wanted to marry no woman, and least of all women, + Isabel McLeod. + </p> + <p> + "She'll hae #50,000!" said the laird sententiously. + </p> + <p> + "I would not sell myself for #50,000." + </p> + <p> + "You'd be a vera dear bargain at half the price to any woman, Colin. And + you never saw Isabel. She was here when you were in Glasgow. She has the + bonniest black e'en in Scotland, and hair like a raven's wing." + </p> + <p> + "When I marry, sir, I shall marry a woman like my mother: a woman with + eyes as blue as heaven, and a face like a rose. I'll go, as you did, to + Shetland for her." + </p> + <p> + "There isna a house there fit for you to take a wife from, Colin, save and + except the Earl's ain; and his daughter, the Lady Selina, is near thirty + years old." + </p> + <p> + "There are my second cousins, Helga and Saxa Vedder." + </p> + <p> + Then the laird was sure in his own heart that Tallisker's advice was best. + France and Italy were less to be feared than pretty, portionless cousins. + Colin had better travel a year, and he proposed it. It hurt him to see how + eagerly his heir accepted the offer. However, if the thing was to be done, + it was best done quickly. Letters of credit suitable to the young laird's + fortune were prepared, and in less than a month he was ready to begin his + travels. It had been agreed that he should remain away one year, and if it + seemed desirable, that his stay might even be lengthened to two. But no + one dreamed that advantage would be taken of this permission. + </p> + <p> + "He'll be hamesick ere a twelvemonth, laird," said the dominie; and the + laird answered fretfully, "A twelvemonth is a big slice o' life to fling + awa in far countries." + </p> + <p> + The night before Colin left he was walking with his sister on the moor. A + sublime tranquillity was in the still September air. The evening crimson + hung over the hills like a royal mantle. The old church stood framed in + the deepest blue. At that distance the long waves broke without a sound, + and the few sails on the horizon looked like white flowers at sea. + </p> + <p> + "How beautiful is this mansion of our father!" said Helen softly. "One + blushes to be caught worrying in it, and yet, Colin, I fear to have you go + away." + </p> + <p> + "Why, my dear?" + </p> + <p> + "I have a presentiment that we shall meet no more in this life. Nay, do + not smile; this strange intelligence of sorrow, this sudden trembling in a + soul at rest, is not all a delusion. We shall part to-morrow, Colin. Oh, + darling brother, where shall we meet again?" + </p> + <p> + He looked into the fair, tender face and the eager, questioning eyes, and + found himself unable to reply. + </p> + <p> + "Remember, Colin! I give you a rendezvous in heaven." + </p> + <p> + He clasped her hand tightly, and they walked on in a silence that Colin + remembered often afterwards. Sometimes, in dreams, to the very end of his + life, he took again with Helen that last evening walk, and his soul leaned + and hearkened after hers. "I give you a rendezvous in heaven!" + </p> + <p> + In the morning they had a few more words alone. She was standing looking + out thoughtfully into the garden. "Are you going to London?" she asked + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "You will call on Mr. Selwyn?" + </p> + <p> + "I think so." + </p> + <p> + "Tell him we remember him—and try to follow, though afar off, the + example he sets us." + </p> + <p> + "Well, you know, Helen, I may not see him. We never were chums. I have + often wondered why I asked him here. It was all done in a moment. I had + thought of asking Walter Napier, and then I asked Selwyn. I have often + thought it would have pleased me better if I had invited Walter." + </p> + <p> + "Sometimes it is permitted to us to do things for the pleasure of others, + rather than our own. I have often thought that God—who foresaw the + changes to take place here—sent Mr. Selwyn with a message to Dominie + Tallisker. The dominie thinks so too. Then how glad you ought to be that + you asked him. He came to prepare for those poor people who as yet were + scattered over Ayrshire and Cumberland. And this thought comforts me for + you, Colin. God knows just where you are going, dear, and the people you + are going to meet, and all the events that will happen to you." + </p> + <p> + The events and situations of life resemble ocean waves—every one is + alike and yet every one is different. It was just so at Crawford Keep + after Colin left it. The usual duties of the day were almost as regular as + the clock, but little things varied them. There were letters or no letters + from Colin; there were little events at the works or in the village; the + dominie called or he did not call. Occasionally there were visitors + connected with the mines or furnaces, and sometimes there were social + evening gatherings of the neighboring young people, or formal state + dinners for the magistrates and proprietors who were on terms of intimacy + with the laird. + </p> + <p> + For the first year of Colin's absence, if his letters were not quite + satisfactory, they were condoned. It did not please his father that Colin + seemed to have settled himself so completely in Rome, among "artists and + that kind o' folk," and he was still more angry when Colin declared his + intention of staying away another year. Poor father! How he had toiled and + planned to aggrandize this only son, who seemed far more delighted with an + old coin or an old picture than with the great works which bore his name. + In all manner of ways he had made it clear to his family that in the + dreamy, sensuous atmosphere of Italian life he remembered the gray + earnestness of Scottish life with a kind of terror. + </p> + <p> + Tallisker said, "Give him his way a little longer, laird. To bring him + hame now is no use. People canna thole blue skies for ever; he'll be + wanting the moors and the misty corries and the gray clouds erelong." So + Colin had another year granted him, and his father added thousand to + thousand, and said to his heart wearily many and many a time, "It is all + vexation of spirit." + </p> + <p> + At the end of the second year Crawford wrote a most important letter to + his son. There was an opening for the family that might never come again. + All arrangements had been made for Colin to enter the coming contest for a + seat in Parliament. The Marquis of B—— had been spoken to, and + Crawford and he had come to an understanding Crawford did not give the + particulars of the "understanding," but he told Colin that his "political + career was assured." He himself would take care of the works. Political + life was open to his son, and if money and influence could put him in the + House of Peers, money should not be spared. + </p> + <p> + The offer was so stupendous, the future it looked forward to so great, + Crawford never doubted Colin's proud, acquiescence. That much he owed to a + long line of glorious ancestors; it was one of the obligations of noble + birth; he would not dare to, neglect it. + </p> + <p> + Impatiently he waited Colin's answer. Indeed, he felt sure Colin would + answer such a call in person. He was disappointed when a letter came; he + had not known, till then, how sure he had felt of seeing his son. And the + letter was a simple blow to him. Very respectfully, but very firmly, the + proposition was declined. Colin said he knew little of parties and cabals, + and was certain, at least, that nothing could induce him to serve under + the Marquis of B——. He could not see his obligations to the + dead Crawfords as his father did. He considered his life his own. It had + come to him with certain tastes, which he meant to improve and gratify, + for only in that way was life of any value to him. + </p> + <p> + The laird laid the letter in Tallisker's hands without a word. He was + almost broken-hearted. He had not yet got to that point where money-making + for money's sake was enough. Family aggrandizement and political ambition + are not the loftiest motives of a man's life, but still they lift + money-making a little above the dirty drudgery of mere accumulation. + Hitherto Crawford had worked for an object, and the object, at least in + his own eyes, had dignified the labor. + </p> + <p> + In his secret heart he was angry at Colin's calm respectability. A + spendthrift prodigal, wasting his substance in riotous living, would have + been easier to manage than this young man of fsthetic tastes, whose + greatest extravagance was a statuette or a picture. Tallisker, too, was + more uneasy than he would confess. He had hoped that Colin would answer + his father's summons, because he believed now that the life he was leading + was unmanning him. The poetical element in his character was usurping an + undue mastery. He wrote to Colin very sternly, and told him plainly that a + poetic pantheism was not a whit less sinful than the most vulgar + infidelity. + </p> + <p> + Still he advised the laird to be patient, and by no means to answer + Colin's letter in a hurry. But only fixed more firmly the angry father's + determination. Colin must come home and fulfil his wish, or he must time + remain away until he returned as master. As his son, he would know him no + more; as the heir of Crawford, he would receive at intervals such + information as pertained to that position. For the old man was just in his + anger; it never seemed possible to him to deprive Colin of the right of + his heritage. To be the 13th Laird of Crawford was Colin's birthright; he + fully recognized his title to the honor, and, as the future head of the + house, rendered him a definite respect. + </p> + <p> + Of course a letter written in such a spirit did no good whatever. Nothing + after it could have induced Colin to come home. He wrote and declined to + receive even the allowance due to him as heir of Crawford. The letter was + perfectly respectful, but cruelly cold and polite, and every word cut the + old man like a sword. + </p> + <p> + For some weeks he really seemed to lose all interest in life. Then the + result Tallisker feared was arrived at. He let ambition go, and settled + down to the simple toil of accumulation. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + But Crawford had not a miser's nature. His house, his name, his children + were dearer, after all, to him than gold. Hope springs eternal in the + breast; in a little while he had provided himself with a new motive: he + would marry Helen to young Farquharson, and endow her so royally that + Farquharson would gladly take her name. There should be another house of + Crawford of which Helen should be the root. + </p> + <p> + Helen had been long accustomed to consider Hugh Farquharson as her future + husband. The young people, if not very eager lovers, were at least very + warm and loyal friends. They had been in no hurry to finish the + arrangement. Farquharson was in the Scot's Greys; it was understood that + at his marriage he should resign his commission, so, though he greatly + admired Helen, he was in no hurry to leave the delights of metropolitan + and military life. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly Crawford became urgent for the fulfilment of the contract, + and Helen, seeing how anxious he was, and knowing how sorely Colin had + disappointed him, could no longer plead for a delay. And yet a strange + sadness fell over her; some inexplicable symptoms as to her health led her + to fear she would never be Farquharson's wife; the gay wedding attire that + came from Edinburgh filled her with a still sorrow; she could not + appropriate any part of it as her own. + </p> + <p> + One day when the preparations were nearly finished, Tallisker came up to + the Keep. Helen saw at once that he was moved by some intense feeling, and + there was a red spot on his cheeks which she had been accustomed to + associate with the dominie's anger. The laird was sitting placidly + smoking, and drinking toddy. He had been telling Helen of the grand house + he was going to build on the new estate he had just bought; and he was now + calmly considering how to carry out his plans on the most magnificent + scale, for he had firmly determined there should be neither Keep nor + Castle in the North Country as splendid as the new Crawfords' Home. + </p> + <p> + He greeted Tallisker with a peculiar kindness, and held his hand almost + lovingly. His friendship for the dominie—if he had known it—was + a grain of salt in his fast deteriorating life. He did not notice the + dominie's stern preoccupation, he was so full of his own new plans. He + began at once to lay them before his old friend; he had that very day got + the estimates from the Edinburgh architect. + </p> + <p> + Tallisker looked at them a moment with a gathering anger. Then he pushed + them passionately away, saying in a voice that was almost a sob, "I darena + look at them, laird; I darena look at them! Do you ken that there are + fourteen cases o' typhus in them colliers' cottages you built? Do you + remember what Mr. Selwyn said about the right o' laborers to pure air and + pure water? I knew he was right then, and yet, God forgive me! I let you + tak your ain way. Six little bits o' bairns, twa women, and six o' your + pit men! You must awa to Athol instanter for doctors and medicines and + brandy and such things as are needfu'. There isna a minute to lose, + laird." + </p> + <p> + Helen had risen while he was speaking with a calm determination that + frightened her father. He did not answer Tallisker, he spoke to her: + "Where are you going, Helen?" + </p> + <p> + "Down to the village; I can do something till better help is got." + </p> + <p> + "Helen Crawford, you'll bide where you are! Sit still, and I'll do + whatever Tallisker bids me." + </p> + <p> + Then he turned angrily to the dominie. + </p> + <p> + "You are aye bringing me ill tidings. Am I to blame if death comes?" + </p> + <p> + "Am I my brother's keeper? It's an auld question, laird. The first + murderer of a' asked it. I'm bound to say you are to blame. When you gie + fever an invite to your cotters' homes, you darena lay the blame on the + Almighty. You should hae built as Mr. Selwyn advised." + </p> + <p> + "Dominie, be quiet. I'm no a bairn, to be hectored o'er in this way. Say + what I must do and I'll do it—anything in reason—only Helen. + I'll no hae her leave the Keep; that's as sure as deathe. Sit down, Helen. + Send a' the wine and dainties you like to, but don't you stir a foot o'er + the threshold." + </p> + <p> + His anger was, in its way, as authoritative as the dominie's. Helen did as + she was bid, more especially as Tallisker in this seconded the laird. + </p> + <p> + "There is naething she could do in the village that some old crone could + not do better." + </p> + <p> + It was a bitterly annoying interruption to Crawford's pleasant dreams and + plans. He got up and went over to the works. He found things very bad + there. Three more of the men had left sick, and there was an unusual + depression in the village. The next day the tidings were worse. He foresaw + that he would have to work the men half time, and there had never been so + many large and peremptory orders on hand. It was all very unfortunate to + him. + </p> + <p> + Tallisker's self-reproaches were his own; he resented them, even while he + acknowledged their truth. He wished he had built as Selwyn advised; he + wished Tallisker had urged him more. It was not likely he would have + listened to any urging, but it soothed him to think he would. And he + greatly aggravated the dominie's trouble by saying, + </p> + <p> + "Why did ye na mak me do right, Tallisker? You should hae been mair + determined wi' me, dominie." + </p> + <p> + During the next six weeks the dominie's efforts were almost superhuman. He + saw every cottage whitewashed; he was nurse and doctor and cook. The laird + saw him carrying wailing babies and holding raving men in his strong arms. + He watched over the sick till the last ray of hope fled; he buried them + tenderly when all was over. The splendor of the man's humanity had never + shown itself until it stood erect and feared not, while the pestilence + that walked in darkness and the destruction that wasted at noon-day dogged + his every step. + </p> + <p> + The laird, too, tried to do his duty. Plenty of people are willing to play + the Samaritan without the oil and the twopence, but that was not + Crawford's way. Tallisker's outspoken blame had really made him tremble at + his new responsibilities; he had put his hand liberally in his pocket to + aid the sufferers. Perhaps at the foundation of all lay one haunting + thought—Helen! If he did what he could for others, Helen would + safer. He never audibly admitted that Helen was in any danger, but—but—if + there should be danger, he was, he hoped, paying a ransom for her safety. + </p> + <p> + In six weeks the epidemic appeared to have spent itself. There was a talk + of resuming full hours at the works. Twenty new hands had been sent for to + fill vacant places. Still there was a shadow on the dominie's face, and he + knew himself there was a shadow on his heart. Was it the still solemnity + of death in which he had lately lived so much? Or was it the shadow of a + coming instead of a departing sorrow? + </p> + <p> + One afternoon he thought he would go and sit with Helen a little while. + During his close intimacy with the colliers he had learned many things + which would change his methods of working for their welfare; and of these + changes he wished to speak with Helen. She was just going for a walk on + the moor, and he went with her. It was on such a September evening she had + walked last with Colin. As they sauntered slowly, almost solemnly home, + she remembered it. Some impulse far beyond her control or understanding + urged her to say, "Dominie, when I am gone I leave Colin to you." + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with a sudden enlightenment. Her face had for a moment a + far-away death-like predestination over it. His heart sank like lead as he + looked at her. + </p> + <p> + "Are you ill, Helen?" + </p> + <p> + "I have not been well for two weeks." + </p> + <p> + He felt her hands; they were burning with fever. + </p> + <p> + "Let us go home," she said, and then she turned and gave one long, + mournful look at the mountains and the sea and the great stretch of + moorland. Tallisker knew in his heart she was bidding farewell to them. He + had no word to say. There are moods of the soul beyond all human + intermeddling. + </p> + <p> + The silence was broken by Helen. She pointed to the mountains. "How + steadfast they are, how familiar with forgotten years! How small we are + beside them!" + </p> + <p> + "I don't think so," said Tallisker stoutly. "Mountains are naething to + men. How small is Sinai when the man Moses stands upon it!" + </p> + <p> + Then they were at the Keep garden. Helen pulled a handful of white and + golden asters, and the laird, who had seen them coming, opened the door + wide to welcome them. Alas! Alas! Though he saw it not, death entered with + them. At midnight there was the old, old cry of despair and anguish, the + hurrying for help, where no help was of avail, the desolation of a terror + creeping hour by hour closer to the hearthstone. + </p> + <p> + The laird was stricken with a stony grief which was deaf to all + consolation. He wandered up and down wringing his hands, and crying out at + intervals like a man in mortal agony. Helen lay in a stupor while the + fever burned her young life away. She muttered constantly the word + "Colin;" and Tallisker, though he had no hope that Colin would ever reach + his sister, wrote for the young laird. + </p> + <p> + Just before the last she became clearly, almost radiantly conscious. She + would be alone with her father, and the old man, struggling bravely with + his grief, knelt down beside her. She whispered to him that there was a + paper in the jewel-box on her table. He went and got it. It was a tiny + scrap folded crosswise. "Read it, father, when I am beyond all pain and + grief. I shall trust you, dear." He could only bow his head upon her hands + and weep. + </p> + <p> + "Tallisker!" she whispered, and he rose softly and called him. The two men + stood together by her side. + </p> + <p> + "Is it well, my daughter?" said the dominie, with a tone of tender triumph + in his voice. "You fear not, Helen, the bonds of death?" + </p> + <p> + "I trust in those pierced hands which have broken the bonds of death. Oh! + the unspeakable riches!" + </p> + <p> + These were her last words. Tallisker prayed softly as the mystical gray + shadow stole over the fair, tranquil face. It was soon all over. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "She had outsoared the shadow of our night, + And that unrest which men misname delight." +</pre> + <p> + The bridal robes were folded away, the bridegroom went back to his + regiment, the heartsore father tried to take up his life again. But it + seemed to him to have been broken in two by the blow; and besides this, + there was a little strip of paper which lay like a load upon his heart. It + was the paper he had taken from Helen's dying fingers, and it contained + her last request: + </p> + <p> + "Father, dear, dear father, whatever you intended to give me—I pray + you—give it to God's poor. + </p> + <p> + "HELEN." <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <p> + The dominie had felt certain that Colin would answer his letter in person, + but after a long silence he received it back again. Colin had left Rome, + and left no trace behind him. The laird knew that Tallisker had written, + and he too had been hoping and expecting. But he received the news of his + son's disappearance without remark. Life for some time was a dreary weight + to him, he scarce felt as if he could lift it again. Hope after hope had + failed him. He had longed so to be a rich man, had God in his anger + granted him his wish? And was no other thing to prosper with him? All the + same he clung to his gold with a deeper affection. When all other vices + are old avarice is still young. As ambition and other motives died out, + avarice usurped their places, and Tallisker saw with a feeling half angry, + and half pitiful, the laird's life dwindling down to this most + contemptible of all aims. He kept his duty as proprietor constantly before + the laird, but he no longer seemed to care that people should say, + "Crawford's men have the best laborers' cottages in Scotland." + </p> + <p> + "I hae made up my mind, Tallisker," said fretfully, "the warld thinks more + o' the who mak money than o' those who gie it awa." Certainly this change + was not a sudden one; for two years after Helen's death it was coming + slowly forward, yet there were often times when Tallisker hoped that it + was but a temptation, and would be finally conquered. Men do not lose the + noble savor of humanity in a moment. Even on the downward road good angels + wait anxiously, and whisper in every better moment to the lapsing soul, + "Return!" + </p> + <p> + But there was a seed of bitterness in Crawford's heart, that was poisoning + the man's spiritual life—a little bit of paper, yet it lay like a + great stone over his noblest feelings, and sealed them up as in a + sepulchre. Oh, if some angel would come and roll it away! He had never + told the dominie of Helen's bequest. He did not dare to destroy the slip + of paper, but he hid it in the most secret drawer of his secretary. He + told himself that it was only a dying sentiment in Helen to wish it, and + that it would be a foolish superstition in him to regard it. Perhaps in + those last moments she had not understood what she was asking. + </p> + <p> + For a little while he found relief in this suggestion; then he remembered + that the request must have been dictated before the fever had conquered + her strength or judgment. The words were clearly written in Helen's neat, + precise manner; there was not a hesitating line in the whole. She had + evidently written it with care and consideration. No one could tell how + that slip of paper haunted him. Even in the darkness of its secret + hiding-place his spiritual eyes saw it clearly day and night. + </p> + <p> + To give to the poor all he had intended to give to Helen! He could not! He + could not! He could not do it! Helen could not have known what she was + asking. He had meant, in one way or another, to give her, as the founder + of the new line of Crawfords, at least one hundred thousand pounds. Was it + reasonable to scatter hither and yon such a large sum, earned, as he told + himself pitifully, "by his ain wisdom and enterprise!" + </p> + <p> + The dominie knew nothing of this terrible struggle going on ever in the + man's soul who sat by his side. He saw that Crawford was irritable and + moody, but he laid the blame of it on Colin. Oh, if the lad would only + write, he would go himself and bring him back to his father, though he + should have to seek him at the ends of the earth. But four years passed + away, and the prodigal sent no backward, homeward sign. Every night, then, + the laird looked a moment into the dominie's face, and always the dominie + shook his head. Ah, life has silences that are far more pathetic than + death's. + </p> + <p> + One night Crawford said, almost in a whisper, + </p> + <p> + "He'll be dead, Tallisker." + </p> + <p> + And Tallisker answered promptly, + </p> + <p> + "He'll come hame, laird." + </p> + <p> + No other words about Colin passed between the two men in four years. But + destiny loves surprises. One night Tallisker laid a letter on the table. + </p> + <p> + "It is for you, laird; read it." + </p> + <p> + It was a singular letter to come after so long a silence, and the laird's + anger was almost excusable. + </p> + <p> + "Listen, Tallisker; did e'er you hear the like? + </p> + <p> + "'DEAR FATHER: I want, for a very laudable purpose, #4,000. It is not for + myself in any way. If you will let me have it, I will trouble you with the + proper explanations. If not, they will not be necessary. I have heard that + you are well. I pray God to continue his mercy to you. + </p> + <p> + "'Your dutiful son, + </p> + <p> + "'COLIN CRAWFORD.' + </p> + <p> + "'Laudable purpose!'" cried the unhappy father, in a passion. "The lad is + altogether too laudable. The letter is an insult, Tallisker. I'll ne'er + forgive him for it. Oh, what a miserable father I am!" + </p> + <p> + And the dominie was moved to tears at the sight of his old friend's bitter + anguish. + </p> + <p> + Still he asserted that Colin had meant it to be a kind letter. + </p> + <p> + "Dinna tak want o' sense for want o' affection laird. The lad is a + conceited prig. He's set up wi' himsel' about something he is going to do. + Let him hae the money. I would show him you can gie as grandly as he can + ask loftily." + </p> + <p> + And, somehow, the idea pleased the laird. It was something that Colin had + been obliged to ask him for money at all. He sat down and wrote out a + check for the amount. Then he enclosed it with these words: + </p> + <p> + "SON COLIN CRAWFORD: I send you what you desire. I am glad your prospects + are sae laudable; maybe it may enter your heart, some day, to consider it + laudable to keep the Fifth Command. Your sister is dead. Life is lonely, + but I thole it. I want nae explanations. + </p> + <p> + "Your father, + </p> + <p> + "ALEX. CRAWFORD." + </p> + <p> + "What's the address, Tallisker?" + </p> + <p> + "Regent's Place, London." + </p> + <p> + The answer arrived in due time. It was as proper as a letter could be. + Colin said he was just leaving for America, but did not expect to be more + than six months there. But he never said a word about coming to Crawford. + Tallisker was downright angry at the young man. It was true his father had + told him he did not wish to see him again, but that had been said under a + keen sense of family wrong and of bitter disappointment. Colin ought to + have taken his father's ready response to his request as an overture of + reconciliation. For a moment he was provoked with both of them. + </p> + <p> + "You are a dour lot, you Crawfords; ane o' you is prouder than the ither." + </p> + <p> + "The Crawfords are as God made them, dominie." + </p> + <p> + "And some o' them a little warse." + </p> + <p> + Yet, after all, it was Colin Tallisker was really angry at. For the + present he had to let his anger lie by. Colin had gone, and given him no + address in America. + </p> + <p> + "He is feared I will be telling him his duty, and when he comes back that + is what I shall do, if I go to London to mak him hear me." + </p> + <p> + For a moment the laird looked hopefully into the dominie's face, but the + hope was yet so far off he could not grasp it. Yet, in a dim, + unacknowledged way it influenced him. He returned to his money-making with + renewed vigor. It was evident he had let the hope of Colin's return steal + into his heart. And the giving of that #4,000 Tallisker considered almost + a sign of grace. It had not been given from any particularly noble motive; + but any motive, not sinful, roused in opposition to simple avarice, was a + gain. He was quite determined now to find Colin as soon as he returned + from America. + </p> + <p> + In rather less than six months there were a few lines from Colin, saying + that the money sent had been applied to the proper purpose, and had nobly + fulfilled it. The laird had said he wanted no explanations, and Colin gave + him none. + </p> + <p> + Tallisker read the letter with a half smile. + </p> + <p> + "He is just the maist contrary, conceited young man I e'er heard tell o'. + Laird, as he wont come to us, I am going to him." + </p> + <p> + The laird said nothing. Any grief is better than a grief not sure. It + would be a relief to know all, even if that "all" were painful. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <p> + Tallisker was a man as quick in action as in resolve; the next night he + left for London, it was no light journey in those days for a man of his + years, and who had never in all his life been farther away from Perthshire + than Edinburgh. But he feared nothing. He was going into the wilderness + after his own stray sheep, and he had a conviction that any path of duty + is a safe path. He said little to any one. The people looked strangely on + him. He almost fancied himself to be Christian going through Vanity Fair. + </p> + <p> + He went first to Colin's old address in Regent's Place. He did not expect + to find him there, but it might lead him to the right place. Number 34 + Regent's Place proved to be a very grand house. As he went up to the door, + an open carriage, containing a lady and a child, left it. A man dressed in + the Crawford tartan opened the door. + </p> + <p> + "Crawford?" inquired Tallisker, "is he at home?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, he is at home;" and the servant ushered him into, a carefully-shaded + room, where marble statues gleamed in dusk corners and great flowering + plants made the air fresh and cool. It as the first time Tallisker had + ever seen a calla lily and he looked with wonder and delight at the + gleaming flowers. And somehow he thought of Helen. Colin sat in a great + leathern chair reading. He did not lift his head until the door closed and + he was sensible the servant had left some one behind. Then for a moment he + could hardly realize who it was; but when he did, he came forward with a + glad cry. + </p> + <p> + "Dominie! O Tallisker!" + </p> + <p> + "Just so, Colin, my dear lad. O Colin, you are the warst man I ever + kenned. You had a good share o' original sin to start wi', but what wi' + pride and self-will and ill-will, the old trouble is sairly increased." + </p> + <p> + Colin smiled gravely. "I think you misjudge me, dominie." Then + refreshments were sent for, and the two men sat down for a long mutual + confidence. + </p> + <p> + Colin's life had not been uneventful. He told it frankly, without reserve + and without pride. When he quarrelled with his father about entering + Parliament, he left Rome at once, and went to Canada. He had some idea of + joining his lot with his own people there. But he found them in a state of + suffering destitution. They had been unfortunate in their choice of + location, and were enduring an existence barer than the one they had left, + without any of its redeeming features. Colin gave them all he had, and + left them with promises of future aid. + </p> + <p> + Then he went to New York. When he arrived, there was an intense excitement + over the struggle then going on in the little republic of Texas. He found + out something about the country; as for the struggle, it was the old + struggle of freedom against papal and priestly dominion. That was a + quarrel for which Scotchmen have always been ready to draw the sword. It + was Scotland's old quarrel in the New World, and Colin went into it heart + and soul. His reward had been an immense tract of the noble rolling + Colorado prairie. Then he determined to bring the Crawfords down, and + plant them in this garden of the Lord. It was for this end he had written + to his father for #4,000. This sum had sufficed to transplant them to + their new home, and give them a start. He had left them happy and + contented, and felt now that in this matter he had absolved his conscience + of all wrong. + </p> + <p> + "But you ought to hae told the laird. It was vera ill-considered. It was + his affair more than yours. I like the thing you did, Colin, but I hate + the way you did it. One shouldna be selfish even in a good wark." + </p> + <p> + "It was the laird's own fault; he would not let me explain." + </p> + <p> + "Colin, are you married?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes. I married a Boston lady. I have a son three years old. My wife was + in Texas with me. She had a large fortune of her own." + </p> + <p> + "You are a maist respectable man, Colin, but I dinna like it at all. What + are you doing wi' your time? This grand house costs something." + </p> + <p> + "I am an artist—a successful one, if that is not also against me." + </p> + <p> + "Your father would think sae. Oh, my dear lad, you hae gane far astray + from the old Crawford ways." + </p> + <p> + "I cannot help that, dominie. I must live according to my light. I am + sorry about father." + </p> + <p> + Then the dominie in the most forcible manner painted the old laird's hopes + and cruel disappointments. There were tears in Colin's eyes as he reasoned + with him. And at this point his own son came into the room. Perhaps for + the first time Colin looked at the lad as the future heir of Crawford. A + strange thrill of family and national pride stirred his heart. He threw + the little fellow shoulder high, and in that moment regretted that he had + flung away the child's chance of being Earl of Crawford. He understood + then something of the anger and suffering his father had endured, and he + put the boy down very solemnly. For if Colin was anything, he was just; if + his father had been his bitterest enemy, he would, at this moment, have + acknowledged his own aggravation. + </p> + <p> + Then Mrs. Crawford came in. She had heard all about the dominie, and she + met him like a daughter. Colin had kept his word. This fair, sunny-haired, + blue-eyed woman was the wife he had dreamed about; and Tallisker told him + he had at any rate done right in that matter. "The bonnie little + Republican," as he called her, queened it over the dominie from the first + hour of their acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + He stayed a week in London, and during it visited Colin's studio. He went + there at Colin's urgent request, but with evident reluctance. A studio to + the simple dominie had almost the same worldly flavor as a theatre. He had + many misgivings as they went down Pall Mall, but he was soon reassured. + There was a singular air of repose and quiet in the large, cool room. And + the first picture he cast his eyes upon reconciled him to Colin's most + un-Crawford-like taste. + </p> + <p> + It was "The Farewell of the Emigrant Clan." The dominie's knees shook, and + he turned pale with emotion. How had Colin reproduced that scene, and not + only reproduced but idealized it! There were the gray sea and the gray + sky, and the gray granite boulder rocks on which the chief stood, the + waiting ships, and the loaded boats, and he himself in the prow of the + foremost one. He almost felt the dear old hymn thrilling through the still + room. In some way, too, Colin had grasped the grandest points of his + father's character. In this picture the man's splendid physical beauty + seemed in some mysterious way to give assurance of an equally splendid + spiritual nature. + </p> + <p> + "If this is making pictures, Colin, I'll no say but what you could paint a + sermon, my dear lad. I hae ne'er seen a picture before." Then he turned to + another, and his swarthy face glowed with an intense emotion. There was a + sudden sense of tightening in his throat, and he put his hand up and + slowly raised his hat. It was Prince Charlie entering Edinburgh. The + handsome, unfortunate youth rode bareheaded amid the Gordons and the + Murrays and a hundred Highland noblemen. The women had their children + shoulder high to see him, the citizens, bonnets up, were pressing up to + his bridle-rein. It stirred Tallisker like a peal of trumpets. With the + tears streaming down his glowing face, he cried out, + </p> + <p> + "How daur ye, sir! You are just the warst rebel between the seas! King + George ought to hang you up at Carlisle-gate. And this is painting! This + is artist's wark! And you choose your subjects wisely, Colin: it is a gift + the angels might be proud o'." He lingered long in the room, and when he + left it, "Prince Charlie" and the "Clan's Farewell" were his own. They + were to go back with him to the manse at Crawford. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <p> + It was, upon the whole, a wonderful week to Tallisker; he returned home + with the determination that the laird must recall his banished. He had + tried to induce Colin to condone all past grievances, but Colin had, + perhaps wisely, said that he could not go back upon a momentary impulse. + The laird must know all, and accept him just as he was. He had once been + requested not to come home unless he came prepared to enter into political + life. He had refused the alternative then, and he should refuse it again. + The laird must understand these things, or the quarrel would probably be + renewed, perhaps aggravated. + </p> + <p> + And Tallisker thought that, in this respect, Colin was right. He would at + any rate hide nothing from the laird, he should know all; and really he + thought he ought to be very grateful that the "all" was so much better + than might have been. + </p> + <p> + The laird was not glad. A son brought down to eat the husk of evil ways, + poor, sick, suppliant, would have found a far readier welcome. He would + gladly have gone to meet Colin, even while he was yet a great way off, + only he wanted Colin to be weary and footsore and utterly dependent on his + love. He heard with a grim silence Tallisker's description of the house in + Regent's Place, with its flowers and books, its statues, pictures, and + conservatory. When Tallisker told him of the condition of the Crawfords in + Canada, he was greatly moved. He was interested and pleased with the Texan + struggle. He knew nothing of Texas, had never heard of the country, but + Mexicans, Spaniards, and the Inquisition were one in his mind. + </p> + <p> + "That at least was Crawford-like," he said warmly, when told of Colin's + part in the struggle. + </p> + <p> + But the subsequent settlement of the clan there hurt him terribly. "He + should hae told me. He shouldna hae minded what I said in such a case. I + had a right to know. Colin has used me vera hardly about this. Has he not, + Tallisker?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, laird, Colin was vera wrong there. He knows it now." + </p> + <p> + "What is he doing in such a grand house? How does he live?" + </p> + <p> + "He is an artist—a vera great one, I should say." + </p> + <p> + "He paints pictures for a living! He! A Crawford o' Traquare! I'll no + believe it, Tallisker." + </p> + <p> + "There's naught to fret about, laird. You'll ken that some day. Then his + wife had money." + </p> + <p> + "His wife! Sae he is married. That is o' a piece wi' the rest. Wha is + she?" + </p> + <p> + "He married an American—a Boston lady." + </p> + <p> + Then the laird's passion was no longer controllable, and he said some + things the dominie was very angry at. + </p> + <p> + "Laird," he answered, "Mrs. Colin Crawford is my friend. You'll no daur to + speak any way but respectful o' her in my presence. She is as good as any + Crawford that ever trod the heather. She came o' the English Hampdens. + Whar will ye get better blood than that?" + </p> + <p> + "No Hampdens that ever lived—" + </p> + <p> + "Whist! Whist, laird! The Crawfords are like a' ither folk; they have twa + legs and twa hands." + </p> + <p> + "He should hae married a Scots lass, though she had carried a + milking-pail." + </p> + <p> + "Laird, let me tell you there will be nae special heaven for the Gael. + They that want to go to heaven by themsel's arena likely to win there at + a'. You may as well learn to live with ither folk here; you'll hae to do + it to a' eternity." + </p> + <p> + "If I get to heaven, Dominie Tallisker, I'll hae special graces for the + place. I'm no going to put mysel' in a blazing passion for you to-night. + Yon London woman has bewitched you. She's wanting to come to the Keep, + I'll warrant." + </p> + <p> + "If ye saw the hame she has you wouldna warrant your ain word a minute + longer, laird. And I'm sure I dinna see what she would want to hae twa + Crawfords to guide for. One is mair than enough whiles. It's a wonder to + me how good women put up wi' us at all!" + </p> + <p> + "<i>Humff!</i>" said the laird scornfully. "Too many words on a spoiled + subject." + </p> + <p> + "I must say one mair, though. There is a little lad, a bonnie, brave, bit + fellow, your ain grandson, Crawford." + </p> + <p> + "An American Crawford!" And the laird laughed bitterly. "A foreigner! an + alien! a Crawford born in England! Guid-night, Tallisker! We'll drop the + subject, an it please you." + </p> + <p> + Tallisker let it drop. He had never expected the laird to give in at the + first cry of "Surrender." But he reflected that the winter was coming, and + that its long nights would give plenty of time for thought and plenty of + opportunities for further advocacy. He wrote constantly to Colin and his + wife, perhaps oftener to Mrs. Crawford than to the young laird, for she + was a woman of great tact and many resources, and Tallisker believed in + her. + </p> + <p> + Crawford had said a bitter word about her coming to the Keep, and + Tallisker could not help thinking what a blessing she would be there; for + one of Crawford's great troubles now was the wretchedness of his household + arrangements. The dainty cleanliness and order which had ruled it during + Helen's life were quite departed. The garden was neglected, and all was + disorder and discomfort. Now it is really wonderful how much of the solid + comfort of life depends upon a well-arranged home, and the home must + depend upon some woman. Men may mar the happiness of a household, but they + cannot make it. Women are the happiness makers. The laird never thought of + it in this light, but he did know that he was very uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + "I canna even get my porridge made right," he said fretfully to the + dominie. + </p> + <p> + "You should hae a proper person o'er them ne'er-do-weel servants o' yours, + laird. I ken one that will do you." + </p> + <p> + "Wha is she?" + </p> + <p> + "A Mrs. Hope." + </p> + <p> + "A widow?" + </p> + <p> + "No, not a widow, but she is not living with her husband." + </p> + <p> + "Then she'll ne'er win into my house, dominie." + </p> + <p> + "She has good and sufficient reasons. I uphold her. Do you think I would + sanction aught wrong, laird?" + </p> + <p> + No more was said at that time, but a month afterwards Mrs. Hope had walked + into the Keep and taken everything in her clever little hands. Drunken, + thieving, idle servants had been replaced by men and women thoroughly + capable and efficient. The laird's tastes were studied, his wants + anticipated, his home became bright, restful, and quiet. The woman was + young and wonderfully pretty, and Crawford soon began to watch her with a + genuine interest. + </p> + <p> + "She'll be ane o' the Hopes o' Beaton," he thought; "she is vera like + them." + </p> + <p> + At any rate he improved under her sway, for being thoroughly comfortable + himself, he was inclined to have consideration for others. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon, as he came from the works, it began to snow. He turned + aside to the manse to borrow a plaid of Tallisker. He very seldom went to + the manse, but in the keen, driving snow the cheerful fire gleaming + through the window looked very inviting. He thought he would go in and + take a cup of tea with Tallisker. + </p> + <p> + "Come awa in, laird," cried old Janet, "come awa in. You are a sight good + for sair e'en. The dominie will be back anon, and I'll gie ye a drap o' + hot tay till he comes." + </p> + <p> + So the laird went in, and the first thing he saw was Colin's picture of + "The Clan's Farewell." It moved him to his very heart. He divined at once + whose work it was, and he felt that it was wonderful. It must be + acknowledged, too, that he was greatly pleased with Colin's conception of + himself. + </p> + <p> + "I'm no a bad-looking Crawford," he thought complacently; "the lad has had + a vera clear notion o' what he was doing." + </p> + <p> + Personal flattery is very subtle and agreeable. Colin rose in his father's + opinion that hour. + </p> + <p> + Then he turned to Prince Charlie. How strange is that vein of romantic + loyalty marbling the granite of Scotch character! The common-place man of + coal and iron became in the presence of his ideal prince a feudal + chieftain again. His heart swelled to that pictured face as the great sea + swells to the bending moon. He understood in that moment how his fathers + felt it easy to pin on the white cockade and give up everything for an + impossible loyalty. + </p> + <p> + The dominie found him in this mood. He turned back to every-day life with + a sigh. + </p> + <p> + "Weel, dominie, you are a man o' taste. When did you begin buying + pictures?" + </p> + <p> + "I hae no money for pictures, laird. The artist gave me them." + </p> + <p> + "You mean Colin Crawford gave you them." + </p> + <p> + "That is what I mean." + </p> + <p> + "Weel, I'm free to say Colin kens how to choose grand subjects. I didna + think there was so much in a picture. I wouldna dare to keep that poor + dear prince in my house. I shouldna be worth a bawbee at the works. It was + a wonderfu' wise step, that forbidding o' pictures in the kirks. I can + vera weel see how they would lead to a sinfu' idolatry." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, John Knox kent well the temper o' the metal he had to work. There's + nae greater hero-worshippers than Scots folk. They are aye making idols + for themsel's. Whiles it's Wallace, then it's Bruce or Prince Charlie; + nay, there are decent, pious folk that gie Knox himsel' a honoring he + wouldna thank them for. But, laird, there is a mair degraded idolatry + still—that o' gold. We are just as ready as ever the Jews were to + fall down before a calf, an' it only be a golden one." + </p> + <p> + "Let that subject alane, dominie. It will tak a jury o' rich men to judge + rich men. A poor man isna competent. The rich hae straits the poor canna + fathom." + </p> + <p> + And then he saw in light as clear as crystal a slip of paper hid away in a + secret drawer. + </p> + <p> + Just at this moment a little lad bairn entered the room; a child with + bright, daring eyes, and a comically haughty, confident manner. He + attracted Crawford's attention at once. + </p> + <p> + "What's your name, my wee man?" + </p> + <p> + "Alexander is my name." + </p> + <p> + "That is my name." + </p> + <p> + "It is not," he answered positively; "don't say that any more." + </p> + <p> + "Will you hae a sixpence?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I will. Money is good. It buys sweeties." + </p> + <p> + "Whose boy is that, dominie?" + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Hope's. I thought he would annoy you. He is a great pleasure to me." + </p> + <p> + "Let him come up to the Keep whiles. I'll no mind him." + </p> + <p> + When he rose to go he stood a moment before each picture, and then + suddenly asked, + </p> + <p> + "Whar is young Crawford?" + </p> + <p> + "In Rome." + </p> + <p> + "A nice place for him to be! He'd be in Babylon, doubtless, if it was on + the face o' the earth." + </p> + <p> + When he went home he shut himself in his room and almost stealthily took + out that slip of paper. It had begun to look yellow and faded, and + Crawford had a strange fancy that it had a sad, pitiful appearance. He + held it in his hand a few moments and then put it back again. It would be + the new year soon, and he would decide then. He had made similar promises + often; they always gave him temporary comfort. + </p> + <p> + Then gradually another element of pleasure crept into his life—Mrs. + Hope's child. The boy amused him; he never resented his pretty, + authoritative ways; a queer kind of companionship sprang up between them. + It was one of perfect equality every way; an old man easily becomes a + little child. And those who only knew Crawford among coals and pig iron + would have been amazed to see him keeping up a mock dispute with this + baby. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <p> + One day, getting towards the end of December, the laird awoke in a + singular mood. He had no mind to go to the works, and the weather promised + to give him a good excuse. Over the dreary hills there was a mournful + floating veil of mist. Clouds were flying rapidly in great masses, and + showers streaming through the air in disordered ranks, driven furiously + before a mad wind—a wind that before noon shook the doors and + windows, and drove the bravest birds into hiding. + </p> + <p> + The laird wandered restlessly up and down. + </p> + <p> + "There is the dominie," cried Mrs. Hope, about one o'clock. "What brings + him here through such a storm?" + </p> + <p> + Crawford walked to the door to meet him. He came striding over the soaking + moor with his plaid folded tightly around him and his head bent before the + blast. He was greatly excited. + </p> + <p> + "Crawford, come wi' me. The Athol passenger packet is driving before this + wind, and there is a fishing smack in her wake." + </p> + <p> + "Gie us some brandy wi' us, Mrs. Hope, and you'll hae fires and blankets + and a' things needfu' in case O' accident, ma'am." He was putting on his + bonnet and plaid as he spoke, and in five minutes the men were hastening + to the seaside. + </p> + <p> + It was a deadly coast to be on in a storm with a gale blowing to land. A + long reef of sharp rocks lay all along it, and now the line of foaming + breakers was to any ship a terrible omen of death and destruction. The + packet was almost helpless, and the laird and Tallisker found a crowd of + men waiting the catastrophe that was every moment imminent. + </p> + <p> + "She ought to hae gien hersel' plenty o' sea room," said the laird. He was + half angry to see all the interest centred on the packet. The little + fishing cobble was making, in his opinion, a far more sensible struggle + for existence. She was managing her small resources with desperate skill. + </p> + <p> + "Tallisker," said the laird, "you stay here with these men. Rory and I are + going half a mile up the coast. If the cobble drives on shore, the current + will take a boat as light as she is over the Bogie Rock and into the surf + yonder. There are doubtless three or four honest men in her, quite as weel + worth the saving as those stranger merchant bodies that will be in the + packet." + </p> + <p> + So Crawford and Rory hastened to the point they had decided on, and just + as they reached it the boat became unmanageable. The wind took her in its + teeth, shook her a moment or two like a thing of straw and rags, and then + flung her, keel upwards, on the Bogie Rock. Two of the men were evidently + good swimmers; the others were a boy and an old man. Crawford plunged + boldly in after the latter. The waves buffeted him, and flung him down, + and lifted him up, but he was a fine surf swimmer, and he knew every rock + on that dangerous coast. After a hard struggle, all were brought safe to + land. + </p> + <p> + Then they walked back to where the packet had been last seen. She had gone + to pieces. A few men waited on the beach, picking up the dead, and such + boxes and packages as were dashed on shore. Only three of all on board had + been rescued, and they had been taken to the Keep for succor and rest. + </p> + <p> + The laird hastened home. He had not felt as young for many years. The + struggle, though one of life and death, had not wearied him like a day's + toil at the works, for it had been a struggle to which the soul had girded + itself gladly, and helped and borne with it the mortal body. He came in + all glowing and glad; a form lay on his own couch before the fire. The + dominie and Mrs. Hope were bending over it. As he entered, Mrs. Hope + sprang forward— + </p> + <p> + "Father!" + </p> + <p> + "Eh? Father? What is this?" + </p> + <p> + "Father, it is Colin." + </p> + <p> + Then he knew it all. Colin stretched out a feeble hand towards him. He was + sorely bruised and hurt, he was white and helpless and death-like. + </p> + <p> + "Father!" + </p> + <p> + And the father knelt down beside him. Wife and friend walked softly away. + In the solemn moment when these two long-parted souls met again there was + no other love that could inter-meddle. + </p> + <p> + "My dear father—forgive me!" + </p> + <p> + Then the laird kissed his recovered son, and said tenderly, + </p> + <p> + "Son Colin, you are all I have, and all I have is yours." + </p> + <p> + "Father, my wife and son." + </p> + <p> + Then the old man proudly and fondly kissed Hope Crawford too, and he + clasped the little lad in his arms. He was well pleased that Hope had + thought it worth while to minister to his comfort, and let him learn how + to know her fairly. + </p> + <p> + "But it was your doing, Tallisker, I ken it was; it has your mark on it." + And he grasped his old friend's hand with a very hearty grip. + </p> + <p> + "Not altogether, laird. Colin had gone to Rome on business, and you were + in sair discomfort, and I just named it to Mrs. Hope. After a' it was her + proposal. Naebody but a woman would hae thought o' such a way to win round + you." + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was well that Colin was sick and very helpless for some weeks. + During them the two men learned to understand and to respect each other's + peculiarities. Crawford himself was wonderfully happy; he would not let + any thought of the past darken his heart. He looked forward as hopefully + as if he were yet on the threshold of life. + </p> + <p> + O mystery of life! from what depths proceed thy comforts and thy lessons! + One morning at very early dawn Crawford awoke from a deep sleep in an + indescribable awe. In some vision of the night he had visited that piteous + home which memory builds, and where only in sleep we walk. Whom had he + seen there? What message had he received? This he never told. He had been + "spoken to." + </p> + <p> + Tallisker was not the man to smile at any such confidence. He saw no + reason why God's messengers should not meet his children in the + border-land of dreams. Thus he had counselled and visited the patriarchs + and prophets of old. He was a God who changeth not; and if he had chosen + to send Crawford a message in this way, it was doubtless some special + word, for some special duty or sorrow. But he had really no idea of what + Crawford had come to confess to him. + </p> + <p> + "Tallisker, I hae been a man in a sair strait for many a year. I hae not + indeed hid the Lord's talent in a napkin, but I hae done a warse thing; I + hae been trading wi' it for my ain proper advantage. O dominie, I hae been + a wretched man through it all. Nane ken better than I what a hard master + the deil is." + </p> + <p> + Then he told the dominie of Helen's bequest. He went over all the + arguments with which he had hitherto quieted his conscience, and he + anxiously watched their effect upon Tallisker. He had a hope even yet that + the dominie might think them reasonable. But the table at which they sat + was not less demonstrative than Tallisker's face; for once he absolutely + controlled himself till the story was told. Then he said to Crawford, + </p> + <p> + "I'll no tak any responsibility in a matter between you and your + conscience. If you gie it, gie it without regret and without holding back. + Gie it cheerfully; God loves a cheerful giver. But it isna wi' me you'll + find the wisdom to guide you in this matter. Shut yoursel' in your ain + room, and sit down at the foot o' the cross and think it out. It is a big + sum to gie away, but maybe, in the face o' that stupendous Sacrifice it + willna seem so big. I'll walk up in the evening, laird; perhaps you will + then hae decided what to do." + </p> + <p> + Crawford was partly disappointed. He had hoped that Tallisker would in + some way take the burden from him—he had instead sent him to the + foot of the cross. He did not feel as if he dared to neglect the advice; + so he went thoughtfully to his own room and locked the door. Then he took + out his private ledger. Many a page had been written the last ten years. + It was the book of a very rich man. He thought of all his engagements and + plans and hopes, and of how the withdrawal of so large a sum would affect + them. + </p> + <p> + Then he took out Helen's last message, and sat down humbly with it where + Tallisker had told him to sit. Suddenly Helen's last words came back to + him, "Oh! the unspeakable riches!" What of? The cross of Christ—the + redemption from eternal death—the promise of eternal life! Sin is + like a nightmare; when we stir under it, we awake. Crawford sat thinking + until his heart burned and softened, and great tears rolled slowly down + his cheeks and dropped upon the paper in his hands. Then he thought of the + richness of his own life—Colin and Hope, and the already beloved + child Alexander—of his happy home, of the prosperity of his + enterprises, of his loyal and loving friend Tallisker. What a contrast to + the Life he had been told to remember! that pathetic Life that had not + where to lay its head, that mysterious agony in Gethsemane, that sublime + death on Calvary, and he cried out, "O Christ! O Saviour of my soul! all + that I have is too little!" + </p> + <p> + When Tallisker came in the evening, Hope noticed a strange solemnity about + the man. He, too, had been in the presence of God all day. He had been + praying for his friend. But as soon as he saw Crawford he knew how the + struggle had ended. Quietly they grasped each other's hand, and the + evening meal was taken by Colin's side in pleasant cheerfulness. After it, + when all were still, the laird spoke: + </p> + <p> + "Colin and Hope, I hae something I ought to tell you. When your sister + Helen died she asked me to gie her share o' the estate to the poor + children of our Father. I had intended giving Helen #100,000. It is a big + sum, and I hae been in a sair strait about it. What say you, Colin?" + </p> + <p> + "My dear father, I say there is only one way out of that strait. The money + must be given as Helen wished it. Helen was a noble girl. It was just like + her." + </p> + <p> + "Ah, Colin, if you could only tell what a burden this bit o' paper has + been to me! I left the great weight at the foot o' the cross this + morning." As he spoke the paper dropped from his fingers and fell upon the + table. Colin lifted it reverently and kissed it. "Father," he said, "may I + keep it now? The day will come when the Crawfords will think with more + pride of it than of any parchment they possess." + </p> + <p> + Then there was an appeal to Tallisker about its disposal. "Laird," he + answered, "such a sum must be handled wi' great care. It is not enough to + gie money, it must be gien wisely." But he promised to take on himself the + labor of inquiry into different charities, and the consideration of what + places and objects needed help most. "But, Crawford," he said, "if you hae + any special desire, I think it should be regarded." + </p> + <p> + Then Crawford said he had indeed one. When he was himself young he had + desired greatly to enter the ministry, but his father had laid upon him a + duty to the family and estate which he had accepted instead. + </p> + <p> + "Now, dominie," he said, "canna I keep aye a young man in my place?" + </p> + <p> + "It is a worthy thought, Crawford." + </p> + <p> + So the first portion of Helen's bequest went to Aberdeen University. This + endowment has sent out in Crawford's place many a noble young man into the + harvest-field of the world, and who shall say for how many centuries it + will keep his name green in earth and heaven! The distribution of the rest + does not concern our story. It may safely be left in Dominie Tallisker's + hands. + </p> + <p> + Of course, in some measure it altered Crawford's plans. The new house was + abandoned and a wing built to the Keep for Colin's special use. In this + portion the young man indulged freely his poetic, artistic tastes. And the + laird got to like it. He used to tread softly as soon as his feet entered + the large shaded rooms, full of skilful lights and white gleaming statues. + He got to enjoy the hot, scented atmosphere and rare blossoms of the + conservatory, and it became a daily delight to him to sit an hour in + Colin's studio and watch the progress of some favorite picture. + </p> + <p> + But above all his life was made rich by his grandson. Nature, as she often + does, reproduced in the second generation what she had totally omitted in + the first. The boy was his grandfather over again. They agreed upon every + point. It was the laird who taught Alexander to spear a salmon, and throw + a trout-line, and stalk a deer. They had constant confidences about tackle + and guns and snares. They were all day together on the hills. The works + pleased the boy better than his father's studio. He trotted away with his + grandfather gladly to them. The fires and molten metal, the wheels and + hammers and tumult, were all enchantments to him. He never feared to leap + into a collier's basket and swing down the deep, black shaft. He had also + an appreciative love of money; he knew just how many sixpences he owned, + and though he could give if asked to do so, he always wanted the dominie + to give him a good reason for giving. The child gave him back again his + youth, and a fuller and nobler one than he himself had known. + </p> + <p> + And God was very gracious to him, and lengthened out this second youth to + a green old age. These men of old Gaul had iron constitutions; they did + not begin to think themselves old men until they had turned fourscore. It + was thirty years after Helen's death when Tallisker one night sent this + word to his life-long friend, + </p> + <p> + "I hae been called, Crawford; come and see me once more." + </p> + <p> + They all went together to the manse. The dominie was in his ninety-first + year, and he was going home. No one could call it dying. He had no pain. + He was going to his last sleep + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "As sweetly as a child, + Whom neither thought disturbs nor care encumbers, + Tired with long play, at close of summer's day + Lies down and slumbers." +</pre> + <p> + "Good-by, Crawford—for a little while. We'll hae nae tears. I hae + lived joyfully before my God these ninety years; I am going out o' the + sunshine into the sunshine. Crawford, through that sair strait o' yours + you hae set a grand, wide-open door for a weight o' happiness. I am glad + ye didna wait. A good will is a good thing, but a good life is far better. + It is a grand thing to sow your ain good seed. Nae ither hand could hae + done it sae well and sae wisely. Far and wide there are lads and lasses + growing up to call you blessed. This is a thought to mak death easy, + Crawford. Good-night, dears." + </p> + <p> + And then "God's finger touched him and he slept." + </p> + <p> + Crawford lived but a few weeks longer. After the dominie's death he simply + sat waiting. His darling Alexander came home specially to brighten these + last hours, and in his company he showed almost to the last hour the true + Crawford spirit. + </p> + <p> + "Alexander," he would say, "you'll ding for your ain side and the + Crawfords always, but you'll be a good man; there is nae happiness else, + dear. Never rest, my lad, till ye sit where your fathers sat in the House + o' Peers. Stand by the State and the Kirk, and fear God, Alexander. The + lease o' the Cowden Knowes is near out; don't renew it. Grip tight what ye + hae got, but pay every debt as if God wrote the bill. Remember the poor, + dear lad. Charity gies itsel' rich. Riches mak to themselves wings, but + charity clips the wings. The love o' God, dear, the love o' God—that + is the best o' all." + </p> + <p> + Yes, he had a sair struggle with his lower nature to the very last, but he + was constantly strengthened by the conviction of a "Power closer to him + than breathing, nearer than hands or feet." Nine weeks after the dominie's + death they found him sitting in his chair, fallen on that sleep whose + waking is eternal day. His death was like Tallisker's—a perfectly + natural one. He had been reading. The Bible lay open at that grand + peroration of St. Paul's on faith, in the twelfth of Hebrews. The "great + cloud of witnesses," "the sin which doth so easily beset us," "Jesus, the + Author and Finisher of our faith"—these were probably his last + earthly thoughts, and with them he passed into + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "That perfect presence of His face + Which we, for want of words, call heaven." +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JAMES BLACKIE'S REVENGE. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + Few people who have travelled will deny that of all cities Glasgow is + apparently the least romantic. Steeped in wet, white mist, or wrapped in + yellow fog vapor, all gray stone and gray sky, dirty streets, and sloppy + people, it presents none of the features of a show town. Yet it has great + merits; it is enterprising, persevering, intensely national, and + practically religious; and people who do not mind being damp have every + chance to make a good living there. Even the sombre appearance of the dark + gray granite of which it is built is not unsuitable to the sterling + character of its people; for though this stone may be dull and ugly, there + is a natural nobility about it, and it never can be mean. + </p> + <p> + I have said that, as a city, Glasgow is practically religious, and + certainly this was the case something less than half a century ago. The + number of its churches was not more remarkable than the piety and learning + of its clergy; and the "skailing" of their congregations on a Sabbath + afternoon was one of the most impressive sights, of its kind, in the + world. + </p> + <p> + My true little story opens with the skailing of the Ramshorn Kirk, a very + favorite place of worship with the well-to-do burghers of the east end of + the city, and it was a peculiarly douce, decent, solemn-looking crowd that + slowly and reverently passed out of its gates into the absolutely silent + streets. For no vehicles of any kind disturbed the Sabbath stillness, and + not until the people had gone some distance from the house of God did they + begin to think their own thoughts, and with a certain grave reserve put + them into words. + </p> + <p> + Among the groups who proceeded still farther east, towards the pleasant + houses facing the "Green," one alone was remarkable enough to have + elicited special notice from an observing stranger. It consisted of an old + man and a young girl, evidently his daughter. Both were strikingly + handsome, and the girl was much better dressed than the majority of women + who took the same road. Long before they reached the Green they were + joined by a younger man, whom the elder at once addressed in a reproving + voice. + </p> + <p> + "Ye didna pay as much attention to the sermon as it behooved ye to do, + James Blackie; and what for did ye speak to Robert Laird a'most within + 'the Gates'?" + </p> + <p> + "I only asked if he had heard of the 'Bonnie Bess;' she is overdue five + days, and eight good men in her, not to speak of the cargo." + </p> + <p> + "It's no cannie to be aye asking questions. Sit still and the news will + come to ye: forbye, I'm no sure if yon was a lawfu' question; the Sabbath + sun hasna set yet." + </p> + <p> + James Blackie mechanically turned to the west, and then slowly let his + glance fall on the lovely face at his side. + </p> + <p> + "Christine," he asked softly, "how is all with you?" + </p> + <p> + "All is well, James." + </p> + <p> + Not another word was spoken until they reached David Cameron's home. He + was carefully reconsidering the sermon—going over every point on his + finger ends, lest he should drop any link of the argument; and James and + Christine were listening to his criticisms and remarks. They all stopped + before a shop over the windows of which was painted, "David Cameron, + Dealer in Fine Teas;" and David, taking a large key from his pocket, + opened the door, and said, + </p> + <p> + "Come in and eat wi' us, James; ye ken ye're welcome." + </p> + <p> + "Our friendship, Mr. Cameron, is a kind of Montgomery division—all + on one side, nothing on the other; but I am 'so by myself' that I thank + you heartily." + </p> + <p> + So David, followed by Christine and James, passed slowly through the + darkened store, with its faint smells of Eastern spices and fragrant teas, + into the little parlor beyond. The early winter night had now fallen, and + the room, having only an outlet into a small court, would have been dark + also but for the red glow of the "covered" fire. David took the poker and + struck the great block of coal, and instantly the cheerful blaze threw an + air of cosey and almost picturesque comfort over the homelike room. + </p> + <p> + The two men sat down beside the fire, spreading their hands to its warmth, + and apparently finding their own thoughts excellent company, for neither + of them spoke or moved until Christine reappeared. She had divested + herself of the handsome black satin and velvet which formed her kirk suit; + but in her long, plain dress of gray winsey, with a snowy lawn kerchief + and cuffs, she looked still more fair and lovable. + </p> + <p> + James watched her as she spread the cloth and produced from various + cupboards cold meats and pastries, bread and cakes, and many kinds of + delicate preserves and sweetmeats. Her large, shapely hands among the + gold-and-white china fascinated him, while her calm, noiseless, unhurried + movements induced a feeling of passive repose that it required an effort + to dispel, when she said in a low, even voice, + </p> + <p> + "Father, the food is waiting for the blessing." + </p> + <p> + It was a silent but by no means an unhappy meal. David was a good man, and + he ate his food graciously and gratefully, dropping now and then a word of + praise or thanks; and James felt it delightful enough to watch Christine. + For James, though he had not yet admitted the fact to his own heart, loved + Christine Cameron as men love only once, with that deep, pure affection + that has perchance a nearer kindred than this life has hinted of. + </p> + <p> + He thought her also exquisitely beautiful, though this opinion would not + have been indorsed by a majority of men. For Christine had one of those + pale, statuesque faces apt to be solemn in repose; its beauty was tender + and twilight, its expression serious and steadfast, and her clear, + spiritual eyes held in them no light of earthly passion. She had grown up + in that little back parlor amid the din and tumult of the city, under the + gray, rainy skies, and surrounded by care and sin, as a white lily grows + out of the dark, damp soil, drawing from the elements around only + sweetness and purity. + </p> + <p> + She was very silent this afternoon, but apparently very happy. Indeed, + there was an expression on her face which attracted her father's + attention, and he said, + </p> + <p> + "The sermon has pleased thee well, I see, Christine." + </p> + <p> + "The sermon was good, but the text was enough, father. I think it over in + my heart, and it leaves a light on all the common things of life." And she + repeated it softly, "O Thou preserver of men, unto Thee shall all flesh + come." + </p> + <p> + David lifted his bonnet reverently, and James, who was learned in what the + Scotch pleasantly call "the humanities," added slowly, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "'But I, the mortal, + Planted so lowly, with death to bless me, + I sorrow no longer.'" +</pre> + <p> + When people have such subjects of conversation, they talk moderately—for + words are but poor interpreters of emotions whose sources lie in the + depths of eternity. But they were none the less happy, and James felt as + if he had been sitting at one of those tables which the Lord "prepareth in + the wilderness," where the "cup runneth over" with joy and content. + </p> + <p> + Such moments rarely last long; and it is doubtful if we could bear to keep + the soul always to its highest bent. When Christine had sided away the + dishes and put in order the little room, David laid down his pipe, and + said, "The Lord's day being now over, I may speak anent my ain matters. I + had a letter, Christine, on Saturday, from my brother-in-law, McFarlane. + He says young Donald will be in Glasgow next week." + </p> + <p> + "Will he stay here, father?" + </p> + <p> + "Na, na; he'll bide wi' the McFarlanes. They are rich folk; but siller is + nae sin—an' it be clean-won siller." + </p> + <p> + "Then why did Uncle McFarlane write to you, father?" + </p> + <p> + "He wrote concerning the lad's pecuniary matters, Christine. Young Donald + will need gude guiding; and he is my sister Jessie's only bairn—blood + is thicker than water, ye'll allow that—and Donald is o' gentle + blood. I'm no saying that's everything; but it is gude to come o' a gude + kind." + </p> + <p> + "The McFarlanes have aye been for the pope and the Stuarts," said James, a + little scornfully. "They were 'out' in the '79'; and they would pin the + white cockade on to-morrow, if there was ever a Stuart to bid them do it." + </p> + <p> + "Maybe they would, James. Hielandmen hae a way o' sticking to auld + friends. There's Camerons I wadna go bail for, if Prince Charlie could + come again; but let that flea stick to the wa'. And the McFarlanes arena + exactly papist noo; the twa last generations hae been 'Piscopals—that's + ane step ony way towards the truth. Luther mayna be John Knox, but they'll + win up to him some time, dootless they will." + </p> + <p> + "How old is young McFarlane?" asked James. + </p> + <p> + "He is turned twenty—a braw lad, his father says. I hae ne'er seen + him, but he's Jessie's bairn, and my heart gaes out to meet him." + </p> + <p> + "Why did you not tell me on Saturday, father? I could have spoken for + Maggie Maclean to help me put the house in order." + </p> + <p> + "I didna get the letter till the evening post. It was most as good as + Sabbath then. Housecleaning is an unco temptation to women-folk, so I + keepit the news till the Sabbath sun was weel set." + </p> + <p> + During this conversation James Blackie's heart had become heavy with some + sad presentiment of trouble, such as arise very naturally in similar + circumstances. As a poet says, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Ah, no! it is not all delusion, + That strange intelligence of sorrow + Searching the tranquil heart's seclusion, + Making us quail before the morrow. + 'Tis the farewell of happiness departing, + The sudden tremor of a soul at rest; + The wraith of coming grief upstarting + Within the watchful breast." +</pre> + <p> + He listened to David Cameron's reminiscences of his bonnie sister Jessie, + and of the love match she had made with the great Highland chieftain, with + an ill-disguised impatience. He had a Lowlander's scorn for the + thriftless, fighting, freebooting traditions of the Northern clans and a + Calvinist's dislike to the Stuarts and the Stuarts' faith; so that David's + unusual emotion was exceedingly and, perhaps, unreasonably irritating to + him. He could not bear to hear him speak with trembling voice and gleaming + eyes of the grand mountains and the silent corries around Ben-Nevis, the + red deer trooping over the misty steeps, and the brown hinds lying among + the green plumes of fern, and the wren and the thrush lilting in song + together. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, the bonnie, bonnie Hielands!" cried David with a passionate + affection; "it is always Sabbath up i' the mountains, Christine. I maun + see them once again ere I lay by my pilgrim-staff and shoon for ever." + </p> + <p> + "Then you are not Glasgow born, Mr. Cameron," said James, with the air of + one who finds out something to another's disadvantage. + </p> + <p> + "Me! Glasgo' born! Na, na, man! I was born among the mountains o' Argyle. + It was a sair downcome fra them to the Glasgo' pavements. But I'm saying + naething against Glasgo'. I was but thinking o' the days when I wore the + tartan and climbed the hills in the white dawns, and, kneeling on the top + o' Ben Na Keen, saw the sun sink down wi' a smile. It's little ane sees o' + sunrising or sunsetting here, James," and David sighed heavily and wiped + away the tender mist from his sight. + </p> + <p> + James looked at the old man with some contempt; he himself had been born + and reared in one or other of the closest and darkest streets of the city. + The memories of his loveless, hard-worked childhood were bitter to him, + and he knew nothing of the joy of a boyhood spent in the hills and woods. + </p> + <p> + "Life is the same everywhere, Mr. Cameron. I dare say there is as much sin + and as much worry and care among the mountains as on the Glasgow + pavements." + </p> + <p> + "You may 'daur say' it, James, but that winna mak it true. Even in this + warld our Father's house has many mansions. Gang your way up and up + through thae grand solitudes and ye'll blush to be caught worrying among + them." + </p> + <p> + And then in a clear, jubilant voice he broke into the old Scotch version + of the 121st Psalm: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "I to the hills will lift mine eyes + from whence doth come mine aid; + My safety cometh from the Lord, + who heaven and earth hath made." +</pre> + <p> + And he sang it to that loveliest of all psalm tunes, Rathiel's "St. + Mary's." It was impossible to resist the faith, the enthusiasm, the + melody. At the second bar Christine's clear, sweet voice joined in, and at + the second line James was making a happy third. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Henceforth thy goings out and in + God keep for ever will." +</pre> + <p> + "Thae twa lines will do for a 'Gude-night,'" said David in the pause at + the end of the psalm, and James rose with a sigh and wrapped his plaid + around him. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + James had gone into the house so happy and hopeful, he left it so anxious + and angry—yes, angry. He knew well that he had no just cause for + anger, but that knowledge only irritated him the more. Souls, as well as + bodies, are subject to malignant diseases, and to-night envy and jealousy + were causing James Blackie more acute suffering than any attack of fever + or contagion. A feeling of dislike towards young Donald McFarlane had + taken possession of his heart; he lay awake to make a mental picture of + the youth, and then he hated the picture he had made. + </p> + <p> + Feverish and miserable, he went next morning to the bank in which he was + employed, and endeavored amid the perplexities of compound interest to + forget the anxieties he had invented for himself. But it was beyond his + power, and he did not pray about them; for the burdens we bind on our own + shoulders we rarely dare to go to God with, and James might have known + from this circumstance alone that his trouble was no lawful one. He nursed + it carefully all day and took it to bed with him again at night. The next + day he had begun to understand how envy grew to hatred, and hatred to + murder. Still he did not go to God for help, and still he kept ever before + his eyes the image of the youth that he had determined was to be his + enemy. + </p> + <p> + On Thursday night he could no longer bear his uncertainties. He dressed + himself carefully and went to David Cameron's. David was in his shop + tasting and buying teas, and apparently absorbed in business. He merely + nodded to James, and bid him "walk through." He had no intention of being + less kindly than usual, but James was in such a suspicious temper that he + took his preoccupation for coolness, and so it was almost with a resentful + feeling he opened the half-glass door dividing the shop from the parlor. + </p> + <p> + As his heart had foretold him, there sat the youth whom he had determined + to hate, but his imagination had greatly deceived him with regard to his + appearance. He had thought of Donald only as a "fair, false Highlander" in + tartan, kilt, and philibeg. He found him a tall, dark youth, richly + dressed in the prevailing Southern fashion, and retaining no badge of his + country's costume but the little Glengary cap with its chieftain's token + of an eagle's feather. His manners were not rude and haughty, as James had + decided they would be; they were singularly frank and pleasant. Gracious + and graceful, exceedingly handsome and light-hearted, he was likely to + prove a far more dangerous rival than even James' jealous heart had + anticipated. + </p> + <p> + He rose at Christine's introduction, and offered his hand with a pleasant + smile to James. The latter received the courtesy with such marked aversion + that Donald slightly raised his eyebrows ere he resumed his interrupted + conversation with Christine. And now that James sat down with a + determination to look for offences he found plenty. Christine was sewing, + and Donald sat beside her winding and unwinding her threads, playing with + her housewife, or teasingly hiding her scissors. Christine, half pleased + and half annoyed, gradually fell into Donald's mood, and her still face + dimpled into smiles. James very quickly decided that Donald presumed in a + very offensive manner on his relationship to Christine. + </p> + <p> + A little after nine o'clock David, having closed his shop, joined them in + the parlor. He immediately began to question James about the loss of the + "Bonnie Bess," and from that subject they drifted easily into others of a + local business interest. It was very natural that Donald, being a stranger + both to the city and its business, should take no part in this discourse, + and that he should, in consequence, devote himself to Christine. But James + felt it an offence, and rose much earlier than was his wont to depart. + David stayed him, almost authoritatively: + </p> + <p> + "Ye maun stop, baith o' ye lads, and join in my meat and worship. They are + ill visitors that canna sit at ane board and kneel at ane altar." + </p> + <p> + For David had seen, through all their drifting talk of ships and cargoes, + the tumult in James' heart, and he did not wish him to go away in an + ungenerous and unjust temper. So both Donald and James partook of the + homely supper of pease brose and butter, oatmeal cakes and fresh milk, and + then read aloud with David and Christine the verses of the evening Psalm + that came to each in turn. James was much softened by the exercise; so + much so that when Donald asked permission to walk with him as far as their + way lay together, he very pleasantly acceded to the request. And Donald + was so bright and unpretentious it was almost impossible to resist the + infectious good temper which seemed to be his characteristic. + </p> + <p> + Still James was very little happier or more restful. He lay awake again, + but this night it was not to fret and fume, but to calmly think over his + position and determine what was best and right to do. For James still + thought of "right," and would have been shocked indeed if any angel of + conscience had revealed to him the lowest depths of his desires and + intentions. In the first place, he saw that David would tolerate no + element of quarrelling and bitterness in his peaceful home, and that if he + would continue to visit there he must preserve the semblance of friendship + for Donald McFarlane. In the second, he saw that Donald had already made + so good his lien upon his uncle's and cousin's affections that it would be + very hard to make them believe wrong of the lad, even if he should do + wrong, though of this James told himself there would soon be abundance. + </p> + <p> + "For the things David will think sinful beyond all measure," he argued, + "will seem but Puritanical severity to him; forbye, he is rich, gay, + handsome, and has little to do with his time, he'll get well on to Satan's + ground before he knows it;" and then some whisper dim and low in his soul + made him blush and pause and defer the following out of a course which was + to begin in such a way. + </p> + <p> + So Donald and he fell into the habit of meeting at David's two or three + nights every week, and an apparent friendship sprang up between them. It + was only apparent, however. On Donald's side was that good-natured + indifference that finds it easy enough to say smooth words, and is not + ready to think evil or to take offence; on James' part a wary + watchfulness, assuming the rtle of superior wisdom, half admiring and half + condemning Donald's youthful spirits and ways. + </p> + <p> + David was quite deceived; he dropped at once the authoritative manner + which had marked his displeasure when he perceived James' disposition to + envy and anger; he fell again into his usual pleasant familiar talks with + the young man, for David thought highly of James as of one likely to do + his duty to God and himself. + </p> + <p> + In these conversations Donald soon began to take a little share, and when + he chose to do so, evinced a thought and shrewdness which greatly pleased + his uncle; more generally, however, he was at Christine's side, reading + her some poem he had copied, or telling her about some grand party he had + been at. Sometimes James could catch a few words of reproof addressed in a + gentle voice to Donald by Christine; more often he heard only the murmur + of an earnest conversation, or Christine's low laugh at some amusing + incident. + </p> + <p> + The little room meanwhile had gradually become a far brighter place. + Donald kept it sweet and bright with his daily offerings of fresh flowers; + the pet canary he had given Christine twittered and sang to her all the + day through. Over Christine herself had come the same bright change; her + still, calm face often dimpled into smiles, her pale-gold hair was snooded + with a pretty ribbon, and her dress a little richer. Yet, after all, the + change was so slight that none but a lover would have noticed it. But + there was not a smile or a shade of brighter color that James did not see; + and he bore it with an equanimity which used often to astonish himself, + though it would not have done so if he had dared just once to look down + into his heart; he bore it because he knew that Donald was living two + lives—one that Christine saw, and one that she could not even have + imagined. + </p> + <p> + It was, alas, too true that this gay, good-natured young man, who had + entered the fashionable world without one bad habit, was fast becoming + proficient in all its follies and vices. That kind of negative goodness + which belonged naturally to him, unfortified by strict habits and strong + principles, had not been able to repel the seductions and temptations that + assail young men, rich, handsome, and well-born. There was an evil triumph + in James' heart one night when Donald said to him, as they walked home + after an evening at David's, + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Blackie, I wish you could lend me #20. I am in a little trouble, and + I cannot ask Uncle David for more, as I have already overdrawn my father's + allowance." + </p> + <p> + James loaned it with an eager willingness, though he was usually very + cautious and careful of every bawbee of his hard-earned money. He knew it + was but the beginning of confidence, and so it proved; in a very little + while Donald had fallen into the habit of going to James in every + emergency, and of making him the confidant of all his youthful hopes and + follies. + </p> + <p> + James even schooled himself to listen patiently to Donald's praises of his + cousin Christine. "She is just the wife I shall need when I settle down in + three or four years," Donald would say complacently, "and I think she + loves me. Of course no man is worthy of such a woman, but when I have seen + life a little I mean to try and be so." + </p> + <p> + "Umph!" answered James scornfully, "do you suppose, Mr. McFarlane, that + ye'll be fit for a pure lassie like Christine Cameron when you have played + the prodigal and consorted with foolish women, and wasted your substance + in riotous living?" + </p> + <p> + And Donald said with an honest blush, "By the memory of my mother, no, I + do not, James. And I am ashamed when I think of Christine's white soul and + the stained love I have to offer it. But women forgive! Oh, what mothers + and wives and sisters there are in this world!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, don't try Christine too far, Donald. She is of an old Covenanting + stock; her conscience feels sin afar off. I do not believe she would marry + a bad, worldly man, though it broke her heart to say 'No.' I have known + her far longer than you have." + </p> + <p> + "Tut, man, I love her! I know her better in an hour than you could do in a + lifetime;" and Donald looked rather contemptuously on the plain man who + was watching him with eyes that might have warned any one more suspicious + or less confident and self-satisfied. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + The summer brought some changes. Christine went to the seaside for a few + weeks, and Donald went away in Lord Neville's yacht with a party of gay + young men; James and David passed the evenings generally together. If it + was wet, they remained in the shop or parlor; if fine, they rambled to the + "Green," and sitting down by the riverside talked of business, of + Christine, and of Donald. In one of these confidential rambles James first + tried to arouse in David's mind a suspicion as to his nephew's real + character. David himself introduced the subject by speaking of a letter he + had received from Donald. + </p> + <p> + "He's wi' the great Earl o' Egremont at present," said David proudly, for + he had all a Scotsman's respect for good birth; "and there is wi' them + young Argyle, and Lord Lovat, and ithers o' the same quality. But our + Donald can cock his bonnet wi' ony o' them; there is na better blood in + Scotland than the McFarlanes'. It taks money though to foregather wi' + nobeelity, and Donald is wanting some. So, James, I'll gie ye the siller + to-night, and ye'll send it through your bank as early as may be in the + morn." + </p> + <p> + "Donald wanting money is an old want, Mr. Cameron." + </p> + <p> + David glanced quickly at James, and answered almost haughtily, "It's a + common want likewise, James Blackie. But if Donald McFarlane wants money, + he's got kin that can accommodate him, James; wanters arena always that + fortunate." + </p> + <p> + "He has got friends likewise, Mr. Cameron; and I am sure I was proud + enough to do him a kindness, and he knows it well." + </p> + <p> + "And how much may Donald be owing you, I wonder?" + </p> + <p> + "Only a little matter of #20. You see he had got into—" + </p> + <p> + "Dinna fash yoursel' wi' explanations, James. Dootless Donald has his + faults; but I may weel wink at his small faults, when I hae sae mony great + faults o' my ain." + </p> + <p> + And David's personal accusation sounded so much like a reproof, that James + did not feel it safe to pursue the subject. + </p> + <p> + That very night David wrote thus to his nephew: + </p> + <p> + "Donald, my dear lad, if thou owest James Blackie #20, pay it immediate. + Lying is the second vice, owing money is the first. I enclose draft for + #70 instead o' #50, as per request." + </p> + <p> + That #70 was a large sum in the eyes of the careful Glasgow trader; in the + young Highlander's eyes it seemed but a small sum. He could not form any + conception of the amount of love it represented, nor of the struggle it + had cost David to "gie awa for nae consideration" the savings of many + days, perhaps weeks, of toil and thought. + </p> + <p> + In September Christine came back, and towards the end of October, Donald. + He was greatly improved externally by his trip and his associations—more + manly and more handsome—while his manners had acquired a slight + touch of hauteur that both amused and pleased his uncle. It had been + decided that he should remain in Glasgow another winter, and then select + his future profession. But at present Donald troubled himself little about + the future. He had returned to Christine more in love with the peace and + purity of her character than ever; and besides, his pecuniary + embarrassments in Glasgow were such as to require his personal presence + until they were arranged. + </p> + <p> + This arrangement greatly troubled him. He had only a certain allowance + from his father—a loving but stern man—who having once decided + what sum was sufficient for a young man in Donald's position, would not, + under any ordinary circumstances, increase it. David Cameron had already + advanced him #70. James Blackie was a resource he did not care again to + apply to. In the meantime he was pressed by small debts on every hand, and + was living among a class of young men whose habits led him into expenses + far beyond his modest income. He began to be very anxious and miserable. + In Christine's presence he was indeed still the same merry-hearted + gentleman; but James saw him in other places, and he knew from long + experience the look of care that drew Donald's handsome brows together. + </p> + <p> + One night, towards the close of this winter, James went to see an old man + who was a broker or trader in bills and money, doing business in the + Cowcaddens. James also did a little of the same business in a cautious + way, and it was some mutual transaction in gold and silver that took him + that dreary, soaking night into such a locality. + </p> + <p> + The two men talked for some time in a low and earnest voice, and then the + old man, opening a greasy leather satchel, displayed a quantity of paper + which he had bought. James looked it over with a keen and practised eye. + Suddenly his attitude and expression changed; he read over and over one + piece of paper, and every time he read it he looked at it more critically + and with a greater satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + "Andrew Starkie," he said, "where did you buy this?" + </p> + <p> + "Weel, James, I bought it o' Laidlaw—Aleck Laidlaw. Ye wadna think a + big tailoring place like that could hae the wind in their faces; but folks + maun hae their bad weather days, ye ken; but it blew me gude, so I'll + ne'er complain. Ye see it is for #89, due in twenty days now, and I only + gied #79 for it—a good name too, nane better." + </p> + <p> + "David Cameron! But what would he be owing Laidlaw #89 for clothes for?" + </p> + <p> + "Tut, tut! The claithes were for his nephew. There was some trouble anent + the bill, but the old man gied a note for the amount at last, at three + months. It's due in twenty days now. As he banks wi' your firm, ye may + collect it for me; it will be an easy-made penny or twa." + </p> + <p> + "I would like to buy this note. What will you sell it for?" + </p> + <p> + "I'm no minded to sell it. What for do ye want it?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing particular. I'll give you #90 for it." + </p> + <p> + "If it's worth that to you, it is worth mair. I'm no minded to tak #90." + </p> + <p> + "I'll give you #95." + </p> + <p> + "I'm no minded to tak it. It's worth mair to you, I see that. What are you + going to mak by it? I'll sell it for half o' what you are counting on." + "Then you would not make a bawbee. I am going to ware #95 on—on a + bit of revenge. Now will you go shares?" + </p> + <p> + "Not I. Revenge in cold blood is the deil's own act. I dinna wark wi' the + deil, when it's a losing job to me." + </p> + <p> + "Will you take #95 then?" + </p> + <p> + "No. When lads want whistles they maun pay for them." + </p> + <p> + "I'll give no more. For why? Because in twenty days you will do my work + for me; then it will cost me nothing, and it will cost you #89, that is + all about it, Starkie." + </p> + <p> + Starkie lifted the note which James had flung carelessly down, and his + skinny hands trembled as he fingered it. "This is David Cameron's note o' + hand, and David Cameron is a gude name." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, very good. Only that is not David Cameron's writing, it is a—forgery. + Light your pipe with it, Andrew Starkie." + </p> + <p> + "His nephew gave it himsel' to Aleck Laidlaw—" + </p> + <p> + "I know. And I hate his nephew. He has come between me and Christine + Cameron. Do you see now?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh! oh! oh! I see, I see! Well, James, you can have it for #100—as + a favor." + </p> + <p> + "I don't want it now. He could not have a harder man to deal with than you + are. You suit me very well." + </p> + <p> + "James, such business wont suit me. I can't afford to be brought into + notice. I would rather lose double the money than prosecute any gentleman + in trouble." + </p> + <p> + The older man had reasoned right—James dared not risk the note out + of sight, dared not trust to Starkie's prosecution. He longed to have the + bit of paper in his own keeping, and after a wary battle of a full hour's + length Andrew Starkie had his #89 back again, and James had the note in + his pocket-book. + </p> + <p> + Through the fog, and through the wind, and through the rain he went, and + he knew nothing, and he felt nothing but that little bit of paper against + his breast. Oh, how greedily he remembered Donald's handsome looks and + stately ways, and all the thousand little words and acts by which he + imagined himself wronged and insulted. Now he had his enemy beneath his + feet, and for several days this thought satisfied him, and he hid his + secret morsel of vengeance and found it sweet—sharply, bitterly + sweet—for even yet conscience pleaded hard with him. + </p> + <p> + As he sat counting his columns of figures, every gentle, forgiving word of + Christ came into his heart. He knew well that Donald would receive his + quarterly allowance before the bill was due, and that he must have relied + on this to meet it. He also knew enough of Donald's affairs to guess + something of the emergency that he must have been in ere he would have + yielded to so dangerous an alternative. There were times when he + determined to send for Donald, show him the frightful danger in which he + stood, and then tear the note before his eyes, and leave its payment to + his honor. He even realized the peace which would flow from such a deed. + Nor were these feelings transitory, his better nature pleaded so hard with + him that he walked his room hour after hour under their influence, and + their power over him was such as delayed all action in the matter for + nearly a week. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + At length one morning David Cameron came into the bank, and having + finished his business, walked up to James and said, "I feared ye were ill, + James. Whatna for hae ye stayed awa sae lang? I wanted ye sairly last + night to go o'er wi' me the points in this debate at our kirk. We are to + hae anither session to-night; ye'll come the morn and talk it o'er wi' + me?" + </p> + <p> + "I will, Mr. Cameron." + </p> + <p> + But James instantly determined to see Christine that night. Her father + would be at the kirk session, and if Donald was there, he thought he knew + how to whisper him away. He meant to have Christine all to himself for an + hour or two, and if he saw any opportunity he would tell her all. When he + got to David's the store was still open, but the clerk said, "David has + just gone," and James, as was his wont, walked straight to the parlor. + </p> + <p> + Donald was there; he had guessed that, because a carriage was in waiting, + and he knew it could belong to no other caller at David Cameron's. And + never had Donald roused in him such an intense antagonism. He was going to + some National Celebration, and he stood beside Christine in all the + splendid picturesque pomp of the McFarlane tartans. He was holding + Christine's hand, and she stood as a white lily in the glow and color of + his dark beauty. Perhaps both of them felt James' entrance inopportune. At + any rate they received him coldly, Donald drew Christine a little apart, + said a few whispered words to her, and lifting his bonnet slightly to + James, he went away. + </p> + <p> + In the few minutes of this unfortunate meeting the devil entered into + James' heart. Even Christine was struck with the new look on his face. It + was haughty, malicious, and triumphant, and he leaned against the high + oaken chimney-piece in a defiant way that annoyed Christine, though she + could not analyze it. + </p> + <p> + "Sit down, James," she said with a touch of authority—for his + attitude had unconsciously put her on the defensive. "Donald has gone to + the Caledonian club; there is to be a grand gathering of Highland + gentlemen there to-night." + </p> + <p> + "<i>Gentlemen!</i>" + </p> + <p> + "Well, yes, <i>gentlemen!</i> And there will be none there more worthy the + name than our Donald." + </p> + <p> + "The rest of them are much to be scorned at, then." + </p> + <p> + "James, James, that speech was little like you. Sit down and come to + yourself; I am sure you are not so mean as to grudge Donald the rights of + his good birth." + </p> + <p> + "Donald McFarlane shall have all the rights he has worked for; and when he + gets his just payment he will be in Glasgow jail." + </p> + <p> + "James, you are ill. You have not been here for a week, and you look so + unlike yourself. I know you must be ill. Will you let me send for our + doctor?" And she approached him kindly, and looked with anxious scrutiny + into his face. + </p> + <p> + He put her gently away, and said in a thick, rapid voice, + </p> + <p> + "Christine, I came to-night to tell you that Donald McFarlane is unworthy + to come into your presence—he has forged your father's name." + </p> + <p> + "James, you are mad, or ill, what you say is just impossible!" + </p> + <p> + "I am neither mad nor ill. I will prove it, if you wish." + </p> + <p> + At these words every trace of sympathy or feeling vanished from her face; + and she said in a low, hoarse whisper, + </p> + <p> + "You cannot prove it. I would not believe such a thing possible." + </p> + <p> + Then with a pitiless particularity he went over all the events relating to + the note, and held it out for her to examine the signature. + </p> + <p> + "Is that David Cameron's writing?" he cried; "did you ever see such a weak + imitation? The man is a fool as well as a villain." + </p> + <p> + Christine gazed blankly at the witness of her cousin's guilt, and James, + carried away with the wicked impetuosity of his passionate accusations of + Donald's life, did not see the fair face set in white despair and the eyes + close wearily, as with a piteous cry she fell prostrate at his feet. + </p> + <p> + Ah, how short was his triumph! When he saw the ruin that his words had + made he shrieked aloud in his terror and agony. Help was at hand, and + doctors were quickly brought, but she had received a shock from which it + seemed impossible to revive her. David was brought home, and knelt in + speechless distress by the side of his insensible child, but no hope + lightened the long, terrible night, and when the reaction came in the + morning, it came in the form of fever and delirium. + </p> + <p> + Questioned closely by David, James admitted nothing but that while talking + to him about Donald McFarlane she had fallen at his feet, and Donald could + only say that he had that evening told her he was going to Edinburgh in + two weeks, to study law with his cousin, and that he had asked her to be + his wife. + </p> + <p> + This acknowledgement bound David and Donald in a closer communion of + sorrow. James and his sufferings were scarcely noticed. Yet, probably of + all that unhappy company, he suffered the most. He loved Christine with a + far deeper affection than Donald had ever dreamed of. He would have given + his life for hers, and yet he had, perhaps, been her murderer. How he + hated Donald in those days! What love and remorse tortured him! And what + availed it that he had bought the power to ruin the man he hated? He was + afraid to use it. If Christine lived, and he did use it, she would never + forgive him; if she died, he would be her murderer. + </p> + <p> + But the business of life cannot be delayed for its sorrows. David must + wait in his shop, and James must be at the bank; and in two weeks Donald + had to leave for Edinburgh, though Christine was lying in a silent, + broken-hearted apathy, so close to the very shoal of Time that none dared + say, "She will live another day." + </p> + <p> + How James despised Donald for leaving her at all; he desired nothing + beyond the permission to sit by her side, and watch and aid the slow + struggle of life back from the shores and shades of death. + </p> + <p> + It was almost the end of summer before she was able to resume her place in + the household, but long before that she had asked to see James. The + interview took place one Sabbath afternoon while David was at church. + Christine had been lifted to a couch, but she was unable to move, and even + speech was exhausting and difficult to her. James knelt down by her side, + and, weeping bitterly, said, + </p> + <p> + "O Christine, forgive me!" + </p> + <p> + She smiled faintly. + </p> + <p> + "You—have—not—used—yonder—paper,—James?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no, no." + </p> + <p> + "It—would—kill—me. You—would—not—kill—me?" + </p> + <p> + "I would die to make you strong again." + </p> + <p> + "Don't—hurt—Donald. Forgive—for—Christ's—sake,—James!" + </p> + <p> + Poor James! It was hard for him to see that still Donald was her first + thought, and, looking on the wreck of Christine's youth and beauty, it was + still harder not to hate him worse than ever. + </p> + <p> + Nor did the temptation to do so grow less with time. He had to listen + every evening to David's praises of his nephew: how "he had been entered + wi' Advocate Scott, and was going to be a grand lawyer," or how he had + been to some great man's house and won all hearts with his handsome face + and witty tongue. Or, perhaps, he would be shown some rich token of his + love that had come for Christine; or David would say, "There's the + 'Edinbro' News,' James; it cam fra Donald this morn; tak it hame wi' you. + You're welcome." And James feared not to take it, feared to show the + slightest dislike to Donald, lest David's anger at it should provoke him + to say what was in his heart, and Christine only be the sufferer. + </p> + <p> + One cold night in early winter, James, as was his wont now, went to spend + the evening in talking with David and in watching Christine. That was + really all it was; for, though she had resumed her house duties, she took + little part in conversation. She had always been inclined to silence, but + now a faint smile and a "Yes" or "No" were her usual response, even to her + father's remarks. This night he found David out, and he hesitated whether + to trouble Christine or not. He stood for a moment in the open door and + looked at her. She was sitting by the table with a little Testament open + in her hand; but she was rather musing on what she had been reading than + continuing her occupation. + </p> + <p> + "Christine!" + </p> + <p> + "James!" + </p> + <p> + "May I come in?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, surely." + </p> + <p> + "I hear your father has gone to a town-meeting." + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "And he is to be made a bailie." + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "I am very glad. It will greatly please him, and there is no citizen more + worthy of the honor." + </p> + <p> + "I think so also." + </p> + <p> + "Shall I disturb you if I wait to see him?" + </p> + <p> + "No, James; sit down." + </p> + <p> + Then Christine laid aside her book and took her sewing, and James sat + thinking how he could best introduce the subject ever near his heart. He + felt that there was much to say in his own behalf, if he only knew how to + begin. Christine opened the subject for him. She laid down her work and + went and stood before the fire at his side. The faintest shadow of color + was in her face, and her eyes were unspeakably sad and anxious. He could + not bear their eager, searching gaze, and dropped his own. + </p> + <p> + "James, have you destroyed yonder paper?" + </p> + <p> + "Nay, Christine; I am too poor a man to throw away so much hard-won gold. + I am keeping it until I can see Mr. McFarlane and quietly collect my own." + </p> + <p> + "You will never use it in any way against him?" + </p> + <p> + "Will you ever marry him? Tell me that." + </p> + <p> + "O sir!" she cried indignantly, "you want to make a bargain with my poor + heart. Hear, then. If Donald wants me to marry him I'll never cast him + off. Do you think God will cast him off for one fault? You dare not say + it." + </p> + <p> + "I do not say but what God will pardon. But we are human beings; we are + not near to God yet." + </p> + <p> + "But we ought to be trying to get near him; and oh, James, you never had + so grand a chance. See the pitiful face of Christ looking down on you from + the cross. If that face should turn away from you, James—if it + should!" + </p> + <p> + "You ask a hard thing of me, Christine." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I do." + </p> + <p> + "But if you will only try and love me—" + </p> + <p> + "Stop, James! I will make no bargain in a matter of right and wrong. If + for Christ's sake, who has forgiven you so much, you can forgive Donald, + for Christ's dear sake do it. If not, I will set no earthly love before + it. Do your worst. God can find out a way. I'll trust him." + </p> + <p> + "Christine! dear Christine!" + </p> + <p> + "Hush! I am Donald's promised wife. May God speak to you for me. I am very + sad and weary. Good-night." + </p> + <p> + James did not wait for David's return. He went back to his own lodging, + and, taking the note out of his pocket-book, spread it before him. His + first thought was that he had wared #89 on his enemy's fine clothes, and + James loved gold and hated foppish, extravagant dress; his next that he + had saved Andrew Starkie #89, and he knew the old usurer was quietly + laughing at his folly. But worse than all was the alternative he saw as + the result of his sinful purchase: if he used it to gratify his personal + hatred, he deeply wounded, perhaps killed, his dearest love and his oldest + friend. Hour after hour he sat with the note before him. His good angel + stood at his side and wooed him to mercy. There was a fire burning in the + grate, and twice he held the paper over it, and twice turned away from his + better self. + </p> + <p> + The watchman was calling "half-past two o'clock," when, cold and weary + with his mental struggle, he rose and went to his desk. There was a secret + hiding-place behind a drawer there, in which he kept papers relating to + his transactions with Andrew Starkie, and he put it among them. "I'll + leave it to its chance," he muttered; "a fire might come and burn it up + some day. If it is God's will to save Donald, he could so order it, and I + am fully insured against pecuniary loss." He did not at that moment see + how presumptuously he was throwing his own responsibility on God; he did + not indeed want to see anything but some plausible way of avoiding a road + too steep for a heart weighed down with earthly passion to dare. + </p> + <p> + Then weeks and months drifted away in the calm regular routine of David's + life. But though there were no outward changes, there was a very important + inward one. About sixteen months after Donald's departure he returned to + visit Christine. James, at Christine's urgent request, absented himself + during this visit; but when he next called at David's, he perceived at + once that all was not as had been anticipated. David had little to say + about him; Christine looked paler and sadder than ever. Neither quite + understood why. There had been no visible break with Donald, but both + father and daughter felt that he had drifted far away from them and their + humble, pious life. Donald had lost the child's heart he had brought with + him from the mountains; he was ambitious of honors, and eager after + worldly pleasures and advantages. He had become more gravely handsome, and + he talked more sensibly to David; but David liked him less. + </p> + <p> + After this visit there sprang up a new hope in James' heart, and he waited + and watched, though often with very angry feelings; for he was sure that + Donald was gradually deserting Christine. + </p> + <p> + She grew daily more sad and silent; it was evident she was suffering. The + little Testament lay now always with her work, and he noticed that she + frequently laid aside her sewing and read it earnestly, even while David + and he were quietly talking at the fireside. + </p> + <p> + One Sabbath, two years after Donald's departure, James met David coming + out of church alone. He could only say, "I hope Christine is well." + </p> + <p> + "Had she been well, she had been wi' me; thou kens that, James." + </p> + <p> + "I might have done so. Christine is never absent from God's house when it + is open." + </p> + <p> + "It is a good plan, James; for when they who go regular to God's house are + forced to stay away, God himself asks after them. I hae no doubt but what + Christine has been visited." + </p> + <p> + They walked on in silence until David's house was in sight. "I'm no caring + for any company earth can gie me the night, James; but the morn I hae + something to tell you I canna speak anent to-day." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + The next day David came into the bank about noon, and said, "Come wi' me + to McLellan's, James, and hae a mutton pie, it's near by lunch-time." + While they were eating it David said, "Donald McFarlane is to be wedded + next month. He's making a grand marriage." + </p> + <p> + James bit his lip, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + "He's spoken for Miss Margaret Napier; her father was ane o' the Lords o' + Session; she's his sole heiress, and that will mean #50,000, foreby the + bonnie place and lands o' Ellenshawe." + </p> + <p> + "And Christine?" + </p> + <p> + "Dinna look that way, man. Christine is content; she kens weel enough she + isna like her cousin." + </p> + <p> + "God be thanked she is not. Go away from me, David Cameron, or I shall say + words that will make more suffering than you can dream off. Go away, man." + </p> + <p> + David was shocked and grieved at his companion's passion. "James," he said + solemnly, "dinna mak a fool o' yoursel'. I hae long seen your ill-will at + Donald. Let it go. Donald's aboon your thumb now, and the anger o' a poor + man aye falls on himsel'." + </p> + <p> + "For God's sake don't tempt me farther. You little know what I could do if + I had the ill heart to do it." + </p> + <p> + "Ow! ay!" said David scornfully, "if the poor cat had only wings it would + extirpate the race of sparrows from the world; but when the wings arena + there, James lad, it is just as weel to mak no boast o' them." + </p> + <p> + James had leaned his head in his hands, and was whispering, "Christine! + Christine! Christine!" in a rapid inaudible voice. He took no notice of + David's remark, and David was instantly sorry for it. "The puir lad is + just sorrowful wi' love for Christine, and that's nae sin that I can see," + he thought. "James," he said kindly, "I am sorry enough to grieve you. + Come as soon as you can like to do it. You'll be welcome." + </p> + <p> + James slightly nodded his head, but did not move; and David left him alone + in the little boarded room where they had eaten. In a few minutes he + collected himself, and, like one dazed, walked back to his place in the + bank. Never had its hours seemed so long, never had the noise and traffic, + the tramping of feet, and the banging of doors seemed so intolerable. As + early as possible he was at David's, and David, with that fine instinct + that a kind heart teaches, said as he entered, "Gude evening, James. Gae + awa ben and keep Christine company. I'm that busy that I'll no shut up for + half an hour yet." + </p> + <p> + James found Christine in her usual place. The hearth had been freshly + swept, the fire blazed brightly, and she sat before it with her white seam + in her hand. She raised her eyes at James' entrance, and smilingly nodded + to a vacant chair near her. He took it silently. Christine seemed annoyed + at his silence in a little while, and asked, "Why don't you speak, James? + Have you nothing to say?" + </p> + <p> + "A great deal, Christine. What now do you think of Donald McFarlane?" + </p> + <p> + "I think well of Donald." + </p> + <p> + "And of his marriage also?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly I do. When he was here I saw how unfit I was to be his wife. I + told him so, and bid him seek a mate more suitable to his position and + prospects." + </p> + <p> + "Do you think it right to let yonder lady wed such a man with her eyes + shut?" + </p> + <p> + "Are you going to open them?" Her face was sad and mournful, and she laid + her hand gently on James' shoulder. + </p> + <p> + "I think it is my duty, Christine." + </p> + <p> + "Think again, James. Be sure it is your duty before you go on such an + errand. See if you dare kneel down and ask God to bless you in this duty." + </p> + <p> + "Christine, you treat me very hardly. You know how I love you, and you use + your power over me unmercifully." + </p> + <p> + "No, no, James, I only want you to keep yourself out of the power of + Satan. If indeed I have any share in your heart, do not wrong me by giving + Satan a place there also. Let me at least respect you, James." + </p> + <p> + Christine had never spoken in this way before to him; the majesty and + purity of her character lifted him insensibly to higher thoughts, her + gentleness soothed and comforted him. When David came in he found them + talking in a calm, cheerful tone, and the evening that followed was one of + the pleasantest he could remember. Yet James understood that Christine + trusted in his forbearance, and he had no heart to grieve her, especially + as she did her best to reward him by striving to make his visits to her + father unusually happy. + </p> + <p> + So Donald married Miss Napier, and the newspapers were full of the + bridegroom's beauty and talents, and the bride's high lineage and great + possessions. After this Donald and Donald's affairs seemed to very little + trouble David's humble household. His marriage put him far away from + Christine's thoughts, for her delicate conscience would have regarded it + as a great sin to remember with any feeling of love another woman's + affianced husband; and when the struggle became one between right and + wrong, it was ended for Christine. David seldom named him, and so Donald + McFarlane gradually passed out of the lives he had so sorely troubled. + </p> + <p> + Slowly but surely James continued to prosper; he rose to be cashier in the + bank, and he won a calm but certain place in Christine's regard. She had + never quite recovered the shock of her long illness; she was still very + frail, and easily exhausted by the least fatigue or excitement. But in + James' eyes she was perfect; he was always at his best in her presence, + and he was a very proud and happy man when, after eight years' patient + waiting and wooing, he won from her the promise to be his wife; for he + knew that with Christine the promise meant all that it ought to mean. + </p> + <p> + The marriage made few changes in her peaceful life. James left the bank, + put his savings in David's business, and became his partner. But they + continued to live in the same house, and year after year passed away in + that happy calm which leaves no records, and has no fate days for the + future to date from. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes a letter, a newspaper, or some public event, would bring back + the memory of the gay, handsome lad that had once made so bright the + little back parlor. Such strays from Donald's present life were always + pleasant ones. In ten years he had made great strides forward. Every one + had a good word for him. His legal skill was quoted as authority, his + charities were munificent, his name unblemished by a single mean deed. + </p> + <p> + Had James forgotten? No, indeed. Donald's success only deepened his hatred + of him. Even the silence he was compelled to keep on the subject + intensified the feeling. Once after his marriage he attempted to discuss + the subject with Christine, but the scene had been so painful he had never + attempted it again; and David was swift and positive to dismiss any + unfavorable allusion to Donald. Once, on reading that "Advocate McFarlane + had joined the Free Kirk of Scotland on open confession of faith," James + flung down the paper and said pointedly, "I wonder whether he confessed + his wrong-doing before his faith or not." + </p> + <p> + "There's nane sae weel shod, James, that they mayna slip," answered David, + with a stern face. "He has united wi' Dr. Buchan's kirk—there's nane + taken into that fellowship unworthily, as far as man can judge." + </p> + <p> + "He would be a wise minister that got at all Advocate McFarlane's sins, I + am thinking." + </p> + <p> + "Dinna say all ye think, James. They walk too fair for earth that naebody + can find fault wi'." + </p> + <p> + So James nursed the evil passion in his own heart; indeed, he had nursed + it so long that he could not of himself resign it, and in all his prayers—and + he did pray frequently, and often sincerely—he never named this + subject to God, never once asked for his counsel or help in the matter. + </p> + <p> + Twelve years after his marriage with Christine David died, died as he had + often wished to die, very suddenly. He was well at noon; at night he had + put on the garments of eternal Sabbath. He had but a few moments of + consciousness in which to bid farewell to his children. "Christine," he + said cheerfully, "we'll no be lang parted, dear lassie;" and to James a + few words on his affairs, and then almost with his last breath, "James, + heed what I say: 'Blessed are the merciful, for they shall—obtain + mercy.'" + </p> + <p> + There seemed to have been some prophetic sense in David's parting words to + his daughter, for soon after his death she began to fail rapidly. What + James suffered as he saw it only those can tell who have watched their + beloved slowly dying, and hoped against hope day after day and week after + week. Perhaps the hardest part was the knowledge that she had never + recovered the health she had previous to the terrible shock which his + revelation of Donald's guilt had been to her. He forgot his own share in + the shock and threw the whole blame of her early decay on Donald. "And if + she dies," he kept saying in his angry heart, "I will make him suffer for + it." + </p> + <p> + And Christine was drawing very near to death, though even when she was + confined to her room and bed James would not believe it. And it was at + this time that Donald came once more to Glasgow. There was a very exciting + general election for a new Parliament, and Donald stood for the + Conservative party in the city of Glasgow. Nothing could have so speedily + ripened James' evil purpose. Should a forger represent his native city? + Should he see the murderer of his Christine win honor upon honor, when he + had but to speak and place him among thieves? + </p> + <p> + During the struggle he worked frantically to defeat him—and failed. + That night he came home like a man possessed by some malicious, + ungovernable spirit of hell. He would not go to Christine's room, for he + was afraid she would discover his purpose in his face, and win him from + it. For now he had sworn to himself that he would only wait until the + congratulatory dinner. He could get an invitation to it. All the bailies + and the great men of the city would be there. The newspaper reporters + would be there. His triumph would be complete. Donald would doubtless make + a great speech, and after it <i>he</i> would say his few words. + </p> + <p> + Then he thought of Christine. But she did not move him now, for she was + never likely to hear of it. She was confined to her bed; she read nothing + but her Bible; she saw no one but her nurse. He would charge the nurse, + and he would keep all papers and letters from her. He thought of nothing + now but the near gratification of a revengeful purpose for which he had + waited twenty years. Oh, how sweet it seemed to him! + </p> + <p> + The dinner was to be in a week, and during the next few days he was like a + man in a bad dream. He neglected his business, and wandered restlessly + about the house, and looked so fierce and haggard that Christine began to + notice, to watch, and to fear. She knew that Donald was in the city, and + her heart told her that it was his presence only that could so alter her + husband; and she poured it out in strong supplications for strength and + wisdom to avert the calamity she felt approaching. + </p> + <p> + That night her nurse became sick and could not remain with her, and James, + half reluctantly, took her place, for he feared Christine's influence now. + She would ask him to read the Bible, to pray with her; she might talk to + him of death and heaven; she might name Donald, and extract some promise + from him. And he was determined now that nothing should move him. So he + pretended great weariness, drew a large chair to her bedside, and said, + </p> + <p> + "I shall try and sleep a while, darling; if you need me you have only to + speak." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + He was more weary than he knew, and ere he was aware he fell asleep—a + restless, wretched sleep, that made him glad when the half-oblivion was + over. Christine, however, was apparently at rest, and he soon relapsed + into the same dark, haunted state of unconsciousness. Suddenly he began to + mutter and moan, and then to speak with a hoarse, whispered rapidity that + had in it something frightful and unearthly. But Christine listened with + wide-open eyes, and heard with sickening terror the whole wicked plot. It + fell from his half-open lips over and over in every detail; and over and + over he laughed low and terribly at the coming shame of the hated Donald. + </p> + <p> + She had not walked alone for weeks, nor indeed been out of her room for + months, but she must go now; and she never doubted her strength. As if she + had been a spirit, she slipped out of bed, walked rapidly and noiselessly + into the long-unfamiliar parlor. A rushlight was burning, and the key of + the old desk was always in it. Nothing valuable was kept there, and people + unacquainted with the secret of the hidden drawer would have looked in + vain for the entrance to it. Christine had known it for years, but her + wifely honor had held it more sacred than locks or keys could have done. + She was aware only that James kept some private matter of importance + there, and she would as readily have robbed her husband's purse as have + spied into things of which he did not speak to her. + </p> + <p> + Now, however, all mere thoughts of courtesy or honor must yield before the + alternative in which James and Donald stood. She reached the desk, drew + out the concealing drawer, pushed aside the slide, and touched the paper. + There were other papers there, but something taught her at once the right + one. To take it and close the desk was but the work of a moment, then back + she flew as swiftly and noiselessly as a spirit with the condemning + evidence tightly clasped in her hand. + </p> + <p> + James was still muttering and moaning in his troubled sleep, and with the + consciousness of her success all her unnatural strength passed away. She + could hardly secrete it in her bosom ere she fell into a semi-conscious + lethargy, through which she heard with terror her husband's low, weird + laughter and whispered curses. + </p> + <p> + At length the day for the dinner came. James had procured an invitation, + and he made unusual personal preparations for it. He was conscious that he + was going to do a very mean action, but he would look as well as possible + in the act. He had even his apology for it ready; he would say that "as + long as it was a private wrong he had borne the loss patiently for twenty + years, but that the public welfare demanded honest men, men above + reproach, and he could no longer feel it his duty," etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + After he was dressed he bid Christine "Good-by." + </p> + <p> + "He would only stay an hour," he said, "and he must needs go, as Donald + was her kin." + </p> + <p> + Then he went to the desk, and with hands trembling in their eagerness + sought the bill. It was not there. <i>Impossible!</i> He looked again—again + more carefully—could not believe his eyes, and looked again and + again. It was really gone. If the visible hand of God had struck him, he + could not have felt it more consciously. He mechanically closed the desk + and sat down like one stunned. Cain might have felt as James did when God + asked him, "Where is thy brother?" He did not think of prayer. No "God be + merciful to me a sinner" came as yet from his dry, white lips. The + fountains of his heart seemed dry as dust. The anger of God weighed him + down till + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "He felt as one + Who, waking after some strange, fevered dream, + Sees a dim land and things unspeakable, + And comes to know at last that it is hell." +</pre> + <p> + Meantime Christine was lying with folded hands, praying for him. She knew + what an agony he was going through, and ceaselessly with pure + supplications she prayed for his forgiveness. About midnight one came and + told him his wife wanted to see him. He rose with a wretched sigh, and + looked at the clock. He had sat there six hours. He had thought over + everything, over and over—the certainty that the paper was there, + the fact that no other paper had been touched, and that no human being but + Christine knew of the secret place. These things shocked him beyond + expression. It was to his mind a visible assertion of the divine + prerogative; he had really heard God say to him, "Vengeance is mine." The + lesson that in these materialistic days we would reason away, James humbly + accepted. His religious feelings were, after all, his deepest feelings, + and in those six hours he had so palpably felt the frown of his angry + Heavenly Father that he had quite forgotten his poor, puny wrath at Donald + McFarlane. + </p> + <p> + As he slowly walked up stairs to Christine he determined to make to her a + full confession of the deed he had meditated. But when he reached her + bedside he saw that she was nearly dead. She smiled faintly and said, + </p> + <p> + "Send all away, James. I must speak alone with you, dear; we are going to + part, my husband." + </p> + <p> + Then he knelt down by her side and held her cold hands, and the gracious + tears welled up in his hot eyes, and he covered them with the blessed + rain. + </p> + <p> + "O James, how you have suffered—since six o'clock." + </p> + <p> + "You know then, Christine! I would weep tears of blood over my sin. O + dear, dear wife, take no shameful memory of me into eternity with you." + </p> + <p> + "See how I trust you, James. Here is poor, weak Donald's note. I know now + you will never use it against him. What if your six hours were lengthened + out through life—through eternity? I ask no promise from you now, + dear." + </p> + <p> + "But I give it. Before God I give it, with all my heart. My sin has found + me out this night. How has God borne with me all these years? Oh, how + great is his mercy!" + </p> + <p> + Then Christine told him how he had revealed his wicked plot, and how + wonderful strength had been given her to defeat it; and the two souls, + amid their parting sighs and tears, knew each other as they had never done + through all their years of life. + </p> + <p> + For a week James remained in his own room. Then Christine was laid beside + her father, and the shop was reopened, and the household returned to its + ways. But James was not seen in house or shop, and the neighbors said, + </p> + <p> + "Kirsty Cameron has had a wearisome sickness, and nae doobt her gudeman + was needing a rest. Dootless he has gane to the Hielands a bit." + </p> + <p> + But it was not northward James Blackie went. It was south; south past the + bonnie Cumberland Hills and the great manufacturing towns of Lancashire + and the rich valleys of Yorkshire; southward until he stopped at last in + London. Even then, though he was weary and sick and the night had fallen, + he did not rest. He took a carriage and drove at once to a fashionable + mansion in Baker street. The servant looked curiously at him and felt half + inclined to be insolent to such a visitor. + </p> + <p> + "Take that card to your master at once," he said in a voice whose + authority could not be disputed, and the man went. + </p> + <p> + His master was lying on a sofa in a luxuriously-furnished room, playing + with a lovely girl about four years old, and listening meanwhile to an + enthusiastic account of a cricket match that two boys of about twelve and + fourteen years were giving him. He was a strikingly handsome man, in the + prime of life, with a thoroughly happy expression. He took James' card in + a careless fashion, listened to the end of his sons' story, and then + looked at it. Instantly his manner changed; he stood up, and said + promptly, + </p> + <p> + "Go away now, Miss Margaret, and you also, Angus and David; I have an old + friend to see." Then to the servant, "Bring the gentleman here at once." + </p> + <p> + When he heard James' step he went to meet him with open hand; but James + said, + </p> + <p> + "Not just yet, Mr. McFarlane; hear what I have to say. Then if you offer + your hand I will take it." + </p> + <p> + "Christine is dead?" + </p> + <p> + "Dead, dead." + </p> + <p> + They sat down opposite each other, and James did not spare himself. From + his discovery of the note in old Starkie's possession until the death of + Christine, he confessed everything. Donald sat with downcast eyes, quite + silent. Once or twice his fierce Highland blood surged into his face, and + his hand stole mechanically to the place where his dirk had once been, but + the motion was as transitory as a thought. When James had finished he sat + with compressed lips for a few moments, quite unable to control his + speech; but at length he slowly said, + </p> + <p> + "I wish I had known all this before; it would have saved much sin and + suffering. You said that my indifference at first angered you. I must + correct this. I was not indifferent. No one can tell what suffering that + one cowardly act cost me. But before the bill fell due I went frankly to + Uncle David and confessed all my sin. What passed between us you may + guess; but he forgave me freely and fully, as I trust God did also. Hence + there was no cause for its memory to darken life." + </p> + <p> + "I always thought Christine had told her father," muttered James. + </p> + <p> + "Nay, but I told him myself. He said he would trace the note, and I have + no doubt he knew it was in your keeping from the first." + </p> + <p> + Then James took it from his pocket-book. + </p> + <p> + "There it is, Mr. McFarlane. Christine gave it back to me the hour she + died. I promised her to bring it to you and tell you all." + </p> + <p> + "Christine's soul was a white rose without a thorn. I count it an honor to + have known and loved her. But the paper is yours, Mr. Blackie, unless I + may pay for it." + </p> + <p> + "O man, man! what money could pay for it? I would not dare to sell it for + the whole world! Take it, I pray you." + </p> + <p> + "I will not. Do as you wish with it, James, I can trust you." + </p> + <p> + Then James walked towards the table. There were wax lights burning on it, + and he held it in the flame and watched it slowly consume away to ashes. + The silence was so intense that they heard each other breathing, and the + expression on James' face was so rapt and noble that even Donald's stately + beauty was for the moment less attractive. Then he walked towards Donald + and said, + </p> + <p> + "Now give me your hand, McFarlane, and I'll take it gladly." + </p> + <p> + And that was a handclasp that meant to both men what no words could have + expressed. + </p> + <p> + "Farewell, McFarlane; our ways in this world lie far apart; but when we + come to die it will comfort both of us to remember this meeting. God be + with you!" + </p> + <p> + "And with you also, James. Farewell." + </p> + <p> + Then James went back to his store and his shadowed household life. And + people said he looked happier than ever he had done, and pitied him for + his sick wife, and supposed he felt it a happy release to be rid of her. + So wrongly does the world, which knows nothing of our real life, judge us. + </p> + <p> + You may see his gravestone in Glasgow Necropolis to-day, and people will + tell you that he was a great philanthropist, and gave away a noble fortune + to the sick and the ignorant; and you will probably wonder to see only + beneath his name the solemn text, "Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith + the Lord." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FACING HIS ENEMY. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + Forty years ago there stood in the lower part of the city of Glasgow a + large, plain building which was to hundreds of very intelligent Scotchmen + almost sacred ground. It stood among warehouses and factories, and in a + very unfashionable quarter; but for all that, it was Dr. William + Morrison's kirk. And Dr. Morrison was in every respect a remarkable man—a + Scotchman with the old Hebrew fervor and sublimity, who accepted the + extremest tenets of his creed with a deep religious faith, and scorned to + trim or moderate them in order to suit what he called "a sinfu' + latitudinarian age." + </p> + <p> + Such a man readily found among the solid burghers of Glasgow a large + "following" of a very serious kind, douce, dour men, whose strongly-marked + features looked as if they had been chiselled out of their native granite—men + who settled themselves with a grave kind of enjoyment to listen to a full + hour's sermon, and who watched every point their minister made with a + critical acumen that seemed more fitting to a synod of divines than a + congregation of weavers and traders. + </p> + <p> + A prominent man in this remarkable church was Deacon John Callendar. He + had been one of its first members, and it was everything to his heart that + Jerusalem is to the Jew, or Mecca to the Mohammedan. He believed his + minister to be the best and wisest of men, though he was by no means + inclined to allow himself a lazy confidence in this security. It was the + special duty of deacons to keep a strict watch over doctrinal points, and + though he had never had occasion to dissent in thirty years' scrutiny, he + still kept the watch. + </p> + <p> + In the temporal affairs of the church it had been different. There was no + definite creed for guidance in these matters, and eight or ten men with + strong, rugged wills about #, <i>s</i>., <i>d</i>., each thinking highly + of his own discretion in monetary affairs, and rather indifferently of the + minister's gifts in this direction, were not likely to have always + harmonious sessions. + </p> + <p> + They had had a decidedly inharmonious one early in January of 184-, and + Deacon Callendar had spoken his mind with his usual blunt directness. He + had been a good deal nettled at the minister's attitude, for, instead of + seconding his propositions, Dr. Morrison had sat with a faraway, + indifferent look, as if the pending discussion was entirely out of his + range of interest. John could have borne contradiction better. An argument + would have gratified him. But to have the speech and statistics which he + had so carefully prepared fall on the minister's ear without provoking any + response was a great trial of his patience. He was inwardly very angry, + though outwardly very calm; but Dr. Morrison knew well what a tumult was + beneath the dour still face of the deacon as he rose from his chair, put + on his plaid, and pulled his bonnet over his brows. + </p> + <p> + "John," he said kindly, "you are a wise man, and I aye thought so. It + takes a Christian to lead passion by the bridle. A Turk is a placid + gentleman, John, but he cannot do it." + </p> + <p> + "Ou, ay! doubtless! There is talk o' the Turk and the Pope, but it is my + neighbors that trouble me the maist, minister. Good-night to ye all. If ye + vote to-night you can e'en count my vote wi' Dr. Morrison's; it will be as + sensible and warld-like as any o' the lave." + </p> + <p> + With this parting reflection he went out. It had begun to snow, and the + still, white solitude made him ashamed of his temper. He looked up at the + quiet heavens above him, then at the quiet street before him, and muttered + with a spice of satisfaction, "Speaking comes by nature, and silence by + understanding. I am thankfu' now I let Deacon Strang hae the last word. + I'm saying naught against Strang; he may gie good counsel, but they'll be + fools that tak it." + </p> + <p> + "Uncle!" + </p> + <p> + "Hout, Davie! Whatna for are you here?" + </p> + <p> + "It began to snow, and I thought you would be the better of your cloak and + umbrella. You seem vexed, uncle." + </p> + <p> + "Vexed? Ay. The minister is the maist contrary o' mortals. He kens + naething about church government, and he treats gude siller as if it wasna + worth the counting; but he's a gude man, and a great man, Davie, and folk + canna serve the altar and be money-changers too. I ought to keep that i' + mind. It's Deacon Strang, and no the minister." + </p> + <p> + "Well, uncle, you must just thole it; you know what the New Testament + says?" + </p> + <p> + "Ay, ay; I ken it says if a man be struck on one cheek, he must turn the + other; but, Davie, let me tell you that the man who gets the first blow + generally deserves the second. It is gude Christian law no to permit the + first stroke. That is my interpretation o' the matter." + </p> + <p> + "I never thought of that." + </p> + <p> + "Young folk don't think o' everything." + </p> + <p> + There was something in the tone of this last remark which seemed to fit + best into silence, and David Callendar had a particular reason for not + further irritating his uncle. The two men without any other remark reached + the large, handsome house in Blytheswood Square which was their home. Its + warmth and comfort had an immediate effect on the deacon. He looked + pleasantly at the blazing fire and the table on the hearthrug, with its + basket of oaten cakes, its pitcher of cream, and its whiskey-bottle and + toddy glasses. The little brass kettle was simmering before the fire, his + slippers were invitingly warm, his loose coat lying over the back of his + soft, ample chair, and just as he had put them on, and sank down with a + sigh of content, a bright old lady entered with a spicy dish of kippered + salmon. + </p> + <p> + "I thought I wad bring ye a bit relish wi' your toddy, deacon. Talking is + hungry wark. I think a man might find easier pleasuring than going to a + kirk session through a snowstorm." + </p> + <p> + "A man might, Jenny. They'd suit women-folk wonderfu'; there's plenty o' + talk and little wark." + </p> + <p> + "Then I dinna see ony call to mak a change, deacon." + </p> + <p> + "Now, Jenny, you've had the last word, sae ye can go to bed wi' an easy + mind. And, Jenny, woman, dinna let your quarrel wi' Maggie Launder come + between you and honest sleep. I think that will settle her," he observed + with a pawky smile, as his housekeeper shut the door with unnecessary + haste. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour afterwards, David, mixing another glass of toddy, drew his + chair closer to the fire, and said, "Uncle John, I want to speak to you." + </p> + <p> + "Speak on, laddie;" but David noticed that even with the permission, + cautious curves settled round his uncle's eyes, and his face assumed that + business-like immobility which defied his scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + "I have had a very serious talk with Robert Leslie; he is thinking of + buying Alexander Hastie out." + </p> + <p> + "Why not think o' buying out Robert Napier, or Gavin Campbell, or + Clydeside Woolen Works? A body might as weel think o' a thousand spindles + as think o' fifty." + </p> + <p> + "But he means business. An aunt, who has lately died in Galloway, has left + him #2,000." + </p> + <p> + "That isna capital enough to run Sandy Hastie's mill." + </p> + <p> + "He wants me to join him." + </p> + <p> + "And how will that help matters? Twa thousand pounds added to Davie + Callendar will be just #2,000." + </p> + <p> + "I felt sure you would lend me #2,000; and in that case it would be a + great chance for me. I am very anxious to be—" + </p> + <p> + "Your ain maister." + </p> + <p> + "Not that altogether, uncle, although you know well the Callendars come of + a kind that do not like to serve. I want to have a chance to make money." + </p> + <p> + "How much of your salary have you saved?" + </p> + <p> + "I have never tried to save anything yet, uncle, but I am going to begin." + </p> + <p> + The old man sat silent for a few moments, and then said, "I wont do it, + Davie." + </p> + <p> + "It is only #2,000, Uncle John." + </p> + <p> + "<i>Only</i> #2,000! Hear the lad! Did ye ever mak #2,000? Did ye ever + save #2,000? When ye hae done that ye'll ne'er put in the adverb, Davie. + <i>Only #2,000, indeed!</i>" + </p> + <p> + "I thought you loved me, uncle." + </p> + <p> + "I love no human creature better than you. Whatna for should I not love + you? You are the only thing left to me o' the bonnie brave brother who + wrapped his colors round him in the Afghan Pass, the brave-hearted lad who + died fighting twenty to one. And you are whiles sae like him that I'm + tempted—na, na, that is a' byganes. I will not let you hae the + #2,000, that is the business in hand." + </p> + <p> + "What for?" + </p> + <p> + "If you will hear the truth, that second glass o' whiskey is reason + plenty. I hae taken my ane glass every night for forty years, and I hae + ne'er made the ane twa, except New Year's tide." + </p> + <p> + "That is fair nonsense, Uncle John. There are plenty of men whom you trust + for more than #2,000 who can take four glasses for their nightcap always." + </p> + <p> + "That may be; I'm no denying it; but what is lawfu' in some men is sinfu' + in others." + </p> + <p> + "I do not see that at all." + </p> + <p> + "Do you mind last summer, when we were up in Argyleshire, how your cousin, + Roy Callendar, walked, with ne'er the wink o' an eyelash, on a + mantel-shelf hanging over a three-hundred-feet precipice? Roy had the + trained eyesight and the steady nerve which made it lawfu' for him; for + you or me it had been suicide—naething less sinfu'. Three or four + glasses o' whiskey are safer for some men than twa for you. I hae been + feeling it my duty to tell you this for some time. Never look sae glum, + Davie, or I'll be thinking it is my siller and no mysel' you were caring + for the night when ye thought o' my cloak and umbrella." + </p> + <p> + The young man rose in a perfect blaze of passion. + </p> + <p> + "Sit down, sit down," said his uncle. "One would think you were your + grandfather, Evan Callendar, and that some English red-coat had trod on + your tartan. Hout! What's the use o' a temper like that to folk wha hae + taken to the spindle instead o' the claymore?" + </p> + <p> + "I am a Callendar for all that." + </p> + <p> + "Sae am I, sae am I, and vera proud o' it fore-bye. We are a' kin, Davie; + blood is thicker than water, and we wont quarrel." + </p> + <p> + David put down his unfinished glass of toddy. He could not trust himself + to discuss the matter any farther, but as he left the room he paused, with + the open door in his hand, and said, + </p> + <p> + "If you are afraid I am going to be a drunkard, why did you not care for + the fear before it became a question of #2,000? And if I ever do become + one, remember this, Uncle John—you mixed my first glass for me!" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + A positive blow could hardly have stunned John Callendar as this + accusation did. He could not have answered it, even if he had had an + opportunity, and the shock was the greater that it brought with it a + sudden sense of responsibility, yea, even guilt. At first the feeling was + one of anger at this sudden charge of conscience. He began to excuse + himself; he was not to blame if other people could not do but they must + o'erdo; then to assure himself that, being God's child, there could be no + condemnation in the matter to him. But his heart was too tender and honest + to find rest in such apologies, and close upon his anger at the lad + crowded a host of loving memories that would not be put away. + </p> + <p> + David's father had been very dear to him. He recalled his younger brother + in a score of tender situations: the schoolhouse in which they had studied + cheek to cheek over one book; the little stream in which they had paddled + and fished on holidays, the fir-wood, the misty corries, and the heathery + mountains of Argyle; above all, he remembered the last time that he had + ever seen the bright young face marching at the head of his company down + Buchanan street on his way to India. David's mother was a still tenderer + memory, and John Callendar's eyes grew misty as his heart forced him to + recall that dark, wintry afternoon when she had brought David to him, and + he had solemnly promised to be a father to the lad. It was the last + promise between them; three weeks afterwards he stood at her grave's side. + Time is said to dim such memories as these. It never does. After many + years some sudden event recalls the great crises of any life with all the + vividness of their first occurrence. + </p> + <p> + Confused as these memories were, they blended with an equal confusion of + feelings. Love, anger, regret, fear, perplexity, condemnation, excuse, + followed close on each other, and John's mind, though remarkably clear and + acute, was one trained rather to the consideration of things point by + point than to the catching of the proper clew in a mental labyrinth. After + an hour's miserable uncertainty he was still in doubt what to do. The one + point of comfort he had been able to reach was the hope that David had + gone straight to Jenny with his grievance. "And though women-folk arena + much as counsellors," thought John, "they are wonderfu' comforters; and + Jenny will ne'er hear tell o' his leaving the house; sae there will be + time to put right what is wrong." + </p> + <p> + But though David had always hitherto, when lessons were hard or lassies + scornful, gone with his troubles to the faithful Jenny, he did not do so + at this time. He did not even bid her "Good-night," and there was such a + look on his face that she considered it prudent not to challenge the + omission. + </p> + <p> + "It will be either money or marriage," she thought. "If it be money, the + deacon has mair than is good for him to hae; if it be marriage, it will be + Isabel Strang, and that the deacon wont like. But it is his ain wife Davie + is choosing, and I am for letting the lad hae the lass he likes best." + </p> + <p> + Jenny had come to these conclusions in ten minutes, but she waited + patiently for an hour before she interrupted her master. Then the clock + struck midnight, and she felt herself aggrieved. "Deacon," she said + sharply, "ye should mak the day day and the night night, and ye would if + ye had a three weeks' ironing to do the morn. It has chappit twelve, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Jenny, I'm not sleeplike to-night. There hae been ill words between David + and me." + </p> + <p> + "And I am mair than astonished at ye, deacon. Ye are auld enough to ken + that ill words canna be wiped out wi' a sponge. Our Davie isna an ordinar + lad; he can be trusted where the lave would need a watcher. Ye ken that, + deacon, for he is your ain bringing up." + </p> + <p> + "But, Jenny, #2,000 for his share o' Hastie's mill! Surely ye didna + encourage the lad in such an idea?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, sae it's money," thought Jenny. "What is #2,000 to you, deacon? Why + should you be sparing and saving money to die wi'? The lad isna a fool." + </p> + <p> + "I dinna approve o' the partner that is seeking him, Jenny. I hae heard + things anent Robert Leslie that I dinna approve of; far from it." + </p> + <p> + "Hae ye <i>seen</i> anything wrong?" + </p> + <p> + "I canna say I hae." + </p> + <p> + "Trust to your eyes, deacon; they believe themselves, and your ears + believe other people; ye ken which is best. His father was a decent body." + </p> + <p> + "Ay, ay; but Alexander Leslie was different from his son Robert. He was a + canny, cautious man, who could ding for his ain side, and who always stood + by the kirk. Robert left Dr. Morrison's soon after his father died. The + doctor was too narrow for Robert Leslie. Robert Leslie has wonderfu' broad + ideas about religion now. Jenny, I dinna like the men who are their ain + Bibles and ministers." + </p> + <p> + "But there are good folk outside Dr. Morrison's kirk, deacon, surely." + </p> + <p> + "We'll trust so, surely, we'll trust so, Jenny; but a man wi' broad + notions about religion soon gets broad notions about business and all + other things. Why, Jenny, I hae heard that Robert Leslie once spoke o' the + house o' John Callendar & Co. as 'old fogyish!'" + </p> + <p> + "That's no hanging matter, deacon, and ye must see that the world is + moving." + </p> + <p> + "Maybe, maybe; but I'se never help it to move except in the safe, narrow + road. Ye ken the Garloch mill-stream? It is narrow enough for a good rider + to leap, but it is deep, and it does its wark weel summer and winter. They + can break down the banks, woman, and let it spread all over the meadow; + bonnie enough it will look, but the mill-clapper would soon stop. Now + there's just sae much power, spiritual or temporal, in any man; spread it + out, and it is shallow and no to be depended on for any purpose whatever. + But narrow the channel, Jenny, narrow the channel, and it is a driving + force." + </p> + <p> + "Ye are getting awa from the main subject, deacon. It is the #2,000, and + ye had best mak up your mind to gie it to Davie. Then ye can gang awa to + your bed and tak your rest." + </p> + <p> + "You talk like a—like a woman. It is easy to gie other folks' siller + awa. I hae worked for my siller." + </p> + <p> + "Your siller, deacon? Ye hae naught but a life use o' it. Ye canna take it + awa wi' ye. Ye can leave it to the ane you like best, but that vera person + may scatter it to the four corners o' the earth. And why not? Money was + made round that it might roll. It is little good yours is doing lying in + the Clyde Trust." + </p> + <p> + "Jenny Callendar, you are my ain cousin four times removed, and you hae a + kind o' right to speak your mind in my house; but you hae said enough, + woman. It isna a question of money only; there are ither things troubling + me mair than that. But women are but one-sided arguers. Good-night to + you." + </p> + <p> + He turned to the fire and sat down, but after a few moments of the same + restless, confused deliberation, he rose and went to his Bible. It lay + open upon its stand, and John put his hand lovingly, reverently upon the + pages. He had no glasses on, and he could not see a letter, but he did not + need to. + </p> + <p> + "It is my Father's word," he whispered; and, standing humbly before it, he + recalled passage after passage, until a great calm fell upon him. Then he + said, + </p> + <p> + "I will lay me down and sleep now; maybe I'll see clearer in the morning + light." + </p> + <p> + Almost as soon as he opened his eyes in the morning there was a tap at his + door, and the gay, strong voice he loved so dearly asked, + </p> + <p> + "Can I come in, Uncle John?" + </p> + <p> + "Come in, Davie." + </p> + <p> + "Uncle, I was wrong last night, and I cannot be happy with any shadow + between us two." + </p> + <p> + Scotchmen are not demonstrative, and John only winked his eyes and + straightened out his mouth; but the grip of the old and young hand said + what no words could have said half so eloquently. Then the old man + remarked in a business-like way, + </p> + <p> + "I hae been thinking, Davie, I would go and look o'er Hastie's affairs, + and if I like the look o' them I'll buy the whole concern out for you. + Partners are kittle cattle. Ye will hae to bear their shortcomings as well + as your ain. Tak my advice, Davie; rule your youth well, and your age will + rule itsel'." + </p> + <p> + "Uncle, you forget that Robert Leslie is in treaty with Hastie. It would + be the height of dishonor to interfere with his bargain. You have always + told me never to put my finger in another man's bargain. Let us say no + more on the subject. I have another plan now. If it succeeds, well and + good; if not, there are chances behind this one." + </p> + <p> + John fervently hoped there would be no more to say on this subject, and + when day after day went by without any reference to Hastie or Robert + Leslie, John Callendar felt much relieved. David also had limited himself + to one glass of toddy at night, and this unspoken confession and + reformation was a great consolation to the old man. He said to himself + that the evil he dreaded had gone by his door, and he was rather + complacent over the bold stand he had taken. + </p> + <p> + That day, as he was slowly walking through the Exchange, pondering a + proposal for Virginia goods, Deacon Strang accosted him. "Callendar, a + good day to ye; I congratulate ye on the new firm o' Callendar & + Leslie. They are brave lads, and like enough—if a' goes weel—to + do weel." + </p> + <p> + John did not allow an eyelash to betray his surprise and chagrin. "Ah, + Strang!" he answered, "the Callendars are a big clan, and we are a' kin; + sae, if you tak to congratulating me on every Callendar whose name ye see + aboon a doorstep, you'll hae mair business on hand than you'll ken how to + manage. A good day to you!" But Deacon Callendar went up Great George + street that day with a heavy, angry heart. His nephew opened the door for + him. "Uncle John, I have been looking all over for you. I have something + to tell you." + </p> + <p> + "Fiddler's news, Davie. I hae heard it already. Sae you hae struck hands + wi' Robert Leslie after a', eh?" + </p> + <p> + "He had my promise, uncle, before I spoke to you. I could not break it." + </p> + <p> + "H'm! Where did you get the #2,000?" + </p> + <p> + "I borrowed it." + </p> + <p> + "Then I hope 'the party' looked weel into the business." + </p> + <p> + "They did not. It was loaned to me on my simple representation." + </p> + <p> + "'Simple representation!' Vera simple! It was some woman, dootless." + </p> + <p> + "It was my mother's aunt, Lady Brith." + </p> + <p> + "Ou, ay! I kent it. Weel, when a bargain is made, wish it good luck; sae, + Jenny, put a partridge before the fire, and bring up a bottle O' Madeira." + </p> + <p> + It was not however a lively meal. John was too proud and hurt to ask for + information, and David too much chilled by his reserve to volunteer it. + The wine, being an unusual beverage to John, made him sleepy; and when + David said he had to meet Robert Leslie at nine o'clock, John made no + objection and no remark. But when Jenny came in to cover up the fire for + the night, she found him sitting before it, rubbing his hands in a very + unhappy manner. + </p> + <p> + "Cousin," he said fretfully, "there is a new firm in Glasgo' to-day." + </p> + <p> + "I hae heard tell o' it. God send it prosperity." + </p> + <p> + "It isna likely, Jenny; auld Lady Brith's money to start it! The godless + auld woman! If Davie taks her advice, he's a gane lad." + </p> + <p> + "Then, deacon, it's your ain fault. Whatna for did ye not gie him the + #2,000?" + </p> + <p> + "Just hear the woman! It taks women and lads to talk o' #2,000 as if it + were picked up on the planestanes." + </p> + <p> + "If ye had loaned it, deacon, ye would hae had the right to spier into + things, and gie the lad advice. He maun tak his advice where he taks his + money. Ye flung that chance o' guiding Davie to the four winds. And let me + tell ye, Cousin Callendar, ye hae far too tight a grip on this warld's + goods. The money is only loaned to you to put out at interest for the + Master. It ought to be building kirks and schoolhouses, and sending Bibles + to the far ends o' the earth. When you are asked what ye did wi' it, how + will you like to answer, 'I hid it safely awa, Lord, in the Clyde Trust + and in Andrew Fleming's bank!'" + </p> + <p> + "That will do, woman. Now you hae made me dissatisfied wi' my guiding o' + Davie, and meeserable anent my bank account, ye may gang to your bed; + you'll doobtless sleep weel on the thought." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + However, sometimes things are not so ill as they look. The new firm + obtained favor, and even old, cautious men began to do a little business + with it. For Robert introduced some new machinery, and the work it did was + allowed, after considerable suspicion, to be "vera satisfactory." A sudden + emergency had also discovered to David that he possessed singularly + original ideas in designing patterns; and he set himself with enthusiasm + to that part of the business. Two years afterwards came the Great Fair of + 1851, and Callendar & Leslie took a first prize for their rugs, both + design and workmanship being honorably mentioned. + </p> + <p> + Their success seemed now assured. Orders came in so fast that the mill + worked day and night to fill them; and David was so gay and happy that + John could hardly help rejoicing with him. Indeed, he was very proud of + his nephew, and even inclined to give Robert a little cautious kindness. + The winter of 1851 was a very prosperous one, but the spring brought an + unlooked-for change. + </p> + <p> + One evening David came home to dinner in a mood which Jenny characterized + as "<i>thrawart</i>." He barely answered her greeting, and shut his + room-door with a bang. He did not want any dinner, and he wanted to be let + alone. John looked troubled at this behavior. Jenny said, "It is some lass + in the matter; naething else could mak a sensible lad like Davie act sae + child-like and silly." And Jennie was right. Towards nine o'clock David + came to the parlor and sat down beside his uncle. He said he had been + "greatly annoyed." + </p> + <p> + "Annoyances are as certain as the multiplication table," John remarked + quietly, "and ye ought to expect them—all the mair after a long run + o' prosperity." + </p> + <p> + "But no man likes to be refused by the girl he loves." + </p> + <p> + "Eh? Refused, say ye? Wha has refused you?" + </p> + <p> + "Isabel Strang. I have loved her, as you and Jenny know, since we went to + school together, and I was sure that she loved me. Two days ago I had some + business with Deacon Strang, and when it was finished I spoke to him anent + Isabel. He made me no answer then, one way or the other, but told me he + would have a talk with Isabel, and I might call on him this afternoon. + When I did so he said he felt obligated to refuse my offer." + </p> + <p> + "Weel?" + </p> + <p> + "That is all." + </p> + <p> + "Nonsense! Hae you seen Isabel hersel'?" + </p> + <p> + "She went to Edinburgh last night." + </p> + <p> + "And if you were your uncle, lad, you would hae been in Edinburgh too by + this time. Your uncle would not stay refused twenty-four hours, if he + thought the lass loved him. Tut, tut, you ought to hae left at once; that + would hae been mair like a Callendar than ganging to your ain room to sit + out a scorning. There is a train at ten o'clock to-night; you hae time to + catch it if ye dinna lose a minute, and if you come back wi' Mrs. David + Callendar, I'll gie her a warm welcome for your sake." + </p> + <p> + The old man's face was aglow, and in his excitement he had risen to his + feet with the very air of one whom no circumstances could depress or + embarrass. David caught his mood and his suggestion, and in five minutes + he was on his way to the railway diptt. The thing was done so quickly that + reflection had formed no part of it. But when Jenny heard the front-door + clash impatiently after David, she surmised some imprudence, and hastened + to see what was the matter. John told her the "affront" David had + received, and looked eagerly into the strong, kindly face for an assurance + that he had acted with becoming promptitude and sympathy. Jenny shook her + head gravely, and regarded the deacon with a look of pitying disapproval. + "To think," she said, "of twa men trying to sort a love affair, when there + was a woman within call to seek counsel o'." + </p> + <p> + "But we couldna hae done better, Jenny." + </p> + <p> + "Ye couldna hae done warse, deacon. Once the lad asked ye for money, and + ye wouldna trust him wi' it; and now ye are in sic a hurry to send him + after a wife that he maun neither eat nor sleep. Ye ken which is the maist + dangerous. And you, wi' a' your years, to play into auld Strang's hand sae + glibly! Deacon, ye hae made a nice mess o' it. Dinna ye see that Strang + knew you twa fiery Hielandmen would never tak 'No,' and he sent Isabel awa + on purpose for our Davie to run after her. He kens weel they will be sure + to marry, but he'll say now that his daughter disobeyed him; sae he'll get + off giving her a bawbee o' her fortune, and he'll save a' the plenishing + and the wedding expenses. Deacon, I'm ashamed o' you. Sending a love-sick + lad on sic a fool's errand. And mair, I'm not going to hae Isabel Strang, + or Isabel Callendar here. A young woman wi' bridish ways dawdling about + the house, I canna, and I willna stand. You'll hae to choose atween Deacon + Strang's daughter and your auld cousin, Jenny Callendar." + </p> + <p> + John had no answer ready, and indeed Jenny gave him no time to make one: + she went off with a sob in her voice, and left the impulsive old + matchmaker very unhappy indeed. For he had an unmitigated sense of having + acted most imprudently, and moreover, a shrewd suspicion that Jenny's + analysis of Deacon Strang's tactics was a correct one. For the first time + in many a year, a great tide of hot, passionate anger swept away every + other feeling. He longed to meet Strang face to face, and with an + hereditary and quite involuntary instinct he put his hand to the place + where his forefathers had always carried their dirks. The action terrified + and partly calmed him. "My God!" he exclaimed, "forgive thy servant. I hae + been guilty in my heart o' murder." + </p> + <p> + He was very penitent, but still, as he mused the fire burned; and he gave + vent to his feelings in odd, disjointed sentences thrown up from the very + bottom of his heart, as lava is thrown up by the irrepressible eruption: + "Wha shall deliver a man from his ancestors? Black Evan Callendar was + never much nearer murder than I hae been this night, only for the grace of + God, which put the temptation and the opportunity sae far apart. I'll hae + Strang under my thumb yet. God forgie me! what hae I got to do wi' sorting + my ain wrongs? What for couldna Davie like some other lass? It's as easy + to graft on a good stock as an ill one. I doobt I hae done wrong. I am in + a sair swither. The righteous dinna always see the right way. I maun e'en + to my Psalms again. It is a wonderfu' comfort that King David was just a + weak, sinfu' mortal like mysel'." So he went again to those pathetic, + self-accusing laments of the royal singer, and found in them, as he always + had done, words for all the great depths of his sin and fear, his hopes + and his faith. + </p> + <p> + In the morning one thing was clear to him; David must have his own house + now—David must leave him. He could not help but acknowledge that he + helped on this consummation, and it was with something of the feeling of a + man doing a just penance that he went to look at a furnished house, whose + owner was going to the south of France with a sick daughter. The place was + pretty, and handsomely furnished, and John paid down the year's rent. So + when David returned with his young bride, he assumed at once the dignity + and the cares of a householder. + </p> + <p> + Jenny was much offended at the marriage of David. She had looked forward + to this event as desirable and probable, but she supposed it would have + come with solemn religious rites and domestic feasting, and with a great + gathering in Blytheswood Square of all the Callendar clan. That it had + been "a wedding in a corner," as she contemptuously called it, was a great + disappointment to her. But, woman-like, she visited it on her own sex. It + was all Isabel's fault, and from the very first day of the return of the + new couple she assumed an air of commiseration for the young husband, and + always spoke of him as "poor Davie." + </p> + <p> + This annoyed John, and after his visits to David's house he was perhaps + unnecessarily eloquent concerning the happiness of the young people. Jenny + received all such information with a dissenting silence. She always spoke + of Isabel as "Mistress David," and when John reminded her that David's + wife was "Mistress Callendar," she said, "It was weel kent that there were + plenty o' folk called Callendar that werna Callendars for a' that." And it + soon became evident to her womanly keen-sightedness that John did not + always return from his visits to David and Isabel in the most happy of + humors. He was frequently too silent and thoughtful for a perfectly + satisfied man; but whatever his fears were, he kept them in his own bosom. + They were evidently as yet so light that hope frequently banished them + altogether; and when at length David had a son and called it after his + uncle, the old man enjoyed a real springtime of renewed youth and + pleasure. Jenny was partly reconciled also, for the happy parents treated + her with special attention, and she began to feel that perhaps David's + marriage might turn out better than she had looked for. + </p> + <p> + Two years after this event Deacon Strang became reconciled to his + daughter, and as a proof of it gave her a large mansion situated in the + rapidly-growing "West End." It had come into his possession at a bargain + in some of the mysterious ways of his trade; but it was, by the very + reason of its great size, quite unsuitable for a young manufacturer like + David. Indeed, it proved to be a most unfortunate gift in many ways. + </p> + <p> + "It will cost #5,000 to furnish it," said John fretfully, "and that Davie + can ill afford—few men could; but Isabel has set her heart on it." + </p> + <p> + "And she'll hae her will, deacon. Ye could put #5,000 in the business + though, or ye could furnish for them." + </p> + <p> + "My way o' furnishing wouldna suit them; and as for putting back money + that David is set on wasting, I'll no do it. It is a poor well, Jenny, + into which you must put water. If David's business wont stand his drafts + on it, the sooner he finds it out the better." + </p> + <p> + So the fine house was finely furnished; but that was only the beginning of + expenses. Isabel now wanted dress to suit her new surroundings, and + servants to keep the numerous rooms clean. Then she wanted all her friends + and acquaintances to see her splendid belongings, so that erelong David + found his home turned into a fashionable gathering-place. Lunches, + dinners, and balls followed each other quickly, and the result of all this + visiting was that Isabel had long lists of calls to make every day, and + that she finally persuaded David that it would be cheaper to buy their own + carriage than to pay so much hire to livery-stables. + </p> + <p> + These changes did not take place all at once, nor without much disputing. + John Callendar opposed every one of them step by step till opposition was + useless. David only submitted to them in order to purchase for himself a + delusive peace during the few hours he could afford to be in his fine + home; for his increased expenditure was not a thing he could bear lightly. + Every extra hundred pounds involved extra planning and work and risks. He + gradually lost all the cheerful buoyancy of manner and the brightness of + countenance that had been always part and parcel of David Callendar. A + look of care and weariness was on his face, and his habits and hours lost + all their former regularity. It had once been possible to tell the time of + day by the return home of the two Callendars. Now no one could have done + that with David. He stayed out late at night; he stayed out all night + long. He told Isabel the mill needed him, and she either believed him or + pretended to do so. + </p> + <p> + So that after the first winter of her fashionable existence she generally + "entertained" alone. "Mr. Callendar had gone to Stirling, or up to the + Highlands to buy wool," or, "he was so busy money-making she could not get + him to recognize the claims of society." And society cared not a pin's + point whether he presided or not at the expensive entertainments given in + his name. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + But things did not come to this pass all at once; few men take the steps + towards ruin so rapidly as to be themselves alarmed by it. It was nearly + seven years after his marriage when the fact that he was in dangerously + embarrassed circumstances forced itself suddenly on David's mind. I say + "suddenly" here, because the consummation of evil that has been long + preparing comes at last in a moment; a string holding a picture gets + weaker and weaker through weeks of tension, and then breaks. A calamity + through nights and days moves slowly towards us step by step, and then + some hour it has come. So it was with David's business. It had often + lately been in tight places, but something had always happened to relieve + him. One day, however, there was absolutely no relief but in borrowing + money, and David went to his uncle again. + </p> + <p> + It was a painful thing for him to do; not that they had any quarrel, + though sometimes David thought a quarrel would be better than the scant + and almost sad intercourse their once tender love had fallen into. By some + strange mental sympathy, hardly sufficiently recognized by us, John was + thinking of his nephew when he entered. He greeted him kindly, and pulled + a chair close, so that David might sit beside him. He listened + sympathizingly to his cares, and looked mournfully into the unhappy face + so dear to him; then he took his bank-book and wrote out a check for + double the amount asked. + </p> + <p> + The young man was astonished; the tears sprang to his eyes, and he said, + "Uncle, this is very good of you. I wish I could tell you how grateful I + am." + </p> + <p> + "Davie, sit a moment, you dear lad. I hae a word to say to ye. I hear tell + that my lad is drinking far mair than is good either for himsel' or his + business. My lad, I care little for the business; let it go, if its + anxieties are driving thee to whiskey. David, remember what thou accused + me of, yonder night, when this weary mill was first spoken of; and then + think how I suffer every time I hear tell o' thee being the warse o' + liquor. And Jenny is greeting her heart out about thee. And there is thy + sick wife, and three bonnie bit bairns." + </p> + <p> + "Did Isabel tell you this?" + </p> + <p> + "How can she help complaining? She is vera ill, and she sees little o' + thee, David, she says." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, she is ill. She took cold at Provost Allison's ball, and she has + dwined away ever since. That is true. And the house is neglected and the + servants do their own will both with it and the poor children. I have been + very wretched, Uncle John, lately, and I am afraid I have drunk more than + I ought to have done. Robert and I do not hit together as we used to; he + is always fault-finding, and ever since that visit from his cousin who is + settled in America he has been dissatisfied and heartless. His cousin has + made himself a rich man in ten years there; and Robert says we shall ne'er + make money here till we are too old to enjoy it." + </p> + <p> + "I heard tell, too, that Robert has been speculating in railway stock. + Such reports, true or false, hurt you, David. Prudent men dinna like to + trust speculators." + </p> + <p> + "I think the report is true; but then it is out of his private savings he + speculates." + </p> + <p> + "Davie, gie me your word that you wont touch a drop o' whiskey for a week—just + for a week." + </p> + <p> + "I cannot do it, uncle. I should be sure to break it. I don't want to tell + you a lie." + </p> + <p> + "O Davie, Davie! Will you try, then?" + </p> + <p> + "I'll try, uncle. Ask Jenny to go and see the children." + </p> + <p> + "'Deed she shall go; she'll be fain to do it. Let them come and stay wi' + me till their mother is mair able to look after them." + </p> + <p> + Jenny heard the story that night with a dour face. She could have said + some very bitter things about Deacon Strang's daughter, but in + consideration of her sickness she forbore. The next morning she went to + David's house and had a talk with Isabel. The poor woman was so ill that + Jenny had no heart to scold her; she only gave the house "a good sorting," + did what she could for Isabel's comfort, and took back with her the + children and their nurse. It was at her suggestion John saw David the next + day, and offered to send Isabel to the mild climate of Devonshire. "She'll + die if she stays in Glasgo' through the winter," he urged, and David + consented. Then, as David could not leave his business, John himself took + the poor woman to Torbay, and no one but she and God ever knew how + tenderly he cared for her, and how solemnly he tried to prepare her for + the great change he saw approaching. She had not thought of death before, + but when they parted he knew she had understood him, for weeping bitterly, + she said, "You will take care of the children, Uncle John? I fear I shall + see them no more." + </p> + <p> + "I will, Isabel. While I live I will." + </p> + <p> + "And, O uncle, poor David! I have not been a good wife to him. Whatever + happens, think of that and judge him mercifully. It is my fault, uncle, my + fault, my fault! God forgive me!" + </p> + <p> + "Nae, nae, lassie; I am far from innocent mysel';" and with these mournful + accusations they parted for ever. + </p> + <p> + For Isabel's sickness suddenly assumed an alarming character, and her + dissolution was so rapid that John had scarcely got back to Glasgow ere + David was sent for to see his wife die. He came back a bereaved and very + wretched man; the great house was dismantled and sold, and he went home + once more to Blytheswood Square. + </p> + <p> + But he could not go back to his old innocent life and self; and the change + only revealed to John how terribly far astray his nephew had gone. And + even Isabel's death had no reforming influence on him; it only roused + regrets and self-reproaches, which made liquor all the more necessary to + him. Then the breaking up of the house entailed much bargain-making, all + of which was unfortunately cemented with glasses of whiskey toddy. Still + his uncle had some new element of hope on which to work. David's home was + now near enough to his place of business to afford no excuse for remaining + away all night. The children were not to be hid away in some upper room; + John was determined they should be at the table and on the hearthstone; + and surely their father would respect their innocence and keep himself + sober for their sakes. + </p> + <p> + "It is the highest earthly motive I can gie him," argued the anxious old + man, "and he has aye had grace enough to keep out o' my sight when he + wasna himsel'; he'll ne'er let wee John and Flora and Davie see him when + the whiskey is aboon the will and the wit—that's no to be believed." + </p> + <p> + And for a time it seemed as if John's tactics would prevail. There were + many evenings when they were very happy. The children made so gay the + quiet old parlor, and David learning to know his own boys and girl, was + astonished at their childish beauty and intelligence. Often John could not + bear to break up the pleasant evening time, and David and he would sit + softly talking in the firelight, with little John musing quietly between + them, and Flora asleep on her uncle's lap. Then Jenny would come gently in + and out and say tenderly, "Hadna the bairns better come awa to their + beds?" and the old man would answer, "Bide a bit, Jenny, woman," for he + thought every such hour was building up a counter influence against the + snare of strong drink. + </p> + <p> + But there is no voice in human nature that can say authoritatively, "<i>Return!</i>" + David felt all the sweet influences with which he was surrounded, but, it + must be admitted, they were sometimes an irritation to him. His business + troubles, and his disagreements with his partner, were increasing rapidly; + for Robert—whose hopes were set on America—was urging him to + close the mill before their liabilities were any larger. He refused to + believe longer in the future making good what they had lost; and certainly + it was uphill work for David to struggle against accumulating bills, and a + partner whose heart was not with him. + </p> + <p> + One night at the close of the year, David did not come home to dinner, and + John and the children ate it alone. He was very anxious, and he had not + much heart to talk; but he kept the two eldest with him until little + Flora's head dropped, heavy with sleep, on his breast. Then a sudden + thought seemed to strike him, and he sent them, almost hurriedly, away. He + had scarcely done so when there was a shuffling noise in the hall, the + parlor-door was flung open with a jar, and David staggered towards him—<i>drunk</i>! + </p> + <p> + In a moment, John's natural temper conquered him; he jumped to his feet, + and said passionately, "How daur ye, sir? Get out o' my house, you sinfu' + lad!" Then, with a great cry he smote his hands together and bowed his + head upon them, weeping slow, heavy drops, that came each with a separate + pang. His agony touched David, though he scarcely comprehended it. Not all + at once is the tender conscience seared, and the tender heart hardened. + </p> + <p> + "Uncle," he said in a maudlin, hesitating way, which it would be a sin to + imitate—"Uncle John, I'm not drunk, I'm in trouble; I'm in trouble, + Uncle John. Don't cry about me. I'm not worth it." + </p> + <p> + Then he sank down upon the sofa, and, after a few more incoherent + apologies, dropped into a deep sleep. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + John sat and looked at his fallen idol with a vacant, tear-stained face. + He tried to pray a few words at intervals, but he was not yet able to gird + up his soul and wrestle with this grief. When Jenny came in she was + shocked at the gray, wretched look with which her master pointed to the + shameful figure on the sofa. Nevertheless, she went gently to it, raised + the fallen head to the pillow, and then went and got a blanket to cover + the sleeper, muttering, + </p> + <p> + "Poor fellow! There's nae need to let him get a pleurisy, ony gate. Whatna + for did ye no tell me, deacon? Then I could hae made him a cup o' warm + tea." + </p> + <p> + She spoke as if she was angry, not at David, but at John; and, though it + was only the natural instinct of a woman defending what she dearly loved, + John gave it a different meaning, and it added to his suffering. + </p> + <p> + "You are right, Jenny, woman," he said humbly, "it is my fault. I mixed + his first glass for him." + </p> + <p> + "Vera weel. Somebody aye mixes the first glass. Somebody mixed your first + glass. That is a bygane, and there is nae use at a' speiring after it. How + is the lad to be saved? That is the question now." + </p> + <p> + "O Jenny, then you dare to hope for his salvation?" + </p> + <p> + "I would think it far mair sinfu' to despair o' it. The Father has twa + kinds o' sons, deacon. Ye are ane like the elder brother; ye hae 'served + him many years and transgressed not at any time his commandment;' but this + dear lad is his younger son—still his son, mind ye—and he'll + win hame again to his Father's house. What for not? He's the bairn o' many + prayers. Gae awa to your ain room, deacon; I'll keep the watch wi' him. + He'd rather see me nor you when he comes to himsel'." + </p> + <p> + Alas! the watch begun that night was one Jenny had very often to keep + afterwards. David's troubles gathered closer and closer round him, and the + more trouble he had the deeper he drank. Within a month after that first + shameful homecoming the firm of Callendar & Leslie went into + sequestration. John felt the humiliation of this downcome in a far keener + way than David did. His own business record was a stainless one; his word + was as good as gold on Glasgow Exchange; the house of John Callendar & + Co. was synonymous with commercial integrity. The prudent burghers who + were his nephew's creditors were far from satisfied with the risks David + and Robert Leslie had taken, and they did not scruple to call them by + words which hurt John Callendar's honor like a sword-thrust. He did not + doubt that many blamed him for not interfering in his nephew's extravagant + business methods; and he could not explain to these people how peculiarly + he was situated with regard to David's affairs; nor, indeed, would many of + them have understood the fine delicacy which had dictated John's course. + </p> + <p> + It was a wretched summer every way. The accountant who had charge of + David's affairs was in no hurry to close up a profitable engagement, and + the creditors, having once accepted the probable loss, did not think it + worth while to deny themselves their seaside or Highland trips to attend + meetings relating to Callendar & Leslie. So there was little progress + made in the settlement of affairs all summer, and David was literally out + of employment. His uncle's and his children's presence was a reproach to + him, and Robert and he only irritated each other with mutual reproaches. + Before autumn brought back manufacturers and merchants to their factories + and offices David had sunk still lower. He did not come home any more when + he felt that he had drunk too much. He had found out houses where such a + condition was the natural and the most acceptable one—houses whose + doors are near to the gates of hell. + </p> + <p> + This knowledge shocked John inexpressibly, and in the depth of his horror + and grief he craved some human sympathy. + </p> + <p> + "I must go and see Dr. Morrison," he said one night to Jenny. + </p> + <p> + "And you'll do right, deacon; the grip o' his hand and the shining o' his + eyes in yours will do you good; forbye, you ken weel you arena fit to + guide yoursel', let alane Davie. You are too angry, and angry men tell + many a lie to themsel's." + </p> + <p> + There is often something luminous in the face of a good man, and Dr. + Morrison had this peculiarity in a remarkable degree. His face seemed to + radiate light; moreover, he was a man anointed with the oil of gladness + above his fellows, and John no sooner felt the glow of that radiant + countenance on him than his heart leaped up to welcome it. + </p> + <p> + "Doctor," he said, choking back his sorrow, "doctor, I'm fain to see you." + </p> + <p> + "John, sit down. What is it, John?" + </p> + <p> + "It's David, minister." + </p> + <p> + And then John slowly, and weighing every word so as to be sure he neither + over-stated nor under-stated the case, opened up his whole heart's sorrow. + </p> + <p> + "I hae suffered deeply, minister; I didna think life could be such a + tragedy." + </p> + <p> + "A tragedy indeed, John, but a tragedy with an angel audience. Think of + that. Paul says 'we are a spectacle unto men and angels.' Mind how you + play your part. What is David doing now?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing. His affairs are still unsettled." + </p> + <p> + "But that wont do, John. Men learn to do ill by doing what is next to it—nothing. + Without some duty life cannot hold itself erect. If a man has no regular + calling he is an unhappy man and a cross man, and I think prayers should + be offered up for his wife and children and a' who have to live with him. + Take David into your own employ at once." + </p> + <p> + "O minister, that I canna do! My office has aye had God-fearing, steady + men in it, and I canna, and—" + </p> + <p> + "'And that day Jesus was guest in the house of a man that was a sinner.' + John, can't you take a sinner as a servant into your office?" + </p> + <p> + "I'll try it, minister." + </p> + <p> + "And, John, it will be a hard thing to do, but you must watch David + constantly. You must follow him to his drinking-haunts and take him home; + if need be, you must follow him to warse places and take him home. You + must watch him as if all depended on your vigilance, and you must pray for + him as if nothing depended on it. You hae to conquer on your knees before + you go into the world to fight your battle, John. But think, man, what a + warfare is set before you—the saving of an immortal soul! And I'm + your friend and helper in the matter; the lad is one o' my stray lambs; he + belongs to my fold. Go your ways in God's strength, John, for this grief + o' yours shall be crowned with consolation." + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to say how this conference strengthened John Callendar. + Naturally a very choleric man, he controlled himself into a great patience + with his erring nephew. He watched for him like a father; nay, more like a + mother's was the thoughtful tenderness of his care. And David was often so + touched by the love and forbearance shown him, that he made passionate + acknowledgments of his sin and earnest efforts to conquer it. Sometimes + for a week together he abstained entirely, though during these intervals + of reason he was very trying. His remorse, his shame, his physical + suffering, were so great that he needed the most patient tenderness; and + yet he frequently resented this tenderness in a moody, sullen way that was + a shocking contrast to his once bright and affectionate manner. + </p> + <p> + So things went on until the close of the year. By that time the affairs of + the broken firm had been thoroughly investigated, and it was found that + its liabilities were nearly #20,000 above its assets. Suddenly, however, + bundle wools took an enormous rise, and as the stock of "Callendar & + Leslie" was mainly of this kind, they were pushed on the market, and sold + at a rate which reduced the firm's debts to about #17,000. This piece of + good fortune only irritated David; he was sure now that if Robert had + continued the fight they would have been in a position to clear + themselves. Still, whatever credit was due the transaction was frankly + given to David. It was his commercial instinct that had divined the + opportunity and seized it, and a short item in the "Glasgow Herald" spoke + in a cautiously flattering way of the affair. + </p> + <p> + Both John and David were greatly pleased at the circumstance. David also + had been perfectly sober during the few days he had this stroke of + business in hand, and the public acknowledgment of his service to the + firm's creditors was particularly flattering to him. He came down to + breakfast that morning as he had not come for months. It was a glimpse of + the old Davie back again, and John was as happy as a child in the vision. + Into his heart came at once Dr. Morrison's assertion that David must have + some regular duty to keep his life erect. It was evident that the + obligation of a trust had a controlling influence over him. + </p> + <p> + "David," he said cheerfully, "you must hae nearly done wi' that first + venture o' yours. The next will hae to redeem it; that is all about it. + Everything is possible to a man under forty years auld." + </p> + <p> + "We have our final meeting this afternoon, uncle. I shall lock the doors + for ever to-night." + </p> + <p> + "And your debts are na as much as you expected." + </p> + <p> + "They will not be over #17,000, and they may be considerably less. I hope + to make another sale this morning. There are yet three thousand bundles in + the stock." + </p> + <p> + "David, I shall put #20,000 in your ain name and for your ain use, + whatever that use may be, in the Western Bank this morning. I think you'll + do the best thing you can do to set your name clear again. If you are my + boy you will." + </p> + <p> + "Uncle John, you cannot really mean that I may pay every shilling I owe, + and go back on the Exchange with a white name? O uncle, if you should mean + this, what a man you would make of me!" + </p> + <p> + "It is just what I mean to do, Davie. Is na all that I have yours and your + children's? But oh, I thank God that you hae still a heart that counts + honor more than gold. David, after this I wont let go one o' the hopes I + have ever had for you." + </p> + <p> + "You need not, uncle. Please God, and with his help, I will make every one + of them good." + </p> + <p> + And he meant to do it. He never had felt more certain of himself or more + hopeful for the future than when he went out that morning. He touched + nothing all day, and as the short, dark afternoon closed in, he went + cheerfully towards the mill, with his new check-book in his pocket and the + assurance in his heart that in a few hours he could stand up among his + fellow-citizens free from the stain of debt. + </p> + <p> + His short speech at the final meeting was so frank and manly, and so just + and honorable to his uncle, that it roused a quiet but deep enthusiasm. + Many of the older men had to wipe the mist from their glasses, and the + heaviest creditor stood up and took David's hand, saying, "Gentlemen, I + hae made money, and I hae saved money, and I hae had money left me; but I + never made, nor saved, nor got money that gave me such honest pleasure as + this siller I hae found in twa honest men's hearts. Let's hae in the toddy + and drink to the twa Callendars." + </p> + <p> + Alas! alas! how often is it our friends from whom we ought to pray to be + preserved. The man meant kindly; he was a good man, he was a God-fearing + man, and even while he was setting temptation before his poor, weak + brother, he was thinking "that money so clean and fair and unexpected + should be given to some holy purpose." But the best of us are the slaves + of habit and chronic thoughtlessness. All his life he had signalled every + happy event by a libation of toddy; everybody else did the same; and + although he knew David's weakness, he did not think of it in connection + with that wisest of all prayers, "Lead us not into temptation." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + David ought to have left then, but he did not; and when his uncle's health + was given, and the glass of steaming whiskey stood before him, he raised + it to his lips and drank. It was easy to drink the second glass and the + third, and so on. The men fell into reminiscence and song, and no one knew + how many glasses were mixed; and even when they stood at the door they + turned back for "a thimbleful o' raw speerit to keep out the cold," for it + had begun to snow, and there was a chill, wet, east wind. + </p> + <p> + Then they went; and when their forms were lost in the misty gloom, and + even their voices had died away, David turned back to put out the lights, + and lock the mill-door for the last time. Suddenly it struck him that he + had not seen Robert Leslie for an hour at least, and while he was + wondering about it in a vague, drunken way, Robert came out of an inner + room, white with scornful anger, and in a most quarrelsome mood. + </p> + <p> + "You have made a nice fool of yoursel', David Callendar! Flinging awa so + much gude gold for a speech and a glass o' whiskey! Ugh!" + </p> + <p> + "You may think so, Robert. The Leslies have always been 'rievers and + thievers;' but the Callendars are of another stock." + </p> + <p> + "The Callendars are like ither folk—good and bad, and mostly bad. + Money, not honor, rules the warld in these days; and when folk have turned + spinners, what is the use o' talking about honor! Profit is a word more + fitting." + </p> + <p> + "I count mysel' no less a Callendar than my great-grandfather, Evan + Callendar, who led the last hopeless charge on Culloden. If I am a + spinner, I'll never be the first to smirch the roll o' my house with debt + and dishonesty, if I can help it." + </p> + <p> + "Fair nonsense! The height of nonsense! Your ancestors indeed! Mules make + a great to-do about their ancestors having been horses!" + </p> + <p> + David retorted with hot sarcasm on the freebooting Leslies, and their kin + the Armstrongs and Kennedys; and to Scotchmen this is the very sorest side + of a quarrel. They can forgive a bitter word against themselves perhaps, + but against their clan, or their dead, it is an unpardonable offence. And + certainly Robert had an unfair advantage; he was in a cool, wicked temper + of envy and covetousness. He could have struck himself for not having + foreseen that old John Callendar would be sure to clear the name of + dishonor, and thus let David and his #20,000 slip out of his control. + </p> + <p> + David had drunk enough to excite all the hereditary fight in his nature, + and not enough to dull the anger and remorse he felt for having drunk + anything at all. The dreary, damp atmosphere and the cold, sloppy turf of + Glasgow Green might have brought them back to the ordinary cares and + troubles of every-day life, but it did not. This grim oasis in the very + centre of the hardest and bitterest existences was now deserted. The dull, + heavy swash of the dirty Clyde and the distant hum of the sorrowful voices + of humanity in the adjacent streets hardly touched the sharp, cutting + accents of the two quarrelling men. No human ears heard them, and no human + eyes saw the uplifted hands and the sway and fall of Robert Leslie upon + the smutty and half melted snow, except David's. + </p> + <p> + Yes; David saw him fall, and heard with a strange terror the peculiar thud + and the long moan that followed it. It sobered him at once and completely. + The shock was frightful. He stood for a moment looking at the upturned + face, and then with a fearful horror he stooped and touched it. There was + no response to either entreaties or movement, and David was sure after + five minutes' efforts there never would be. Then his children, his uncle, + his own life, pressed upon him like a surging crowd. His rapid mind took + in the situation at once. There was no proof. Nobody had seen them leave + together. Robert had certainly left the company an hour before it + scattered; none of them could know that he was waiting in that inner room. + With a rapid step he took his way through Kent street into a region where + he was quite unknown, and by a circuitous route reached the foot of Great + George street. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at home about eight o'clock. John had had his dinner, and the + younger children had gone to bed. Little John sat opposite him on the + hearthrug, but the old man and the child were both lost in thought. + David's face at once terrified his uncle. + </p> + <p> + "Johnnie," he said, with a weary pathos in his voice, "your father wants + to see me alane. You had best say 'Gude-night,' my wee man." + </p> + <p> + The child kissed his uncle, and after a glance into his father's face went + quietly out. His little heart had divined that he "must not disturb papa." + David's eyes followed him with an almost overmastering grief and love, but + when John said sternly, "Now, David Callendar, what is it this time?" he + answered with a sullen despair, + </p> + <p> + "It is the last trouble I can bring you. I have killed Robert Leslie!" + </p> + <p> + The old man uttered a cry of horror, and stood looking at his nephew as if + he doubted his sanity. + </p> + <p> + "I am not going to excuse mysel', sir. Robert said some aggravating + things, and he struck me first; but that is neither here nor there. I + struck him and he fell. I think he hit his head in falling; but it was + dark and stormy, I could not see. I don't excuse mysel' at all. I am as + wicked and lost as a man can be. Just help me awa, Uncle John, and I will + trouble you no more for ever." + </p> + <p> + "Where hae you left Robert?" + </p> + <p> + "Where he fell, about 300 yards above Rutherglen Bridge." + </p> + <p> + "You are a maist unmerciful man! I ne'er liked Robert, but had he been my + bitterest enemy I would hae got him help if there was a chance for life, + and if not, I would hae sought a shelter for his corpse." + </p> + <p> + Then he walked to the parlor door, locked it, and put the key in his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + "As for helping you awa, sir, I'll ne'er do it, ne'er; you hae sinned, and + you'll pay the penalty, as a man should do." + </p> + <p> + "Uncle, have mercy on me." + </p> + <p> + "Justice has a voice as weel as mercy. O waly, waly!" cried the wretched + old man, going back to the pathetic Gflic of his childhood, "O waly, waly! + to think o' the sin and the shame o' it. Plenty o' Callendars hae died + before their time, but it has been wi' their faces to their foes and their + claymores in their hands. O Davie, Davie! my lad, my lad! My Davie!" + </p> + <p> + His agony shook him as a great wind shakes the tree-tops, and David stood + watching him in a misery still keener and more hopeless. For a few moments + neither spoke. Then John rose wearily and said, + </p> + <p> + "I'll go with you, David, to the proper place. Justice must be done—yes, + yes, it is just and right." + </p> + <p> + Then he lifted up his eyes, and clasping his hands, cried out, + </p> + <p> + "But, O my heavenly Father, be merciful, be merciful, for love is the + fulfilling of the law. Come, David, we hae delayed o'er long." + </p> + <p> + "Where are you going, uncle?" + </p> + <p> + "You ken where weel enough." + </p> + <p> + "Dear uncle, be merciful. At least let us go see Dr. Morrison first. + Whatever he says I will do." + </p> + <p> + "I'll do that; I'll be glad to do that; maybe he'll find me a road out o' + this sair, sair strait. God help us all, for vain is the help o' man." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <p> + When they entered Dr. Morrison's house the doctor entered with them. He + was wet through, and his swarthy face was in a glow of excitement. A + stranger was with him, and this stranger he hastily took into a room + behind the parlor, and then he came back to his visitors. + </p> + <p> + "Well, John, what is the matter?" + </p> + <p> + "Murder. Murder is the matter, doctor," and with a strange, quiet + precision he went over David's confession, for David had quite broken down + and was sobbing with all the abandon of a little child. During the recital + the minister's face was wonderful in its changes of expression, but at the + last a kind of adoring hopefulness was the most decided. + </p> + <p> + "John," he said, "what were you going to do wi' that sorrowfu' lad?" + </p> + <p> + "I was going to gie him up to justice, minister, as it was right and just + to do; but first we must see about—about the body." + </p> + <p> + "That has, without doot, been already cared for. On the warst o' nights + there are plenty o' folk passing o'er Glasgow Green after the tea-hour. It + is David we must care for now. Why should we gie him up to the law? Not + but what 'the law is good, if a man use it lawfully.' But see how the lad + is weeping. Dinna mak yoursel' hard to a broken heart, deacon. God himsel' + has promised to listen to it. You must go back hame and leave him wi' me. + And, John," he said, with an air of triumph, as they stood at the door + together, with the snow blowing in their uplifted faces, "John, my dear + old brother John, go hame and bless God; for, I tell you, this thing shall + turn out to be a great salvation." + </p> + <p> + So John went home, praying as he went, and conscious of a strange + hopefulness in the midst of his grief. The minister turned back to the + sobbing criminal, and touching him gently, said, + </p> + <p> + "Davie, my son, come wi' me." + </p> + <p> + David rose hopelessly and followed him. They went into the room where they + had seen the minister take the stranger who had entered the house with + them. The stranger was still there, and as they entered he came gently and + on tiptoe to meet them. + </p> + <p> + "Dr. Fleming," said the minister, "this is David Callendar, your patient's + late partner in business; he wishes to be the poor man's nurse, and + indeed, sir, I ken no one fitter for the duty." + </p> + <p> + So Dr. Fleming took David's hand, and then in a low voice gave him + directions for the night's watch, though David, in the sudden hope and + relief that had come to him, could scarcely comprehend them. Then the + physician went, and the minister and David sat by the bedside alone. + Robert lay in the very similitude and presence of death, unconscious both + of his sufferings and his friends. Congestion of the brain had set in, and + life was only revealed by the faintest pulsations, and by the appliances + for relief which medical skill thought it worth while to make. + </p> + <p> + "'And sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death,'" said the doctor + solemnly. "David, there is your work." + </p> + <p> + "God knows how patiently and willingly I'll do it, minister. Poor Robert, + I never meant to harm him." + </p> + <p> + "Now listen to me, and wonder at God's merciful ways. Auld Deacon + Galbraith, who lives just beyond Rutherglen Bridge, sent me word this + afternoon that he had gotten a summons from his Lord, and he would like to + see my face ance mair before he went awa for ever. He has been my right + hand in the kirk, and I loved him weel. Sae I went to bid him a short + Gude-by—for we'll meet again in a few years at the maist—and I + found him sae glad and solemnly happy within sight o' the heavenly shore, + that I tarried wi' him a few hours, and we ate and drank his last + sacrament together. He dropped my hand wi' a smile at half-past six + o'clock, and after comforting his wife and children a bit I turned my face + hameward. But I was in that mood that I didna care to sit i' a crowded + omnibus, and I wanted to be moving wi' my thoughts. The falling snow and + the deserted Green seemed good to me, and I walked on thinking o'er again + the deacon's last utterances, for they were wise and good even beyond the + man's nature. That is how I came across Robert Leslie. I thought he was + dead, but I carried him in my arms to the House o' the Humane Society, + which, you ken, isna one hundred yards from where Robert fell. The officer + there said he wasna dead, sae I brought him here and went for the + physician you spoke to. Now, Davie, it is needless for me to say mair. You + ken what I expect o' you. You'll get no whiskey in this house, not a drop + o' it. If the sick man needs anything o' that kind, I shall gie it wi' my + ain hand; and you wont leave this house, David, until I see whether Robert + is to live or die. You must gie me your word o' honor for that." + </p> + <p> + "Minister, pray what is my word worth?" + </p> + <p> + "Everything it promises, David Callendar. I would trust your word afore + I'd trust a couple o' constables, for a' that's come and gane." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, thank you, doctor! You shall not trust, and be deceived. I + solemnly promise you to do my best for Robert, and not to leave your house + until I have your permission." + </p> + <p> + The next morning Dr. Morrison was at John Callendar's before he sat down + to breakfast. He had the morning paper with him, and he pointed out a + paragraph which ran thus: "Robert Leslie, of the late firm of Callendar + & Leslie, was found by the Rev. Dr. Morrison in an unconscious + condition on the Green last night about seven o'clock. It is supposed the + young gentleman slipped and fell, and in the fall struck his head, as + congestion of the brain has taken place. He lies at Dr. Morrison's house, + and is being carefully nursed by his late partner, though there is but + little hope of his recovery." + </p> + <p> + "Minister, it wasna you surely wha concocted this lie?" + </p> + <p> + "Nobody has told a lie, John. Don't be overrighteous, man; there is an + unreasonableness o' virtue that savors o' pride. I really thought Robert + had had an accident, until you told me the truth o' the matter. The people + at the Humane Society did the same; sae did Dr. Fleming. I suppose some + reporter got the information from one o' the latter sources. But if Robert + gets well, we may let it stand; and if he doesna get well, I shall seek + counsel o' God before I take a step farther. In the meantime David is + doing his first duty in nursing him; and David will stay in my house till + I see whether it be a case o' murder or not." + </p> + <p> + For three weeks there was but the barest possibility of Robert's recovery. + But his youth and fine constitution, aided by the skill of his physician + and the unremitting care of his nurse, were at length, through God's + mercy, permitted to gain a slight advantage. The discipline of that three + weeks was a salutary though a terrible one to David. Sometimes it became + almost intolerable; but always, when it reached this point, Dr. Morrison + seemed, by some fine spiritual instinct, to discover the danger and hasten + to his assistance. Life has silences more pathetic than death's; and the + stillness of that darkened room, with its white prostrate figure, was a + stillness in which David heard many voices he never would have heard in + the crying out of the noisy world. + </p> + <p> + What they said to him about his wasted youth and talents, and about his + neglected Saviour, only his own heart knew. But he must have suffered very + much, for, at the end of a month, he looked like a man who had himself + walked through the valley and shadow of death. About this time Dr. + Morrison began to drop in for an hour or two every evening; sometimes he + took his cup of tea with the young men, and then he always talked with + David on passing events in such a way as to interest without fatiguing the + sick man. His first visit of this kind was marked by a very affecting + scene. He stood a moment looking at Robert and then taking David's hand, + he laid it in Robert's. But the young men had come to a perfect + reconciliation one midnight when the first gleam of consciousness visited + the sick man, and Dr. Morrison was delighted to see them grasp each other + with a smile, while David stooped and lovingly touched his friend's brow. + </p> + <p> + "Doctor, it was my fault," whispered Robert. "If I die, remember that. I + did my best to anger Davie, and I struck him first. I deserved all I have + had to suffer." + </p> + <p> + After this, however, Robert recovered rapidly, and in two months he was + quite well. + </p> + <p> + "David," said the minister to him one morning, "your trial is nearly over. + I have a message from Captain Laird to Robert Leslie. Laird sails + to-night; his ship has dropped down the river a mile, and Robert must + leave when the tide serves; that will be at five o'clock." + </p> + <p> + For Robert had shrunk from going again into his Glasgow life, and had + determined to sail with his friend Laird at once for New York. There was + no one he loved more dearly than David and Dr. Morrison, and with them his + converse had been constant and very happy and hopeful. He wished to leave + his old life with this conclusion to it unmingled with any other memories. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <p> + So that evening the three men went in a coach to the Broomilaw together. A + boat and two watermen were in waiting at the bridge-stair, and though the + evening was wet and chilly they all embarked. No one spoke. The black + waters washed and heaved beneath them, the myriad lights shone vaguely + through the clammy mist and steady drizzle, and the roar of the city + blended with the stroke of the oars and the patter of the rain. Only when + they lay under the hull of a large ship was the silence broken. But it was + broken by a blessing. + </p> + <p> + "God bless you, Robert! The Lord Jesus, our Redeemer, make you a gude + man," said Dr. Morrison fervently, and David whispered a few broken words + in his friend's ear. Then Captain Laird's voice was heard, and in a moment + or two more they saw by the light of a lifted lantern Robert's white face + in the middle of a group on deck. + </p> + <p> + "Farewell!" he shouted feebly, and Dr. Morrison answered it with a lusty, + "God speed you, Robert! God speed the good ship and all on board of her!" + </p> + <p> + So they went silently back again, and stepped into the muddy, dreamlike, + misty streets, wet through and quite weary with emotion. + </p> + <p> + "Now gude-night, David. Your uncle is waiting dinner for you. I hae + learned to love you vera much." + </p> + <p> + "Is there anything I can do, doctor, to show you how much I love and + respect you?" + </p> + <p> + "You can be a good man, and you can let me see you every Sabbath in your + place at kirk. Heaven's gate stands wide open on the Sabbath day, David; + sae it is a grand time to offer your petitions." + </p> + <p> + Yes, the good old uncle was waiting, but with that fine instinct which is + born of a true love he had felt that David would like no fuss made about + his return. He met him as if he had only been a few hours away, and he had + so tutored Jenny that she only betrayed her joy by a look which David and + she understood well. + </p> + <p> + "The little folks," said John, "have a' gane to their beds; the day has + been that wet and wearisome that they were glad to gae to sleep and forget + a' about it." + </p> + <p> + David sat down in his old place, and the two men talked of the Russian war + and the probable storming of the Alamo. Then John took his usual + after-dinner nap, and David went up stairs with Jenny and kissed his + children, and said a few words to them and to the old woman, which made + them all very happy. + </p> + <p> + When he returned to the parlor his uncle was still sleeping, and he could + see how weary and worn he had become. + </p> + <p> + "So patient, so generous, so honorable, so considerate for my feelings," + said the young man to himself. "I should be an ingrate indeed if I did + not, as soon as he wakes, say what I know he is so anxious to hear." + </p> + <p> + With the thought John opened his eyes, and David nodded and smiled back to + him. How alert and gladly he roused himself! How cheerily he said, + </p> + <p> + "Why, Davie, I hae been sleeping, I doot. Hech, but it is gude to see you, + lad." + </p> + <p> + "Please God, uncle, it shall always be gude to see me. Can you give me + some advice to-night?" "I'll be mair than glad to do it." + </p> + <p> + "Tell me frankly, Uncle John, what you think I ought to do. I saw Robert + off to America to-night. Shall I follow him?" + </p> + <p> + "Davie, mind what I say. In the vera place where a man loses what he + values, there he should look to find it again. You hae lost your good name + in Glasgow; stay in Glasgow and find it again." + </p> + <p> + "I will stay here then. What shall I do?" + </p> + <p> + "You'll go back to your old place, and to your old business." + </p> + <p> + "But I heard that Deacon Strang had bought the looms and the lease." + </p> + <p> + "He bought them for me, for us, I mean. I will tell you how that came + about. One day when I was cross, and sair put out wi' your affairs, Davie, + Dr. Morrison came into my office. I'm feared I wasna glad to see him; and + though I was ceevil enough, the wise man read me like a book. 'John,' says + he, 'I am not come to ask you for siller to-day, nor am I come to reprove + you for staying awa from the service o' God twice lately. I am come to + tell you that you will hae the grandest opportunity to-day, to be, not + only a man, but a Christ-man. If you let the opportunity slip by you, I + shall feel sairly troubled about it.' + </p> + <p> + "Then he was gone before I could say, 'What is it?' and I wondered and + wondered all day what he could hae meant. But just before I was ready to + say, 'Mr. MacFarlane, lock the safe,' in walks Deacon Strang. He looked + vera downcast and shamefaced, and says he, 'Callendar, you can tak your + revenge on me to-morrow, for a' I hae said and done against you for thirty + years. You hold twa notes o' mine, and I canna meet them. You'll hae to + protest and post them to-morrow, and that will ruin me and break my + heart.' + </p> + <p> + "David, I had to walk to the window and hide my face till I could master + mysel', I was that astonished. Then I called out, 'Mr. MacFarlane, you hae + two notes o' Deacon Strang's, bring them to me.' When he did sae, I said, + 'Well, deacon, we a' o' us hae our ain fashes. How long time do you want, + and we'll renew these bits o' paper?' + </p> + <p> + "And the thing was done, Davie, and done that pleasantly that it made me + feel twenty years younger. We shook hands when we parted, and as we did + sae, the deacon said, 'Is there aught I can do to pleasure you or David?' + and a' at once it struck me about the sales o' the looms and lease. Sae I + said, 'Yes, deacon, there is something you can do, and I'll be vera much + obligated to you for the same. Davie is sae tied down wi' Robert's + illness, will you go to the sale o' Callendar & Leslie's looms and + lease, and buy them for me? You'll get them on better terms than I will.' + And he did get them on excellent terms, Davie; sae your mill is just as + you left it—for Bailie Nicol, wha took it at the accountant's + valuation, never opened it at all. And you hae twenty months' rent paid in + advance, and you hae something in the bank I expect." + </p> + <p> + "I have #3,600, uncle." + </p> + <p> + "Now, I'll be your partner this time. I'll put in the business #4,000, but + I'll hae it run on a solid foundation, however small that foundation may + be. I'll hae no risks taken that are dishonest risks; I'll hae a broad + mark made between enterprise and speculation; and above a', I'll hae the + right to examine the books, and see how things are going on, whenever I + wish to do sae. We will start no more looms than our capital will work, + and we'll ask credit from no one." + </p> + <p> + "Uncle John, there is not another man in the world so generous and + unselfish as you are." + </p> + <p> + "There are plenty as good men in every congregation o' the Lord; if there + wasna they would scatter in no time. Then you are willing, are you? Gie me + your hand, Davie. I shall look to you to do your best for baith o' us." + </p> + <p> + "I have not drunk a drop for two months, uncle. I never intend to drink + again." + </p> + <p> + "I hae given it up mysel'," said the old man, with an affected + indifference that was pathetic in its self-abnegation. "I thought twa + going a warfare together might do better than ane alone. Ye ken Christ + sent out the disciples by twa and twa. And, Davie, when you are hard + beset, just utter the name of Christ down in your heart, and see how much + harder it is to sin." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <p> + The arrangement had been a very pleasant one, every way, but somehow John + did not feel as if David had as much outside help as he needed. The young + man was not imaginative; an ideal, however high, was a far less real thing + to David than to old John. He pondered during many sleepless hours the + advisability of having David sign the pledge. David had always refused to + do it hitherto. He had a keen sense of shame in breaking a verbal promise + on this subject; but he had an almost superstitious feeling regarding the + obligation of anything he put his name to; and this very feeling made John + hesitate to press the matter. For, he argued, and not unwisely, "if David + should break this written obligation, his condition would seem to himself + irremediable, and he would become quite reckless." + </p> + <p> + In the morning this anxiety was solved. When John came down to breakfast, + he found David walking about the room with a newspaper in his hand, and in + a fever heat of martial enthusiasm. "Uncle," he cried, "O Uncle John, such + glorious news! The Alamo is taken. Colin Campbell and his Highlanders were + first at the ramparts, and Roy and Hector Callendar were with them. + Listen?" and he threw the passion and fervor of all his military instincts + into the glowing words which told, how in a storm of fire and shot, Sir + Colin and his Highland regiment had pushed up the hill; and how when the + Life Guards were struggling to reach their side, the brave old commander + turned round and shouted, "We'll hae nane but Hieland bonnets here!" "O + Uncle John, what would I not have given to have marched with Roy and + Hector behind him? With such a leader I would not turn my back on any + foe." + </p> + <p> + "David, you have a far harder fight before you, and a far grander + Captain." + </p> + <p> + "Uncle, uncle, if I could see my foe; if I could meet him face to face in + a real fight; but he steals into my heart, even by my nostrils, and unmans + me, before I am aware." + </p> + <p> + John rang the bell sharply, and when Jenny came, he amazed her by saying, + "Bring me here from the cellar three bottles of whiskey." He spoke so curt + and determined that for once Jenny only wondered, and obeyed. + </p> + <p> + "That will do, my woman." Then he turned to David, and putting one bottle + on the table said, "There is your foe! Face your enemy, sir! Sit down + before him morning, noon, and night. Dare him to master you! Put this + bottle on the table in your ain room; carry this in your hand to your + office, and stand it before your eyes upon your desk. If you want a foe to + face and to conquer, a foe that you can see and touch, here is one mighty + enough to stir the bravest soul. And, if you turn your back on him you are + a coward; a mean, poor-hearted coward, sir. And there ne'er was a coward + yet, o' the Callendar blood, nor o' the Campbell line! Your Captain is + nane less than the Son o' God. Hear what he says to you! 'To him that + overcometh! To him that overcometh!' O Davie, you ken the rest!" and the + old man was so lifted out of and above himself, that his face shone and + his keen gray eyes scintillated with a light that no market-place ever saw + in them. + </p> + <p> + David caught the holy enthusiasm; he seized the idea like a visible hand + of God for his help. The black bottle became to him the materialization of + all his crime and misery. It was a foe he could see, and touch, and defy. + It seemed to mock him, to tempt him, to beg him just to open the cork, if + only to test the strength of his resolutions. + </p> + <p> + Thank God he never did it. He faced his enemy the first thing in the + morning and the last thing at night. He kept him in sight through the + temptations of a business day. He faced him most steadily in the solitude + of his own room. There, indeed, his most dangerous struggles took place, + and one night John heard him after two hours of restless hurried walking + up and down, throw open his window, and dash the bottle upon the pavement + beneath it. That was the last of his hard struggles; the bottle which + replaced the one flung beyond his reach stands to-day where it has stood + for nearly a quarter of a century, and David feels now no more inclination + to open it than if it contained strychnine. + </p> + <p> + This is no fancy story. It is a fact. It is the true history of a soul's + struggle, and I write it—God knows I do—in the strong hope + that some brave fellow, who is mastered by a foe that steals upon him in + the guise of good fellowship, or pleasure, or hospitality, may locate his + enemy, and then face and conquer him in the name of Him who delivers his + people from their sins. I do not say that all natures could do this. Some + may find safety and final victory in flight, or in hiding from their foe; + but I believe that the majority of souls would rise to a warfare in which + the enemy was confronting them to face and fight, and would conquer. + </p> + <p> + I have little more to say of David Callendar. It was the story of his fall + and his redemption I intended to write. But we cannot separate our + spiritual and mortal life; they are the warp and woof which we weave + together for eternity. Therefore David's struggle, though a palpable one + in some respects, was, after all, an intensely spiritual one; for it was + in the constant recognition of Christ as the Captain of his salvation, and + in the constant use of such spiritual aids as his Bible and his minister + gave him, that he was enabled to fight a good fight and to come off more + than conqueror in a contest wherein so many strive and fail. + </p> + <p> + David's reformation had also a very sensible influence on his business + prosperity. He has won back again now all, and far more than all, he lost, + and in all good and great works for the welfare of humanity David + Callendar is a willing worker and a noble giver. The new firm of John and + David Callendar acquired a world-wide reputation. It is still John and + David Callendar, for when the dear old deacon died he left his interest in + it to David's eldest son, a pious, steady young fellow for whom nobody + ever mixed a first glass. But God was very kind to John in allowing him to + see the full harvest of his tender love, his patience, and his + unselfishness. Out of his large fortune he left a noble endowment for a + church and college in his native town, making only two requests concerning + its management: first, that no whiskey should ever go within the college + walls: second, that all the children in the town might have a holiday on + the anniversary of his death; "for," said he, "I have aye loved children, + and I would fain connect the happiness of childhood with the peace o' the + dead." + </p> + <p> + Dr. Morrison lived long enough to assist in filling in the grave of his + old friend and helper, but attained unto the beginning of peace and glory + soon afterwards. And I have often pictured to myself the meeting of those + two upon the hills of God. The minister anticipated it, though upon his + dying bed his great soul forgot all individualities, and thought only of + the church universal, and his last glowing words were, "For Jerusalem that + is above is free, which is the mother of us all." + </p> + <p> + Robert Leslie has done well in America, and no man is a more warm and + earnest advocate of "the faith once delivered to the saints." I read a + little speech of his some time ago at the dedication of a church, and it + greatly pleased me. + </p> + <p> + "Many things," he said, "have doubtless been improved in this age, for + man's works are progressive and require improvement; but who," he asked, + "can improve the sunshine and the flowers, the wheat and the corn? And who + will give us anything worthy to take the place of the religion of our + fathers and mothers? And what teachers have come comparable to Christ, to + David, Isaiah, and Paul?" + </p> + <p> + Jenny only died a year ago. She brought up David's children admirably, and + saw, to her great delight, the marriage of Flora and young Captain + Callendar. For it had long been her wish to go back to Argyleshire "among + her ain folk and die among the mountains," and this marriage satisfied all + her longings. One evening they found her sitting in her open door with her + face turned towards the cloud-cleaving hills. Her knitting had fallen upon + her lap, her earthly work was done for ever, and she had put on the + garments of the eternal Sabbath. But there was a wonderful smile on her + simple, kindly face. Soul and body had parted with a smile. Oh, how happy + are those whom the Master finds waiting for him, and who, when he calls, + pass gently away! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Up to the golden citadel they fare, + And as they go their limbs grow full of might; + And One awaits them at the topmost stair, + One whom they had not seen, but knew at sight." +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ANDREW CARGILL'S CONFESSION. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + Between Sinverness and Creffel lies the valley of Glenmora. Sca Fells and + Soutra Fells guard it on each hand, and the long, treacherous sweep of + Solway Frith is its outlet. It is a region of hills and moors, inhabited + by a people of singular gravity and simplicity of character, a pastoral + people, who in its solemn high places have learned how to interpret the + voices of winds and watersand to devoutly love their God. + </p> + <p> + Most of them are of the purest Saxon origin; but here and there one meets + the massive features and the blue bonnet of the Lowland Scots, descendants + of those stern Covenanters who from the coasts of Galloway and Dumfries + sought refuge in the strength of these lonely hills. They are easily + distinguished, and are very proud of their descent from this race whom + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "God anointed with his odorous oil + To wrestle, not to reign." +</pre> + <p> + Thirty years ago their leader and elder was Andrew Cargill, a man of the + same lineage as that famous Donald Cargill who was the Boanerges of the + Covenant, and who suffered martyrdom for his faith at the town of + Queensferry. Andrew never forgot this fact, and the stern, just, + uncompromising spirit of the old Protester still lived in him. He was a + man well-to-do in the world, and his comfortable stone house was one of + the best known in the vale of Glenmora. + </p> + <p> + People who live amid grand scenery are not generally sensitive to it, but + Andrew was. The adoring spirit in which he stood one autumn evening at his + own door was a very common mood with him. He looked over the moors + carpeted with golden brown, and the hills covered with sheep and cattle, + at the towering crags, more like clouds at sunset than things of solid + land, at the children among the heather picking bilberries, at the deep, + clear, purple mist that filled the valley, not hindering the view, but + giving everything a strangely solemn aspect, and his face relaxed into + something very like a smile as he said, "It is the wark o' my Father's + hand, and praised be his name." + </p> + <p> + He stood at his own open door looking at these things, and inside his wife + Mysie was laying the supper-board with haver bread and cheese and milk. A + bright fire blazed on the wide hearth, and half a dozen sheep-dogs spread + out their white breasts to the heat. Great settles of carved oak, bedded + deep with fleeces of long wool, were on the sides of the fireplace, and + from every wall racks of spotless deal, filled with crockery and pewter, + reflected the shifting blaze. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he stepped out and looked anxiously towards the horizon on all + sides. "Mysie, woman," said he, "there is a storm coming up from old + Solway; I maun e'en gae and fauld the ewes wi' their young lammies. Come + awa', Keeper and Sandy." + </p> + <p> + The dogs selected rose at once and followed Andrew with right good-will. + Mysie watched them a moment; but the great clouds of mist rolling down + from the mountains soon hid the stalwart figure in its bonnet and plaid + from view, and gave to the dogs' fitful barks a distant, muffled sound. So + she went in and sat down upon the settle, folding her hands listlessly on + her lap, and letting the smile fall from her face as a mask might fall. + Oh, what a sad face it was then! + </p> + <p> + She sat thus in a very trance of sorrow until the tears dropped heavily + and slowly down, and her lips began to move in broken supplications. + Evidently these brought her the comfort she sought, for erelong she rose, + saying softly to herself, "The lost bit o' siller was found, and the + strayed sheep was come up wi', and the prodigal won hame again, and + dootless, dootless, my ain dear lad will no be lost sight o'." + </p> + <p> + By this time the storm had broken, but Mysie was not uneasy. Andrew knew + the hills like his own ingle, and she could tell to within five minutes + how long it would take him to go to the fauld and back. But when it was + ten minutes past his time Mysie stood anxiously in the open door and + listened. Her ears, trained to almost supernatural quickness, soon + detected above the winds and rain a sound of footsteps. She called a wise + old sheep-dog and bid him listen. The creature held his head a moment to + the ground, looked at her affirmatively, and at her command went to seek + his master. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments she heard Andrew's peculiar "hallo!" and the joyful + barking of the dog, and knew that all was right. Yet she could not go in; + she felt that something unusual had happened, and stood waiting for + whatever was coming. It was a poor, little, half-drowned baby. Andrew took + it from under his plaid, and laid it in her arms, saying, + </p> + <p> + "I maun go now and look after the mither. I'll need to yoke the cart for + her; she's past walking, and I'm sair feared she's past living; but you'll + save the bit bairn, Mysie, nae doot; for God disna smite aften wi' baith + hands." + </p> + <p> + "Where is she, Andrew?" + </p> + <p> + "'Mang the Druids' stanes, Mysie, and that's an ill place for a Christian + woman to die. God forbid it!" he muttered, as he lit a lantern and went + rapidly to the stable; "an evil place! under the vera altar-stane o' + Satan. God stay the parting soul till it can hear a word o' his great + mercy!" + </p> + <p> + With such a motive to prompt him, Andrew was not long in reaching the + ruins of the old Druidical temple. Under a raised flat stone, which made a + kind of shelter, a woman was lying. She was now insensible, and Andrew + lifted her carefully into the cart. Perhaps it was some satisfaction to + him that she did not actually die within such unhallowed precincts; but + the poor creature herself was beyond such care. When she had seen her + child in Mysie's arms, and comprehended Mysie's assurance that she would + care for it, all anxiety slipped away from her. Andrew strove hard to make + her understand the awful situation in which she was; but the girl lay + smiling, with upturned eyes, as if she was glad to be relieved of the + burden of living. + </p> + <p> + "You hae done your duty, gudeman," at length said Mysie, "and now you may + leave the puir bit lassie to me; I'll dootless find a word o' comfort to + say to her." + </p> + <p> + "But I'm feared, I am awfu' feared, woman, that she is but a prodigal and + an—" + </p> + <p> + "Hush, gudeman! There is mercy for the prodigal daughter as weel as for + the prodigal son;" and at these words Andrew went out with a dark, stern + face, while she turned with a new and stronger tenderness to the dying + woman. + </p> + <p> + "God is love," she whispered; "if you hae done aught wrang, there's the + open grave o' Jesus, dearie; just bury your wrang-doing there." She was + answered with a happy smile. "And your little lad is my lad fra this hour, + dearie!" The dying lips parted, and Mysie knew they had spoken a blessing + for her. + </p> + <p> + Nothing was found upon the woman that could identify her, nothing except a + cruel letter, which evidently came from the girl's father; but even in + this there was neither date nor locality named. It had no term of + endearment to commence with, and was signed simply, "John Dunbar." Two + things were, however, proven by it: that the woman's given name was + Bessie, and that by her marriage she had cut herself off from her home and + her father's affection. + </p> + <p> + So she was laid by stranger hands within that doorless house in the which + God sometimes mercifully puts his weary ones to sleep. Mysie took the + child to her heart at once, and Andrew was not long able to resist the + little lad's beauty and winning ways. The neighbors began to call him "wee + Andrew;" and the old man grew to love his namesake with a strangely tender + affection. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes there was indeed a bitter feeling in Mysie's heart, as she saw + how gentle he was with this child and remembered how stern and strict he + had been with their own lad. She did not understand that the one was in + reality the result of the other, the acknowledgement of his fault, and the + touching effort to atone, in some way, for it. + </p> + <p> + One night, when wee Andrew was about seven years old, this wrong struck + her in a manner peculiarly painful. Andrew had made a most extraordinary + journey, even as far as Penrith. A large manufactory had been begun there, + and a sudden demand for his long staple of white wool had sprung up. + Moreover, he had had a prosperous journey, and brought back with him two + books for the boy, Fsop's Fables and Robinson Crusoe. + </p> + <p> + When Mysie saw them, her heart swelled beyond control. She remembered a + day when her own son Davie had begged for these very books and been + refused with hard rebukes. She remembered the old man's bitter words and + the child's bitter tears; but she did not reflect that the present + concession was the result of the former refusal, nor yet that the books + were much easier got and the money more plentiful than thirty years + previous. When wee Andrew ran away with his treasures to the Druids' + stones, Mysie went into the shippen, and did her milking to some very sad + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + She was poisoning her heart with her own tears. When she returned to the + "houseplace" and saw the child bending with rapt, earnest face over the + books, she could not avoid murmuring that the son of a strange woman + should be sitting happy in Cargill spence, and her own dear lad a banished + wanderer. She had come to a point when rebellion would be easy for her. + Andrew saw a look on her face that amazed and troubled him: and yet when + she sat so hopelessly down before the fire, and without fear or apology + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Let the tears downfa'," +</pre> + <p> + he had no heart to reprove her. Nay, he asked with a very unusual concern, + "What's the matter, Mysie, woman?" + </p> + <p> + "I want to see Davie, and die, gudeman!" + </p> + <p> + "You'll no dare to speak o' dying, wife, until the Lord gies you occasion; + and Davie maun drink as he's brewed." + </p> + <p> + "Nay, gudeman, but you brewed for him; the lad is drinking the cup you + mixed wi' your ain hands." + </p> + <p> + "I did my duty by him." + </p> + <p> + "He had ower muckle o' your duty, and ower little o' your indulgence. If + Davie was wrang, ither folk werena right. Every fault has its forefault." + </p> + <p> + Andrew looked in amazement at this woman, who for thirty and more years + had never before dared to oppose his wishes, and to whom his word had been + law. + </p> + <p> + "Davie's wrang-doing was weel kent, gude-wife; he hasted to sin like a + moth to a candle." + </p> + <p> + "It's weel that our faults arena written i' our faces." + </p> + <p> + "I hae fallen on evil days, Mysie; saxty years syne wives and bairns + werena sae contrarie." + </p> + <p> + "There was gude and bad then, as now, gudeman." + </p> + <p> + Mysie's face had a dour, determined look that no one had ever seen on it + before. Andrew began to feel irritated at her. "What do you want, woman?" + he said sternly. + </p> + <p> + "I want my bairn, Andrew Cargill." + </p> + <p> + "Your bairn is i' some far-awa country, squandering his share o' Paradise + wi' publicans and sinners." + </p> + <p> + "I hope not, I hope not; if it werena for this hope my heart would break;" + and then all the barriers that education and habit had built were suddenly + overthrown as by an earthquake, and Mysie cried out passionately, "I want + my bairn, Andrew Cargill! the bonnie bairn that lay on my bosom, and was + dandled on my knees, and sobbed out his sorrows i' my arms. I want the + bairn you were aye girding and grumbling at! that got the rod for this, + and the hard word and the black look for that! My bonnie Davie, wha ne'er + had a playtime nor a story-book! O gudeman, I want my bairn! I want my + bairn!" + </p> + <p> + The repressed passion and sorrow of ten long years had found an outlet and + would not be controlled. Andrew laid down his pipe in amazement and + terror, and for a moment he feared his wife had lost her senses. He had a + tender heart beneath his stern, grave manner, and his first impulse was + just to take the sobbing mother to his breast and promise her all she + asked. But he did not do it the first moment, and he could not the second. + Yet he did rise and go to her, and in his awkward way try to comfort her. + "Dinna greet that way, Mysie, woman," he said; "if I hae done amiss, I'll + mak amends." + </p> + <p> + That was a great thing for Andrew Cargill to say; Mysie hardly knew how to + believe it. Such a confession was a kind of miracle, for she judged things + by results and was not given to any consideration of the events that led + up to them. She could not know, and did not suspect, that all the bitter + truths she had spoken had been gradually forcing themselves on her + husband's mind. She did not know that wee Andrew's happy face over his + story-books, and his eager claim for sympathy, had been an accusation and + a reproach which the old man had already humbly and sorrowfully accepted. + Therefore his confession and his promise were a wonder to the woman, who + had never before dared to admit that it was possible Andrew Cargill should + do wrong in his own household. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + The confidence that came after this plain speaking was very sweet and + comforting to both, although in their isolation and ignorance they knew + not what steps to take in order to find Davie. Ten years had elapsed since + he had hung for one heart-breaking moment on his mother's neck, and bid, + as he told her, a farewell for ever to the miserable scenes of his hard, + bare childhood. Mysie had not been able to make herself believe that he + was very wrong; dancing at pretty Mary Halliday's bridal and singing two + or three love-songs did not seem to the fond mother such awful + transgressions as the stern, strict Covenanter really believed them to be, + though even Mysie was willing to allow that Davie, in being beguiled into + such sinful folly, "had made a sair tumble." + </p> + <p> + However, Davie and his father had both said things that neither could win + over, and the lad had gone proudly down the hill with but a few shillings + in his pocket. Since then there had been ten years of anxious, longing + grief that had remained unconfessed until this night. Now the hearts of + both yearned for their lost son. But how should they find him? Andrew read + nothing but his Bible and almanac; he had no conception of the world + beyond Kendal and Keswick. He could scarcely imagine David going beyond + these places, or, at any rate, the coast of Scotland. Should he make a + pilgrimage round about all those parts? + </p> + <p> + Mysie shook her head. She thought Andrew had better go to Keswick and see + the Methodist preacher there. She had heard they travelled all over the + world, and if so, it was more than likely they had seen Davie Cargill; "at + ony rate, he would gie advice worth speiring after." + </p> + <p> + Andrew had but a light opinion of Methodists, and had never been inside + the little chapel at Sinverness; but Mysie's advice, he allowed, "had a + savor o' sense in it," and so the next day he rode over to Keswick and + opened his heart to John Sugden, the superintendent of the Derwent + Circuit. He had assured himself on the road that he would only tell John + just as much as was necessary for his quest; but he was quite unable to + resist the preacher's hearty sympathy. There never were two men more + unlike than Andrew Cargill and John Sugden, and yet they loved each other + at once. + </p> + <p> + "He is a son o' consolation, and dootless ane o' God's chosen," said + Andrew to Mysie on his return. + </p> + <p> + "He is a far nobler old fellow than he thinks he is," said John to his + wife when he told her of Andrew's visit. + </p> + <p> + John had advised advertising for Davie in "The Watchman;" for John really + thought this organ of the Methodist creed was the greatest paper in + existence, and honestly believed that if Davie was anywhere in the + civilized world "The Watchman" would find him out. He was so sure of it + that both Mysie and Andrew caught his hopeful tone, and began to tell each + other what should be done when Davie came home. + </p> + <p> + Poor Mysie was now doubly kind to wee Andrew. She accused herself bitterly + of "grudging the bit lammie his story-books," and persuaded her husband to + bring back from Keswick for the child the "Pilgrim's Progress" and "The + Young Christian." John Sugden, too, visited them often, not only staying + at Cargill during his regular appointments, but often riding over to take + a day's recreation with the old Cameronian. True, they disputed the whole + time. John said very positive things and Andrew very contemptuous ones; + but as they each kept their own opinions intact, and were quite sure of + their grounds for doing so, no words that were uttered ever slackened the + grip of their hands at parting. + </p> + <p> + One day, as John was on the way to Cargill, he perceived a man sitting + among the Druids' stones. The stranger was a pleasant fellow, and after a + few words with the preacher he proposed that they should ride to + Sinverness together. John soon got to talking of Andrew and his lost son, + and the stranger became greatly interested. He said he should like to go + up to Andrew's and get a description of Davie, adding that he travelled + far and wide, and might happen to come across him. + </p> + <p> + The old man met them at the door. + </p> + <p> + "My sight fails, John," he said, "but I'd hae kent your step i' a + thousand. You too are welcome, sir, though I ken you not, and doubly + welcome if you bring God's blessing wi' you." + </p> + <p> + The stranger lifted his hat, and Andrew led the way into the house. John + had been expected, for haver bread and potted shrimps were on the table, + and he helped himself without ceremony, taking up at the same time their + last argument just where he had dropped it at the gate of the lower croft. + But it had a singular interruption. The sheep-dogs who had been quietly + sleeping under the settle began to be strangely uneasy. Keeper could + scarcely be kept down, even by Andrew's command, and Sandy bounded towards + the stranger with low, rapid barks that made John lose the sense of the + argument in a new thought. But before he could frame it into words Mysie + came in. + </p> + <p> + "See here, John," she cried, and then she stopped and looked with + wide-open eyes at the man coming towards her. With one long, thrilling cry + she threw herself into his arms. + </p> + <p> + "Mother! mother! darling mother, forgive me!" + </p> + <p> + John had instantly gone to Andrew's side, but Andrew had risen at once to + the occasion. "I'm no a woman to skirl or swoon," he said, almost + petulantly, "and it's right and fit the lad should gie his mither the + first greeting." + </p> + <p> + But he stretched out both hands, and his cheeks were flushed and his eyes + full when Davie flung himself on his knees beside him. + </p> + <p> + "My lad! my ain dear lad!" he cried, "I'll see nae better day than this + until I see His face." + </p> + <p> + No one can tell the joy of that hour. The cheese curds were left in the + dairy and the wool was left at the wheel, and Mysie forget her household, + and Andrew forgot his argument, and the preacher at last said, + </p> + <p> + "You shall tell us, Davie, what the Lord has done for you since you left + your father's house." + </p> + <p> + "He has been gude to me, vera gude. I had a broad Scot's tongue in my + head, and I determined to go northward. I had little siller and I had to + walk, and by the time I reached Ecclefechan I had reason enough to be + sorry for the step I had taken. As I was sitting by the fireside o' the + little inn there a man came in who said he was going to Carlisle to hire a + shepherd. I did not like the man, but I was tired and had not plack nor + bawbee, so I e'en asked him for the place. When he heard I was Cumberland + born, and had been among sheep all my life, he was fain enough, and we + soon 'greed about the fee. + </p> + <p> + "He was a harder master than Laban, but he had a daughter who was as + bonnie as Rachel, and I loved the lass wi' my whole soul, and she loved + me. I ne'er thought about being her father's hired man. I was aye Davie + Cargill to mysel', and I had soon enough told Bessie all about my father + and mither and hame. I spoke to her father at last, but he wouldna listen + to me. He just ordered me off his place, and Bessie went wi' me. + </p> + <p> + "I know now that we did wrang, but we thought then that we were right. We + had a few pounds between us and we gaed to Carlisle. But naething went as + it should hae done. I could get nae wark, and Bessie fell into vera bad + health; but she had a brave spirit, and she begged me to leave her in + Carlisle and go my lane to Glasgow. 'For when wark an' siller arena i' one + place, Davie,' she said, 'then they're safe to be in another.' + </p> + <p> + "I swithered lang about leaving her, but a good opportunity came, and + Bessie promised me to go back to her father until I could come after her. + It was July then, and when Christmas came round I had saved money enough, + and I started wi' a blithe heart to Ecclefechan. I hadna any fear o' harm + to my bonnie bit wifie, for she had promised to go to her hame, and I was + sure she would be mair than welcome when she went without me. I didna + expect any letters, because Bessie couldna write, and, indeed, I was poor + enough wi' my pen at that time, and only wrote once to tell her I had good + wark and would be for her a New Year. + </p> + <p> + "But when I went I found that Bessie had gane, and none knew where. I + traced her to Keswick poor-house, where she had a little lad; the matron + said she went away in a very weak condition when the child was three weeks + old, declaring that she was going to her friends. Puir, bonnie, loving + Bessie; that was the last I ever heard o' my wife and bairn." + </p> + <p> + Mysie had left the room, and as she returnee with a little bundle Andrew + was anxiously asking, "What was the lassie's maiden name, Davie?" + </p> + <p> + "Bessie Dunbar, father." + </p> + <p> + "Then this is a wun'erful day; we are blessed and twice blessed, for I + found your wife and bairn, Davie, just where John Sugden found you, 'mang + the Druids' stanes; and the lad has my ain honest name and is weel worthy + o' it." + </p> + <p> + "See here, Davie," and Mysie tenderly touched the poor faded dress and + shawl, and laid the wedding-ring in his palm. As she spoke wee Andrew came + across the yard, walking slowly, reading as he walked. "Look at him, + Davie! He's a bonnie lad, and a gude are; and oh, my ain dear lad, he has + had a' things that thy youth wanted." + </p> + <p> + It pleased the old man no little that, in spite of his father's loving + greeting, wee Andrew stole away to his side. + </p> + <p> + "You see, Davie," he urged in apology, "he's mair at hame like wi' me." + </p> + <p> + And then he drew the child to him, and let his whole heart go out now, + without check or reproach, to "Davie's bairn." + </p> + <p> + "But you have not finished your story, Mr. Cargill," said John, and David + sighed as he answered, + </p> + <p> + "There is naething by the ordinar in it. I went back to the warks I had + got a footing in, the Glencart Iron Warks, and gradually won my way to the + topmost rungs o' the ladder. I am head buyer now, hae a gude share i' the + concern, and i' money matters there's plenty folk waur off than David + Cargill. When I put my father's forgiveness, my mither's love, and my + Bessie's bonnie lad to the lave, I may weel say that 'they are weel guided + that God guides.' A week ago I went into the editor's room o' the Glasgow + Herald,' and the man no being in I lifted a paper and saw in it my + father's message to me. It's sma' credit that I left a' and answered it." + </p> + <p> + "What paper, Mr. Cargill, what paper?" + </p> + <p> + "They ca' it 'The Watchman.' I hae it in my pocket." + </p> + <p> + "I thought so," said John triumphantly. "It's a grand paper; every one + ought to have it." + </p> + <p> + "It is welcome evermore in my house," said Davie. + </p> + <p> + "It means weel, it means weel," said Andrew, with a great stretch of + charity, "but I dinna approve o' its doctrines at a', and—" + </p> + <p> + "It found David for you, Andrew." + </p> + <p> + "Ay, ay, God uses a' kinds o' instruments. 'The Watchman' isna as auld as + the Bible yet, John, and it's ill praising green barley." + </p> + <p> + "Now, Andrew, I think—" + </p> + <p> + "Tut, tut, John, I'se no sit i' Rome and strive wi' the pope; there's + naething ill said, you ken, if it's no ill taken." + </p> + <p> + John smiled tolerantly, and indeed there was no longer time for further + discussion, for the shepherds from the hills and the farmers from the glen + had heard of David's return, and were hurrying to Cargill to see him. + Mysie saw that there would be a goodly company, and the long harvest-table + was brought in and a feast of thanksgiving spread. Conversation in that + house could only set one way, and after all had eaten and David had told + his story again, one old man after another spoke of the dangers they had + encountered and the spiritual foes they had conquered. + </p> + <p> + Whether it was the speaking, or the sympathy of numbers, or some special + influence of the Holy Ghost, I know not; but suddenly Andrew lifted his + noble old head and spoke thus: + </p> + <p> + "Frien's, ye hae some o' you said ill things o' yoursel's, but to the sons + o' God there is nae condemnation; not that I hae been althegither + faultless, but I meant weel, an' the lad was a wilfu' lad, and ye ken what + the wisest o' men said anent such. Just and right has been my walk before + you, but—still—" Then, with a sudden passion, and rising to + his feet, he cried out, "Frien's, I'm a poor sinfu' man, but I'll play no + mair pliskies wi' my conscience. I hae dootless been a hard master, hard + and stern, and loving Sinai far beyond Bethlehem. Hard was I to my lad, + and hard hae I been to the wife o' my bosom, and hard hae I been to my ain + heart. It has been my ain will and my ain way all my life lang. God forgie + me! God forgie me! for this night he has brought my sins to my + remembrance. I hae been your elder for mair than forty years, but I hae + ne'er been worthy to carry his holy vessels. I'll e'en sit i' the lowest + seat henceforward." + </p> + <p> + "Not so," said John. And there was such eager praise, and such warm love + rose from every mouth, that words began to fail, and as the old man sat + down smiling, happier than he had ever been before, song took up the + burden speech laid down; for John started one of those old triumphant + Methodist hymns, and the rafters shook to the melody, and the stars heard + it, and the angels in heaven knew a deeper joy. Singing, the company + departed, and Andrew, standing in the moonlight between David and John, + watched the groups scatter hither and thither, and heard, far up the hills + and down the glen, that sweet, sweet refrain, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Canaan, bright Canaan! + Will you go to the land of Canaan?" +</pre> + <p> + After this David stayed a week at Glenmora, and then it became necessary + for him to return to Glasgow. But wee Andrew was to have a tutor and + remain with his grandparents for some years at least. Andrew himself + determined to "tak a trip" and see Scotland and the wonderful iron works + of which he was never weary of hearing David talk. + </p> + <p> + When he reached Kendal, however, and saw for the first time the Caledonian + Railway and its locomotives, nothing could induce him to go farther. + </p> + <p> + "It's ower like the deil and the place he bides in, Davie," he said, with + a kind of horror. "Fire and smoke and iron bands! I'll no ride at the + deil's tail-end, not e'en to see the land o' the Covenant." + </p> + <p> + So he went back to Glenmora, and was well content when he stood again at + his own door and looked over the bonny braes of Sinverness, its simmering + becks and fruitful vales. "These are the warks o' His hands, Mysie," he + said, reverently lifting his bonnet and looking up to Creffel and away to + Solway, "and you'd ken that, woman, if you had seen Satan as I saw him + rampaging roun' far waur than any roaring lion." + </p> + <p> + After this Andrew never left Sinverness; but, the past unsighed for and + the future sure, passed through + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "——an old age serene and bright, + And lovely as a Lapland night," +</pre> + <p> + until, one summer evening, he gently fell on that sleep which God giveth + his beloved. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "For such Death's portal opens not in gloom, + But its pure crystal, hinged on solid gold, + Shows avenues interminable—shows + Amaranth and palm quivering in sweet accord + Of human mingled with angelic song." +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ONE WRONG STEP. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + "There's few folk ken Ragon Torr as I do, mother. He is better at heart + than thou wad think; indeed he is!" + </p> + <p> + "If better were within, better wad come out, John. He's been drunk or + dovering i' the chimney-corner these past three weeks. Hech! but he'd do + weel i' Fool's Land, where they get half a crown a day for sleeping." + </p> + <p> + "There's nane can hunt a seal or spear a whale like Ragon; thou saw him + theesel', mother, among the last school i' Stromness Bay." + </p> + <p> + "I saw a raving, ranting heathen, wi' the bonnie blue bay a sea o' blood + around him, an' he shouting an' slaying like an old pagan sea-king. + Decent, God-fearing fisher-folk do their needful wark ither gate than yon. + Now there is but one thing for thee to do: thou must break wi' Ragon Torr, + an' that quick an' soon." + </p> + <p> + "Know this, my mother, a friend is to be taken wi' his faults." + </p> + <p> + "Thou knows this, John: I hae forty years mair than thou hast, an' years + ken mair than books. An' wi' a' thy book skill hast thou ne'er read that + 'Evil communications corrupt gude manners'? Mak up thy mind that I shall + tak it vera ill if thou sail again this year wi' that born heathen;" and + with these words Dame Alison Sabay rose up from the stone bench at her + cottage door and went dourly into the houseplace. + </p> + <p> + John stood on the little jetty which ran from the very doorstep into the + bay, and looked thoughtfully over towards the sweet green isle of + Graemsay; but neither the beauty of land or sea, nor the splendor of skies + bright with the rosy banners of the Aurora gave him any answer to the + thoughts which troubled him. "I'll hae to talk it o'er wi' Christine," he + said decidedly, and he also turned into the house. + </p> + <p> + Christine was ten years older than her brother John. She had known much + sorrow, but she had lived through and lived down all her trials and come + out into the peace on the other side. She was sitting by the peat fire + knitting, and softly crooning an old Scotch psalm to the click of her + needles. She answered John's look with a sweet, grave smile, and a slight + nod towards the little round table, upon which there was a plate of smoked + goose and some oaten cake for his supper. + </p> + <p> + "I carena to eat a bite, Christine; this is what I want o' thee: the skiff + is under the window; step into it, an' do thou go on the bay wi' me an + hour." + </p> + <p> + "I havena any mind to go, John. It is nine by the clock, an' to-morrow the + peat is to coil an' the herring to kipper; yes, indeed." + </p> + <p> + "Well an' good. But here is matter o' mair account than peat an' herring. + Wilt thou come?" + </p> + <p> + "At the end I ken weel thou wilt hae thy way. Mother, here is John, an' he + is for my going on the bay wi' him." + </p> + <p> + "Then thou go. If John kept aye as gude company he wouldna be like to + bring my gray hairs wi' sorrow to the grave." + </p> + <p> + John did not answer this remark until they had pushed well off from the + sleeping town, then he replied fretfully, "Yes, what mother says is true + enough; but a man goes into the warld. A' the fingers are not alike, much + less one's friends. How can a' be gude?" + </p> + <p> + "To speak from the heart, John, wha is it?" + </p> + <p> + "Ragon Torr. Thou knows we hae sat i' the same boat an' drawn the same + nets for three years; he is gude an' bad, like ither folk." + </p> + <p> + "Keep gude company, my brother, an' thou wilt aye be counted ane o' them. + When Ragon is gude he is ower gude, and when he is bad he is just beyont + kenning." + </p> + <p> + "Can a man help the kin he comes o'? Have not his forbears done for + centuries the vera same way? Naething takes a Norseman frae his bed or his + cup but some great deed o' danger or profit; but then wha can fight or + wark like them?" + </p> + <p> + "Christ doesna ask a man whether he be Norse or Scot. If Ragon went mair + to the kirk an' less to the change-house, he wouldna need to differ. Were + not our ain folk cattle-lifting Hieland thieves lang after the days o' the + Covenant?" + </p> + <p> + "Christine, ye'll speak nae wrang o' the Sabays. It's an ill bird 'files + its ain nest." + </p> + <p> + "Weel, weel, John! The gude name o' the Sabays is i' thy hands now. But to + speak from the heart, this thing touches thee nearer than Ragon Torr. Thou + did not bring me out to speak only o' him." + </p> + <p> + "Thou art a wise woman, Christine, an' thou art right. It touches Margaret + Fae, an' when it does that, it touches what is dearer to me than life." + </p> + <p> + "I see it not." + </p> + <p> + "Do not Ragon an' I sail i' Peter Fae's boats? Do we not eat at his table, + an' bide round his house during the whole fishing season? If I sail no + more wi' Ragon, I must quit Peter's employ; for he loves Ragon as he loves + no ither lad i' Stromness or Kirkwall. The Norse blood we think little o', + Peter glories in; an' the twa men count thegither o'er their glasses the + races o' the Vikings, an' their ain generations up to Snorro an' Thorso." + </p> + <p> + "Is there no ither master but Peter Fae? ask theesel' that question, + John." + </p> + <p> + "I hae done that, Christine. Plenty o' masters, but nane o' them hae + Margaret for a daughter. Christine, I love Margaret, an' she loves me + weel. Thou hast loved theesel', my sister." + </p> + <p> + "I ken that, John," she said tenderly; "I hae loved, therefore I hae got + beyont doots, an' learned something holier than my ain way. Thou trust + Margaret now. Thou say 'Yes' to thy mother, an' fear not." + </p> + <p> + "Christine thou speaks hard words." + </p> + <p> + "Was it to speak easy anes thou brought me here? An' if I said, 'I counsel + thee to tak thy ain will i' the matter,' wad my counsel mak bad gude, or + wrang right? Paul Calder's fleet sails i' twa days; seek a place i' his + boats." + </p> + <p> + "Then I shall see next to naught o' Margaret, an' Ragon will see her every + day." + </p> + <p> + "If Margaret loves thee, that can do thee nae harm." + </p> + <p> + "But her father favors Ragon, an' of me he thinks nae mair than o' the + nets, or aught else that finds his boats for sea." + </p> + <p> + "Well an' good; but no talking can alter facts. Thou must now choose + atween thy mother an' Margaret Fae, atween right an' wrang. God doesna + leave that choice i' the dark; thy way may be narrow an' unpleasant, but + it is clear enough. Dost thou fear to walk i' it?" + </p> + <p> + "There hae been words mair than plenty, Christine. Let us go hame." + </p> + <p> + Silently the little boat drifted across the smooth bay, and silently the + brother and sister stood a moment looking up the empty, flagged street of + the sleeping town. The strange light, which was neither gloaming nor + dawning, but a mixture of both, the waving boreal banners, the queer + houses, gray with the storms of centuries, the brown undulating heaths, + and the phosphorescent sea, made a strangely solemn picture which sank + deep into their hearts. After a pause, Christine went into the house, but + John sat down on the stone bench to think over the alternatives before + him. + </p> + <p> + Now the power of training up a child in the way it should go asserted + itself. It became at once a fortification against self-will. John never + had positively disobeyed his mother's explicit commands; he found it + impossible to do so. He must offer his services to Paul Calder in the + morning, and try to trust Margaret Fae's love for him. + </p> + <p> + He had determined now to do right, but he did not do it very pleasantly—it + is a rare soul that grows sweeter in disappointments. Both mother and + sister knew from John's stern, silent ways that he had chosen the path of + duty, and they expected that he would make it a valley of Baca. This Dame + Alison accepted as in some sort her desert. "I ought to hae forbid the lad + three years syne," she said regretfully; "aft ill an' sorrow come o' sich + sinfu' putting aff. There's nae half-way house atween right an' wrang." + </p> + <p> + Certainly the determination involved some unpleasant explanations to John. + He must first see old Peter Fae and withdraw himself from his service. He + found him busy in loading a small vessel with smoked geese and kippered + fish, and he was apparently in a very great passion. Before John could + mention his own matters, Peter burst into a torrent of invectives against + another of his sailors, who, he said, had given some information to the + Excise which had cost him a whole cargo of Dutch specialties. The culprit + was leaning against a hogshead, and was listening to Peter's intemperate + words with a very evil smile. + </p> + <p> + "How much did ye sell yoursel' for, Sandy Beg? It took the son of a + Hieland robber like you to tell tales of a honest man's cargo. It was an + ill day when the Scots cam to Orkney, I trow." + </p> + <p> + "She'll hae petter right to say tat same 'fore lang time." And Sandy's + face was dark with a subdued passion that Peter might have known to be + dangerous, but which he continued to aggravate by contemptuous expressions + regarding Scotchmen in general. + </p> + <p> + This John Sabay was in no mood to bear; he very soon took offence at + Peter's sweeping abuse, and said he would relieve him at any rate of one + Scot. "He didna care to sail again wi' such a crowd as Peter gathered + round him." + </p> + <p> + It was a very unadvised speech. Ragon lifted it at once, and in the words + which followed John unavoidably found himself associated with Sandy Beg, a + man whose character was of the lowest order. And he had meant to be so + temperate, and to part with both Peter and Ragon on the best terms + possible. How weak are all our resolutions! John turned away from Peter's + store conscious that he had given full sway to all the irritation and + disappointment of his feelings, and that he had spoken as violently as + either Peter, Ragon, or even the half-brutal Sandy Beg. Indeed, Sandy had + said very little; but the malignant look with which he regarded Peter, + John could never forget. + </p> + <p> + This was not his only annoyance. Paul Calder's boats were fully manned, + and the others had already left for Brassey's Sound. The Sabays were not + rich; a few weeks of idleness would make the long Orkney winter a dreary + prospect. Christine and his mother sat from morning to night braiding + straw into the once famous Orkney Tuscans, and he went to the peat-moss to + cut a good stock of winter fuel; but his earnings in money were small and + precarious, and he was so anxious that Christine's constant cheerfulness + hurt him. + </p> + <p> + Sandy Beg had indeed said something of an offer he could make "if + shentlemans wanted goot wages wi' ta chance of a lucky bit for themsel's; + foive kuineas ta month an' ta affsets. Oigh! oigh!" But John had met the + offer with such scorn and anger that Sandy had thought it worth while to + bestow one of his most wicked looks upon him. The fact was, Sandy felt + half grateful to John for his apparent partisanship, and John indignantly + resented any disposition to put him in the same boat with a man so + generally suspected and disliked. + </p> + <p> + "It might be a come-down," he said, "for a gude sailor an' fisher to coil + peats and do days' darg, but it was honest labor; an', please God, he'd + never do that i' the week that wad hinder him fra going to the kirk on + Sabbath." + </p> + <p> + "Oigh! she'll jist please hersel'; she'll pe owing ta Beg naething by ta + next new moon." And with a mocking laugh Sandy loitered away towards the + seashore. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + Just after this interview a little lad put a note in John's hand from + Margaret Fae. It only asked him to be on Brogar Bridge at eight o'clock + that night. Now Brogar Bridge was not a spot that any Orcadian cared to + visit at such an hour. In the pagan temple whose remains stood there it + was said pale ghosts of white-robed priests still offered up shadowy human + sacrifices, and though John's faith was firm and sure, superstitions are + beyond reasoning with, and he recalled the eerie, weird aspect of the grim + stones with an unavoidable apprehension. What could Margaret want with him + in such a place and at an hour so near that at which Peter usually went + home from his shop? He had never seen Margaret's writing, and he half + suspected Sandy Beg had more to do with the appointment than she had; but + he was too anxious to justify himself in Margaret's eyes to let any fears + or doubts prevent him from keeping the tryst. + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely reached the Stones of Stennis when he saw her leaning + against one of them. The strange western light was over her thoughtful + face. She seemed to have become a part of the still and solemn landscape. + John had always loved her with a species of reverence; to-night he felt + almost afraid of her beauty and the power she had over him. She was a true + Scandinavian, with the tall, slender, and rather haughty form which marks + Orcadian and Zetland women. Her hair was perhaps a little too fair and + cold, and yet it made a noble setting to the large, finely-featured, + tranquil face. + </p> + <p> + She put out her hand as John approached, and said, "Was it well that thou + shouldst quarrel with my father? I thought that thou didst love me." + </p> + <p> + Then John poured out his whole heart—his love for her, his mother's + demand of him, his quarrel with Ragon and Peter and Sandy Beg. "It has + been an ill time, Margaret," he said, "and thou hast been long in + comforting me." + </p> + <p> + Well, Margaret had plenty of reasons for her delay and plenty of comfort + for her lover. Naturally slow of pulse and speech, she had been long + coming to a conclusion; but, having satisfied herself of its justice, she + was likely to be immovable in it. She gave John her hand frankly and + lovingly, and promised, in poverty or wealth, in weal or woe, to stand + truly by his side. It was not a very hopeful troth-plighting, but they + were both sure of the foundations of their love, and both regarded the + promise as solemnly binding. + </p> + <p> + Then Margaret told John that she had heard that evening that the captain + of the Wick steamer wanted a mate, and the rough Pentland Frith being well + known to John, she hoped, if he made immediate application, he would be + accepted. If he was, John declared his intention of at once seeing Peter + and asking his consent to their engagement. In the meantime the Bridge of + Brogar was to be their tryst, when tryst was possible. Peter's summer + dwelling lay not far from it, and it was Margaret's habit to watch for his + boat and walk up from the beach to the house with him. She would always + walk over first to Brogar, and if John could meet her there that would be + well; if not, she would understand that it was out of the way of duty, and + be content. + </p> + <p> + John fortunately secured the mate's place. Before he could tell Margaret + this she heard her father speak well of him to the captain. "There is nae + better sailor, nor better lad, for that matter," said Peter. "I like none + that he wad hang roun' my bonnie Marg'et; but then, a cat may look at a + king without it being high treason, I wot." + </p> + <p> + A week afterwards Peter thought differently. When John told him honestly + how matters stood between him and Margaret he was more angry than when + Sandy Beg swore away his whole Dutch cargo. He would listen to neither + love nor reason, and positively forbid him to hold any further intercourse + with his daughter. John had expected this, and was not greatly + discouraged. He had Margaret's promise. Youth is hopeful, and they could + wait; for it never entered their minds absolutely to disobey the old man. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime there was a kind of peacemaking between Ragon and John. + The good Dominie Sinclair had met them both one day on the beach, and + insisted on their forgiving and shaking hands. Neither of them were sorry + to do so. Men who have shared the dangers of the deep-sea fishing and the + stormy Northern Ocean together cannot look upon each other as mere parts + of a bargain. There was, too, a wild valor and a wonderful power in + emergencies belonging to Ragon that had always dazzled John's more + cautious nature. In some respects, he thought Ragon Torr the greatest + sailor that left Stromness harbor, and Ragon was willing enough to admit + that John "was a fine fellow," and to give his hand at the dominie's + direction. + </p> + <p> + Alas! the good man's peacemaking was of short duration. As soon as Peter + told the young Norse sailor of John's offer for Margaret's hand, Ragon's + passive good-will turned to active dislike and bitter jealousy. For, + though he had taken little trouble to please Margaret, he had come to look + upon her as his future wife. He knew that Peter wished it so, and he now + imagined that it was also the only thing on earth he cared for. + </p> + <p> + Thus, though John was getting good wages, he was not happy. It was rarely + he got a word with Margaret, and Peter and Ragon were only too ready to + speak. It became daily more and more difficult to avoid an open quarrel + with them, and, indeed, on several occasions sharp, cruel words, that hurt + like wounds, had passed between them on the public streets and quays. + </p> + <p> + Thus Stromness, that used to be so pleasant to him, was changing fast. He + knew not how it was that people so readily believed him in the wrong. In + Wick, too, he had been troubled with Sandy Beg, and a kind of nameless + dread possessed him about the man; he could not get rid of it, even after + he had heard that Sandy had sailed in a whaling ship for the Arctic seas. + </p> + <p> + Thus things went on until the end of July. John was engaged now until the + steamer stopped running in September, and the little sum of ready money + necessary for the winter's comfort was assured. Christine sat singing and + knitting, or singing and braiding straw, and Dame Alison went up and down + her cottage with a glad heart. They knew little of John's anxieties. + Christine had listened sympathizingly to his trouble about Margaret, and + said, "Thou wait an' trust; John dear, an' at the end a' things will be + well." Even Ragon's ill-will and Peter's ill words had not greatly + frightened them—"The wrath o' man shall praise Him," read old + Alison, with just a touch of spiritual satisfaction, "an' the rest o' the + wrath he will restrain." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + It was a Saturday night in the beginning of August, and John was at home + until the following Monday. He dressed himself and went out towards + Brogar, and Christine watched him far over the western moor, and blessed + him as he went. He had not seen Margaret for many days, but he had a + feeling to-night that she would be able to keep her tryst. And there, + standing amid the rushes on the lakeside, he found her. They had so much + to say to each other that Margaret forgot her father's return, and delayed + so long that she thought it best to go straight home, instead of walking + down the beach to meet him. + </p> + <p> + He generally left Stromness about half-past eight, and his supper was laid + for nine o'clock. But this night nine passed, and he did not come; and + though the delay could be accounted for in various ways, she had a dim but + anxious forecasting of calamity in her heart. The atmosphere of the little + parlor grew sorrowful and heavy, the lamp did not seem to light it, her + father's chair had a deserted, lonely aspect, the house was strangely + silent; in fifteen minutes she had forgotten how happy she had been, and + wandered to and from the door like some soul in an uneasy dream. + </p> + <p> + All at once she heard the far-away shouting of angry and alarmed voices, + and to her sensitive ears her lover's and her father's names were mingled. + It was her nature to act slowly; for a few moments she could not decide + what was to be done. The first thought was the servants. There were only + two, Hacon Flett and Gerda Vedder. Gerda had gone to bed, Hacon was not on + the place. As she gathered her energies together she began to walk rapidly + over the springy heath towards the white sands of the beach. Her father, + if he was coming, would come that way. She was angry with herself for the + <i>if</i>. Of course he was coming. What was there to prevent it? She told + herself, Nothing, and the next moment looked up and saw two men coming + towards her, and in their arms a figure which she knew instinctively was + her father's. + </p> + <p> + She slowly retraced her steps, set open the gate and the door, and waited + for the grief that was coming to her. But however slow her reasoning + faculties, her soul knew in a moment what it needed. It was but a little + prayer said with trembling lips and fainting heart; but no prayer loses + its way. Straight to the heart of Christ it went. And the answer was there + and the strength waiting when Ragon and Hacon brought in the bleeding, + dying old man, and laid him down upon his parlor floor. + </p> + <p> + Ragon said but one word, "Stabbed!" and then, turning to Hacon, bid him + ride for life and death into Stromness for a doctor. Most sailors of these + islands know a little rude surgery, and Ragon stayed beside his friend, + doing what he could to relieve the worst symptoms. Margaret, white and + still, went hither and thither, bringing whatever Ragon wanted, and + fearing, she knew not why, to ask any questions. + </p> + <p> + With the doctor came the dominie and two of the town bailies. There was + little need of the doctor; Peter Fae's life was ebbing rapidly away with + every moment of time. There was but little time now for whatever had yet + to be done. The dominie stooped first to his ear, and in a few solemn + words bid him lay himself at the foot of the cross. "Thou'lt never perish + there, Peter," he said; and the dying man seemed to catch something of the + comfort of such an assurance. + </p> + <p> + Then Bailie Inkster said, "Peter Fae, before God an' his minister—before + twa o' the town bailies an' thy ain daughter Margaret, an' thy friend + Ragon Torr, an' thy servants Hacon Flett an' Gerda Vedder, thou art now to + say what man stabbed thee." + </p> + <p> + Peter made one desperate effort, a wild, passionate gleam shot from the + suddenly-opened eyes, and he cried out in a voice terrible in its + despairing anger, "<i>John Sabay! John Sabay—stabb-ed—me! + Indeed—he—did</i>!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, forgive him, man! forgive him! Dinna think o' that now, Peter! Cling + to the cross—cling to the cross, man! Nane ever perished that only + won to the foot o' it." Then the pleading words were whispered down into + fast-sealing ears, and the doctor quietly led away a poor heart-stricken + girl, who was too shocked to weep and too humbled and wretched to tell her + sorrow to any one but God. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + The bailies, after hearing the deposition, immediately repaired to John + Sabay's cottage. It was Saturday night, and no warrant could now be got, + but the murderer must be secured. No two men bent on such an errand ever + found it more difficult to execute. The little family had sat later than + usual. John had always news they were eager to hear—of tourists and + strangers he had seen in Wick, or of the people the steamer had brought to + Kirkwall. + </p> + <p> + He was particularly cheerful this evening; his interview with Margaret had + been hopeful and pleasant, and Christine had given the houseplace and the + humble supper-table quite a festival look. They had sat so long over the + meal that when the bailies entered John was only then reading the regular + portion for the evening exercise. All were a little amazed at the visit, + but no one thought for a moment of interrupting the Scripture; and the two + men sat down and listened attentively while John finished the chapter. + </p> + <p> + Bailie Tulloch then rose and went towards the dame. He was a far-off + cousin of the Sabays, and, though not on the best of terms with them, his + relationship was considered to impose the duty particularly on him. + </p> + <p> + "Gude-e'en, if thou comes on a gude errand," said old Dame Alison, + suspiciously; "but that's no thy custom, bailie." + </p> + <p> + "I came, dame, to ask John anent Peter Fae." + </p> + <p> + The dame laughed pleasantly. "If thou had asked him anent Margaret Fae, he + could tell thee more about it." + </p> + <p> + "This is nae laughing matter, dame. Peter Fae has been murdered—yes, + murdered! An' he said, ere he died, that John Sabay did the deed." + </p> + <p> + "Then Peter Fae died wi' a lie on his lips—tell them that, John," + and the old woman's face was almost majestic in its defiance and anger. + </p> + <p> + "I hae not seen Peter Fae for a week," said John. "God knows that, bailie. + I wad be the vera last man to hurt a hair o' his gray head; why he is + Margaret's father!" + </p> + <p> + "Still, John, though we hae nae warrant to hold thee, we are beholden to + do sae; an' thou maun come wi' us," said Bailie Inkster. + </p> + <p> + "Wrang has nae warrant at ony time, an' ye will no touch my lad," said + Alison, rising and standing before her son. + </p> + <p> + "Come, dame, keep a still tongue." + </p> + <p> + "My tongue's no under thy belt, Tulloch; but it's weel kenned that since + thou wranged us thou ne'er liked us." + </p> + <p> + "Mother, mother, dinna fash theesel'. It's naught at a' but a mistake; an' + I'll gae wi' Bailie Inkster, if he's feared to tak my word." + </p> + <p> + "I could tak thy word fain enough, John—" + </p> + <p> + "But the thing isna possible, Inkster. Besides, if he were missing Monday + morn, I, being i' some sort a relation, wad be under suspicion o' helping + him awa." + </p> + <p> + "Naebody wad e'er suspect thee o' a helping or mercifu' deed, Tulloch. + Indeed na!" + </p> + <p> + "Tak care, dame; thou art admitting it wad be a mercifu' deed. I heard + Peter Fae say that John Sabay stabbed him, an' Ragon Torr and Hacon Flett + saw John, as I understan' the matter." + </p> + <p> + "Mother," said John, "do thou talk to nane but God. Thou wilt hae to lead + the prayer theesel' to-night; dinna forget me. I'm as innocent o' this + matter as Christine is; mak up thy mind on that." + </p> + <p> + "God go wi' thee, John. A' the men i' Orkney can do nae mair than they may + against thee." + </p> + <p> + "It's an unco grief an' shame to me," said Tulloch, "but the Sabays hae + aye been a thorn i' the flesh to me, an' John's the last o' them, the last + o' them!" + </p> + <p> + "Thou art makin' thy count without Providence, Tulloch. There's mair + Sabays than Tullochs; for there's Ane for them that counts far beyont an' + above a' that can be against them. Now, thou step aff my honest + hearthstane—there is mair room for thee without than within." + </p> + <p> + Then John held his mother's and sister's hands a moment, and there was + such <i>virtue</i> in the clasp, and such light and trust in their faces, + that it was impossible for him not to catch hope from them. Suddenly + Bailie Tulloch noticed that John was in his Sabbath-day clothes. In itself + this was not remarkable on a Saturday night. Most of the people kept this + evening as a kind of preparation for the Holy Day, and the best clothing + and the festival meal were very general. But just then it struck the + bailies as worth inquiring about. + </p> + <p> + "Where are thy warking-claes, John—the uniform, I mean, o' that + steamship company thou sails for—and why hast na them on thee?" + </p> + <p> + "I had a visit to mak, an' I put on my best to mak it in. The ithers are + i' my room." + </p> + <p> + "Get them, Christine." + </p> + <p> + Christine returned in a few minutes pale-faced and empty-handed. "They are + not there, John, nor yet i' thy kist." + </p> + <p> + "I thought sae." + </p> + <p> + "Then God help me, sister! I know not where they are." + </p> + <p> + Even Bailie Inkster looked doubtful and troubled at this circumstance. + Silence, cold and suspicious, fell upon them, and poor John went away + half-bereft of all the comfort his mother's trust and Christine's look had + given him. + </p> + <p> + The next day being Sabbath, no one felt at liberty to discuss the subject; + but as the little groups passed one another on their way to church their + solemn looks and their doleful shakes of the head testified to its + presence in their thoughts. The dominie indeed, knowing how nearly + impossible it would be for them not to think their own thoughts this + Lord's day, deemed it best to guide those thoughts to charity. He begged + every one to be kind to all in deep affliction, and to think no evil until + it was positively known who the guilty person was. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, in spite of the almost overwhelming evidence against John Sabay, + there was a strong disposition to believe him innocent. "If ye believe a' + ye hear, ye may eat a' ye see," said Geordie Sweyn. "Maybe John Sabay + killed old Peter Fae, but every maybe has a may-not-be." And to this + remark there were more nods of approval than shakes of dissent. + </p> + <p> + But affairs, even with this gleam of light, were dark enough to the + sorrowful family. John's wages had stopped, and the winter fuel was not + yet all cut. A lawyer had to be procured, and they must mortgage their + little cottage to do it; and although ten days had passed, Margaret Fae + had not shown, either by word or deed, what was her opinion regarding + John's guilt or innocence. + </p> + <p> + But Margaret, as before said, was naturally slow in all her movements, so + slow that even Scotch caution had begun to call her cruel or careless. But + this was a great injustice. She had weighed carefully in her own mind + everything against John, and put beside it his own letter to her and her + intimate knowledge of his character, and then solemnly sat down in God's + presence to take such counsel as he should put into her heart. After many + prayerful, waiting days she reached a conclusion which was satisfactory to + herself; and she then put away from her every doubt of John's innocence, + and resolved on the course to be pursued. + </p> + <p> + In the first place she would need money to clear the guiltless and to seek + the guilty, and she resolved to continue her father's business. She had + assisted him so long with his accounts that his methods were quite + familiar to her; all she needed was some one to handle the rough goods, + and stand between her and the rude sailors with whom the business was + mainly conducted. + </p> + <p> + Who was this to be? Ragon Torr? She was sure Ragon would have been her + father's choice. He had taken all charge of the funeral, and had since + hung round the house, ready at any moment to do her service. But Ragon + would testify against John Sabay, and she had besides an unaccountable + antipathy to his having any nearer relation with her. "I'll ask Geordie + Sweyn," she said, after a long consultation with her own slow but sure + reasoning powers; "he'll keep the skippers an' farmers i' awe o' him; an' + he's just as honest as any ither man." + </p> + <p> + So Geordie was sent for and the proposal made and accepted. "Thou wilt + surely be true to me, Geordie?" + </p> + <p> + "As sure as death, Miss Margaret;" and when he gave her his great brawny + hand on it, she knew her affairs in that direction were safe. + </p> + <p> + Next morning the shop was opened as usual, and Geordie Sweyn stood in + Peter Fae's place. The arrangement had been finally made so rapidly that + it had taken all Stromness by surprise. But no one said anything against + it; many believed it to be wisely done, and those who did not, hardly + cared to express dissatisfaction with a man whose personal prowess and + ready hand were so well known. + </p> + <p> + The same day Christine received a very sisterly letter from Margaret, + begging her to come and talk matters over with her. There were such + obvious reasons why Margaret could not go to Christine, that the latter + readily complied with the request; and such was the influence that this + calm, cool, earnest girl had over the elder woman, that she not only + prevailed upon her to accept money to fee the lawyer in John's defence, + but also whatever was necessary for their comfort during the approaching + winter. Thus Christine and Margaret mutually strengthened each other, and + both cottage and prison were always the better for every meeting. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + But soon the summer passed away, and the storms and snows of winter swept + over the lonely island. There would be no court until December to try + John, and his imprisonment in Kirkwall jail grew every day more dreary. + But no storms kept Christine long away from him. Over almost impassable + roads and mosses she made her way on the little ponies of the country, + which had to perform a constant steeple-chase over the bogs and chasms. + </p> + <p> + All things may be borne when they are sure; and every one who loved John + was glad when at last he could have a fair hearing. Nothing however was in + his favor. The bailies and the murdered man's servants, even the dominie + and his daughter could tell but one tale. "Peter Fae had declared with his + last breath that John Sabay had stabbed him." The prosecution also brought + forward strong evidence to show that very bitter words had passed, a few + days before the murder, between the prisoner and the murdered man. + </p> + <p> + In the sifting of this evidence other points were brought out, still more + convincing. Hacon Flett said that he was walking to Stromness by the beach + to meet his sweetheart, when he heard the cry of murder, and in the + gloaming light saw John Sabay distinctly running across the moor. When + asked how he knew certainly that it was John, he said that he knew him by + his peculiar dress, its bright buttons, and the glimmer of gold braid on + his cap. He said also, in a very decided manner, that John Sabay passed + Ragon Torr so closely that he supposed they had spoken. + </p> + <p> + Then Ragon being put upon his oath, and asked solemnly to declare who was + the man that had thus passed him, tremblingly answered, + </p> + <p> + "<i>John Sabay!</i>" + </p> + <p> + John gave him such a look as might well haunt a guilty soul through all + eternity; and old Dame Alison, roused by a sense of intolerable wrong, + cried out, + </p> + <p> + "Know this, there's a day coming that will show the black heart; but + traitors' words ne'er yet hurt the honest cause." + </p> + <p> + "Peace, woman!" said an officer of the court, not unkindly. + </p> + <p> + "Weel, then, God speak for me! an' my thoughts are free; if I daurna say, + I may think." + </p> + <p> + In defence Margaret Fae swore that she had been with John on Brogar Bridge + until nearly time to meet her father, and that John then wore a black + broadcloth suit and a high hat; furthermore, that she believed it utterly + impossible for him to have gone home, changed his clothes, and then + reached the scene of the murder at the time Hacon Flett and Ragon Torr + swore to his appearance there. + </p> + <p> + But watches were very uncommon then; no one of the witnesses had any very + distinct idea of the time; some of them varied as much as an hour in their + estimate. It was also suggested by the prosecution that John probably had + the other suit secreted near the scene of the murder. Certain it was that + he had not been able either to produce it or to account for its mysterious + disappearance. + </p> + <p> + The probability of Sandy Beg being the murderer was then advanced; but + Sandy was known to have sailed in a whaling vessel before the murder, and + no one had seen him in Stromness since his departure for Wick after his + dismissal from Peter Fae's service. + </p> + <p> + No one? Yes, some one had seen him. That fatal night, as Ragon Torr was + crossing the moor to Peter's house—he having some news of a very + particular vessel to give—he heard the cry of "Murder," and he heard + Hacon Flett call out, "I know thee, John Sabay. Thou hast stabbed my + master!" and he instantly put himself in the way of the flying man. Then + he knew at once that it was Sandy Beg in John Sabay's clothes. The two men + looked a moment in each other's face, and Sandy saw in Ragon's something + that made him say, + </p> + <p> + "She'll pat Sandy safe ta night, an' that will mak her shure o' ta lass + she's seeking far." + </p> + <p> + There was no time for parley; Ragon's evil nature was strongest, and he + answered, "There is a cellar below my house, thou knows it weel." + </p> + <p> + Indeed, most of the houses in Stromness had underground passages, and + places of concealment used for smuggling purposes, and Ragon's lonely + house was a favorite rendezvous. The vessel whose arrival he had been + going to inform Peter of was a craft not likely to come into Stromness + with all her cargo. + </p> + <p> + Towards morning Ragon had managed to see Sandy and send him out to her + with such a message as insured her rapid disappearance. Sandy had also + with him a sum of money which he promised to use in transporting himself + at once to India, where he had a cousin in the forty-second Highland + regiment. + </p> + <p> + Ragon had not at first intended to positively swear away his friend's + life; he had been driven to it, not only by Margaret's growing antipathy + to him and her decided interest in John's case and family, but also by + that mysterious power of events which enable the devil to forge the whole + chain that binds a man when the first link is given him. But the word once + said, he adhered positively to it, and even asserted it with quite + unnecessary vehemence and persistence. + </p> + <p> + After such testimony there was but one verdict possible. John Sabay was + declared guilty of murder, and sentenced to death. But there was still the + same strange and unreasonable belief in his innocence, and the judge, with + a peculiar stretch of clemency, ordered the sentence to be suspended until + he could recommend the prisoner to his majesty's mercy. + </p> + <p> + A remarkable change now came over Dame Alison. Her anger, her sense of + wrong, her impatience, were over. She had come now to where she could do + nothing else but trust implicitly in God; and her mind, being thus stayed, + was kept in a strange exultant kind of perfect peace. Lost confidence? Not + a bit of it! Both Christine and her mother had reached a point where they + knew + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "That right is right, since God is God, + And right the day must win; + To doubt would be disloyalty, + To falter would be sin." +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + Slowly the weary winter passed away. And just as spring was opening there + began to be talk of Ragon Torr's going away. Margaret continued to refuse + his addresses with a scorn he found it ill to bear; and he noticed that + many of his old acquaintances dropped away from him. There is a distinct + atmosphere about every man, and the atmosphere about Ragon people began to + avoid. No one could have given a very clear reason for doing so; one man + did not ask another why; but the fact needed no reasoning about, it was + there. + </p> + <p> + One day, when Paul Calder was making up his spring cargoes, Ragon asked + for a boat, and being a skilful sailor, he was accepted. But no sooner was + the thing known, than Paul had to seek another crew. + </p> + <p> + "What was the matter?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing; they did not care to sail with Ragon Torr, that was all." + </p> + <p> + This circumstance annoyed Ragon very much. He went home quite determined + to leave Stromness at once and for ever. Indeed he had been longing to do + so for many weeks, but had stayed partly out of bravado, and partly + because there were few opportunities of getting away during the winter. + </p> + <p> + He went home and shut himself in his own room, and began to count his + hoarded gold. While thus employed, there was a stir or movement under his + feet which he quite understood. Some one was in the secret cellar, and was + coming up. He turned hastily round, and there was Sandy Beg. + </p> + <p> + "Thou scoundrel!" and he fairly gnashed his teeth at the intruder, "what + dost thou want here?" + </p> + <p> + "She'll be wanting money an' help." + </p> + <p> + Badly enough Sandy wanted both; and a dreadful story he told. He had + indeed engaged himself at Wick for a whaling voyage, but at the last + moment had changed his mind and deserted. For somewhere among the wilds of + Rhiconich in Sutherland he had a mother, a wild, superstitious, + half-heathen Highland woman, and he wanted to see her. Coming back to the + coast, after his visit, he had stopped a night at a little wayside inn, + and hearing some drovers talking of their gold in Gallic, a language which + he well understood, he had followed them into the wild pass of Gualon, and + there shot them from behind a rock. For this murder he had been tracked, + and was now so closely pursued that he had bribed with all the gold he had + a passing fishing-smack to drop him at Stromness during the night. + </p> + <p> + "She'll gae awa now ta some ither place; 'teet will she! An' she's hungry—an' + unco dry;" all of which Sandy emphasized by a desperate and very evil + look. + </p> + <p> + The man was not to be trifled with, and Ragon knew that he was in his + power. If Sandy was taken, he would confess all, and Ragon knew well that + in such case transportation for life and hard labor would be his lot. + Other considerations pressed him heavily—the shame, the loss, the + scorn of Margaret, the triumph of all his ill-wishers. No, he had gone too + far to retreat. + </p> + <p> + He fed the villain, gave him a suit of his own clothes, and #50, and saw + him put off to sea. Sandy promised to keep well out in the bay, until some + vessel going North to Zetland or Iceland, or some Dutch skipper bound for + Amsterdam, took him up. All the next day Ragon was in misery, but + nightfall came and he had heard nothing of Sandy, though several craft had + come into port. If another day got over he would feel safe; but he told + himself that he was in a gradually narrowing circle, and that the sooner + he leaped outside of it the better. + </p> + <p> + When he reached home the old couple who hung about the place, and who had + learned to see nothing and to hear nothing, came to him and voluntarily + offered a remark. + </p> + <p> + "Queer folk an' strange folk have been here, an' ta'en awa some claes out + o' the cellar." + </p> + <p> + Ragon asked no questions. He knew what clothes they were—that suit + of John Sabay's in which Sandy Beg had killed Peter Fae, and the rags + which Sandy had a few hours before exchanged for one of his own + sailing-suits. He needed no one to tell him what had happened. Sandy had + undoubtedly bespoke the very vessel containing the officers in search of + him, and had confessed all, as he said he would. The men were probably at + this moment looking for him. + </p> + <p> + He lifted the gold prepared for any such emergency, and, loosening his + boat, pulled for life and death towards Mayness Isle. Once in the rapid + "race" that divides it and Olla from the ocean, he knew no boat would dare + to follow him. While yet a mile from it he saw that he was rapidly pursued + by a four-oared boat. Now all his wild Norse nature asserted itself. He + forgot everything but that he was eluding his pursuers, and as the chase + grew hotter, closer, more exciting, his enthusiasm carried him far beyond + all prudence. + </p> + <p> + He began to shout or chant to his wild efforts some old Norse death-song, + and just as they gained on him he shot into the "race" and defied them. + Oars were useless there, and they watched him fling them far away and + stand up with outstretched arms in the little skiff. The waves tossed it + hither and thither, the boiling, racing flood hurried it with terrific + force towards the ocean. The tall, massive figure swayed like a reed in a + tempest, and suddenly the half despairing, half defying song was lost in + the roar of the bleak, green surges. All knew then what had happened. + </p> + <p> + "Let me die the death o' the righteous," murmured one old man, piously + veiling his eyes with his bonnet; and then the boat turned and went + silently back to Stromness. + </p> + <p> + Sandy Beg was in Kirkwall jail. He had made a clean breast of all his + crimes, and measures were rapidly taken for John Sabay's enlargement and + justification. When he came out of prison Christine and Margaret were + waiting for him, and it was to Margaret's comfortable home he was taken to + see his mother. "For we are ane household now, John," she said tenderly, + "an' Christine an' mother will ne'er leave me any mair." + </p> + <p> + Sandy's trial came on at the summer term. He was convicted on his own + confession, and sentenced to suffer the penalty of his crime upon the spot + where he stabbed Peter Fae. For some time he sulkily rejected all John's + efforts to mitigate his present condition, or to prepare him for his + future. But at last the tender spot in his heart was found. John + discovered his affection for his half-savage mother, and promised to + provide for all her necessities. + </p> + <p> + "It's only ta poun' o' taa, an' ta bit cabin ta shelter her she'll want at + a'," but the tears fell heavily on the red, hairy hands; "an' she'll na + tell her fat ill outsent cam to puir Sandy." + </p> + <p> + "Thou kens I will gie her a' she needs, an' if she chooses to come to + Orkney—" + </p> + <p> + "Na, na, she wullna leave ta Hieland hills for naught at a'." + </p> + <p> + "Then she shall hae a siller crown for every month o' the year, Sandy." + </p> + <p> + The poor, rude creature hardly knew how to say a "thanks;" but John saw it + in his glistening eyes and heard it in the softly-muttered words, "She was + ta only are tat e'er caret for Santy Beg." + </p> + <p> + It was a solemn day in Stromness when he went to the gallows. The bells + tolled backward, the stores were all closed, and there were prayers both + in public and private for the dying criminal. But few dared to look upon + the awful expiation, and John spent the hour in such deep communion with + God and his own soul that its influence walked with him to the end of + life. + </p> + <p> + And when his own sons were grown up to youths, one bound for the sea and + the other for Marischal College, Aberdeen, he took them aside and told + them this story, adding, + </p> + <p> + "An' know this, my lads: the shame an' the sorrow cam a' o' ane thing—I + made light o' my mother's counsel, an' thought I could do what nane hae + ever done, gather mysel' with the deil's journeymen, an' yet escape the + wages o' sin. Lads! lads! there's nae half-way house atween right and + wrang; know that." + </p> + <p> + "But, my father," said Hamish, the younger of the two, "thou did at the + last obey thy mother." + </p> + <p> + "Ay, ay, Hamish; but mak up thy mind to this: it isna enough that a man + rins a gude race; he maun also <i>start at the right time</i>. This is + what I say to thee, Hamish, an' to thee, Donald: fear God, an' ne'er + lightly heed a gude mother's advice. It's weel wi' the lads that carry a + mother's blessing through the warld wi' them." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LILE DAVIE. + </h2> + <p> + In Yorkshire and Lancashire the word "lile" means "little," but in the + Cumberland dales it has a far wider and nobler definition. There it is a + term of honor, of endearment, of trust, and of approbation. David Denton + won the pleasant little prefix before he was ten years old. When he saved + little Willy Sabay out of the cold waters of Thirlmere, the villagers + dubbed him "Lile Davie." When he took a flogging to spare the crippled lad + of Farmer Grimsby, men and women said proudly, "He were a lile lad;" and + when he gave up his rare half-holiday to help the widow Gates glean, they + had still no higher word of praise than "kind lile Davie." + </p> + <p> + However, it often happens that a prophet has no honor among his own + people, and David was the black sheep of the miserly household of Denton + Farm. It consisted of old Christopher Denton, his three sons, Matthew, + Sam, and David, and his daughter Jennie. They had the reputation of being + "people well-to-do," but they were not liked among the Cumberland + "states-men," who had small sympathy for their niggardly hospitality and + petty deeds of injustice. + </p> + <p> + One night in early autumn Christopher was sitting at the great black oak + table counting over the proceeds of the Kendal market, and Matt and Sam + looked greedily on. There was some dispute about the wool and the number + of sheep, and Matt said angrily, "There's summat got to be done about + Davie. He's just a clish-ma-saunter, lying among the ling wi' a book in + his hand the lee-long day. It is just miff-maff and nonsense letting him + go any longer to the schoolmaster. I am fair jagged out wi' his ways." + </p> + <p> + "That's so," said Sam. + </p> + <p> + "Then why don't you gie the lad a licking, and make him mind the sheep + better? I saw him last Saturday playing sogers down at Thirlston with a + score or more of idle lads like himsel'." The old man spoke irritably, and + looked round for the culprit. "I'll lay thee a penny he's at the same game + now. Gie him a licking when he comes in, son Matt." + </p> + <p> + "Nay, but Matt wont," said Jennie Denton, with a quiet decision. She stood + at her big wheel, spinning busily, though it was nine o'clock; and though + her words were few and quiet, the men knew from her face and manner that + Davie's licking would not be easily accomplished. In fact, Jennie + habitually stood between Davie and his father and brothers. She had nursed + him through a motherless babyhood, and had always sympathized in his eager + efforts to rise above the sordid life that encompassed him. It was Jennie + who had got him the grudging permission to go in the evening to the + village schoolmaster for some book-learning. But peculiar circumstances + had favored her in this matter, for neither the old man nor his sons could + read or write, and they had begun to find this, in their changed position, + and in the rapid growth of general information, a serious drawback in + business matters. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, as Davie could not be spared in the day, the schoolmaster + agreed for a few shillings a quarter to teach him in the evening. This + arrangement altered the lad's whole life. He soon mastered the simple + branches he had been sent to acquire, and then master and pupil far + outstepped old Christopher's programme, and in the long snowy nights, and + in the balmy summer ones, pored with glowing cheeks over old histories and + wonderful lives of great soldiers and sailors. + </p> + <p> + In fact, David Denton, like most good sons, had a great deal of his mother + in him, and she had been the daughter of a long line of brave Westmoreland + troopers. The inherited tendencies which had passed over the elder boys + asserted themselves with threefold force in this last child of a dying + woman. And among the sheepcotes in the hills he felt that he was the son + of the men who had defied Cromwell on the banks of the Kent and followed + Prince Charlie to Preston. + </p> + <p> + But the stern discipline of a Cumberland states-man's family is not easily + broken. Long after David had made up his mind to be a soldier he continued + to bear the cuffs and sneers and drudgery that fell to him, watching + eagerly for some opportunity of securing his father's permission. But of + this there was little hope. His knowledge of writing and accounts had + become of service, and his wish to go into the world and desert the great + cause of the Denton economies was an unheard-of piece of treason and + ingratitude. + </p> + <p> + David ventured to say that he "had taught Jennie to write and count, and + she was willing to do his work." + </p> + <p> + The ignorant, loutish brothers scorned the idea of "women-folk meddling + wi' their 'counts and wool," and, "besides," as Matt argued, "Davie's + going would necessitate the hiring of two shepherds; no hired man would do + more than half of what folk did for their ain." + </p> + <p> + These disputes grew more frequent and more angry, and when Davie had added + to all his other faults the unpardonable one of falling in love with the + schoolmaster's niece, there was felt to be no hope for the lad. The + Dentons had no poor relations; they regarded them as the one thing <i>not</i> + needful, and they concluded it was better to give Davie a commission and + send him away. + </p> + <p> + Poor Jennie did all the mourning for the lad; his father and brothers were + in the midst of a new experiment for making wool water-proof, and pretty + Mary Butterworth did not love David as David wished her to love him. It + was Jennie only who hung weeping on his neck and watched him walk proudly + and sorrowfully away over the hills into the wide, wide world beyond. + </p> + <p> + Then for many, many long years no more was heard of "Lile Davie Denton." + The old schoolmaster died and Christopher followed him. But the Denton + brothers remained together. However, when men make saving money the sole + end of their existence, their life soon becomes as uninteresting as the + multiplication table, and people ceased to care about the Denton farm, + especially as Jennie married a wealthy squire over the mountains, and left + her brothers to work out alone their new devices and economies. + </p> + <p> + Jennie's marriage was a happy one, but she did not forget her brother. + There was in Esthwaite Grange a young man who bore his name and who was + preparing for a like career. And often Jennie Esthwaite told to the lads + and lasses around her knees the story of their "lile uncle," whom every + one but his own kin had loved, and who had gone away to the Indies and + never come back again. "Lile Davie" was the one bit of romance in + Esthwaite Grange. + </p> + <p> + Jennie's brothers had never been across the "fells" that divided Denton + from Esthwaite; therefore, one morning, twenty-seven years after Davie's + departure, she was astonished to see Matt coming slowly down the Esthwaite + side. But she met him with hearty kindness, and after he had been rested + and refreshed he took a letter from his pocket and said, "Jennie, this + came from Davie six months syne, but I thought then it would be seeking + trouble to answer it." + </p> + <p> + "Why, Matt, this letter is directed to me! How dared you open and keep + it?" + </p> + <p> + "Dared, indeed! That's a nice way for a woman to speak to her eldest + brother!' Read it, and then you'll see why I kept it from you." + </p> + <p> + Poor Jennie's eyes filled fuller at every line. He was sick and wounded + and coming home to die, and wanted to see his old home and friends once + more. + </p> + <p> + "O Matt! Matt!" she cried; "how cruel, how shameful, not to answer this + appeal." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I did it for the best; but it seems I have made a mistake. Sam and + I both thought an ailing body dovering round the hearthstone and doorstone + was not to be thought of—and nobody to do a hand's turn but old + Elsie, who is nearly blind—and Davie never was one to do a decent + hand job, let by it was herding sheep, and that it was not like he'd be + fit for; so we just agreed to let the matter lie where it was." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, it was a cruel shame, Matt." + </p> + <p> + "Well, it was a mistake; for yesterday Sam went to Kendall, and there, in + the Stramon-gate, he met Tom Philipson, who is just home from India. And + what does Tom say but, 'Have you seen the general yet?' and, 'Great man is + Gen. Denton,' and, 'Is it true that he is going to buy the Derwent + estate?' and, 'Wont the Indian Government miss Gen. Denton!' Sam wasn't + going to let Tom see how the land lay, and Tom went off saying that Sam + had no call to be so pesky proud; that it wasn't him who had conquered the + Mahrattas and taken the Ghiznee Pass." + </p> + <p> + Jennie was crying bitterly, and saying softly to herself, "O my brave + laddie! O my bonnie lile Davie!" + </p> + <p> + "Hush, woman! No good comes of crying. Write now as soon as you like, and + the sooner the better." + </p> + <p> + In a very few hours Jennie had acted on this advice, and, though the + writing and spelling were wonderful, the poor sick general, nursing + himself at the Bath waters, felt the love that spoke in every word. He had + not expected much from his brothers; it was Jennie and Jennie's bairns he + wanted to see. He was soon afterwards an honored guest in Esthwaite + Grange, and the handsome old soldier, riding slowly among the lovely + dales, surrounded by his nephews and nieces, became a well-known sight to + the villages around. + </p> + <p> + Many in Thirlston remembered him, and none of his old companions found + themselves forgotten. Nor did he neglect his brothers. These cautious men + had become of late years manufacturers, and it was said were growing + fabulously rich. They had learned the value of the low coppice woods on + their fell-side, and had started a bobbin-mill which Sam superintended, + while Matt was on constant duty at the great steam-mill on Milloch-Force, + where he spun his own wools into blankets and serges. + </p> + <p> + The men were not insensible to the honor of their brother's career; they + made great capital of it privately. But they were also intensely + dissatisfied at the reckless way in which he spent his wealth. Young David + Esthwaite had joined a crack regiment with his uncle's introduction and at + his uncle's charges, and Jennie and Mary Esthwaite had been what the + brothers considered extravagantly dowered in order that they might marry + two poor clergymen whom they had set their hearts on. + </p> + <p> + "It is just sinful, giving women that much good gold," said Matt angrily: + "and here we are needing it to keep a great business afloat." + </p> + <p> + It was the first time Matt had dared to hint that the mill under his care + was not making money, and he was terribly shocked when Sam made a similar + confession. In fact, the brothers, with all their cleverness and industry, + were so ignorant that they were necessarily at the mercy of those they + employed, and they had fallen into roguish hands. Sam proposed that David + should be asked to look over their affairs and tell them where the leakage + was: "He was always a lile-hearted chap, and I'd trust him, Matt, up hill + and down dale, I would." + </p> + <p> + But Matt objected to this plan. He said David must be taken through the + mills and the most made of everything, and then in a week or two + afterwards be offered a partnership; and Matt, being the eldest, carried + the day. A great festival was arranged, everything was seen to the best + advantage, and David was exceedingly interested. He lingered with a + strange fascination among the steam-looms, and Matt saw the bait had + taken, for as they walked back together to the old homestead David said, + "You were ever a careful man, Matt, but it must take a deal of money—you + understand, brother—if you need at any time—I hope I don't + presume." + </p> + <p> + "Certainly not. Yes, we are doing a big business—a very good + business indeed; perhaps when you are stronger you may like to join us." + </p> + <p> + "I sha'n't get stronger, Matt—so I spoke now." + </p> + <p> + Sam, in his anxiety, thought Matt had been too prudent; he would have + accepted Davie's offer at once; but Matt was sure that by his plan they + would finally get all the general's money into their hands. However, the + very clever always find some quantity that they have failed to take into + account. After this long day at the mills General Denton had a severe + relapse, and it was soon evident that his work was nearly finished. + </p> + <p> + "But you must not fret, Jennie dear," he said cheerfully; "I am indeed + younger in years than you, but then I have lived a hundred times as long. + What a stirring, eventful life I have had! I must have lived a cycle among + these hills to have evened it; and most of my comrades are already gone." + </p> + <p> + One day, at the very last, he said, "Jennie, there is one bequest in my + will may astonish you, but it is all right. I went to see her a month ago. + She is a widow now with a lot of little lads around her. And I loved her, + Jennie—never loved any woman but her. Poor Mary! She has had a hard + time; I have tried to make things easier." + </p> + <p> + "You had always a lile heart, Davie; you could do no wrong to any one." + </p> + <p> + "I hope not. I—hope—not." And with these words and a pleasant + smile the general answered some call that he alone heard, and trusting in + his Saviour, passed confidently + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "The quicks and drift that fill the rift + Between this world and heaven." +</pre> + <p> + His will, written in the kindest spirit, caused a deal of angry feeling; + for it was shown by it that after his visit to the Denton Mills he had + revoked a bequest to the brothers of #20,000, because, as he explicitly + said, "My dear brothers do not need it;" and this #20,000 he left to Mary + Butterworth Pierson, "who is poor and delicate, and does sorely need it." + And the rest of his property he divided between Jennie and Jennie's + bairns. + </p> + <p> + In the first excitement of their disappointment and ruin, Sam, who dreaded + his brother's anger, and who yet longed for some sympathetic word, + revealed to Jennie and her husband the plan Matt had laid, and how + signally it had failed. + </p> + <p> + "I told him, squire, I did for sure, to be plain and honest with Davie. + Davie was always a lile fellow, and he would have helped us out of + trouble. Oh, dear! oh, dear! that #20,000 would just have put a' things + right." + </p> + <p> + "A straight line, lad, is always the shortest line in business and morals, + as well as in geometry; and I have aye found that to be true in my + dealings is to be wise. Lying serves no one but the devil, as ever I made + out." + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14494 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8c5ce0b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #14494 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14494) diff --git a/old/14494-8.txt b/old/14494-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..48c6da7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14494-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7530 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Scottish sketches, by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Scottish sketches + +Author: Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +Release Date: December 28, 2004 [EBook #14494] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCOTTISH SKETCHES *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Amy and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading +Team + + + + + + +SHORT STORY + +Scottish Sketches + +By +AMELIA E. BARR + + +New York +Dodd, Mead and Company +1898 + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1883, +BY +AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. + + + + +CONTENTS + +CRAWFORD'S SAIR STRAIT 7 + +JAMES BLACKIE'S REVENGE 101 + +FACING HIS ENEMY 163 + +ANDREW CARGILL'S CONFESSION 241 + +ONE WRONG STEP 267 + +LILE DAVIE 309 + + + + +Crawford's Sair Strait. + + + + +CRAWFORD'S SAIR STRAIT. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Alexander Crawford sat reading a book which he studied frequently with +a profound interest. Not the Bible: that volume had indeed its place +of honor in the room, but the book Crawford read was a smaller one; it +was stoutly bound and secured by a brass lock, and it was all in +manuscript. It was his private ledger, and it contained his bank +account. Its contents seemed to give him much solid satisfaction; and +when at last he locked the volume and replaced it in his secretary, it +was with that careful respect which he considered due to the +representative of so many thousand pounds. + +He was in a placid mood, and strangely inclined to retrospection. +Thoughtfully fingering the key which locked up the record of his +wealth, he walked to the window and looked out. It was a dreary +prospect of brown moor and gray sea, but Crawford loved it. The bare +land and the barren mountains was the country of the Crawfords. He had +a fixed idea that it always had been theirs, and whenever he told +himself--as he did this night--that so many acres of old Scotland were +actually his own, he was aggressively a Scotchman. + +"It is a bonnie bit o' land," he murmured, "and I hae done as my +father Laird Archibald told me. If we should meet in another warld +I'll be able to gie a good account o' Crawford and Traquare. It is +thirty years to-night since he gave me the ring off his finger, and +said, 'Alexander, I am going the way o' all flesh; be a good man, and +_grip tight_.' I hae done as he bid me; there is £80,000 in the +Bank o' Scotland, and every mortgage lifted. I am vera weel pleased +wi' mysel' to-night. I hae been a good holder o' Crawford and +Traquare." + +His self-complacent reflections were cut short by the entrance of his +daughter. She stood beside him, and laid her hand upon his arm with a +caressing gesture. No other living creature durst have taken that +liberty with him; but to Crawford his daughter Helen was a being apart +from common humanity. She was small, but very lovely, with something +almost Puritanical in her dainty, precise dress and carefully snooded +golden hair. + +"Father!" + +"Helen, my bird." + +"Colin is coming home. I have just had a letter from him. He has taken +high honors in Glasgow. We'll both be proud of Colin, father." + +"What has he done?" + +"He has written a prize poem in Latin and Greek, and he is second in +mathematics." + +"Latin and Greek! Poor ghostlike languages that hae put off flesh and +blood lang syne. Poetry! Warse than nonsense! David and Solomon hae +gien us such sacred poetry as is good and necessary; and for sinfu' +love verses and such vanities, if Scotland must hae them, Robert Burns +is mair than enough. As to mathematics, there's naething against them. +A study that is founded on figures is to be depended upon; it has nae +flights and fancies. You ken what you are doing wi' figures. When is +this clever fellow to be here?" + +"He is coming by the afternoon packet to-morrow. We must send the +carriage to meet it, for Colin is bringing a stranger with him. I came +to ask you if I must have the best guest-room made ready." + +"Wha for?" + +"He is an English gentleman, from London, father." + +"And you would put an Englishman in the room where the twa last +Stuarts slept? I'll not hear tell o' it. I'm not the man to lift a +quarrel my fathers dropped, but I'll hae no English body in Prince +Charlie's room. Mind that, noo! What is the man's name?" + +"Mr. George Selwyn." + +"George Selwyn! There's nae Scotch Selwyns that I ken o'. He'll be +Saxon altogether. Put him in the East room." + +Crawford was not pleased at his son bringing any visitor. In the first +place, he had important plans to discuss and carry out, and he was +impatient of further delay. In the second, he was intensely jealous of +Helen. Every young man was a probable suitor, and he had quite decided +that Farquharson of Blair was the proper husband for her. Crawford and +Blair had stood shoulder to shoulder in every national quarrel, and a +marriage would put the two estates almost in a ring fence. + +But he went the next day to meet the young men. He had not seen his +son for three years, and the lad was an object very near and dear to +his heart. He loved him tenderly as his son, he respected him highly +as the future heir of Crawford and Traquare. The Crawfords were a very +handsome race; he was anxious that this, their thirteenth +representative, should be worthy, even physically, of his ancestors. +He drew a long sigh of gratification as young Colin, with open hands, +came up to him. The future laird was a noble-looking fellow, a dark, +swarthy Highlandman, with glowing eyes, and a frame which promised in +a few years to fill up splendidly. + +His companion was singularly unlike him. Old Crawford had judged +rightly. He was a pure Saxon, and showed it in his clear, fresh +complexion, pale brown hair, and clear, wide-open blue eyes. But there +was something about this young man which struck a deeper and wider +sympathy than race--he had a heart beating for all humanity. Crawford +looked at him physically only, and he decided at once, "There is no +fear of Helen." He told himself that young Farquharson was six inches +taller and every way a far "prettier man." Helen was not of this +opinion. No hero is so fascinating to a woman as the man mentally and +spiritually above her, and whom she must love from a distance; and if +Crawford could have known how dangerous were those walks over the +springy heather and through the still pine woods, Mr. Selwyn would +have taken them far more frequently alone than he did. + +But Crawford had other things to employ his attention at that time, +and indeed the young English clergyman was far beyond his mental and +spiritual horizon; he could not judge him fairly. So these young +people walked and rode and sailed together, and Selwyn talked like an +apostle of the wrongs that were to be righted and the poor perishing +souls that were to be redeemed. The spiritual warfare in which he was +enlisted had taken possession of him, and he spoke with the martial +enthusiasm of a young soldier buckling on his armor. + +Helen and Colin listened in glowing silence, Helen showing her +sympathy by her flushing cheeks and wet eyes, and Colin by the +impatient way in which he struck down with his stick the thistles by +the path side, as if they were the demons of sin and ignorance and +dirt Selwyn was warring against. But after three weeks of this +intercourse Crawford became sensible of some change in the atmosphere +of his home. When Selwyn first arrived, and Crawford learned that he +was a clergyman in orders, he had, out of respect to the office, +delegated to him the conduct of family worship. Gradually Selwyn had +begun to illustrate the gospel text with short, earnest remarks, which +were a revelation of Bible truth to the thoughtful men and women who +heard them. + +The laird's "exercises" had often been slipped away from, excuses had +been frequent, absentees usual; but they came to listen to Selwyn with +an eagerness which irritated him. In our day, the gospel of Christ has +brought forth its last beautiful blossom--the gospel of humanity. Free +schools, free Bibles, Tract and City Missions, Hospitals and Clothing +Societies, loving helps of all kinds are a part of every church +organization. But in the time of which I am writing they were unknown +in country parishes, they struggled even in great cities for a feeble +life. + +The laird and his servants heard some startling truths, and the laird +began to rebel against them. A religion of intellectual faith, and +which had certain well-recognized claims on his pocket, he was willing +to support, and to defend, if need were; but he considered one which +made him on every hand his brother's keeper a dangerously democratic +theology. + +"I'll hae no socialism in my religion, any more than I'll hae it in my +politics, Colin," he said angrily. "And if yon Mr. Selwyn belongs to +what they call the Church o' England, I'm mair set up than ever wi' +the Kirk o' Scotland! God bless her!" + +They were sitting in the room sacred to business and to the memory of +the late Laird Archibald. Colin was accustomed to receive his father's +opinions in silence, and he made no answer to this remark. This time, +however, the laird was not satisfied with the presumed assent of +silence; he asked sharply, "What say ye to that, son Colin?" + +"I say God bless the Kirk of Scotland, father, and I say it the more +heartily because I would like to have a place among those who serve +her." + +"What are ye saying now?" + +"That I should like to be a minister. I suppose you have no +objections." + +"I hae vera great objections. I'll no hear tell o' such a thing. +Ministers canna mak money, and they canna save it. If you should mak +it, that would be an offence to your congregation; if ye should save +it, they would say ye ought to hae gien it to the poor. There will be +nae Dominie Crawford o' my kin, Colin. Will naething but looking down +on the warld from a pulpit sarve you?" + +"I like art, father. I can paint a little, and I love music." + +"Art! Painting! Music! Is the lad gane daft? God has gien to some men +wisdom and understanding, to ithers the art o' playing on the fiddle +and painting pictures. There shall be no painting, fiddling Crawford +among my kin, Colin." + +The young fellow bit his lip, and his eyes flashed dangerously beneath +their dropped lids. But he said calmly enough, + +"What is your own idea, father? I am twenty-two, I ought to be doing a +man's work of some kind." + +"Just sae. That is warld-like talk. Now I'll speak wi' you anent a +grand plan I hae had for a long time." With these words he rose, and +took from his secretary a piece of parchment containing the plan of +the estate. "Sit down, son Colin, and I'll show you your inheritance." +Then he went carefully over every acre of moor and wood, of moss and +water, growing enthusiastic as he pointed out how many sheep could be +grazed on the hills, what shooting and fishing privileges were worth, +etc. "And the best is to come, my lad. There is coal on the estate, +and I am going to open it up, for I hae the ready siller to do it." + +Colin sat silent; his cold, dissenting air irritated the excited laird +very much. + +"What hae ye got to say to a' this, Colin?" he asked proudly, "for +you'll hae the management o' everything with me. Why, my dear son, if +a' goes weel--and it's sure to--we'll be rich enough in a few years to +put in our claim for the old Earldom o' Crawford, and you may tak your +seat in the House o' Peers yet. The old chevalier promised us a +Dukedom," he said sadly, "but I'm feared that will be aboon our +thumb--" + +"Father, what are you going to do with the clansmen? Do you think +Highlandmen who have lived on the mountains are going to dig coal? Do +you imagine that these men, who, until a generation or two ago, never +handled anything but a claymore, and who even now scorn to do aught +but stalk deer or spear salmon, will take a shovel and a pickaxe and +labor as coal-miners? There is not a Crawford among them who would do +it. I would despise him if he did." + +"There is a glimmer o' good sense in what you say, Colin. I dinna +intend any Crawford to work in my coal mine. Little use they would be +there. I'll send to Glasgow for some Irish bodies." + +"And then you will have more fighting than working on the place; and +you'll have to build a Roman-catholic chapel, and have a Roman priest +in Crawford, and you ken whether the Crawfords will thole _that_ or +not." + +"As to the fighting, I'll gie them no chance. I'm going to send the +Crawfords to Canada. I hae thought it all out. The sheilings will do +for the others; the land I want for sheep grazing. They are doing +naething for themsel's, and they are just a burden to me. It will be +better for them to gang to Canada. I'll pay their passage, and I'll +gie them a few pounds each to start them. You must stand by me in this +matter, for they'll hae to go sooner or later." + +"That is a thing I cannot do, father. There is not a Laird of Crawford +that was not nursed on some clanswoman's breast. We are all kin. Do +you think I would like to see Rory and Jean Crawford packed off to +Canada? And there is young Hector, my foster-brother! And old Ailsa, +your own foster-sister! Every Crawford has a right to a bite and a sup +from the Crawford land." + +"That is a' bygane nonsense. Your great-grandfather, if he wanted +cattle or meal, could just take the clan and go and harry some +Southern body out o' them. That is beyond our power, and it's an unca +charge to hae every Crawford looking to you when hunting and fishing +fails. They'll do fine in Canada. There is grand hunting, and if they +want fighting, doubtless there will be Indians. They will hae to go, +and you will hae to stand by me in this matter." + +"It is against my conscience, sir. I had also plans about these poor, +half-civilized, loving kinsmen of ours. You should hear Selwyn talk of +what we might do with them. There is land enough to give all who want +it a few acres, and the rest could be set up with boats and nets as +fishers. They would like that." + +"Nae doubt. But I don't like it, and I wont hae it. Mr. Selwyn may hae +a big parish in London, but the Crawfords arena in his congregation. I +am king and bishop within my ain estate, Colin." Then he rose in a +decided passion and locked up again the precious parchment, and Colin +understood that, for the present, the subject was dismissed. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +At the very time this conversation was in progress, one strangely +dissimilar was being carried on between George Selwyn and Helen +Crawford. They were sitting in the sweet, old-fashioned garden and +Selwyn had been talking of the work so dear to his heart, but a +silence had fallen between them. Then softly and almost hesitatingly +Helen said "Mr. Selwyn, I cannot help in this grand evangel, except +with money and prayers. May I offer you £300? It is entirely my own, +and it lies useless in my desk. Will you take it?" + +"I have no power to refuse it. 'You give it to God, durst I say no?' +But as I do not return at once, you had better send it in a check to +our treasurer." Then he gave her the necessary business directions, +and was writing the address of the treasurer when the laird stopped in +front of them. + +"Helen, you are needed in the house," he said abruptly; and then +turning to Selwyn, he asked him to take a walk up the hill. The young +man complied. He was quite unconscious of the anger in the tone of the +request. For a few yards neither spoke; then the laird, with an +irritable glance at his placid companion, said, "Mr. Selwyn, +fore-speaking saves after-speaking. Helen Crawford is bespoke for +young Farquharson of Blair, and if you have any hopes o' wiving in my +house--" + +"Crawford, thank you for your warning, but I have no thoughts of +marrying any one. Helen Crawford is a pearl among women; but even if I +wanted a wife, she is unfit for my helpmate. When I took my curacy in +the East End of London I counted the cost. Not for the fairest of the +daughters of men would I desert my first love--the Christ-work to +which I have solemnly dedicated my life." + +His voice fell almost to a whisper, but the outward, upward glance of +the inspired eyes completely disconcerted the aggressive old +chieftain. His supposed enemy, in some intangible way, had escaped +him, and he felt keenly his own mistake. He was glad to see Colin +coming; it gave him an opportunity of escaping honorably from a +conversation which had been very humiliating to him. He had a habit +when annoyed of seeking the sea-beach. The chafing, complaining waves +suited his fretful mood, and leaving the young men, he turned to the +sea, taking the hillside with such mighty strides that Selwyn watched +him with admiration and astonishment. + +"Four miles of that walking will bring him home in the most amiable of +moods," said Colin. And perhaps it would, if he had been left to the +sole companionship of nature. But when he was half way home he met +Dominie Tallisker, a man of as lofty a spirit as any Crawford who ever +lived. The two men were close friends, though they seldom met without +disagreeing on some point. + +"Weel met, dominie! Are you going to the Keep?" + +"Just so, I am for an hour's talk wi' that fine young English +clergyman you hae staying wi' you." + +"Tallisker, let me tell you, man, you hae been seen o'er much wi' him +lately. Why, dominie! he is an Episcopal, and an Arminian o' the vera +warst kind." + +"Hout, laird! Arminianism isna a contagious disease. I'll no mair tak +Arminianism from the Rev. George Selwyn than I'll tak Toryism fra +Laird Alexander Crawford. My theology and my politics are far beyond +inoculation. Let me tell you that, laird." + +"Hae ye gotten an argument up wi' him, Tallisker? I would like weel to +hear ye twa at it." + +"Na, na; he isna one o' them that argues. He maks downright +assertions; every one o' them hits a body's conscience like a +sledge-hammer. He said that to me as we walked the moor last night +that didna let me sleep a wink." + +"He is a vera disagreeable young man. What could he say to you? You +have aye done your duty." + +"I thought sae once, Crawford. I taught the bairns their catechism; I +looked weel to the spiritual life o' young and old; I had aye a word +in season for all. But maybe this I ought to hae done, and not left +the other undone." + +"You are talking foolishness, Tallisker, and that's a thing no usual +wi' you." + +"No oftener wi' me nor other folk. But, laird, I feel there must be a +change. I hae gotten my orders, and I am going to obey them. You may +be certain o' that." + +"I didna think I would ever see Dominie Tallisker taking orders from a +disciple o' Arminius--and an Englishman forbye!" + +"I'll tak my orders, Crawford, from any messenger the Lord chooses to +send them by. And I'll do this messenger justice; he laid down no law +to me, he only spak o' the duty laid on his own conscience; but my +conscience said 'Amen' to his--that's about it. There has been a +breath o' the Holy Ghost through the Church o' England lately, and the +dry bones o' its ceremonials are being clothed upon wi' a new and +wonderfu' life." + +"Humff!" said the laird with a scornful laugh as he kicked a pebble +out of his way. + +"There is a great outpouring at Oxford among the young men, and though +I dinna agree wi' them in a' things, I can see that they hae gotten a +revelation." + +"Ou, ay, the young ken a' things. It is aye young men that are for +turning the warld upside down. Naething is good enough for them." + +The dominie took no notice of the petulant interruption. "Laird," he +said excitedly, "it is like a fresh Epiphany, what this young Mr. +Selwyn says--the hungry are fed, the naked clothed, the prisoners +comforted, the puir wee, ragged, ignorant bairns gathered into homes +and schools, and it is the gospel wi' bread and meat and shelter and +schooling in its hand. That was Christ's ain way, you'll admit that. +And while he was talking, my heart burned, and I bethought me of a +night-school for the little herd laddies and lasses. They could study +their lessons on the hillside all day, and I'll gather them for an +hour at night, and gie them a basin o' porridge and milk after their +lessons. And we ought not to send the orphan weans o' the kirk to the +warkhouse; we ought to hae a hame for them, and our sick ought to be +better looked to. There is many another good thing to do, but we'll +begin wi' these, and the rest will follow." + +The laird had listened thus far in speechless indignation. He now +stood still, and said, + +"I'll hae you to understand, Dominie Tallisker, that I am laird o' +Crawford and Traquare, and I'll hae nae such pliskies played in either +o' my clachans." + +"If you are laird, I am dominie. You ken me weel enough to be sure if +this thing is a matter o' conscience to me, neither king nor kaiser +can stop me. I'd snap my fingers in King George's face if he bid me +'stay,' when my conscience said 'go,'" and the dominie accompanied the +threat with that sharp, resonant fillip of the fingers that is a +Scotchman's natural expression of intense excitement of any kind. + +"King George!" cried the laird, in an ungovernable temper, "there is +the whole trouble. If we had only a Charles Stuart on the throne there +would be nane o' this Whiggery." + +"There would be in its place masses, and popish priests, and a few +private torture-chambers, and whiles a Presbyterian heretic or twa +burned at the Grass-market. Whiggery is a grand thing when it keeps +the Scarlet Woman on her ain seven hills. Scotland's hills and braes +can do weel, weel without her." + +This speech gave the laird time to think. It would never do to quarrel +with Tallisker. If he should set himself positively against his scheme +of sending his clan to Canada it would be almost a hopeless one; and +then he loved and respected his friend. His tall, powerful frame and +his dark, handsome face, all aglow with a passionate conviction of +right, and an invincible determination to do it, commanded his +thorough admiration. He clasped his hands behind his back and said +calmly, + +"Tallisker, you'll be sorry enough for your temper erelong. You hae +gien way mair than I did. Ye ken how you feel about it." + +"I feel ashamed o' mysel', laird. You'll no lay the blame o' it to my +office, but to Dugald Tallisker his ain sel'. There's a deal o' +Dugald Tallisker in me yet, laird; and whiles he is o'er much for +Dominie Tallisker." + +They were at the gate by this time, and Crawford held out his hand and +said, + +"Come in, dominie." + +"No; I'll go hame, laird, and gie mysel' a talking to. Tell Mr. Selwyn +I want to see him." + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Alas, how often do Christ's words, "I come not to bring peace, but a +sword," prove true. George Selwyn went away, but the seed he had +dropped in this far-off corner of Scotland did not bring forth +altogether the peaceable fruits of righteousness. In fact, as we have +seen, it had scarcely begun to germinate before the laird and the +dominie felt it to be a root of bitterness between them. For if +Crawford knew anything he knew that Tallisker would never relinquish +his new work, and perhaps if he yielded to any reasonable object +Tallisker would stand by him in his project. + +He did not force the emigration plan upon his notice. The summer was +far advanced; it would be unjustifiable to send the clan to Canada at +the beginning of winter. And, as it happened, the subject was opened +with the dominie in a very favorable manner. They were returning from +the moors one day and met a party of six men. They were evidently +greatly depressed, but they lifted their bonnets readily to the chief. +There was a hopeless, unhappy look about them that was very painful. + +"You have been unsuccessful on the hills, Archie, I fear." + +"There's few red deer left," said the man gloomily. "It used to be +deer and men; it is sheep and dogs now." + +After a painful silence the dominie said, + +"Something ought to be done for those braw fellows. They canna ditch +and delve like an Irish peasant. It would be like harnessing stags in +a plough." + +Then Crawford spoke cautiously of his intention, and to his delight +the dominie approved it. + +"I'll send them out in Read & Murray's best ships. I'll gie each head +o' a family what you think right, Tallisker, and I'll put £100 in your +hands for special cases o' help. And you will speak to the men and +their wives for me, for it is a thing I canna bear to do." + +But the men too listened eagerly to the proposition. They trusted the +dominie, and they were weary of picking up a precarious living in +hunting and fishing, and relying on the chief in emergencies. Their +old feudal love and reverence still remained in a large measure, but +they were quite sensible that everything had changed in their little +world, and that they were out of tune with it. Some few of their +number had made their way to India or Canada, and there was a vague +dissatisfaction which only required a prospect of change to develop. +As time went on, and the laird's plan for opening the coal beds on his +estate got known, the men became impatient to be gone. + +In the early part of March two large ships lay off the coast waiting +for them, and they went in a body to Crawford Keep to bid the chief +"farewell." It was a hard hour, after all, to Crawford. The great +purpose that he had kept before his eyes for years was not at that +moment sufficient. He had dressed himself in his full chieftain's suit +to meet them. The eagle's feather in his Glengary gave to his great +stature the last grace. The tartan and philibeg, the garters at his +knee, the silver buckles at his shoulder, belt, and shoon, the +jewelled mull and dirk, had all to these poor fellows in this last +hour a proud and sad significance. As he stood on the steps to welcome +them, the wind colored his handsome face and blew out the long black +hair which fell curling on his shoulders. + +Whatever they intended to say to him, when they thus saw him with +young Colin by his side they were unable to say. They could only lift +their bonnets in silence. The instincts and traditions of a thousand +years were over them; he was at this moment the father and the chief +of their deepest affection. One by one they advanced to him. He +pressed the hands of all. Some of the older men--companions of his +youth in play and sport--he kissed with a solemn tenderness. They went +away silently as they came, but every heart was full and every eye was +dim. There was a great feast for them in the clachan that night, but +it was a sombre meeting, and the dominie's cheerful words of advice +and comfort formed its gayest feature. + +The next day was calm and clear. The women and children were safely on +board soon after noon, and about four o'clock the long boats left the +shore full of men. Tallisker was in the front one. As they pulled away +he pointed silently to a steep crag on the shingly beach. The chief +stood upon it. He waved his bonnet, and then the long-pent feelings of +the clan found vent in one long, pitiful Gallic lament, _O hon a rie! +O hon a rie!_ For a few moments the boats lay at rest, no man was able +to lift an oar. Suddenly Tallisker's clear, powerful voice touched the +right chord. To the grand, plaintive melody of St. Mary's he began the +125th Psalm, + + "They in the Lord that firmly trust + shall be like Sion hill, + Which at no time can be removed, + but standeth ever still. + + As round about Jerusalem + the mountains stand alway; + The Lord his folk doth compass so + from henceforth and for aye." + +And thus singing together they passed from their old life into a new +one. + +Colin had been indignant and sorrowful over the whole affair. He and +Helen were still young enough to regret the breaking of a tie which +bound them to a life whose romance cast something like a glamour over +the prosaic one of more modern times. Both would, in the +unreasonableness of youthful sympathy, have willingly shared land and +gold with their poor kinsmen; but in this respect Tallisker was with +the laird. + +"It was better," he said, "that the old feudal tie should be severed +even by a thousand leagues of ocean. They were men and not bairns, and +they could feel their ain feet;" and then he smiled as he remembered +how naturally they had taken to self-dependence. For one night, in a +conversation with the oldest men, he said, "Crawfords, ye'll hae to +consider, as soon as you are gathered together in your new hame, the +matter o' a dominie. Your little flock in the wilderness will need a +shepherd, and the proper authorities maun be notified." + +Then an old gray-headed man had answered firmly, "Dominie, we will +elect our ain minister. We hae been heart and soul, every man o' us, +with the Relief Kirk; but it is ill living in Rome and striving wi' +the pope, and sae for the chief's sake and your sake we hae withheld +our testimony. But we ken weel that even in Scotland the Kirk willna +hirple along much farther wi' the State on her back, and in the +wilderness, please God, we'll plant only a Free Kirk." + +The dominie heard the resolve in silence, but to himself he said +softly, "_They'll do! They'll do!_ They'll be a bit upsetting at +first, maybe, but they are queer folk that have nae failings." + +A long parting is a great strain; it was a great relief when the ships +had sailed quite out of sight. The laird with a light heart now turned +to his new plans. No reproachful eyes and unhappy faces were there to +damp his ardor. Everything promised well. The coal seam proved to be +far richer than had been anticipated, and those expert in such matters +said there were undoubted indications of the near presence of iron +ore. Great furnaces began to loom up in Crawford's mental vision, and +to cast splendid lustres across his future fortunes. + +In a month after the departure of the clan, the little clachan of +Traquare had greatly changed. Long rows of brick cottages, ugly and +monotonous beyond description, had taken the place of the more +picturesque sheilings. Men who seemed to measure everything in life +with a two-foot rule were making roads and building jetties for +coal-smacks to lie at. There was constant influx of strange men and +women--men of stunted growth and white faces, and who had an insolent, +swaggering air, intolerably vulgar when contrasted with the Doric +simplicity and quiet gigantic manhood of the mountain shepherds. + +The new workers were, however, mainly Lowland Scotchmen from the +mining districts of Ayrshire. The dominie had set himself positively +against the introduction of a popish element and an alien people; and +in this position he had been warmly upheld by Farquharson and the +neighboring proprietors. As it was, there was an antagonism likely to +give him full employment. The Gael of the mountains regarded these +Lowland "working bodies" with something of that disdain which a rich +and cultivated man feels for kin, not only poor, but of contemptible +nature and associations. The Gael was poor truly, but he held himself +as of gentle birth. He had lived by his sword, or by the care of +cattle, hunting, and fishing. Spades, hammers, and looms belonged to +people of another kind. + +Besides this great social gulf, there were political and religious +ones still wider. That these differences were traditional, rather than +real, made no distinction. Man have always fought as passionately for +an idea as for a fact. But Dominie Tallisker was a man made for great +requirements and great trusts. He took in the position with the eye of +a general. He watched the two classes passing down the same streets as +far apart as if separated by a continent, and he said, with a very +positive look on his face, "These men are brethren and they ought to +dwell in unity; and, God helping Dugald Tallisker, they will do it, +yes, indeed, they will." + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +In a year after the departure of the clan, the clachans of Crawford +and Traquare had lost almost all traces of their old pastoral +character. The coal pit had been opened, and great iron furnaces built +almost at its mouth. Things had gone well with Crawford; the seam had +proved to be unusually rich; and, though the iron had been found, not +on his land, but on the extreme edge of Blair, he was quite satisfied. +Farquharson had struck hands with him over it, and the Blair iron ore +went to the Crawford furnaces to be smelted into pig iron. + +Crawford had grown younger in the ardent life he had been leading. No +one would have taken him to be fifty-five years old. He hardly thought +of the past; he only told himself that he had never been as strong and +clear-headed and full of endurance, and that it was probable he had +yet nearly half a century before him. What could he not accomplish in +that time? + +But in every earthly success there is a Mordecai sitting in its gate, +and Colin was the uncomfortable feature in the laird's splendid hopes. +He had lounged heartlessly to and from the works; the steady, +mechanical routine of the new life oppressed him, and he had a +thorough dislike for the new order of men with whom he had to come in +contact. The young Crawfords had followed him about the hills with an +almost canine affection and admiration. To them he was always "the +young laird." These sturdy Ayrshire and Galloway men had an old +covenanting rebelliousness about them. They disputed even with Dominie +Tallisker on church government; they sang Robert Burns' most +democratic songs in Crawford's very presence. + +Then Colin contrasted them physically with the great fellows he had +been accustomed to see striding over the hills, and he despised the +forms stunted by working in low seams and unhealthy vapors and the +faces white for lack of sunshine and grimy with the all-pervading coal +dust. The giants who toiled in leather masks and leather suits before +the furnaces suited his taste better. When he watched them moving +about amid the din and flames and white-hot metal, he thought of +Vulcan and Mount Ætna, and thus threw over them the enchantments of +the old Roman age. But in their real life the men disappointed him. +They were vulgar and quarrelsome; the poorest Highland gillie had a +vein of poetry in his nature, but these iron-workers were painfully +matter of fact; they could not even understand a courtesy unless it +took the shape of a glass of whiskey. + +It was evident to the laird that the new life was very distasteful to +his heir; it was evident to the dominie that it was developing the +worst sides of Colin's character. Something of this he pointed out to +Helen one morning. Helen and he had lately become great friends, +indeed, they were co-workers together in all the new labors which the +dominie's conscience had set him. The laird had been too busy and +anxious about other matters to interfere as yet with this alliance, +but he promised himself he would do so very soon. Helen Crawford was +not going to nurse sick babies and sew for all the old women in the +clachan much longer. And the night-school! This was particularly +offensive to him. Some of the new men had gone there, and Crawford was +sure he was in some way defrauded by it. He thought it impossible to +work in the day and study an hour at night. In some way he suffered by +it. + +"If they werna in the schoolroom they would be in the Change House," +Tallisker had argued. + +But the laird thought in his heart that the whiskey would be more to +his advantage than the books. Yet he did not like to say so; there was +something in the dominie's face which restrained him. He had opened +the subject in that blustering way which always hides the white +feather somewhere beneath it, and Tallisker had answered with a solemn +severity, + +"Crawford, it seems to be your wark to mak money; it is mine to save +souls. Our roads are sae far apart we arena likely to run against each +other, if we dinna try to." + +"But I don't like the way you are doing your wark; that is all, +dominie." + +"Mammon never did like God's ways. There is a vera old disagreement +between them. A man has a right to consider his ain welfare, Crawford, +but it shouldna be mair than the twa tables o' the law to him." + +Now Tallisker was one of those ministers who bear their great +commission in their faces. There was something almost imperial about +the man when he took his stand by the humblest altar of his duty. +Crawford had intended at this very time to speak positively on the +subject of his own workers to Tallisker. But when he looked at the +dark face, set and solemn and full of an irresistible authority, he +was compelled to keep silence. A dim fear that Tallisker would say +something to him which would make him uncomfortable crept into his +heart. It was better that both the dominie and conscience should be +quiet at present. + +Still he could not refrain from saying, + +"You hae set yoursel' a task you'll ne'er win over, dominie. You could +as easy mak Ben-Cruchan cross the valley and sit down by Ben-Appin as +mak Gael and Lowlander call each other brothers." + +"We are told, Crawford, that mountains may be moved by faith; why not, +then, by love? I am a servant o' God. I dinna think it any presumption +to expect impossibilities." + +Still it must be acknowledged that Tallisker looked on the situation +as a difficult one. The new workers to a man disapproved of the +Established Church of Scotland. Perhaps of all classes of laborers +Scotch colliers are the most theoretically democratic and the most +practically indifferent in matters of religion. Every one of them had +relief and secession arguments ready for use, and they used them +chiefly as an excuse for not attending Tallisker's ministry. When +conscience is used as an excuse, or as a weapon for wounding, it is +amazing how tender it becomes. It pleased these Lowland workers to +assert a religious freedom beyond that of the dominie and the shepherd +Gael around them. And if men wish to quarrel, and can give their +quarrel a religious basis, they secure a tolerance and a respect which +their own characters would not give them. Tallisker might pooh-pooh +sectional or political differences, but he was himself far too +scrupulous to regard with indifference the smallest theological +hesitation. + +One day as he was walking up the clachan pondering these things, he +noticed before him a Highland shepherd driving a flock to the hills. +There was a party of colliers sitting around the Change House; they +were the night-gang, and having had their sleep and their breakfast, +were now smoking and drinking away the few hours left of their rest. +Anything offering the chance of amusement was acceptable, and Jim +Armstrong, a saucy, bullying fellow from the Lonsdale mines, who had +great confidence in his Cumberland wrestling tricks, thought he saw in +the placid indifference of the shepherd a good opportunity for +bravado. + +"Sawnie, ye needna pass the Change House because we are here. We'll no +hurt you, man." + +The shepherd was as one who heard not. + +Then followed an epithet that no Highlander can hear unmoved, and the +man paused and put his hand under his plaid. Tallisker saw the +movement and quickened his steps. The word was repeated, with the +scornful laugh of the group to enforce it. The shepherd called his +dog-- + +"Keeper, you tak the sheep to the Cruchan corrie, and dinna let are o' +them stray." + +The dumb creature looked in his face assentingly, and with a sharp +bark took the flock charge. Then the shepherd walked up to the group, +and Jim Armstrong rose to meet him. + +"Nae dirks," said an old man quietly; "tak your hands like men." + +Before the speech was over they were clinched in a grasp which meant +gigantic strength on one side, and a good deal of practical bruising +science on the other. But before there was an opportunity of testing +the quality of either the dominie was between the men. He threw them +apart like children, and held each of them at arm's length, almost as +a father might separate two fighting schoolboys. The group watching +could not refrain a shout of enthusiasm, and old Tony Musgrave jumped +to his feet and threw his pipe and his cap in the air. + +"Dugald," said the dominie to the shepherd, "go your ways to your +sheep. I'll hae nae fighting in my parish. + +"Jim Armstrong, you thrawart bully you, dinna think you are the only +man that kens Cumberland cantrips. I could fling you mysel' before you +could tell your own name;" and as if to prove his words, he raised an +immense stone, that few men could have lifted, and with apparent ease +flung it over his right shoulder. A shout of astonishment greeted the +exploit, and Tony Musgrave--whose keen, satirical ill-will had +hitherto been Tallisker's greatest annoyance--came frankly forward and +said, "Dominie, you are a guid fellow! Will you tak some beer wi' me?" + +Tallisker did not hesitate a moment. + +"Thank you, Tony. If it be a drink o' good-will, I'll tak it gladly." + +But he was not inclined to prolong the scene; the interference had +been forced upon him. It had been the only way to stop a quarrel which +there would have been no healing if blood had once been shed. Yet he +was keenly alive to the dignity of his office, and resumed it in the +next moment. Indeed, the drinking of the glass of good-will together +was rather a ceremonial than a convivial affair. Perhaps that also was +the best. The men were silent and respectful, and for the first time +lifted their caps with a hearty courtesy to Tallisker when he left +them. + +"Weel! Wonders never cease!" said Jim Armstrong scornfully. "To see +Tony Musgrave hobnobbing wi' a black-coat! The deil must 'a' had a +spasm o' laughing." + +"Let the deil laugh," said Tony, with a snap of his grimy fingers. +Then, after a moment's pause, he added, "Lads, I heard this morning +that the dominie's wheat was spoiling, because he couldna get help to +cut it. I laughed when I heard it; I didna ken the man then. I'm +going to-morrow to cut the dominie's wheat; which o' you will go wi' +me?" + +"I!" and "I!" and "I!" was the hearty response; and so next day +Traquare saw a strange sight--a dozen colliers in a field of wheat, +making a real holiday of cutting the grain and binding the sheaves, so +that before the next Sabbath it had all been brought safely home. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +But during these very days, when the dominie and his parishioners were +drawing a step closer to each other, the laird and his son were +drifting farther apart. Crawford felt keenly that Colin took no +interest in the great enterprises which filled his own life. The fact +was, Colin inherited his mother's, and not his father's temperament. +The late Lady Crawford had been the daughter of a Zetland Udaller, a +pure Scandinavian, a descendant of the old Vikings, and she inherited +from them a poetic imagination and a nature dreamy and inert, though +capable of rousing itself into fits of courage that could dare the +impossible. Colin would have led a forlorn hope or stormed a battery; +but the bare ugliness and monotony of his life at the works fretted +and worried him. + +Tallisker had repeatedly urged a year's foreign travel. But the laird +had been much averse to the plan. France, in his opinion, was a hotbed +of infidelity; Italy, of popery; Germany, of socialistic and +revolutionary doctrines. There was safety only in Scotland. Pondering +these things, he resolved that marriage was the proper means to +"settle" the lad. So he entered into communication with an old friend +respecting his daughter and his daughter's portion; and one night he +laid the result before Colin. + +Colin was indignant. He wanted to marry no woman, and least of all +women, Isabel McLeod. + +"She'll hae £50,000!" said the laird sententiously. + +"I would not sell myself for £50,000." + +"You'd be a vera dear bargain at half the price to any woman, Colin. +And you never saw Isabel. She was here when you were in Glasgow. She +has the bonniest black e'en in Scotland, and hair like a raven's +wing." + +"When I marry, sir, I shall marry a woman like my mother: a woman with +eyes as blue as heaven, and a face like a rose. I'll go, as you did, +to Shetland for her." + +"There isna a house there fit for you to take a wife from, Colin, save +and except the Earl's ain; and his daughter, the Lady Selina, is near +thirty years old." + +"There are my second cousins, Helga and Saxa Vedder." + +Then the laird was sure in his own heart that Tallisker's advice was +best. France and Italy were less to be feared than pretty, portionless +cousins. Colin had better travel a year, and he proposed it. It hurt +him to see how eagerly his heir accepted the offer. However, if the +thing was to be done, it was best done quickly. Letters of credit +suitable to the young laird's fortune were prepared, and in less than +a month he was ready to begin his travels. It had been agreed that he +should remain away one year, and if it seemed desirable, that his stay +might even be lengthened to two. But no one dreamed that advantage +would be taken of this permission. + +"He'll be hamesick ere a twelvemonth, laird," said the dominie; and +the laird answered fretfully, "A twelvemonth is a big slice o' life to +fling awa in far countries." + +The night before Colin left he was walking with his sister on the +moor. A sublime tranquillity was in the still September air. The +evening crimson hung over the hills like a royal mantle. The old +church stood framed in the deepest blue. At that distance the long +waves broke without a sound, and the few sails on the horizon looked +like white flowers at sea. + +"How beautiful is this mansion of our father!" said Helen softly. "One +blushes to be caught worrying in it, and yet, Colin, I fear to have +you go away." + +"Why, my dear?" + +"I have a presentiment that we shall meet no more in this life. Nay, +do not smile; this strange intelligence of sorrow, this sudden +trembling in a soul at rest, is not all a delusion. We shall part +to-morrow, Colin. Oh, darling brother, where shall we meet again?" + +He looked into the fair, tender face and the eager, questioning eyes, +and found himself unable to reply. + +"Remember, Colin! I give you a rendezvous in heaven." + +He clasped her hand tightly, and they walked on in a silence that +Colin remembered often afterwards. Sometimes, in dreams, to the very +end of his life, he took again with Helen that last evening walk, and +his soul leaned and hearkened after hers. "I give you a rendezvous in +heaven!" + +In the morning they had a few more words alone. She was standing +looking out thoughtfully into the garden. "Are you going to London?" +she asked suddenly. + +"Yes." + +"You will call on Mr. Selwyn?" + +"I think so." + +"Tell him we remember him--and try to follow, though afar off, the +example he sets us." + +"Well, you know, Helen, I may not see him. We never were chums. I have +often wondered why I asked him here. It was all done in a moment. I +had thought of asking Walter Napier, and then I asked Selwyn. I have +often thought it would have pleased me better if I had invited +Walter." + +"Sometimes it is permitted to us to do things for the pleasure of +others, rather than our own. I have often thought that God--who +foresaw the changes to take place here--sent Mr. Selwyn with a message +to Dominie Tallisker. The dominie thinks so too. Then how glad you +ought to be that you asked him. He came to prepare for those poor +people who as yet were scattered over Ayrshire and Cumberland. And +this thought comforts me for you, Colin. God knows just where you are +going, dear, and the people you are going to meet, and all the events +that will happen to you." + +The events and situations of life resemble ocean waves--every one is +alike and yet every one is different. It was just so at Crawford Keep +after Colin left it. The usual duties of the day were almost as +regular as the clock, but little things varied them. There were +letters or no letters from Colin; there were little events at the +works or in the village; the dominie called or he did not call. +Occasionally there were visitors connected with the mines or furnaces, +and sometimes there were social evening gatherings of the neighboring +young people, or formal state dinners for the magistrates and +proprietors who were on terms of intimacy with the laird. + +For the first year of Colin's absence, if his letters were not quite +satisfactory, they were condoned. It did not please his father that +Colin seemed to have settled himself so completely in Rome, among +"artists and that kind o' folk," and he was still more angry when +Colin declared his intention of staying away another year. Poor +father! How he had toiled and planned to aggrandize this only son, who +seemed far more delighted with an old coin or an old picture than with +the great works which bore his name. In all manner of ways he had made +it clear to his family that in the dreamy, sensuous atmosphere of +Italian life he remembered the gray earnestness of Scottish life with +a kind of terror. + +Tallisker said, "Give him his way a little longer, laird. To bring him +hame now is no use. People canna thole blue skies for ever; he'll be +wanting the moors and the misty corries and the gray clouds erelong." +So Colin had another year granted him, and his father added thousand +to thousand, and said to his heart wearily many and many a time, "It +is all vexation of spirit." + +At the end of the second year Crawford wrote a most important letter +to his son. There was an opening for the family that might never come +again. All arrangements had been made for Colin to enter the coming +contest for a seat in Parliament. The Marquis of B---- had been spoken +to, and Crawford and he had come to an understanding Crawford did not +give the particulars of the "understanding," but he told Colin that +his "political career was assured." He himself would take care of the +works. Political life was open to his son, and if money and influence +could put him in the House of Peers, money should not be spared. + +The offer was so stupendous, the future it looked forward to so great, +Crawford never doubted Colin's proud, acquiescence. That much he owed +to a long line of glorious ancestors; it was one of the obligations of +noble birth; he would not dare to, neglect it. + +Impatiently he waited Colin's answer. Indeed, he felt sure Colin would +answer such a call in person. He was disappointed when a letter came; +he had not known, till then, how sure he had felt of seeing his son. +And the letter was a simple blow to him. Very respectfully, but very +firmly, the proposition was declined. Colin said he knew little of +parties and cabals, and was certain, at least, that nothing could +induce him to serve under the Marquis of B----. He could not see his +obligations to the dead Crawfords as his father did. He considered his +life his own. It had come to him with certain tastes, which he meant +to improve and gratify, for only in that way was life of any value to +him. + +The laird laid the letter in Tallisker's hands without a word. He was +almost broken-hearted. He had not yet got to that point where +money-making for money's sake was enough. Family aggrandizement and +political ambition are not the loftiest motives of a man's life, but +still they lift money-making a little above the dirty drudgery of mere +accumulation. Hitherto Crawford had worked for an object, and the +object, at least in his own eyes, had dignified the labor. + +In his secret heart he was angry at Colin's calm respectability. A +spendthrift prodigal, wasting his substance in riotous living, would +have been easier to manage than this young man of æsthetic tastes, +whose greatest extravagance was a statuette or a picture. Tallisker, +too, was more uneasy than he would confess. He had hoped that Colin +would answer his father's summons, because he believed now that the +life he was leading was unmanning him. The poetical element in his +character was usurping an undue mastery. He wrote to Colin very +sternly, and told him plainly that a poetic pantheism was not a whit +less sinful than the most vulgar infidelity. + +Still he advised the laird to be patient, and by no means to answer +Colin's letter in a hurry. But only fixed more firmly the angry +father's determination. Colin must come home and fulfil his wish, or +he must time remain away until he returned as master. As his son, he +would know him no more; as the heir of Crawford, he would receive at +intervals such information as pertained to that position. For the old +man was just in his anger; it never seemed possible to him to deprive +Colin of the right of his heritage. To be the 13th Laird of Crawford +was Colin's birthright; he fully recognized his title to the honor, +and, as the future head of the house, rendered him a definite respect. + +Of course a letter written in such a spirit did no good whatever. +Nothing after it could have induced Colin to come home. He wrote and +declined to receive even the allowance due to him as heir of Crawford. +The letter was perfectly respectful, but cruelly cold and polite, and +every word cut the old man like a sword. + +For some weeks he really seemed to lose all interest in life. Then the +result Tallisker feared was arrived at. He let ambition go, and +settled down to the simple toil of accumulation. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +But Crawford had not a miser's nature. His house, his name, his +children were dearer, after all, to him than gold. Hope springs +eternal in the breast; in a little while he had provided himself with +a new motive: he would marry Helen to young Farquharson, and endow her +so royally that Farquharson would gladly take her name. There should +be another house of Crawford of which Helen should be the root. + +Helen had been long accustomed to consider Hugh Farquharson as her +future husband. The young people, if not very eager lovers, were at +least very warm and loyal friends. They had been in no hurry to finish +the arrangement. Farquharson was in the Scot's Greys; it was +understood that at his marriage he should resign his commission, so, +though he greatly admired Helen, he was in no hurry to leave the +delights of metropolitan and military life. + +But suddenly Crawford became urgent for the fulfilment of the +contract, and Helen, seeing how anxious he was, and knowing how sorely +Colin had disappointed him, could no longer plead for a delay. And yet +a strange sadness fell over her; some inexplicable symptoms as to her +health led her to fear she would never be Farquharson's wife; the gay +wedding attire that came from Edinburgh filled her with a still +sorrow; she could not appropriate any part of it as her own. + +One day when the preparations were nearly finished, Tallisker came up +to the Keep. Helen saw at once that he was moved by some intense +feeling, and there was a red spot on his cheeks which she had been +accustomed to associate with the dominie's anger. The laird was +sitting placidly smoking, and drinking toddy. He had been telling +Helen of the grand house he was going to build on the new estate he +had just bought; and he was now calmly considering how to carry out +his plans on the most magnificent scale, for he had firmly determined +there should be neither Keep nor Castle in the North Country as +splendid as the new Crawfords' Home. + +He greeted Tallisker with a peculiar kindness, and held his hand +almost lovingly. His friendship for the dominie--if he had known +it--was a grain of salt in his fast deteriorating life. He did not +notice the dominie's stern preoccupation, he was so full of his own +new plans. He began at once to lay them before his old friend; he had +that very day got the estimates from the Edinburgh architect. + +Tallisker looked at them a moment with a gathering anger. Then he +pushed them passionately away, saying in a voice that was almost a +sob, "I darena look at them, laird; I darena look at them! Do you ken +that there are fourteen cases o' typhus in them colliers' cottages you +built? Do you remember what Mr. Selwyn said about the right o' +laborers to pure air and pure water? I knew he was right then, and +yet, God forgive me! I let you tak your ain way. Six little bits o' +bairns, twa women, and six o' your pit men! You must awa to Athol +instanter for doctors and medicines and brandy and such things as are +needfu'. There isna a minute to lose, laird." + +Helen had risen while he was speaking with a calm determination that +frightened her father. He did not answer Tallisker, he spoke to her: +"Where are you going, Helen?" + +"Down to the village; I can do something till better help is got." + +"Helen Crawford, you'll bide where you are! Sit still, and I'll do +whatever Tallisker bids me." + +Then he turned angrily to the dominie. + +"You are aye bringing me ill tidings. Am I to blame if death comes?" + +"Am I my brother's keeper? It's an auld question, laird. The first +murderer of a' asked it. I'm bound to say you are to blame. When you +gie fever an invite to your cotters' homes, you darena lay the blame +on the Almighty. You should hae built as Mr. Selwyn advised." + +"Dominie, be quiet. I'm no a bairn, to be hectored o'er in this way. +Say what I must do and I'll do it--anything in reason--only Helen. +I'll no hae her leave the Keep; that's as sure as deathe. Sit down, +Helen. Send a' the wine and dainties you like to, but don't you stir a +foot o'er the threshold." + +His anger was, in its way, as authoritative as the dominie's. Helen +did as she was bid, more especially as Tallisker in this seconded the +laird. + +"There is naething she could do in the village that some old crone +could not do better." + +It was a bitterly annoying interruption to Crawford's pleasant dreams +and plans. He got up and went over to the works. He found things very +bad there. Three more of the men had left sick, and there was an +unusual depression in the village. The next day the tidings were +worse. He foresaw that he would have to work the men half time, and +there had never been so many large and peremptory orders on hand. It +was all very unfortunate to him. + +Tallisker's self-reproaches were his own; he resented them, even while +he acknowledged their truth. He wished he had built as Selwyn advised; +he wished Tallisker had urged him more. It was not likely he would +have listened to any urging, but it soothed him to think he would. And +he greatly aggravated the dominie's trouble by saying, + +"Why did ye na mak me do right, Tallisker? You should hae been mair +determined wi' me, dominie." + +During the next six weeks the dominie's efforts were almost +superhuman. He saw every cottage whitewashed; he was nurse and doctor +and cook. The laird saw him carrying wailing babies and holding raving +men in his strong arms. He watched over the sick till the last ray of +hope fled; he buried them tenderly when all was over. The splendor of +the man's humanity had never shown itself until it stood erect and +feared not, while the pestilence that walked in darkness and the +destruction that wasted at noon-day dogged his every step. + +The laird, too, tried to do his duty. Plenty of people are willing to +play the Samaritan without the oil and the twopence, but that was not +Crawford's way. Tallisker's outspoken blame had really made him +tremble at his new responsibilities; he had put his hand liberally in +his pocket to aid the sufferers. Perhaps at the foundation of all lay +one haunting thought--Helen! If he did what he could for others, Helen +would safer. He never audibly admitted that Helen was in any danger, +but--but--if there should be danger, he was, he hoped, paying a ransom +for her safety. + +In six weeks the epidemic appeared to have spent itself. There was a +talk of resuming full hours at the works. Twenty new hands had been +sent for to fill vacant places. Still there was a shadow on the +dominie's face, and he knew himself there was a shadow on his heart. +Was it the still solemnity of death in which he had lately lived so +much? Or was it the shadow of a coming instead of a departing sorrow? + +One afternoon he thought he would go and sit with Helen a little +while. During his close intimacy with the colliers he had learned many +things which would change his methods of working for their welfare; +and of these changes he wished to speak with Helen. She was just going +for a walk on the moor, and he went with her. It was on such a +September evening she had walked last with Colin. As they sauntered +slowly, almost solemnly home, she remembered it. Some impulse far +beyond her control or understanding urged her to say, "Dominie, when I +am gone I leave Colin to you." + +He looked at her with a sudden enlightenment. Her face had for a +moment a far-away death-like predestination over it. His heart sank +like lead as he looked at her. + +"Are you ill, Helen?" + +"I have not been well for two weeks." + +He felt her hands; they were burning with fever. + +"Let us go home," she said, and then she turned and gave one long, +mournful look at the mountains and the sea and the great stretch of +moorland. Tallisker knew in his heart she was bidding farewell to +them. He had no word to say. There are moods of the soul beyond all +human intermeddling. + +The silence was broken by Helen. She pointed to the mountains. "How +steadfast they are, how familiar with forgotten years! How small we +are beside them!" + +"I don't think so," said Tallisker stoutly. "Mountains are naething to +men. How small is Sinai when the man Moses stands upon it!" + +Then they were at the Keep garden. Helen pulled a handful of white and +golden asters, and the laird, who had seen them coming, opened the +door wide to welcome them. Alas! Alas! Though he saw it not, death +entered with them. At midnight there was the old, old cry of despair +and anguish, the hurrying for help, where no help was of avail, the +desolation of a terror creeping hour by hour closer to the +hearthstone. + +The laird was stricken with a stony grief which was deaf to all +consolation. He wandered up and down wringing his hands, and crying +out at intervals like a man in mortal agony. Helen lay in a stupor +while the fever burned her young life away. She muttered constantly +the word "Colin;" and Tallisker, though he had no hope that Colin +would ever reach his sister, wrote for the young laird. + +Just before the last she became clearly, almost radiantly conscious. +She would be alone with her father, and the old man, struggling +bravely with his grief, knelt down beside her. She whispered to him +that there was a paper in the jewel-box on her table. He went and got +it. It was a tiny scrap folded crosswise. "Read it, father, when I am +beyond all pain and grief. I shall trust you, dear." He could only bow +his head upon her hands and weep. + +"Tallisker!" she whispered, and he rose softly and called him. The two +men stood together by her side. + +"Is it well, my daughter?" said the dominie, with a tone of tender +triumph in his voice. "You fear not, Helen, the bonds of death?" + +"I trust in those pierced hands which have broken the bonds of death. +Oh! the unspeakable riches!" + +These were her last words. Tallisker prayed softly as the mystical +gray shadow stole over the fair, tranquil face. It was soon all over. + + "She had outsoared the shadow of our night, + And that unrest which men misname delight." + +The bridal robes were folded away, the bridegroom went back to his +regiment, the heartsore father tried to take up his life again. But it +seemed to him to have been broken in two by the blow; and besides +this, there was a little strip of paper which lay like a load upon his +heart. It was the paper he had taken from Helen's dying fingers, and +it contained her last request: + +"Father, dear, dear father, whatever you intended to give me--I pray +you--give it to God's poor. + +"HELEN." + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The dominie had felt certain that Colin would answer his letter in +person, but after a long silence he received it back again. Colin had +left Rome, and left no trace behind him. The laird knew that Tallisker +had written, and he too had been hoping and expecting. But he received +the news of his son's disappearance without remark. Life for some time +was a dreary weight to him, he scarce felt as if he could lift it +again. Hope after hope had failed him. He had longed so to be a rich +man, had God in his anger granted him his wish? And was no other thing +to prosper with him? All the same he clung to his gold with a deeper +affection. When all other vices are old avarice is still young. As +ambition and other motives died out, avarice usurped their places, and +Tallisker saw with a feeling half angry, and half pitiful, the laird's +life dwindling down to this most contemptible of all aims. He kept his +duty as proprietor constantly before the laird, but he no longer +seemed to care that people should say, "Crawford's men have the best +laborers' cottages in Scotland." + +"I hae made up my mind, Tallisker," said fretfully, "the warld thinks +more o' the who mak money than o' those who gie it awa." Certainly +this change was not a sudden one; for two years after Helen's death it +was coming slowly forward, yet there were often times when Tallisker +hoped that it was but a temptation, and would be finally conquered. +Men do not lose the noble savor of humanity in a moment. Even on the +downward road good angels wait anxiously, and whisper in every better +moment to the lapsing soul, "Return!" + +But there was a seed of bitterness in Crawford's heart, that was +poisoning the man's spiritual life--a little bit of paper, yet it lay +like a great stone over his noblest feelings, and sealed them up as in +a sepulchre. Oh, if some angel would come and roll it away! He had +never told the dominie of Helen's bequest. He did not dare to destroy +the slip of paper, but he hid it in the most secret drawer of his +secretary. He told himself that it was only a dying sentiment in Helen +to wish it, and that it would be a foolish superstition in him to +regard it. Perhaps in those last moments she had not understood what +she was asking. + +For a little while he found relief in this suggestion; then he +remembered that the request must have been dictated before the fever +had conquered her strength or judgment. The words were clearly written +in Helen's neat, precise manner; there was not a hesitating line in +the whole. She had evidently written it with care and consideration. +No one could tell how that slip of paper haunted him. Even in the +darkness of its secret hiding-place his spiritual eyes saw it clearly +day and night. + +To give to the poor all he had intended to give to Helen! He could +not! He could not! He could not do it! Helen could not have known what +she was asking. He had meant, in one way or another, to give her, as +the founder of the new line of Crawfords, at least one hundred +thousand pounds. Was it reasonable to scatter hither and yon such a +large sum, earned, as he told himself pitifully, "by his ain wisdom +and enterprise!" + +The dominie knew nothing of this terrible struggle going on ever in +the man's soul who sat by his side. He saw that Crawford was irritable +and moody, but he laid the blame of it on Colin. Oh, if the lad would +only write, he would go himself and bring him back to his father, +though he should have to seek him at the ends of the earth. But four +years passed away, and the prodigal sent no backward, homeward sign. +Every night, then, the laird looked a moment into the dominie's face, +and always the dominie shook his head. Ah, life has silences that are +far more pathetic than death's. + +One night Crawford said, almost in a whisper, + +"He'll be dead, Tallisker." + +And Tallisker answered promptly, + +"He'll come hame, laird." + +No other words about Colin passed between the two men in four years. +But destiny loves surprises. One night Tallisker laid a letter on the +table. + +"It is for you, laird; read it." + +It was a singular letter to come after so long a silence, and the +laird's anger was almost excusable. + +"Listen, Tallisker; did e'er you hear the like? + +"'DEAR FATHER: I want, for a very laudable purpose, £4,000. It is not +for myself in any way. If you will let me have it, I will trouble you +with the proper explanations. If not, they will not be necessary. I +have heard that you are well. I pray God to continue his mercy to you. + +"'Your dutiful son, + +"'COLIN CRAWFORD.' + +"'Laudable purpose!'" cried the unhappy father, in a passion. "The lad +is altogether too laudable. The letter is an insult, Tallisker. I'll +ne'er forgive him for it. Oh, what a miserable father I am!" + +And the dominie was moved to tears at the sight of his old friend's +bitter anguish. + +Still he asserted that Colin had meant it to be a kind letter. + +"Dinna tak want o' sense for want o' affection laird. The lad is a +conceited prig. He's set up wi' himsel' about something he is going to +do. Let him hae the money. I would show him you can gie as grandly as +he can ask loftily." + +And, somehow, the idea pleased the laird. It was something that Colin +had been obliged to ask him for money at all. He sat down and wrote +out a check for the amount. Then he enclosed it with these words: + +"SON COLIN CRAWFORD: I send you what you desire. I am glad your +prospects are sae laudable; maybe it may enter your heart, some day, +to consider it laudable to keep the Fifth Command. Your sister is +dead. Life is lonely, but I thole it. I want nae explanations. + +"Your father, + +"ALEX. CRAWFORD." + +"What's the address, Tallisker?" + +"Regent's Place, London." + +The answer arrived in due time. It was as proper as a letter could be. +Colin said he was just leaving for America, but did not expect to be +more than six months there. But he never said a word about coming to +Crawford. Tallisker was downright angry at the young man. It was true +his father had told him he did not wish to see him again, but that had +been said under a keen sense of family wrong and of bitter +disappointment. Colin ought to have taken his father's ready response +to his request as an overture of reconciliation. For a moment he was +provoked with both of them. + +"You are a dour lot, you Crawfords; ane o' you is prouder than the +ither." + +"The Crawfords are as God made them, dominie." + +"And some o' them a little warse." + +Yet, after all, it was Colin Tallisker was really angry at. For the +present he had to let his anger lie by. Colin had gone, and given him +no address in America. + +"He is feared I will be telling him his duty, and when he comes back +that is what I shall do, if I go to London to mak him hear me." + +For a moment the laird looked hopefully into the dominie's face, but +the hope was yet so far off he could not grasp it. Yet, in a dim, +unacknowledged way it influenced him. He returned to his money-making +with renewed vigor. It was evident he had let the hope of Colin's +return steal into his heart. And the giving of that £4,000 Tallisker +considered almost a sign of grace. It had not been given from any +particularly noble motive; but any motive, not sinful, roused in +opposition to simple avarice, was a gain. He was quite determined now +to find Colin as soon as he returned from America. + +In rather less than six months there were a few lines from Colin, +saying that the money sent had been applied to the proper purpose, and +had nobly fulfilled it. The laird had said he wanted no explanations, +and Colin gave him none. + +Tallisker read the letter with a half smile. + +"He is just the maist contrary, conceited young man I e'er heard tell +o'. Laird, as he wont come to us, I am going to him." + +The laird said nothing. Any grief is better than a grief not sure. It +would be a relief to know all, even if that "all" were painful. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Tallisker was a man as quick in action as in resolve; the next night +he left for London, it was no light journey in those days for a man of +his years, and who had never in all his life been farther away from +Perthshire than Edinburgh. But he feared nothing. He was going into +the wilderness after his own stray sheep, and he had a conviction that +any path of duty is a safe path. He said little to any one. The people +looked strangely on him. He almost fancied himself to be Christian +going through Vanity Fair. + +He went first to Colin's old address in Regent's Place. He did not +expect to find him there, but it might lead him to the right place. +Number 34 Regent's Place proved to be a very grand house. As he went +up to the door, an open carriage, containing a lady and a child, left +it. A man dressed in the Crawford tartan opened the door. + +"Crawford?" inquired Tallisker, "is he at home?" + +"Yes, he is at home;" and the servant ushered him into, a +carefully-shaded room, where marble statues gleamed in dusk corners +and great flowering plants made the air fresh and cool. It as the +first time Tallisker had ever seen a calla lily and he looked with +wonder and delight at the gleaming flowers. And somehow he thought of +Helen. Colin sat in a great leathern chair reading. He did not lift +his head until the door closed and he was sensible the servant had +left some one behind. Then for a moment he could hardly realize who it +was; but when he did, he came forward with a glad cry. + +"Dominie! O Tallisker!" + +"Just so, Colin, my dear lad. O Colin, you are the warst man I ever +kenned. You had a good share o' original sin to start wi', but what +wi' pride and self-will and ill-will, the old trouble is sairly +increased." + +Colin smiled gravely. "I think you misjudge me, dominie." Then +refreshments were sent for, and the two men sat down for a long mutual +confidence. + +Colin's life had not been uneventful. He told it frankly, without +reserve and without pride. When he quarrelled with his father about +entering Parliament, he left Rome at once, and went to Canada. He had +some idea of joining his lot with his own people there. But he found +them in a state of suffering destitution. They had been unfortunate in +their choice of location, and were enduring an existence barer than +the one they had left, without any of its redeeming features. Colin +gave them all he had, and left them with promises of future aid. + +Then he went to New York. When he arrived, there was an intense +excitement over the struggle then going on in the little republic of +Texas. He found out something about the country; as for the struggle, +it was the old struggle of freedom against papal and priestly +dominion. That was a quarrel for which Scotchmen have always been +ready to draw the sword. It was Scotland's old quarrel in the New +World, and Colin went into it heart and soul. His reward had been an +immense tract of the noble rolling Colorado prairie. Then he +determined to bring the Crawfords down, and plant them in this garden +of the Lord. It was for this end he had written to his father for +£4,000. This sum had sufficed to transplant them to their new home, +and give them a start. He had left them happy and contented, and felt +now that in this matter he had absolved his conscience of all wrong. + +"But you ought to hae told the laird. It was vera ill-considered. It +was his affair more than yours. I like the thing you did, Colin, but I +hate the way you did it. One shouldna be selfish even in a good wark." + +"It was the laird's own fault; he would not let me explain." + +"Colin, are you married?" + +"Yes. I married a Boston lady. I have a son three years old. My wife +was in Texas with me. She had a large fortune of her own." + +"You are a maist respectable man, Colin, but I dinna like it at all. +What are you doing wi' your time? This grand house costs something." + +"I am an artist--a successful one, if that is not also against me." + +"Your father would think sae. Oh, my dear lad, you hae gane far astray +from the old Crawford ways." + +"I cannot help that, dominie. I must live according to my light. I am +sorry about father." + +Then the dominie in the most forcible manner painted the old laird's +hopes and cruel disappointments. There were tears in Colin's eyes as +he reasoned with him. And at this point his own son came into the +room. Perhaps for the first time Colin looked at the lad as the future +heir of Crawford. A strange thrill of family and national pride +stirred his heart. He threw the little fellow shoulder high, and in +that moment regretted that he had flung away the child's chance of +being Earl of Crawford. He understood then something of the anger and +suffering his father had endured, and he put the boy down very +solemnly. For if Colin was anything, he was just; if his father had +been his bitterest enemy, he would, at this moment, have acknowledged +his own aggravation. + +Then Mrs. Crawford came in. She had heard all about the dominie, and +she met him like a daughter. Colin had kept his word. This fair, +sunny-haired, blue-eyed woman was the wife he had dreamed about; and +Tallisker told him he had at any rate done right in that matter. "The +bonnie little Republican," as he called her, queened it over the +dominie from the first hour of their acquaintance. + +He stayed a week in London, and during it visited Colin's studio. He +went there at Colin's urgent request, but with evident reluctance. A +studio to the simple dominie had almost the same worldly flavor as a +theatre. He had many misgivings as they went down Pall Mall, but he +was soon reassured. There was a singular air of repose and quiet in +the large, cool room. And the first picture he cast his eyes upon +reconciled him to Colin's most un-Crawford-like taste. + +It was "The Farewell of the Emigrant Clan." The dominie's knees shook, +and he turned pale with emotion. How had Colin reproduced that scene, +and not only reproduced but idealized it! There were the gray sea and +the gray sky, and the gray granite boulder rocks on which the chief +stood, the waiting ships, and the loaded boats, and he himself in the +prow of the foremost one. He almost felt the dear old hymn thrilling +through the still room. In some way, too, Colin had grasped the +grandest points of his father's character. In this picture the man's +splendid physical beauty seemed in some mysterious way to give +assurance of an equally splendid spiritual nature. + +"If this is making pictures, Colin, I'll no say but what you could +paint a sermon, my dear lad. I hae ne'er seen a picture before." Then +he turned to another, and his swarthy face glowed with an intense +emotion. There was a sudden sense of tightening in his throat, and he +put his hand up and slowly raised his hat. It was Prince Charlie +entering Edinburgh. The handsome, unfortunate youth rode bareheaded +amid the Gordons and the Murrays and a hundred Highland noblemen. The +women had their children shoulder high to see him, the citizens, +bonnets up, were pressing up to his bridle-rein. It stirred Tallisker +like a peal of trumpets. With the tears streaming down his glowing +face, he cried out, + +"How daur ye, sir! You are just the warst rebel between the seas! King +George ought to hang you up at Carlisle-gate. And this is painting! +This is artist's wark! And you choose your subjects wisely, Colin: it +is a gift the angels might be proud o'." He lingered long in the room, +and when he left it, "Prince Charlie" and the "Clan's Farewell" were +his own. They were to go back with him to the manse at Crawford. + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +It was, upon the whole, a wonderful week to Tallisker; he returned +home with the determination that the laird must recall his banished. +He had tried to induce Colin to condone all past grievances, but Colin +had, perhaps wisely, said that he could not go back upon a momentary +impulse. The laird must know all, and accept him just as he was. He +had once been requested not to come home unless he came prepared to +enter into political life. He had refused the alternative then, and he +should refuse it again. The laird must understand these things, or the +quarrel would probably be renewed, perhaps aggravated. + +And Tallisker thought that, in this respect, Colin was right. He would +at any rate hide nothing from the laird, he should know all; and +really he thought he ought to be very grateful that the "all" was so +much better than might have been. + +The laird was not glad. A son brought down to eat the husk of evil +ways, poor, sick, suppliant, would have found a far readier welcome. +He would gladly have gone to meet Colin, even while he was yet a great +way off, only he wanted Colin to be weary and footsore and utterly +dependent on his love. He heard with a grim silence Tallisker's +description of the house in Regent's Place, with its flowers and +books, its statues, pictures, and conservatory. When Tallisker told +him of the condition of the Crawfords in Canada, he was greatly moved. +He was interested and pleased with the Texan struggle. He knew nothing +of Texas, had never heard of the country, but Mexicans, Spaniards, and +the Inquisition were one in his mind. + +"That at least was Crawford-like," he said warmly, when told of +Colin's part in the struggle. + +But the subsequent settlement of the clan there hurt him terribly. "He +should hae told me. He shouldna hae minded what I said in such a case. +I had a right to know. Colin has used me vera hardly about this. Has +he not, Tallisker?" + +"Yes, laird, Colin was vera wrong there. He knows it now." + +"What is he doing in such a grand house? How does he live?" + +"He is an artist--a vera great one, I should say." + +"He paints pictures for a living! He! A Crawford o' Traquare! I'll no +believe it, Tallisker." + +"There's naught to fret about, laird. You'll ken that some day. Then +his wife had money." + +"His wife! Sae he is married. That is o' a piece wi' the rest. Wha is +she?" + +"He married an American--a Boston lady." + +Then the laird's passion was no longer controllable, and he said some +things the dominie was very angry at. + +"Laird," he answered, "Mrs. Colin Crawford is my friend. You'll no +daur to speak any way but respectful o' her in my presence. She is as +good as any Crawford that ever trod the heather. She came o' the +English Hampdens. Whar will ye get better blood than that?" + +"No Hampdens that ever lived--" + +"Whist! Whist, laird! The Crawfords are like a' ither folk; they have +twa legs and twa hands." + +"He should hae married a Scots lass, though she had carried a +milking-pail." + +"Laird, let me tell you there will be nae special heaven for the Gael. +They that want to go to heaven by themsel's arena likely to win there +at a'. You may as well learn to live with ither folk here; you'll hae +to do it to a' eternity." + +"If I get to heaven, Dominie Tallisker, I'll hae special graces for +the place. I'm no going to put mysel' in a blazing passion for you +to-night. Yon London woman has bewitched you. She's wanting to come to +the Keep, I'll warrant." + +"If ye saw the hame she has you wouldna warrant your ain word a minute +longer, laird. And I'm sure I dinna see what she would want to hae twa +Crawfords to guide for. One is mair than enough whiles. It's a wonder +to me how good women put up wi' us at all!" + +"_Humff!_" said the laird scornfully. "Too many words on a spoiled +subject." + +"I must say one mair, though. There is a little lad, a bonnie, brave, +bit fellow, your ain grandson, Crawford." + +"An American Crawford!" And the laird laughed bitterly. "A foreigner! +an alien! a Crawford born in England! Guid-night, Tallisker! We'll +drop the subject, an it please you." + +Tallisker let it drop. He had never expected the laird to give in at +the first cry of "Surrender." But he reflected that the winter was +coming, and that its long nights would give plenty of time for thought +and plenty of opportunities for further advocacy. He wrote constantly +to Colin and his wife, perhaps oftener to Mrs. Crawford than to the +young laird, for she was a woman of great tact and many resources, and +Tallisker believed in her. + +Crawford had said a bitter word about her coming to the Keep, and +Tallisker could not help thinking what a blessing she would be there; +for one of Crawford's great troubles now was the wretchedness of his +household arrangements. The dainty cleanliness and order which had +ruled it during Helen's life were quite departed. The garden was +neglected, and all was disorder and discomfort. Now it is really +wonderful how much of the solid comfort of life depends upon a +well-arranged home, and the home must depend upon some woman. Men may +mar the happiness of a household, but they cannot make it. Women are +the happiness makers. The laird never thought of it in this light, but +he did know that he was very uncomfortable. + +"I canna even get my porridge made right," he said fretfully to the +dominie. + +"You should hae a proper person o'er them ne'er-do-weel servants o' +yours, laird. I ken one that will do you." + +"Wha is she?" + +"A Mrs. Hope." + +"A widow?" + +"No, not a widow, but she is not living with her husband." + +"Then she'll ne'er win into my house, dominie." + +"She has good and sufficient reasons. I uphold her. Do you think I +would sanction aught wrong, laird?" + +No more was said at that time, but a month afterwards Mrs. Hope had +walked into the Keep and taken everything in her clever little hands. +Drunken, thieving, idle servants had been replaced by men and women +thoroughly capable and efficient. The laird's tastes were studied, his +wants anticipated, his home became bright, restful, and quiet. The +woman was young and wonderfully pretty, and Crawford soon began to +watch her with a genuine interest. + +"She'll be ane o' the Hopes o' Beaton," he thought; "she is vera like +them." + +At any rate he improved under her sway, for being thoroughly +comfortable himself, he was inclined to have consideration for others. + +One afternoon, as he came from the works, it began to snow. He turned +aside to the manse to borrow a plaid of Tallisker. He very seldom went +to the manse, but in the keen, driving snow the cheerful fire gleaming +through the window looked very inviting. He thought he would go in and +take a cup of tea with Tallisker. + +"Come awa in, laird," cried old Janet, "come awa in. You are a sight +good for sair e'en. The dominie will be back anon, and I'll gie ye a +drap o' hot tay till he comes." + +So the laird went in, and the first thing he saw was Colin's picture +of "The Clan's Farewell." It moved him to his very heart. He divined +at once whose work it was, and he felt that it was wonderful. It must +be acknowledged, too, that he was greatly pleased with Colin's +conception of himself. + +"I'm no a bad-looking Crawford," he thought complacently; "the lad has +had a vera clear notion o' what he was doing." + +Personal flattery is very subtle and agreeable. Colin rose in his +father's opinion that hour. + +Then he turned to Prince Charlie. How strange is that vein of romantic +loyalty marbling the granite of Scotch character! The common-place man +of coal and iron became in the presence of his ideal prince a feudal +chieftain again. His heart swelled to that pictured face as the great +sea swells to the bending moon. He understood in that moment how his +fathers felt it easy to pin on the white cockade and give up +everything for an impossible loyalty. + +The dominie found him in this mood. He turned back to every-day life +with a sigh. + +"Weel, dominie, you are a man o' taste. When did you begin buying +pictures?" + +"I hae no money for pictures, laird. The artist gave me them." + +"You mean Colin Crawford gave you them." + +"That is what I mean." + +"Weel, I'm free to say Colin kens how to choose grand subjects. I +didna think there was so much in a picture. I wouldna dare to keep +that poor dear prince in my house. I shouldna be worth a bawbee at the +works. It was a wonderfu' wise step, that forbidding o' pictures in +the kirks. I can vera weel see how they would lead to a sinfu' +idolatry." + +"Yes, John Knox kent well the temper o' the metal he had to work. +There's nae greater hero-worshippers than Scots folk. They are aye +making idols for themsel's. Whiles it's Wallace, then it's Bruce or +Prince Charlie; nay, there are decent, pious folk that gie Knox +himsel' a honoring he wouldna thank them for. But, laird, there is a +mair degraded idolatry still--that o' gold. We are just as ready as +ever the Jews were to fall down before a calf, an' it only be a golden +one." + +"Let that subject alane, dominie. It will tak a jury o' rich men to +judge rich men. A poor man isna competent. The rich hae straits the +poor canna fathom." + +And then he saw in light as clear as crystal a slip of paper hid away +in a secret drawer. + +Just at this moment a little lad bairn entered the room; a child with +bright, daring eyes, and a comically haughty, confident manner. He +attracted Crawford's attention at once. + +"What's your name, my wee man?" + +"Alexander is my name." + +"That is my name." + +"It is not," he answered positively; "don't say that any more." + +"Will you hae a sixpence?" + +"Yes, I will. Money is good. It buys sweeties." + +"Whose boy is that, dominie?" + +"Mrs. Hope's. I thought he would annoy you. He is a great pleasure to +me." + +"Let him come up to the Keep whiles. I'll no mind him." + +When he rose to go he stood a moment before each picture, and then +suddenly asked, + +"Whar is young Crawford?" + +"In Rome." + +"A nice place for him to be! He'd be in Babylon, doubtless, if it was +on the face o' the earth." + +When he went home he shut himself in his room and almost stealthily +took out that slip of paper. It had begun to look yellow and faded, +and Crawford had a strange fancy that it had a sad, pitiful +appearance. He held it in his hand a few moments and then put it back +again. It would be the new year soon, and he would decide then. He had +made similar promises often; they always gave him temporary comfort. + +Then gradually another element of pleasure crept into his life--Mrs. +Hope's child. The boy amused him; he never resented his pretty, +authoritative ways; a queer kind of companionship sprang up between +them. It was one of perfect equality every way; an old man easily +becomes a little child. And those who only knew Crawford among coals +and pig iron would have been amazed to see him keeping up a mock +dispute with this baby. + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +One day, getting towards the end of December, the laird awoke in a +singular mood. He had no mind to go to the works, and the weather +promised to give him a good excuse. Over the dreary hills there was a +mournful floating veil of mist. Clouds were flying rapidly in great +masses, and showers streaming through the air in disordered ranks, +driven furiously before a mad wind--a wind that before noon shook the +doors and windows, and drove the bravest birds into hiding. + +The laird wandered restlessly up and down. + +"There is the dominie," cried Mrs. Hope, about one o'clock. "What +brings him here through such a storm?" + +Crawford walked to the door to meet him. He came striding over the +soaking moor with his plaid folded tightly around him and his head +bent before the blast. He was greatly excited. + +"Crawford, come wi' me. The Athol passenger packet is driving before +this wind, and there is a fishing smack in her wake." + +"Gie us some brandy wi' us, Mrs. Hope, and you'll hae fires and +blankets and a' things needfu' in case O' accident, ma'am." He was +putting on his bonnet and plaid as he spoke, and in five minutes the +men were hastening to the seaside. + +It was a deadly coast to be on in a storm with a gale blowing to land. +A long reef of sharp rocks lay all along it, and now the line of +foaming breakers was to any ship a terrible omen of death and +destruction. The packet was almost helpless, and the laird and +Tallisker found a crowd of men waiting the catastrophe that was every +moment imminent. + +"She ought to hae gien hersel' plenty o' sea room," said the laird. He +was half angry to see all the interest centred on the packet. The +little fishing cobble was making, in his opinion, a far more sensible +struggle for existence. She was managing her small resources with +desperate skill. + +"Tallisker," said the laird, "you stay here with these men. Rory and I +are going half a mile up the coast. If the cobble drives on shore, the +current will take a boat as light as she is over the Bogie Rock and +into the surf yonder. There are doubtless three or four honest men in +her, quite as weel worth the saving as those stranger merchant bodies +that will be in the packet." + +So Crawford and Rory hastened to the point they had decided on, and +just as they reached it the boat became unmanageable. The wind took +her in its teeth, shook her a moment or two like a thing of straw and +rags, and then flung her, keel upwards, on the Bogie Rock. Two of the +men were evidently good swimmers; the others were a boy and an old +man. Crawford plunged boldly in after the latter. The waves buffeted +him, and flung him down, and lifted him up, but he was a fine surf +swimmer, and he knew every rock on that dangerous coast. After a hard +struggle, all were brought safe to land. + +Then they walked back to where the packet had been last seen. She had +gone to pieces. A few men waited on the beach, picking up the dead, +and such boxes and packages as were dashed on shore. Only three of all +on board had been rescued, and they had been taken to the Keep for +succor and rest. + +The laird hastened home. He had not felt as young for many years. The +struggle, though one of life and death, had not wearied him like a +day's toil at the works, for it had been a struggle to which the soul +had girded itself gladly, and helped and borne with it the mortal +body. He came in all glowing and glad; a form lay on his own couch +before the fire. The dominie and Mrs. Hope were bending over it. As he +entered, Mrs. Hope sprang forward-- + +"Father!" + +"Eh? Father? What is this?" + +"Father, it is Colin." + +Then he knew it all. Colin stretched out a feeble hand towards him. He +was sorely bruised and hurt, he was white and helpless and death-like. + +"Father!" + +And the father knelt down beside him. Wife and friend walked softly +away. In the solemn moment when these two long-parted souls met again +there was no other love that could inter-meddle. + +"My dear father--forgive me!" + +Then the laird kissed his recovered son, and said tenderly, + +"Son Colin, you are all I have, and all I have is yours." + +"Father, my wife and son." + +Then the old man proudly and fondly kissed Hope Crawford too, and he +clasped the little lad in his arms. He was well pleased that Hope had +thought it worth while to minister to his comfort, and let him learn +how to know her fairly. + +"But it was your doing, Tallisker, I ken it was; it has your mark on +it." And he grasped his old friend's hand with a very hearty grip. + +"Not altogether, laird. Colin had gone to Rome on business, and you +were in sair discomfort, and I just named it to Mrs. Hope. After a' it +was her proposal. Naebody but a woman would hae thought o' such a way +to win round you." + +Perhaps it was well that Colin was sick and very helpless for some +weeks. During them the two men learned to understand and to respect +each other's peculiarities. Crawford himself was wonderfully happy; he +would not let any thought of the past darken his heart. He looked +forward as hopefully as if he were yet on the threshold of life. + +O mystery of life! from what depths proceed thy comforts and thy +lessons! One morning at very early dawn Crawford awoke from a deep +sleep in an indescribable awe. In some vision of the night he had +visited that piteous home which memory builds, and where only in sleep +we walk. Whom had he seen there? What message had he received? This he +never told. He had been "spoken to." + +Tallisker was not the man to smile at any such confidence. He saw no +reason why God's messengers should not meet his children in the +border-land of dreams. Thus he had counselled and visited the +patriarchs and prophets of old. He was a God who changeth not; and if +he had chosen to send Crawford a message in this way, it was doubtless +some special word, for some special duty or sorrow. But he had really +no idea of what Crawford had come to confess to him. + +"Tallisker, I hae been a man in a sair strait for many a year. I hae +not indeed hid the Lord's talent in a napkin, but I hae done a warse +thing; I hae been trading wi' it for my ain proper advantage. O +dominie, I hae been a wretched man through it all. Nane ken better +than I what a hard master the deil is." + +Then he told the dominie of Helen's bequest. He went over all the +arguments with which he had hitherto quieted his conscience, and he +anxiously watched their effect upon Tallisker. He had a hope even yet +that the dominie might think them reasonable. But the table at which +they sat was not less demonstrative than Tallisker's face; for once he +absolutely controlled himself till the story was told. Then he said to +Crawford, + +"I'll no tak any responsibility in a matter between you and your +conscience. If you gie it, gie it without regret and without holding +back. Gie it cheerfully; God loves a cheerful giver. But it isna wi' +me you'll find the wisdom to guide you in this matter. Shut yoursel' +in your ain room, and sit down at the foot o' the cross and think it +out. It is a big sum to gie away, but maybe, in the face o' that +stupendous Sacrifice it willna seem so big. I'll walk up in the +evening, laird; perhaps you will then hae decided what to do." + +Crawford was partly disappointed. He had hoped that Tallisker would in +some way take the burden from him--he had instead sent him to the foot +of the cross. He did not feel as if he dared to neglect the advice; so +he went thoughtfully to his own room and locked the door. Then he took +out his private ledger. Many a page had been written the last ten +years. It was the book of a very rich man. He thought of all his +engagements and plans and hopes, and of how the withdrawal of so large +a sum would affect them. + +Then he took out Helen's last message, and sat down humbly with it +where Tallisker had told him to sit. Suddenly Helen's last words came +back to him, "Oh! the unspeakable riches!" What of? The cross of +Christ--the redemption from eternal death--the promise of eternal +life! Sin is like a nightmare; when we stir under it, we awake. +Crawford sat thinking until his heart burned and softened, and great +tears rolled slowly down his cheeks and dropped upon the paper in his +hands. Then he thought of the richness of his own life--Colin and +Hope, and the already beloved child Alexander--of his happy home, of +the prosperity of his enterprises, of his loyal and loving friend +Tallisker. What a contrast to the Life he had been told to remember! +that pathetic Life that had not where to lay its head, that mysterious +agony in Gethsemane, that sublime death on Calvary, and he cried out, +"O Christ! O Saviour of my soul! all that I have is too little!" + +When Tallisker came in the evening, Hope noticed a strange solemnity +about the man. He, too, had been in the presence of God all day. He +had been praying for his friend. But as soon as he saw Crawford he +knew how the struggle had ended. Quietly they grasped each other's +hand, and the evening meal was taken by Colin's side in pleasant +cheerfulness. After it, when all were still, the laird spoke: + +"Colin and Hope, I hae something I ought to tell you. When your sister +Helen died she asked me to gie her share o' the estate to the poor +children of our Father. I had intended giving Helen £100,000. It is a +big sum, and I hae been in a sair strait about it. What say you, +Colin?" + +"My dear father, I say there is only one way out of that strait. The +money must be given as Helen wished it. Helen was a noble girl. It was +just like her." + +"Ah, Colin, if you could only tell what a burden this bit o' paper has +been to me! I left the great weight at the foot o' the cross this +morning." As he spoke the paper dropped from his fingers and fell upon +the table. Colin lifted it reverently and kissed it. "Father," he +said, "may I keep it now? The day will come when the Crawfords will +think with more pride of it than of any parchment they possess." + +Then there was an appeal to Tallisker about its disposal. "Laird," he +answered, "such a sum must be handled wi' great care. It is not enough +to gie money, it must be gien wisely." But he promised to take on +himself the labor of inquiry into different charities, and the +consideration of what places and objects needed help most. "But, +Crawford," he said, "if you hae any special desire, I think it should +be regarded." + +Then Crawford said he had indeed one. When he was himself young he had +desired greatly to enter the ministry, but his father had laid upon +him a duty to the family and estate which he had accepted instead. + +"Now, dominie," he said, "canna I keep aye a young man in my place?" + +"It is a worthy thought, Crawford." + +So the first portion of Helen's bequest went to Aberdeen University. +This endowment has sent out in Crawford's place many a noble young man +into the harvest-field of the world, and who shall say for how many +centuries it will keep his name green in earth and heaven! The +distribution of the rest does not concern our story. It may safely be +left in Dominie Tallisker's hands. + +Of course, in some measure it altered Crawford's plans. The new house +was abandoned and a wing built to the Keep for Colin's special use. In +this portion the young man indulged freely his poetic, artistic +tastes. And the laird got to like it. He used to tread softly as soon +as his feet entered the large shaded rooms, full of skilful lights and +white gleaming statues. He got to enjoy the hot, scented atmosphere +and rare blossoms of the conservatory, and it became a daily delight +to him to sit an hour in Colin's studio and watch the progress of some +favorite picture. + +But above all his life was made rich by his grandson. Nature, as she +often does, reproduced in the second generation what she had totally +omitted in the first. The boy was his grandfather over again. They +agreed upon every point. It was the laird who taught Alexander to +spear a salmon, and throw a trout-line, and stalk a deer. They had +constant confidences about tackle and guns and snares. They were all +day together on the hills. The works pleased the boy better than his +father's studio. He trotted away with his grandfather gladly to them. +The fires and molten metal, the wheels and hammers and tumult, were +all enchantments to him. He never feared to leap into a collier's +basket and swing down the deep, black shaft. He had also an +appreciative love of money; he knew just how many sixpences he owned, +and though he could give if asked to do so, he always wanted the +dominie to give him a good reason for giving. The child gave him back +again his youth, and a fuller and nobler one than he himself had +known. + +And God was very gracious to him, and lengthened out this second youth +to a green old age. These men of old Gaul had iron constitutions; they +did not begin to think themselves old men until they had turned +fourscore. It was thirty years after Helen's death when Tallisker one +night sent this word to his life-long friend, + +"I hae been called, Crawford; come and see me once more." + +They all went together to the manse. The dominie was in his +ninety-first year, and he was going home. No one could call it dying. +He had no pain. He was going to his last sleep + + "As sweetly as a child, + Whom neither thought disturbs nor care encumbers, + Tired with long play, at close of summer's day + Lies down and slumbers." + +"Good-by, Crawford--for a little while. We'll hae nae tears. I hae +lived joyfully before my God these ninety years; I am going out o' the +sunshine into the sunshine. Crawford, through that sair strait o' +yours you hae set a grand, wide-open door for a weight o' happiness. I +am glad ye didna wait. A good will is a good thing, but a good life is +far better. It is a grand thing to sow your ain good seed. Nae ither +hand could hae done it sae well and sae wisely. Far and wide there are +lads and lasses growing up to call you blessed. This is a thought to +mak death easy, Crawford. Good-night, dears." + +And then "God's finger touched him and he slept." + +Crawford lived but a few weeks longer. After the dominie's death he +simply sat waiting. His darling Alexander came home specially to +brighten these last hours, and in his company he showed almost to the +last hour the true Crawford spirit. + +"Alexander," he would say, "you'll ding for your ain side and the +Crawfords always, but you'll be a good man; there is nae happiness +else, dear. Never rest, my lad, till ye sit where your fathers sat in +the House o' Peers. Stand by the State and the Kirk, and fear God, +Alexander. The lease o' the Cowden Knowes is near out; don't renew it. +Grip tight what ye hae got, but pay every debt as if God wrote the +bill. Remember the poor, dear lad. Charity gies itsel' rich. Riches +mak to themselves wings, but charity clips the wings. The love o' God, +dear, the love o' God--that is the best o' all." + +Yes, he had a sair struggle with his lower nature to the very last, +but he was constantly strengthened by the conviction of a "Power +closer to him than breathing, nearer than hands or feet." Nine weeks +after the dominie's death they found him sitting in his chair, fallen +on that sleep whose waking is eternal day. His death was like +Tallisker's--a perfectly natural one. He had been reading. The Bible +lay open at that grand peroration of St. Paul's on faith, in the +twelfth of Hebrews. The "great cloud of witnesses," "the sin which +doth so easily beset us," "Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our +faith"--these were probably his last earthly thoughts, and with them +he passed into + + "That perfect presence of His face + Which we, for want of words, call heaven." + + + + +James Blackie's Revenge. + + + + +JAMES BLACKIE'S REVENGE. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Few people who have travelled will deny that of all cities Glasgow is +apparently the least romantic. Steeped in wet, white mist, or wrapped +in yellow fog vapor, all gray stone and gray sky, dirty streets, and +sloppy people, it presents none of the features of a show town. Yet it +has great merits; it is enterprising, persevering, intensely national, +and practically religious; and people who do not mind being damp have +every chance to make a good living there. Even the sombre appearance +of the dark gray granite of which it is built is not unsuitable to the +sterling character of its people; for though this stone may be dull +and ugly, there is a natural nobility about it, and it never can be +mean. + +I have said that, as a city, Glasgow is practically religious, and +certainly this was the case something less than half a century ago. +The number of its churches was not more remarkable than the piety and +learning of its clergy; and the "skailing" of their congregations on a +Sabbath afternoon was one of the most impressive sights, of its kind, +in the world. + +My true little story opens with the skailing of the Ramshorn Kirk, a +very favorite place of worship with the well-to-do burghers of the +east end of the city, and it was a peculiarly douce, decent, +solemn-looking crowd that slowly and reverently passed out of its +gates into the absolutely silent streets. For no vehicles of any kind +disturbed the Sabbath stillness, and not until the people had gone +some distance from the house of God did they begin to think their own +thoughts, and with a certain grave reserve put them into words. + +Among the groups who proceeded still farther east, towards the +pleasant houses facing the "Green," one alone was remarkable enough to +have elicited special notice from an observing stranger. It consisted +of an old man and a young girl, evidently his daughter. Both were +strikingly handsome, and the girl was much better dressed than the +majority of women who took the same road. Long before they reached the +Green they were joined by a younger man, whom the elder at once +addressed in a reproving voice. + +"Ye didna pay as much attention to the sermon as it behooved ye to do, +James Blackie; and what for did ye speak to Robert Laird a'most within +'the Gates'?" + +"I only asked if he had heard of the 'Bonnie Bess;' she is overdue +five days, and eight good men in her, not to speak of the cargo." + +"It's no cannie to be aye asking questions. Sit still and the news +will come to ye: forbye, I'm no sure if yon was a lawfu' question; the +Sabbath sun hasna set yet." + +James Blackie mechanically turned to the west, and then slowly let his +glance fall on the lovely face at his side. + +"Christine," he asked softly, "how is all with you?" + +"All is well, James." + +Not another word was spoken until they reached David Cameron's home. +He was carefully reconsidering the sermon--going over every point on +his finger ends, lest he should drop any link of the argument; and +James and Christine were listening to his criticisms and remarks. They +all stopped before a shop over the windows of which was painted, +"David Cameron, Dealer in Fine Teas;" and David, taking a large key +from his pocket, opened the door, and said, + +"Come in and eat wi' us, James; ye ken ye're welcome." + +"Our friendship, Mr. Cameron, is a kind of Montgomery division--all on +one side, nothing on the other; but I am 'so by myself' that I thank +you heartily." + +So David, followed by Christine and James, passed slowly through the +darkened store, with its faint smells of Eastern spices and fragrant +teas, into the little parlor beyond. The early winter night had now +fallen, and the room, having only an outlet into a small court, would +have been dark also but for the red glow of the "covered" fire. David +took the poker and struck the great block of coal, and instantly the +cheerful blaze threw an air of cosey and almost picturesque comfort +over the homelike room. + +The two men sat down beside the fire, spreading their hands to its +warmth, and apparently finding their own thoughts excellent company, +for neither of them spoke or moved until Christine reappeared. She had +divested herself of the handsome black satin and velvet which formed +her kirk suit; but in her long, plain dress of gray winsey, with a +snowy lawn kerchief and cuffs, she looked still more fair and lovable. + +James watched her as she spread the cloth and produced from various +cupboards cold meats and pastries, bread and cakes, and many kinds of +delicate preserves and sweetmeats. Her large, shapely hands among the +gold-and-white china fascinated him, while her calm, noiseless, +unhurried movements induced a feeling of passive repose that it +required an effort to dispel, when she said in a low, even voice, + +"Father, the food is waiting for the blessing." + +It was a silent but by no means an unhappy meal. David was a good man, +and he ate his food graciously and gratefully, dropping now and then a +word of praise or thanks; and James felt it delightful enough to watch +Christine. For James, though he had not yet admitted the fact to his +own heart, loved Christine Cameron as men love only once, with that +deep, pure affection that has perchance a nearer kindred than this +life has hinted of. + +He thought her also exquisitely beautiful, though this opinion would +not have been indorsed by a majority of men. For Christine had one of +those pale, statuesque faces apt to be solemn in repose; its beauty +was tender and twilight, its expression serious and steadfast, and her +clear, spiritual eyes held in them no light of earthly passion. She +had grown up in that little back parlor amid the din and tumult of the +city, under the gray, rainy skies, and surrounded by care and sin, as +a white lily grows out of the dark, damp soil, drawing from the +elements around only sweetness and purity. + +She was very silent this afternoon, but apparently very happy. Indeed, +there was an expression on her face which attracted her father's +attention, and he said, + +"The sermon has pleased thee well, I see, Christine." + +"The sermon was good, but the text was enough, father. I think it over +in my heart, and it leaves a light on all the common things of life." +And she repeated it softly, "O Thou preserver of men, unto Thee shall +all flesh come." + +David lifted his bonnet reverently, and James, who was learned in what +the Scotch pleasantly call "the humanities," added slowly, + + "'But I, the mortal, + Planted so lowly, with death to bless me, + I sorrow no longer.'" + +When people have such subjects of conversation, they talk +moderately--for words are but poor interpreters of emotions whose +sources lie in the depths of eternity. But they were none the less +happy, and James felt as if he had been sitting at one of those tables +which the Lord "prepareth in the wilderness," where the "cup runneth +over" with joy and content. + +Such moments rarely last long; and it is doubtful if we could bear to +keep the soul always to its highest bent. When Christine had sided +away the dishes and put in order the little room, David laid down his +pipe, and said, "The Lord's day being now over, I may speak anent my +ain matters. I had a letter, Christine, on Saturday, from my +brother-in-law, McFarlane. He says young Donald will be in Glasgow +next week." + +"Will he stay here, father?" + +"Na, na; he'll bide wi' the McFarlanes. They are rich folk; but siller +is nae sin--an' it be clean-won siller." + +"Then why did Uncle McFarlane write to you, father?" + +"He wrote concerning the lad's pecuniary matters, Christine. Young +Donald will need gude guiding; and he is my sister Jessie's only +bairn--blood is thicker than water, ye'll allow that--and Donald is o' +gentle blood. I'm no saying that's everything; but it is gude to come +o' a gude kind." + +"The McFarlanes have aye been for the pope and the Stuarts," said +James, a little scornfully. "They were 'out' in the '79'; and they +would pin the white cockade on to-morrow, if there was ever a Stuart +to bid them do it." + +"Maybe they would, James. Hielandmen hae a way o' sticking to auld +friends. There's Camerons I wadna go bail for, if Prince Charlie could +come again; but let that flea stick to the wa'. And the McFarlanes +arena exactly papist noo; the twa last generations hae been +'Piscopals--that's ane step ony way towards the truth. Luther mayna be +John Knox, but they'll win up to him some time, dootless they will." + +"How old is young McFarlane?" asked James. + +"He is turned twenty--a braw lad, his father says. I hae ne'er seen +him, but he's Jessie's bairn, and my heart gaes out to meet him." + +"Why did you not tell me on Saturday, father? I could have spoken for +Maggie Maclean to help me put the house in order." + +"I didna get the letter till the evening post. It was most as good as +Sabbath then. Housecleaning is an unco temptation to women-folk, so I +keepit the news till the Sabbath sun was weel set." + +During this conversation James Blackie's heart had become heavy with +some sad presentiment of trouble, such as arise very naturally in +similar circumstances. As a poet says, + + "Ah, no! it is not all delusion, + That strange intelligence of sorrow + Searching the tranquil heart's seclusion, + Making us quail before the morrow. + 'Tis the farewell of happiness departing, + The sudden tremor of a soul at rest; + The wraith of coming grief upstarting + Within the watchful breast." + +He listened to David Cameron's reminiscences of his bonnie sister +Jessie, and of the love match she had made with the great Highland +chieftain, with an ill-disguised impatience. He had a Lowlander's +scorn for the thriftless, fighting, freebooting traditions of the +Northern clans and a Calvinist's dislike to the Stuarts and the +Stuarts' faith; so that David's unusual emotion was exceedingly and, +perhaps, unreasonably irritating to him. He could not bear to hear him +speak with trembling voice and gleaming eyes of the grand mountains +and the silent corries around Ben-Nevis, the red deer trooping over +the misty steeps, and the brown hinds lying among the green plumes of +fern, and the wren and the thrush lilting in song together. + +"Oh, the bonnie, bonnie Hielands!" cried David with a passionate +affection; "it is always Sabbath up i' the mountains, Christine. I +maun see them once again ere I lay by my pilgrim-staff and shoon for +ever." + +"Then you are not Glasgow born, Mr. Cameron," said James, with the air +of one who finds out something to another's disadvantage. + +"Me! Glasgo' born! Na, na, man! I was born among the mountains o' +Argyle. It was a sair downcome fra them to the Glasgo' pavements. But +I'm saying naething against Glasgo'. I was but thinking o' the days +when I wore the tartan and climbed the hills in the white dawns, and, +kneeling on the top o' Ben Na Keen, saw the sun sink down wi' a smile. +It's little ane sees o' sunrising or sunsetting here, James," and +David sighed heavily and wiped away the tender mist from his sight. + +James looked at the old man with some contempt; he himself had been +born and reared in one or other of the closest and darkest streets of +the city. The memories of his loveless, hard-worked childhood were +bitter to him, and he knew nothing of the joy of a boyhood spent in +the hills and woods. + +"Life is the same everywhere, Mr. Cameron. I dare say there is as much +sin and as much worry and care among the mountains as on the Glasgow +pavements." + +"You may 'daur say' it, James, but that winna mak it true. Even in +this warld our Father's house has many mansions. Gang your way up and +up through thae grand solitudes and ye'll blush to be caught worrying +among them." + +And then in a clear, jubilant voice he broke into the old Scotch +version of the 121st Psalm: + + "I to the hills will lift mine eyes + from whence doth come mine aid; + My safety cometh from the Lord, + who heaven and earth hath made." + +And he sang it to that loveliest of all psalm tunes, Rathiel's "St. +Mary's." It was impossible to resist the faith, the enthusiasm, the +melody. At the second bar Christine's clear, sweet voice joined in, +and at the second line James was making a happy third. + + "Henceforth thy goings out and in + God keep for ever will." + +"Thae twa lines will do for a 'Gude-night,'" said David in the pause +at the end of the psalm, and James rose with a sigh and wrapped his +plaid around him. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +James had gone into the house so happy and hopeful, he left it so +anxious and angry--yes, angry. He knew well that he had no just cause +for anger, but that knowledge only irritated him the more. Souls, as +well as bodies, are subject to malignant diseases, and to-night envy +and jealousy were causing James Blackie more acute suffering than any +attack of fever or contagion. A feeling of dislike towards young +Donald McFarlane had taken possession of his heart; he lay awake to +make a mental picture of the youth, and then he hated the picture he +had made. + +Feverish and miserable, he went next morning to the bank in which he +was employed, and endeavored amid the perplexities of compound +interest to forget the anxieties he had invented for himself. But it +was beyond his power, and he did not pray about them; for the burdens +we bind on our own shoulders we rarely dare to go to God with, and +James might have known from this circumstance alone that his trouble +was no lawful one. He nursed it carefully all day and took it to bed +with him again at night. The next day he had begun to understand how +envy grew to hatred, and hatred to murder. Still he did not go to God +for help, and still he kept ever before his eyes the image of the +youth that he had determined was to be his enemy. + +On Thursday night he could no longer bear his uncertainties. He +dressed himself carefully and went to David Cameron's. David was in +his shop tasting and buying teas, and apparently absorbed in business. +He merely nodded to James, and bid him "walk through." He had no +intention of being less kindly than usual, but James was in such a +suspicious temper that he took his preoccupation for coolness, and so +it was almost with a resentful feeling he opened the half-glass door +dividing the shop from the parlor. + +As his heart had foretold him, there sat the youth whom he had +determined to hate, but his imagination had greatly deceived him with +regard to his appearance. He had thought of Donald only as a "fair, +false Highlander" in tartan, kilt, and philibeg. He found him a tall, +dark youth, richly dressed in the prevailing Southern fashion, and +retaining no badge of his country's costume but the little Glengary +cap with its chieftain's token of an eagle's feather. His manners were +not rude and haughty, as James had decided they would be; they were +singularly frank and pleasant. Gracious and graceful, exceedingly +handsome and light-hearted, he was likely to prove a far more +dangerous rival than even James' jealous heart had anticipated. + +He rose at Christine's introduction, and offered his hand with a +pleasant smile to James. The latter received the courtesy with such +marked aversion that Donald slightly raised his eyebrows ere he +resumed his interrupted conversation with Christine. And now that +James sat down with a determination to look for offences he found +plenty. Christine was sewing, and Donald sat beside her winding and +unwinding her threads, playing with her housewife, or teasingly hiding +her scissors. Christine, half pleased and half annoyed, gradually fell +into Donald's mood, and her still face dimpled into smiles. James very +quickly decided that Donald presumed in a very offensive manner on his +relationship to Christine. + +A little after nine o'clock David, having closed his shop, joined them +in the parlor. He immediately began to question James about the loss +of the "Bonnie Bess," and from that subject they drifted easily into +others of a local business interest. It was very natural that Donald, +being a stranger both to the city and its business, should take no +part in this discourse, and that he should, in consequence, devote +himself to Christine. But James felt it an offence, and rose much +earlier than was his wont to depart. David stayed him, almost +authoritatively: + +"Ye maun stop, baith o' ye lads, and join in my meat and worship. They +are ill visitors that canna sit at ane board and kneel at ane altar." + +For David had seen, through all their drifting talk of ships and +cargoes, the tumult in James' heart, and he did not wish him to go +away in an ungenerous and unjust temper. So both Donald and James +partook of the homely supper of pease brose and butter, oatmeal cakes +and fresh milk, and then read aloud with David and Christine the +verses of the evening Psalm that came to each in turn. James was much +softened by the exercise; so much so that when Donald asked permission +to walk with him as far as their way lay together, he very pleasantly +acceded to the request. And Donald was so bright and unpretentious it +was almost impossible to resist the infectious good temper which +seemed to be his characteristic. + +Still James was very little happier or more restful. He lay awake +again, but this night it was not to fret and fume, but to calmly think +over his position and determine what was best and right to do. For +James still thought of "right," and would have been shocked indeed if +any angel of conscience had revealed to him the lowest depths of his +desires and intentions. In the first place, he saw that David would +tolerate no element of quarrelling and bitterness in his peaceful +home, and that if he would continue to visit there he must preserve +the semblance of friendship for Donald McFarlane. In the second, he +saw that Donald had already made so good his lien upon his uncle's and +cousin's affections that it would be very hard to make them believe +wrong of the lad, even if he should do wrong, though of this James +told himself there would soon be abundance. + +"For the things David will think sinful beyond all measure," he +argued, "will seem but Puritanical severity to him; forbye, he is +rich, gay, handsome, and has little to do with his time, he'll get +well on to Satan's ground before he knows it;" and then some whisper +dim and low in his soul made him blush and pause and defer the +following out of a course which was to begin in such a way. + +So Donald and he fell into the habit of meeting at David's two or +three nights every week, and an apparent friendship sprang up between +them. It was only apparent, however. On Donald's side was that +good-natured indifference that finds it easy enough to say smooth +words, and is not ready to think evil or to take offence; on James' +part a wary watchfulness, assuming the rôle of superior wisdom, half +admiring and half condemning Donald's youthful spirits and ways. + +David was quite deceived; he dropped at once the authoritative manner +which had marked his displeasure when he perceived James' disposition +to envy and anger; he fell again into his usual pleasant familiar +talks with the young man, for David thought highly of James as of one +likely to do his duty to God and himself. + +In these conversations Donald soon began to take a little share, and +when he chose to do so, evinced a thought and shrewdness which greatly +pleased his uncle; more generally, however, he was at Christine's +side, reading her some poem he had copied, or telling her about some +grand party he had been at. Sometimes James could catch a few words of +reproof addressed in a gentle voice to Donald by Christine; more often +he heard only the murmur of an earnest conversation, or Christine's +low laugh at some amusing incident. + +The little room meanwhile had gradually become a far brighter place. +Donald kept it sweet and bright with his daily offerings of fresh +flowers; the pet canary he had given Christine twittered and sang to +her all the day through. Over Christine herself had come the same +bright change; her still, calm face often dimpled into smiles, her +pale-gold hair was snooded with a pretty ribbon, and her dress a +little richer. Yet, after all, the change was so slight that none but +a lover would have noticed it. But there was not a smile or a shade of +brighter color that James did not see; and he bore it with an +equanimity which used often to astonish himself, though it would not +have done so if he had dared just once to look down into his heart; he +bore it because he knew that Donald was living two lives--one that +Christine saw, and one that she could not even have imagined. + +It was, alas, too true that this gay, good-natured young man, who had +entered the fashionable world without one bad habit, was fast becoming +proficient in all its follies and vices. That kind of negative +goodness which belonged naturally to him, unfortified by strict habits +and strong principles, had not been able to repel the seductions and +temptations that assail young men, rich, handsome, and well-born. +There was an evil triumph in James' heart one night when Donald said +to him, as they walked home after an evening at David's, + +"Mr. Blackie, I wish you could lend me £20. I am in a little trouble, +and I cannot ask Uncle David for more, as I have already overdrawn my +father's allowance." + +James loaned it with an eager willingness, though he was usually very +cautious and careful of every bawbee of his hard-earned money. He knew +it was but the beginning of confidence, and so it proved; in a very +little while Donald had fallen into the habit of going to James in +every emergency, and of making him the confidant of all his youthful +hopes and follies. + +James even schooled himself to listen patiently to Donald's praises of +his cousin Christine. "She is just the wife I shall need when I settle +down in three or four years," Donald would say complacently, "and I +think she loves me. Of course no man is worthy of such a woman, but +when I have seen life a little I mean to try and be so." + +"Umph!" answered James scornfully, "do you suppose, Mr. McFarlane, +that ye'll be fit for a pure lassie like Christine Cameron when you +have played the prodigal and consorted with foolish women, and wasted +your substance in riotous living?" + +And Donald said with an honest blush, "By the memory of my mother, no, +I do not, James. And I am ashamed when I think of Christine's white +soul and the stained love I have to offer it. But women forgive! Oh, +what mothers and wives and sisters there are in this world!" + +"Well, don't try Christine too far, Donald. She is of an old +Covenanting stock; her conscience feels sin afar off. I do not believe +she would marry a bad, worldly man, though it broke her heart to say +'No.' I have known her far longer than you have." + +"Tut, man, I love her! I know her better in an hour than you could do +in a lifetime;" and Donald looked rather contemptuously on the plain +man who was watching him with eyes that might have warned any one more +suspicious or less confident and self-satisfied. + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +The summer brought some changes. Christine went to the seaside for a +few weeks, and Donald went away in Lord Neville's yacht with a party +of gay young men; James and David passed the evenings generally +together. If it was wet, they remained in the shop or parlor; if fine, +they rambled to the "Green," and sitting down by the riverside talked +of business, of Christine, and of Donald. In one of these confidential +rambles James first tried to arouse in David's mind a suspicion as to +his nephew's real character. David himself introduced the subject by +speaking of a letter he had received from Donald. + +"He's wi' the great Earl o' Egremont at present," said David proudly, +for he had all a Scotsman's respect for good birth; "and there is wi' +them young Argyle, and Lord Lovat, and ithers o' the same quality. But +our Donald can cock his bonnet wi' ony o' them; there is na better +blood in Scotland than the McFarlanes'. It taks money though to +foregather wi' nobeelity, and Donald is wanting some. So, James, I'll +gie ye the siller to-night, and ye'll send it through your bank as +early as may be in the morn." + +"Donald wanting money is an old want, Mr. Cameron." + +David glanced quickly at James, and answered almost haughtily, "It's a +common want likewise, James Blackie. But if Donald McFarlane wants +money, he's got kin that can accommodate him, James; wanters arena +always that fortunate." + +"He has got friends likewise, Mr. Cameron; and I am sure I was proud +enough to do him a kindness, and he knows it well." + +"And how much may Donald be owing you, I wonder?" + +"Only a little matter of £20. You see he had got into--" + +"Dinna fash yoursel' wi' explanations, James. Dootless Donald has his +faults; but I may weel wink at his small faults, when I hae sae mony +great faults o' my ain." + +And David's personal accusation sounded so much like a reproof, that +James did not feel it safe to pursue the subject. + +That very night David wrote thus to his nephew: + +"Donald, my dear lad, if thou owest James Blackie £20, pay it +immediate. Lying is the second vice, owing money is the first. I +enclose draft for £70 instead o' £50, as per request." + +That £70 was a large sum in the eyes of the careful Glasgow trader; in +the young Highlander's eyes it seemed but a small sum. He could not +form any conception of the amount of love it represented, nor of the +struggle it had cost David to "gie awa for nae consideration" the +savings of many days, perhaps weeks, of toil and thought. + +In September Christine came back, and towards the end of October, +Donald. He was greatly improved externally by his trip and his +associations--more manly and more handsome--while his manners had +acquired a slight touch of hauteur that both amused and pleased his +uncle. It had been decided that he should remain in Glasgow another +winter, and then select his future profession. But at present Donald +troubled himself little about the future. He had returned to Christine +more in love with the peace and purity of her character than ever; and +besides, his pecuniary embarrassments in Glasgow were such as to +require his personal presence until they were arranged. + +This arrangement greatly troubled him. He had only a certain allowance +from his father--a loving but stern man--who having once decided what +sum was sufficient for a young man in Donald's position, would not, +under any ordinary circumstances, increase it. David Cameron had +already advanced him £70. James Blackie was a resource he did not care +again to apply to. In the meantime he was pressed by small debts on +every hand, and was living among a class of young men whose habits led +him into expenses far beyond his modest income. He began to be very +anxious and miserable. In Christine's presence he was indeed still the +same merry-hearted gentleman; but James saw him in other places, and +he knew from long experience the look of care that drew Donald's +handsome brows together. + +One night, towards the close of this winter, James went to see an old +man who was a broker or trader in bills and money, doing business in +the Cowcaddens. James also did a little of the same business in a +cautious way, and it was some mutual transaction in gold and silver +that took him that dreary, soaking night into such a locality. + +The two men talked for some time in a low and earnest voice, and then +the old man, opening a greasy leather satchel, displayed a quantity of +paper which he had bought. James looked it over with a keen and +practised eye. Suddenly his attitude and expression changed; he read +over and over one piece of paper, and every time he read it he looked +at it more critically and with a greater satisfaction. + +"Andrew Starkie," he said, "where did you buy this?" + +"Weel, James, I bought it o' Laidlaw--Aleck Laidlaw. Ye wadna think a +big tailoring place like that could hae the wind in their faces; but +folks maun hae their bad weather days, ye ken; but it blew me gude, so +I'll ne'er complain. Ye see it is for £89, due in twenty days now, and +I only gied £79 for it--a good name too, nane better." + +"David Cameron! But what would he be owing Laidlaw £89 for clothes +for?" + +"Tut, tut! The claithes were for his nephew. There was some trouble +anent the bill, but the old man gied a note for the amount at last, at +three months. It's due in twenty days now. As he banks wi' your firm, +ye may collect it for me; it will be an easy-made penny or twa." + +"I would like to buy this note. What will you sell it for?" + +"I'm no minded to sell it. What for do ye want it?" + +"Nothing particular. I'll give you £90 for it." + +"If it's worth that to you, it is worth mair. I'm no minded to tak +£90." + +"I'll give you £95." + +"I'm no minded to tak it. It's worth mair to you, I see that. What are +you going to mak by it? I'll sell it for half o' what you are counting +on." "Then you would not make a bawbee. I am going to ware £95 on--on +a bit of revenge. Now will you go shares?" + +"Not I. Revenge in cold blood is the deil's own act. I dinna wark wi' +the deil, when it's a losing job to me." + +"Will you take £95 then?" + +"No. When lads want whistles they maun pay for them." + +"I'll give no more. For why? Because in twenty days you will do my +work for me; then it will cost me nothing, and it will cost you £89, +that is all about it, Starkie." + +Starkie lifted the note which James had flung carelessly down, and his +skinny hands trembled as he fingered it. "This is David Cameron's note +o' hand, and David Cameron is a gude name." + +"Yes, very good. Only that is not David Cameron's writing, it is +a--forgery. Light your pipe with it, Andrew Starkie." + +"His nephew gave it himsel' to Aleck Laidlaw--" + +"I know. And I hate his nephew. He has come between me and Christine +Cameron. Do you see now?" + +"Oh! oh! oh! I see, I see! Well, James, you can have it for £100--as a +favor." + +"I don't want it now. He could not have a harder man to deal with than +you are. You suit me very well." + +"James, such business wont suit me. I can't afford to be brought into +notice. I would rather lose double the money than prosecute any +gentleman in trouble." + +The older man had reasoned right--James dared not risk the note out of +sight, dared not trust to Starkie's prosecution. He longed to have the +bit of paper in his own keeping, and after a wary battle of a full +hour's length Andrew Starkie had his £89 back again, and James had the +note in his pocket-book. + +Through the fog, and through the wind, and through the rain he went, +and he knew nothing, and he felt nothing but that little bit of paper +against his breast. Oh, how greedily he remembered Donald's handsome +looks and stately ways, and all the thousand little words and acts by +which he imagined himself wronged and insulted. Now he had his enemy +beneath his feet, and for several days this thought satisfied him, and +he hid his secret morsel of vengeance and found it sweet--sharply, +bitterly sweet--for even yet conscience pleaded hard with him. + +As he sat counting his columns of figures, every gentle, forgiving +word of Christ came into his heart. He knew well that Donald would +receive his quarterly allowance before the bill was due, and that he +must have relied on this to meet it. He also knew enough of Donald's +affairs to guess something of the emergency that he must have been in +ere he would have yielded to so dangerous an alternative. There were +times when he determined to send for Donald, show him the frightful +danger in which he stood, and then tear the note before his eyes, and +leave its payment to his honor. He even realized the peace which would +flow from such a deed. Nor were these feelings transitory, his better +nature pleaded so hard with him that he walked his room hour after +hour under their influence, and their power over him was such as +delayed all action in the matter for nearly a week. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +At length one morning David Cameron came into the bank, and having +finished his business, walked up to James and said, "I feared ye were +ill, James. Whatna for hae ye stayed awa sae lang? I wanted ye sairly +last night to go o'er wi' me the points in this debate at our kirk. We +are to hae anither session to-night; ye'll come the morn and talk it +o'er wi' me?" + +"I will, Mr. Cameron." + +But James instantly determined to see Christine that night. Her father +would be at the kirk session, and if Donald was there, he thought he +knew how to whisper him away. He meant to have Christine all to +himself for an hour or two, and if he saw any opportunity he would +tell her all. When he got to David's the store was still open, but the +clerk said, "David has just gone," and James, as was his wont, walked +straight to the parlor. + +Donald was there; he had guessed that, because a carriage was in +waiting, and he knew it could belong to no other caller at David +Cameron's. And never had Donald roused in him such an intense +antagonism. He was going to some National Celebration, and he stood +beside Christine in all the splendid picturesque pomp of the McFarlane +tartans. He was holding Christine's hand, and she stood as a white +lily in the glow and color of his dark beauty. Perhaps both of them +felt James' entrance inopportune. At any rate they received him +coldly, Donald drew Christine a little apart, said a few whispered +words to her, and lifting his bonnet slightly to James, he went away. + +In the few minutes of this unfortunate meeting the devil entered into +James' heart. Even Christine was struck with the new look on his face. +It was haughty, malicious, and triumphant, and he leaned against the +high oaken chimney-piece in a defiant way that annoyed Christine, +though she could not analyze it. + +"Sit down, James," she said with a touch of authority--for his +attitude had unconsciously put her on the defensive. "Donald has gone +to the Caledonian club; there is to be a grand gathering of Highland +gentlemen there to-night." + +"_Gentlemen!_" + +"Well, yes, _gentlemen!_ And there will be none there more worthy the +name than our Donald." + +"The rest of them are much to be scorned at, then." + +"James, James, that speech was little like you. Sit down and come to +yourself; I am sure you are not so mean as to grudge Donald the rights +of his good birth." + +"Donald McFarlane shall have all the rights he has worked for; and +when he gets his just payment he will be in Glasgow jail." + +"James, you are ill. You have not been here for a week, and you look +so unlike yourself. I know you must be ill. Will you let me send for +our doctor?" And she approached him kindly, and looked with anxious +scrutiny into his face. + +He put her gently away, and said in a thick, rapid voice, + +"Christine, I came to-night to tell you that Donald McFarlane is +unworthy to come into your presence--he has forged your father's +name." + +"James, you are mad, or ill, what you say is just impossible!" + +"I am neither mad nor ill. I will prove it, if you wish." + +At these words every trace of sympathy or feeling vanished from her +face; and she said in a low, hoarse whisper, + +"You cannot prove it. I would not believe such a thing possible." + +Then with a pitiless particularity he went over all the events +relating to the note, and held it out for her to examine the +signature. + +"Is that David Cameron's writing?" he cried; "did you ever see such a +weak imitation? The man is a fool as well as a villain." + +Christine gazed blankly at the witness of her cousin's guilt, and +James, carried away with the wicked impetuosity of his passionate +accusations of Donald's life, did not see the fair face set in white +despair and the eyes close wearily, as with a piteous cry she fell +prostrate at his feet. + +Ah, how short was his triumph! When he saw the ruin that his words had +made he shrieked aloud in his terror and agony. Help was at hand, and +doctors were quickly brought, but she had received a shock from which +it seemed impossible to revive her. David was brought home, and knelt +in speechless distress by the side of his insensible child, but no +hope lightened the long, terrible night, and when the reaction came in +the morning, it came in the form of fever and delirium. + +Questioned closely by David, James admitted nothing but that while +talking to him about Donald McFarlane she had fallen at his feet, and +Donald could only say that he had that evening told her he was going +to Edinburgh in two weeks, to study law with his cousin, and that he +had asked her to be his wife. + +This acknowledgement bound David and Donald in a closer communion of +sorrow. James and his sufferings were scarcely noticed. Yet, probably +of all that unhappy company, he suffered the most. He loved Christine +with a far deeper affection than Donald had ever dreamed of. He would +have given his life for hers, and yet he had, perhaps, been her +murderer. How he hated Donald in those days! What love and remorse +tortured him! And what availed it that he had bought the power to ruin +the man he hated? He was afraid to use it. If Christine lived, and he +did use it, she would never forgive him; if she died, he would be her +murderer. + +But the business of life cannot be delayed for its sorrows. David must +wait in his shop, and James must be at the bank; and in two weeks +Donald had to leave for Edinburgh, though Christine was lying in a +silent, broken-hearted apathy, so close to the very shoal of Time that +none dared say, "She will live another day." + +How James despised Donald for leaving her at all; he desired nothing +beyond the permission to sit by her side, and watch and aid the slow +struggle of life back from the shores and shades of death. + +It was almost the end of summer before she was able to resume her +place in the household, but long before that she had asked to see +James. The interview took place one Sabbath afternoon while David was +at church. Christine had been lifted to a couch, but she was unable to +move, and even speech was exhausting and difficult to her. James knelt +down by her side, and, weeping bitterly, said, + +"O Christine, forgive me!" + +She smiled faintly. + +"You--have--not--used--yonder--paper,--James?" + +"Oh, no, no." + +"It--would--kill--me. You--would--not--kill--me?" + +"I would die to make you strong again." + +"Don't--hurt--Donald. Forgive--for--Christ's--sake,--James!" + +Poor James! It was hard for him to see that still Donald was her first +thought, and, looking on the wreck of Christine's youth and beauty, it +was still harder not to hate him worse than ever. + +Nor did the temptation to do so grow less with time. He had to listen +every evening to David's praises of his nephew: how "he had been +entered wi' Advocate Scott, and was going to be a grand lawyer," or +how he had been to some great man's house and won all hearts with his +handsome face and witty tongue. Or, perhaps, he would be shown some +rich token of his love that had come for Christine; or David would +say, "There's the 'Edinbro' News,' James; it cam fra Donald this morn; +tak it hame wi' you. You're welcome." And James feared not to take it, +feared to show the slightest dislike to Donald, lest David's anger at +it should provoke him to say what was in his heart, and Christine only +be the sufferer. + +One cold night in early winter, James, as was his wont now, went to +spend the evening in talking with David and in watching Christine. +That was really all it was; for, though she had resumed her house +duties, she took little part in conversation. She had always been +inclined to silence, but now a faint smile and a "Yes" or "No" were +her usual response, even to her father's remarks. This night he found +David out, and he hesitated whether to trouble Christine or not. He +stood for a moment in the open door and looked at her. She was sitting +by the table with a little Testament open in her hand; but she was +rather musing on what she had been reading than continuing her +occupation. + +"Christine!" + +"James!" + +"May I come in?" + +"Yes, surely." + +"I hear your father has gone to a town-meeting." + +"Yes." + +"And he is to be made a bailie." + +"Yes." + +"I am very glad. It will greatly please him, and there is no citizen +more worthy of the honor." + +"I think so also." + +"Shall I disturb you if I wait to see him?" + +"No, James; sit down." + +Then Christine laid aside her book and took her sewing, and James sat +thinking how he could best introduce the subject ever near his heart. +He felt that there was much to say in his own behalf, if he only knew +how to begin. Christine opened the subject for him. She laid down her +work and went and stood before the fire at his side. The faintest +shadow of color was in her face, and her eyes were unspeakably sad and +anxious. He could not bear their eager, searching gaze, and dropped +his own. + +"James, have you destroyed yonder paper?" + +"Nay, Christine; I am too poor a man to throw away so much hard-won +gold. I am keeping it until I can see Mr. McFarlane and quietly +collect my own." + +"You will never use it in any way against him?" + +"Will you ever marry him? Tell me that." + +"O sir!" she cried indignantly, "you want to make a bargain with my +poor heart. Hear, then. If Donald wants me to marry him I'll never +cast him off. Do you think God will cast him off for one fault? You +dare not say it." + +"I do not say but what God will pardon. But we are human beings; we +are not near to God yet." + +"But we ought to be trying to get near him; and oh, James, you never +had so grand a chance. See the pitiful face of Christ looking down on +you from the cross. If that face should turn away from you, James--if +it should!" + +"You ask a hard thing of me, Christine." + +"Yes, I do." + +"But if you will only try and love me--" + +"Stop, James! I will make no bargain in a matter of right and wrong. +If for Christ's sake, who has forgiven you so much, you can forgive +Donald, for Christ's dear sake do it. If not, I will set no earthly +love before it. Do your worst. God can find out a way. I'll trust +him." + +"Christine! dear Christine!" + +"Hush! I am Donald's promised wife. May God speak to you for me. I am +very sad and weary. Good-night." + +James did not wait for David's return. He went back to his own +lodging, and, taking the note out of his pocket-book, spread it before +him. His first thought was that he had wared £89 on his enemy's fine +clothes, and James loved gold and hated foppish, extravagant dress; +his next that he had saved Andrew Starkie £89, and he knew the old +usurer was quietly laughing at his folly. But worse than all was the +alternative he saw as the result of his sinful purchase: if he used it +to gratify his personal hatred, he deeply wounded, perhaps killed, his +dearest love and his oldest friend. Hour after hour he sat with the +note before him. His good angel stood at his side and wooed him to +mercy. There was a fire burning in the grate, and twice he held the +paper over it, and twice turned away from his better self. + +The watchman was calling "half-past two o'clock," when, cold and weary +with his mental struggle, he rose and went to his desk. There was a +secret hiding-place behind a drawer there, in which he kept papers +relating to his transactions with Andrew Starkie, and he put it among +them. "I'll leave it to its chance," he muttered; "a fire might come +and burn it up some day. If it is God's will to save Donald, he could +so order it, and I am fully insured against pecuniary loss." He did +not at that moment see how presumptuously he was throwing his own +responsibility on God; he did not indeed want to see anything but some +plausible way of avoiding a road too steep for a heart weighed down +with earthly passion to dare. + +Then weeks and months drifted away in the calm regular routine of +David's life. But though there were no outward changes, there was a +very important inward one. About sixteen months after Donald's +departure he returned to visit Christine. James, at Christine's urgent +request, absented himself during this visit; but when he next called +at David's, he perceived at once that all was not as had been +anticipated. David had little to say about him; Christine looked paler +and sadder than ever. Neither quite understood why. There had been no +visible break with Donald, but both father and daughter felt that he +had drifted far away from them and their humble, pious life. Donald +had lost the child's heart he had brought with him from the mountains; +he was ambitious of honors, and eager after worldly pleasures and +advantages. He had become more gravely handsome, and he talked more +sensibly to David; but David liked him less. + +After this visit there sprang up a new hope in James' heart, and he +waited and watched, though often with very angry feelings; for he was +sure that Donald was gradually deserting Christine. + +She grew daily more sad and silent; it was evident she was suffering. +The little Testament lay now always with her work, and he noticed that +she frequently laid aside her sewing and read it earnestly, even while +David and he were quietly talking at the fireside. + +One Sabbath, two years after Donald's departure, James met David +coming out of church alone. He could only say, "I hope Christine is +well." + +"Had she been well, she had been wi' me; thou kens that, James." + +"I might have done so. Christine is never absent from God's house when +it is open." + +"It is a good plan, James; for when they who go regular to God's house +are forced to stay away, God himself asks after them. I hae no doubt +but what Christine has been visited." + +They walked on in silence until David's house was in sight. "I'm no +caring for any company earth can gie me the night, James; but the morn +I hae something to tell you I canna speak anent to-day." + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +The next day David came into the bank about noon, and said, "Come wi' +me to McLellan's, James, and hae a mutton pie, it's near by +lunch-time." While they were eating it David said, "Donald McFarlane +is to be wedded next month. He's making a grand marriage." + +James bit his lip, but said nothing. + +"He's spoken for Miss Margaret Napier; her father was ane o' the Lords +o' Session; she's his sole heiress, and that will mean £50,000, foreby +the bonnie place and lands o' Ellenshawe." + +"And Christine?" + +"Dinna look that way, man. Christine is content; she kens weel enough +she isna like her cousin." + +"God be thanked she is not. Go away from me, David Cameron, or I shall +say words that will make more suffering than you can dream off. Go +away, man." + +David was shocked and grieved at his companion's passion. "James," he +said solemnly, "dinna mak a fool o' yoursel'. I hae long seen your +ill-will at Donald. Let it go. Donald's aboon your thumb now, and the +anger o' a poor man aye falls on himsel'." + +"For God's sake don't tempt me farther. You little know what I could +do if I had the ill heart to do it." + +"Ow! ay!" said David scornfully, "if the poor cat had only wings it +would extirpate the race of sparrows from the world; but when the +wings arena there, James lad, it is just as weel to mak no boast o' +them." + +James had leaned his head in his hands, and was whispering, +"Christine! Christine! Christine!" in a rapid inaudible voice. He took +no notice of David's remark, and David was instantly sorry for it. +"The puir lad is just sorrowful wi' love for Christine, and that's nae +sin that I can see," he thought. "James," he said kindly, "I am sorry +enough to grieve you. Come as soon as you can like to do it. You'll be +welcome." + +James slightly nodded his head, but did not move; and David left him +alone in the little boarded room where they had eaten. In a few +minutes he collected himself, and, like one dazed, walked back to his +place in the bank. Never had its hours seemed so long, never had the +noise and traffic, the tramping of feet, and the banging of doors +seemed so intolerable. As early as possible he was at David's, and +David, with that fine instinct that a kind heart teaches, said as he +entered, "Gude evening, James. Gae awa ben and keep Christine company. +I'm that busy that I'll no shut up for half an hour yet." + +James found Christine in her usual place. The hearth had been freshly +swept, the fire blazed brightly, and she sat before it with her white +seam in her hand. She raised her eyes at James' entrance, and +smilingly nodded to a vacant chair near her. He took it silently. +Christine seemed annoyed at his silence in a little while, and asked, +"Why don't you speak, James? Have you nothing to say?" + +"A great deal, Christine. What now do you think of Donald McFarlane?" + +"I think well of Donald." + +"And of his marriage also?" + +"Certainly I do. When he was here I saw how unfit I was to be his +wife. I told him so, and bid him seek a mate more suitable to his +position and prospects." + +"Do you think it right to let yonder lady wed such a man with her eyes +shut?" + +"Are you going to open them?" Her face was sad and mournful, and she +laid her hand gently on James' shoulder. + +"I think it is my duty, Christine." + +"Think again, James. Be sure it is your duty before you go on such an +errand. See if you dare kneel down and ask God to bless you in this +duty." + +"Christine, you treat me very hardly. You know how I love you, and you +use your power over me unmercifully." + +"No, no, James, I only want you to keep yourself out of the power of +Satan. If indeed I have any share in your heart, do not wrong me by +giving Satan a place there also. Let me at least respect you, James." + +Christine had never spoken in this way before to him; the majesty and +purity of her character lifted him insensibly to higher thoughts, her +gentleness soothed and comforted him. When David came in he found them +talking in a calm, cheerful tone, and the evening that followed was +one of the pleasantest he could remember. Yet James understood that +Christine trusted in his forbearance, and he had no heart to grieve +her, especially as she did her best to reward him by striving to make +his visits to her father unusually happy. + +So Donald married Miss Napier, and the newspapers were full of the +bridegroom's beauty and talents, and the bride's high lineage and +great possessions. After this Donald and Donald's affairs seemed to +very little trouble David's humble household. His marriage put him far +away from Christine's thoughts, for her delicate conscience would have +regarded it as a great sin to remember with any feeling of love +another woman's affianced husband; and when the struggle became one +between right and wrong, it was ended for Christine. David seldom +named him, and so Donald McFarlane gradually passed out of the lives +he had so sorely troubled. + +Slowly but surely James continued to prosper; he rose to be cashier in +the bank, and he won a calm but certain place in Christine's regard. +She had never quite recovered the shock of her long illness; she was +still very frail, and easily exhausted by the least fatigue or +excitement. But in James' eyes she was perfect; he was always at his +best in her presence, and he was a very proud and happy man when, +after eight years' patient waiting and wooing, he won from her the +promise to be his wife; for he knew that with Christine the promise +meant all that it ought to mean. + +The marriage made few changes in her peaceful life. James left the +bank, put his savings in David's business, and became his partner. But +they continued to live in the same house, and year after year passed +away in that happy calm which leaves no records, and has no fate days +for the future to date from. + +Sometimes a letter, a newspaper, or some public event, would bring +back the memory of the gay, handsome lad that had once made so bright +the little back parlor. Such strays from Donald's present life were +always pleasant ones. In ten years he had made great strides forward. +Every one had a good word for him. His legal skill was quoted as +authority, his charities were munificent, his name unblemished by a +single mean deed. + +Had James forgotten? No, indeed. Donald's success only deepened his +hatred of him. Even the silence he was compelled to keep on the +subject intensified the feeling. Once after his marriage he attempted +to discuss the subject with Christine, but the scene had been so +painful he had never attempted it again; and David was swift and +positive to dismiss any unfavorable allusion to Donald. Once, on +reading that "Advocate McFarlane had joined the Free Kirk of Scotland +on open confession of faith," James flung down the paper and said +pointedly, "I wonder whether he confessed his wrong-doing before his +faith or not." + +"There's nane sae weel shod, James, that they mayna slip," answered +David, with a stern face. "He has united wi' Dr. Buchan's +kirk--there's nane taken into that fellowship unworthily, as far as +man can judge." + +"He would be a wise minister that got at all Advocate McFarlane's +sins, I am thinking." + +"Dinna say all ye think, James. They walk too fair for earth that +naebody can find fault wi'." + +So James nursed the evil passion in his own heart; indeed, he had +nursed it so long that he could not of himself resign it, and in all +his prayers--and he did pray frequently, and often sincerely--he never +named this subject to God, never once asked for his counsel or help in +the matter. + +Twelve years after his marriage with Christine David died, died as he +had often wished to die, very suddenly. He was well at noon; at night +he had put on the garments of eternal Sabbath. He had but a few +moments of consciousness in which to bid farewell to his children. +"Christine," he said cheerfully, "we'll no be lang parted, dear +lassie;" and to James a few words on his affairs, and then almost with +his last breath, "James, heed what I say: 'Blessed are the merciful, +for they shall--obtain mercy.'" + +There seemed to have been some prophetic sense in David's parting +words to his daughter, for soon after his death she began to fail +rapidly. What James suffered as he saw it only those can tell who have +watched their beloved slowly dying, and hoped against hope day after +day and week after week. Perhaps the hardest part was the knowledge +that she had never recovered the health she had previous to the +terrible shock which his revelation of Donald's guilt had been to her. +He forgot his own share in the shock and threw the whole blame of her +early decay on Donald. "And if she dies," he kept saying in his angry +heart, "I will make him suffer for it." + +And Christine was drawing very near to death, though even when she was +confined to her room and bed James would not believe it. And it was at +this time that Donald came once more to Glasgow. There was a very +exciting general election for a new Parliament, and Donald stood for +the Conservative party in the city of Glasgow. Nothing could have so +speedily ripened James' evil purpose. Should a forger represent his +native city? Should he see the murderer of his Christine win honor +upon honor, when he had but to speak and place him among thieves? + +During the struggle he worked frantically to defeat him--and failed. +That night he came home like a man possessed by some malicious, +ungovernable spirit of hell. He would not go to Christine's room, for +he was afraid she would discover his purpose in his face, and win him +from it. For now he had sworn to himself that he would only wait until +the congratulatory dinner. He could get an invitation to it. All the +bailies and the great men of the city would be there. The newspaper +reporters would be there. His triumph would be complete. Donald would +doubtless make a great speech, and after it _he_ would say his few +words. + +Then he thought of Christine. But she did not move him now, for she +was never likely to hear of it. She was confined to her bed; she read +nothing but her Bible; she saw no one but her nurse. He would charge +the nurse, and he would keep all papers and letters from her. He +thought of nothing now but the near gratification of a revengeful +purpose for which he had waited twenty years. Oh, how sweet it seemed +to him! + +The dinner was to be in a week, and during the next few days he was +like a man in a bad dream. He neglected his business, and wandered +restlessly about the house, and looked so fierce and haggard that +Christine began to notice, to watch, and to fear. She knew that Donald +was in the city, and her heart told her that it was his presence only +that could so alter her husband; and she poured it out in strong +supplications for strength and wisdom to avert the calamity she felt +approaching. + +That night her nurse became sick and could not remain with her, and +James, half reluctantly, took her place, for he feared Christine's +influence now. She would ask him to read the Bible, to pray with her; +she might talk to him of death and heaven; she might name Donald, and +extract some promise from him. And he was determined now that nothing +should move him. So he pretended great weariness, drew a large chair +to her bedside, and said, + +"I shall try and sleep a while, darling; if you need me you have only +to speak." + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +He was more weary than he knew, and ere he was aware he fell asleep--a +restless, wretched sleep, that made him glad when the half-oblivion +was over. Christine, however, was apparently at rest, and he soon +relapsed into the same dark, haunted state of unconsciousness. +Suddenly he began to mutter and moan, and then to speak with a hoarse, +whispered rapidity that had in it something frightful and unearthly. +But Christine listened with wide-open eyes, and heard with sickening +terror the whole wicked plot. It fell from his half-open lips over and +over in every detail; and over and over he laughed low and terribly at +the coming shame of the hated Donald. + +She had not walked alone for weeks, nor indeed been out of her room +for months, but she must go now; and she never doubted her strength. +As if she had been a spirit, she slipped out of bed, walked rapidly +and noiselessly into the long-unfamiliar parlor. A rushlight was +burning, and the key of the old desk was always in it. Nothing +valuable was kept there, and people unacquainted with the secret of +the hidden drawer would have looked in vain for the entrance to it. +Christine had known it for years, but her wifely honor had held it +more sacred than locks or keys could have done. She was aware only +that James kept some private matter of importance there, and she would +as readily have robbed her husband's purse as have spied into things +of which he did not speak to her. + +Now, however, all mere thoughts of courtesy or honor must yield before +the alternative in which James and Donald stood. She reached the desk, +drew out the concealing drawer, pushed aside the slide, and touched +the paper. There were other papers there, but something taught her at +once the right one. To take it and close the desk was but the work of +a moment, then back she flew as swiftly and noiselessly as a spirit +with the condemning evidence tightly clasped in her hand. + +James was still muttering and moaning in his troubled sleep, and with +the consciousness of her success all her unnatural strength passed +away. She could hardly secrete it in her bosom ere she fell into a +semi-conscious lethargy, through which she heard with terror her +husband's low, weird laughter and whispered curses. + +At length the day for the dinner came. James had procured an +invitation, and he made unusual personal preparations for it. He was +conscious that he was going to do a very mean action, but he would +look as well as possible in the act. He had even his apology for it +ready; he would say that "as long as it was a private wrong he had +borne the loss patiently for twenty years, but that the public welfare +demanded honest men, men above reproach, and he could no longer feel +it his duty," etc., etc. + +After he was dressed he bid Christine "Good-by." + +"He would only stay an hour," he said, "and he must needs go, as +Donald was her kin." + +Then he went to the desk, and with hands trembling in their eagerness +sought the bill. It was not there. _Impossible!_ He looked +again--again more carefully--could not believe his eyes, and looked +again and again. It was really gone. If the visible hand of God had +struck him, he could not have felt it more consciously. He +mechanically closed the desk and sat down like one stunned. Cain might +have felt as James did when God asked him, "Where is thy brother?" He +did not think of prayer. No "God be merciful to me a sinner" came as +yet from his dry, white lips. The fountains of his heart seemed dry as +dust. The anger of God weighed him down till + + "He felt as one + Who, waking after some strange, fevered dream, + Sees a dim land and things unspeakable, + And comes to know at last that it is hell." + +Meantime Christine was lying with folded hands, praying for him. She +knew what an agony he was going through, and ceaselessly with pure +supplications she prayed for his forgiveness. About midnight one came +and told him his wife wanted to see him. He rose with a wretched sigh, +and looked at the clock. He had sat there six hours. He had thought +over everything, over and over--the certainty that the paper was +there, the fact that no other paper had been touched, and that no +human being but Christine knew of the secret place. These things +shocked him beyond expression. It was to his mind a visible assertion +of the divine prerogative; he had really heard God say to him, +"Vengeance is mine." The lesson that in these materialistic days we +would reason away, James humbly accepted. His religious feelings were, +after all, his deepest feelings, and in those six hours he had so +palpably felt the frown of his angry Heavenly Father that he had quite +forgotten his poor, puny wrath at Donald McFarlane. + +As he slowly walked up stairs to Christine he determined to make to +her a full confession of the deed he had meditated. But when he +reached her bedside he saw that she was nearly dead. She smiled +faintly and said, + +"Send all away, James. I must speak alone with you, dear; we are going +to part, my husband." + +Then he knelt down by her side and held her cold hands, and the +gracious tears welled up in his hot eyes, and he covered them with the +blessed rain. + +"O James, how you have suffered--since six o'clock." + +"You know then, Christine! I would weep tears of blood over my sin. O +dear, dear wife, take no shameful memory of me into eternity with +you." + +"See how I trust you, James. Here is poor, weak Donald's note. I know +now you will never use it against him. What if your six hours were +lengthened out through life--through eternity? I ask no promise from +you now, dear." + +"But I give it. Before God I give it, with all my heart. My sin has +found me out this night. How has God borne with me all these years? +Oh, how great is his mercy!" + +Then Christine told him how he had revealed his wicked plot, and how +wonderful strength had been given her to defeat it; and the two souls, +amid their parting sighs and tears, knew each other as they had never +done through all their years of life. + +For a week James remained in his own room. Then Christine was laid +beside her father, and the shop was reopened, and the household +returned to its ways. But James was not seen in house or shop, and the +neighbors said, + +"Kirsty Cameron has had a wearisome sickness, and nae doobt her +gudeman was needing a rest. Dootless he has gane to the Hielands a +bit." + +But it was not northward James Blackie went. It was south; south past +the bonnie Cumberland Hills and the great manufacturing towns of +Lancashire and the rich valleys of Yorkshire; southward until he +stopped at last in London. Even then, though he was weary and sick and +the night had fallen, he did not rest. He took a carriage and drove at +once to a fashionable mansion in Baker street. The servant looked +curiously at him and felt half inclined to be insolent to such a +visitor. + +"Take that card to your master at once," he said in a voice whose +authority could not be disputed, and the man went. + +His master was lying on a sofa in a luxuriously-furnished room, +playing with a lovely girl about four years old, and listening +meanwhile to an enthusiastic account of a cricket match that two boys +of about twelve and fourteen years were giving him. He was a +strikingly handsome man, in the prime of life, with a thoroughly happy +expression. He took James' card in a careless fashion, listened to the +end of his sons' story, and then looked at it. Instantly his manner +changed; he stood up, and said promptly, + +"Go away now, Miss Margaret, and you also, Angus and David; I have an +old friend to see." Then to the servant, "Bring the gentleman here at +once." + +When he heard James' step he went to meet him with open hand; but +James said, + +"Not just yet, Mr. McFarlane; hear what I have to say. Then if you +offer your hand I will take it." + +"Christine is dead?" + +"Dead, dead." + +They sat down opposite each other, and James did not spare himself. +From his discovery of the note in old Starkie's possession until the +death of Christine, he confessed everything. Donald sat with downcast +eyes, quite silent. Once or twice his fierce Highland blood surged +into his face, and his hand stole mechanically to the place where his +dirk had once been, but the motion was as transitory as a thought. +When James had finished he sat with compressed lips for a few moments, +quite unable to control his speech; but at length he slowly said, + +"I wish I had known all this before; it would have saved much sin and +suffering. You said that my indifference at first angered you. I must +correct this. I was not indifferent. No one can tell what suffering +that one cowardly act cost me. But before the bill fell due I went +frankly to Uncle David and confessed all my sin. What passed between +us you may guess; but he forgave me freely and fully, as I trust God +did also. Hence there was no cause for its memory to darken life." + +"I always thought Christine had told her father," muttered James. + +"Nay, but I told him myself. He said he would trace the note, and I +have no doubt he knew it was in your keeping from the first." + +Then James took it from his pocket-book. + +"There it is, Mr. McFarlane. Christine gave it back to me the hour she +died. I promised her to bring it to you and tell you all." + +"Christine's soul was a white rose without a thorn. I count it an +honor to have known and loved her. But the paper is yours, Mr. +Blackie, unless I may pay for it." + +"O man, man! what money could pay for it? I would not dare to sell it +for the whole world! Take it, I pray you." + +"I will not. Do as you wish with it, James, I can trust you." + +Then James walked towards the table. There were wax lights burning on +it, and he held it in the flame and watched it slowly consume away to +ashes. The silence was so intense that they heard each other +breathing, and the expression on James' face was so rapt and noble +that even Donald's stately beauty was for the moment less attractive. +Then he walked towards Donald and said, + +"Now give me your hand, McFarlane, and I'll take it gladly." + +And that was a handclasp that meant to both men what no words could +have expressed. + +"Farewell, McFarlane; our ways in this world lie far apart; but when +we come to die it will comfort both of us to remember this meeting. +God be with you!" + +"And with you also, James. Farewell." + +Then James went back to his store and his shadowed household life. And +people said he looked happier than ever he had done, and pitied him +for his sick wife, and supposed he felt it a happy release to be rid +of her. So wrongly does the world, which knows nothing of our real +life, judge us. + +You may see his gravestone in Glasgow Necropolis to-day, and people +will tell you that he was a great philanthropist, and gave away a +noble fortune to the sick and the ignorant; and you will probably +wonder to see only beneath his name the solemn text, "Vengeance is +mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." + + + + +Facing His Enemy. + + + + +FACING HIS ENEMY. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Forty years ago there stood in the lower part of the city of Glasgow a +large, plain building which was to hundreds of very intelligent +Scotchmen almost sacred ground. It stood among warehouses and +factories, and in a very unfashionable quarter; but for all that, it +was Dr. William Morrison's kirk. And Dr. Morrison was in every respect +a remarkable man--a Scotchman with the old Hebrew fervor and +sublimity, who accepted the extremest tenets of his creed with a deep +religious faith, and scorned to trim or moderate them in order to suit +what he called "a sinfu' latitudinarian age." + +Such a man readily found among the solid burghers of Glasgow a large +"following" of a very serious kind, douce, dour men, whose +strongly-marked features looked as if they had been chiselled out of +their native granite--men who settled themselves with a grave kind of +enjoyment to listen to a full hour's sermon, and who watched every +point their minister made with a critical acumen that seemed more +fitting to a synod of divines than a congregation of weavers and +traders. + +A prominent man in this remarkable church was Deacon John Callendar. +He had been one of its first members, and it was everything to his +heart that Jerusalem is to the Jew, or Mecca to the Mohammedan. He +believed his minister to be the best and wisest of men, though he was +by no means inclined to allow himself a lazy confidence in this +security. It was the special duty of deacons to keep a strict watch +over doctrinal points, and though he had never had occasion to dissent +in thirty years' scrutiny, he still kept the watch. + +In the temporal affairs of the church it had been different. There was +no definite creed for guidance in these matters, and eight or ten men +with strong, rugged wills about £, _s_., _d_., each thinking highly of +his own discretion in monetary affairs, and rather indifferently of +the minister's gifts in this direction, were not likely to have always +harmonious sessions. + +They had had a decidedly inharmonious one early in January of 184-, +and Deacon Callendar had spoken his mind with his usual blunt +directness. He had been a good deal nettled at the minister's +attitude, for, instead of seconding his propositions, Dr. Morrison had +sat with a faraway, indifferent look, as if the pending discussion was +entirely out of his range of interest. John could have borne +contradiction better. An argument would have gratified him. But to +have the speech and statistics which he had so carefully prepared fall +on the minister's ear without provoking any response was a great trial +of his patience. He was inwardly very angry, though outwardly very +calm; but Dr. Morrison knew well what a tumult was beneath the dour +still face of the deacon as he rose from his chair, put on his plaid, +and pulled his bonnet over his brows. + +"John," he said kindly, "you are a wise man, and I aye thought so. It +takes a Christian to lead passion by the bridle. A Turk is a placid +gentleman, John, but he cannot do it." + +"Ou, ay! doubtless! There is talk o' the Turk and the Pope, but it is +my neighbors that trouble me the maist, minister. Good-night to ye +all. If ye vote to-night you can e'en count my vote wi' Dr. +Morrison's; it will be as sensible and warld-like as any o' the lave." + +With this parting reflection he went out. It had begun to snow, and +the still, white solitude made him ashamed of his temper. He looked up +at the quiet heavens above him, then at the quiet street before him, +and muttered with a spice of satisfaction, "Speaking comes by nature, +and silence by understanding. I am thankfu' now I let Deacon Strang +hae the last word. I'm saying naught against Strang; he may gie good +counsel, but they'll be fools that tak it." + +"Uncle!" + +"Hout, Davie! Whatna for are you here?" + +"It began to snow, and I thought you would be the better of your cloak +and umbrella. You seem vexed, uncle." + +"Vexed? Ay. The minister is the maist contrary o' mortals. He kens +naething about church government, and he treats gude siller as if it +wasna worth the counting; but he's a gude man, and a great man, Davie, +and folk canna serve the altar and be money-changers too. I ought to +keep that i' mind. It's Deacon Strang, and no the minister." + +"Well, uncle, you must just thole it; you know what the New Testament +says?" + +"Ay, ay; I ken it says if a man be struck on one cheek, he must turn +the other; but, Davie, let me tell you that the man who gets the first +blow generally deserves the second. It is gude Christian law no to +permit the first stroke. That is my interpretation o' the matter." + +"I never thought of that." + +"Young folk don't think o' everything." + +There was something in the tone of this last remark which seemed to +fit best into silence, and David Callendar had a particular reason for +not further irritating his uncle. The two men without any other remark +reached the large, handsome house in Blytheswood Square which was +their home. Its warmth and comfort had an immediate effect on the +deacon. He looked pleasantly at the blazing fire and the table on the +hearthrug, with its basket of oaten cakes, its pitcher of cream, and +its whiskey-bottle and toddy glasses. The little brass kettle was +simmering before the fire, his slippers were invitingly warm, his +loose coat lying over the back of his soft, ample chair, and just as +he had put them on, and sank down with a sigh of content, a bright old +lady entered with a spicy dish of kippered salmon. + +"I thought I wad bring ye a bit relish wi' your toddy, deacon. Talking +is hungry wark. I think a man might find easier pleasuring than going +to a kirk session through a snowstorm." + +"A man might, Jenny. They'd suit women-folk wonderfu'; there's plenty +o' talk and little wark." + +"Then I dinna see ony call to mak a change, deacon." + +"Now, Jenny, you've had the last word, sae ye can go to bed wi' an +easy mind. And, Jenny, woman, dinna let your quarrel wi' Maggie +Launder come between you and honest sleep. I think that will settle +her," he observed with a pawky smile, as his housekeeper shut the door +with unnecessary haste. + +Half an hour afterwards, David, mixing another glass of toddy, drew +his chair closer to the fire, and said, "Uncle John, I want to speak +to you." + +"Speak on, laddie;" but David noticed that even with the permission, +cautious curves settled round his uncle's eyes, and his face assumed +that business-like immobility which defied his scrutiny. + +"I have had a very serious talk with Robert Leslie; he is thinking of +buying Alexander Hastie out." + +"Why not think o' buying out Robert Napier, or Gavin Campbell, or +Clydeside Woolen Works? A body might as weel think o' a thousand +spindles as think o' fifty." + +"But he means business. An aunt, who has lately died in Galloway, has +left him £2,000." + +"That isna capital enough to run Sandy Hastie's mill." + +"He wants me to join him." + +"And how will that help matters? Twa thousand pounds added to Davie +Callendar will be just £2,000." + +"I felt sure you would lend me £2,000; and in that case it would be a +great chance for me. I am very anxious to be--" + +"Your ain maister." + +"Not that altogether, uncle, although you know well the Callendars +come of a kind that do not like to serve. I want to have a chance to +make money." + +"How much of your salary have you saved?" + +"I have never tried to save anything yet, uncle, but I am going to +begin." + +The old man sat silent for a few moments, and then said, "I wont do +it, Davie." + +"It is only £2,000, Uncle John." + +"_Only_ £2,000! Hear the lad! Did ye ever mak £2,000? Did ye ever save +£2,000? When ye hae done that ye'll ne'er put in the adverb, Davie. +_Only £2,000, indeed!_" + +"I thought you loved me, uncle." + +"I love no human creature better than you. Whatna for should I not +love you? You are the only thing left to me o' the bonnie brave +brother who wrapped his colors round him in the Afghan Pass, the +brave-hearted lad who died fighting twenty to one. And you are whiles +sae like him that I'm tempted--na, na, that is a' byganes. I will not +let you hae the £2,000, that is the business in hand." + +"What for?" + +"If you will hear the truth, that second glass o' whiskey is reason +plenty. I hae taken my ane glass every night for forty years, and I +hae ne'er made the ane twa, except New Year's tide." + +"That is fair nonsense, Uncle John. There are plenty of men whom you +trust for more than £2,000 who can take four glasses for their +nightcap always." + +"That may be; I'm no denying it; but what is lawfu' in some men is +sinfu' in others." + +"I do not see that at all." + +"Do you mind last summer, when we were up in Argyleshire, how your +cousin, Roy Callendar, walked, with ne'er the wink o' an eyelash, on a +mantel-shelf hanging over a three-hundred-feet precipice? Roy had the +trained eyesight and the steady nerve which made it lawfu' for him; +for you or me it had been suicide--naething less sinfu'. Three or four +glasses o' whiskey are safer for some men than twa for you. I hae been +feeling it my duty to tell you this for some time. Never look sae +glum, Davie, or I'll be thinking it is my siller and no mysel' you +were caring for the night when ye thought o' my cloak and umbrella." + +The young man rose in a perfect blaze of passion. + +"Sit down, sit down," said his uncle. "One would think you were your +grandfather, Evan Callendar, and that some English red-coat had trod +on your tartan. Hout! What's the use o' a temper like that to folk wha +hae taken to the spindle instead o' the claymore?" + +"I am a Callendar for all that." + +"Sae am I, sae am I, and vera proud o' it fore-bye. We are a' kin, +Davie; blood is thicker than water, and we wont quarrel." + +David put down his unfinished glass of toddy. He could not trust +himself to discuss the matter any farther, but as he left the room he +paused, with the open door in his hand, and said, + +"If you are afraid I am going to be a drunkard, why did you not care +for the fear before it became a question of £2,000? And if I ever do +become one, remember this, Uncle John--you mixed my first glass for +me!" + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +A positive blow could hardly have stunned John Callendar as this +accusation did. He could not have answered it, even if he had had an +opportunity, and the shock was the greater that it brought with it a +sudden sense of responsibility, yea, even guilt. At first the feeling +was one of anger at this sudden charge of conscience. He began to +excuse himself; he was not to blame if other people could not do but +they must o'erdo; then to assure himself that, being God's child, +there could be no condemnation in the matter to him. But his heart was +too tender and honest to find rest in such apologies, and close upon +his anger at the lad crowded a host of loving memories that would not +be put away. + +David's father had been very dear to him. He recalled his younger +brother in a score of tender situations: the schoolhouse in which they +had studied cheek to cheek over one book; the little stream in which +they had paddled and fished on holidays, the fir-wood, the misty +corries, and the heathery mountains of Argyle; above all, he +remembered the last time that he had ever seen the bright young face +marching at the head of his company down Buchanan street on his way to +India. David's mother was a still tenderer memory, and John +Callendar's eyes grew misty as his heart forced him to recall that +dark, wintry afternoon when she had brought David to him, and he had +solemnly promised to be a father to the lad. It was the last promise +between them; three weeks afterwards he stood at her grave's side. +Time is said to dim such memories as these. It never does. After many +years some sudden event recalls the great crises of any life with all +the vividness of their first occurrence. + +Confused as these memories were, they blended with an equal confusion +of feelings. Love, anger, regret, fear, perplexity, condemnation, +excuse, followed close on each other, and John's mind, though +remarkably clear and acute, was one trained rather to the +consideration of things point by point than to the catching of the +proper clew in a mental labyrinth. After an hour's miserable +uncertainty he was still in doubt what to do. The one point of comfort +he had been able to reach was the hope that David had gone straight to +Jenny with his grievance. "And though women-folk arena much as +counsellors," thought John, "they are wonderfu' comforters; and Jenny +will ne'er hear tell o' his leaving the house; sae there will be time +to put right what is wrong." + +But though David had always hitherto, when lessons were hard or +lassies scornful, gone with his troubles to the faithful Jenny, he did +not do so at this time. He did not even bid her "Good-night," and +there was such a look on his face that she considered it prudent not +to challenge the omission. + +"It will be either money or marriage," she thought. "If it be money, +the deacon has mair than is good for him to hae; if it be marriage, it +will be Isabel Strang, and that the deacon wont like. But it is his +ain wife Davie is choosing, and I am for letting the lad hae the lass +he likes best." + +Jenny had come to these conclusions in ten minutes, but she waited +patiently for an hour before she interrupted her master. Then the +clock struck midnight, and she felt herself aggrieved. "Deacon," she +said sharply, "ye should mak the day day and the night night, and ye +would if ye had a three weeks' ironing to do the morn. It has chappit +twelve, sir." + +"Jenny, I'm not sleeplike to-night. There hae been ill words between +David and me." + +"And I am mair than astonished at ye, deacon. Ye are auld enough to +ken that ill words canna be wiped out wi' a sponge. Our Davie isna an +ordinar lad; he can be trusted where the lave would need a watcher. Ye +ken that, deacon, for he is your ain bringing up." + +"But, Jenny, £2,000 for his share o' Hastie's mill! Surely ye didna +encourage the lad in such an idea?" + +"Oh, sae it's money," thought Jenny. "What is £2,000 to you, deacon? +Why should you be sparing and saving money to die wi'? The lad isna a +fool." + +"I dinna approve o' the partner that is seeking him, Jenny. I hae +heard things anent Robert Leslie that I dinna approve of; far from +it." + +"Hae ye _seen_ anything wrong?" + +"I canna say I hae." + +"Trust to your eyes, deacon; they believe themselves, and your ears +believe other people; ye ken which is best. His father was a decent +body." + +"Ay, ay; but Alexander Leslie was different from his son Robert. He +was a canny, cautious man, who could ding for his ain side, and who +always stood by the kirk. Robert left Dr. Morrison's soon after his +father died. The doctor was too narrow for Robert Leslie. Robert +Leslie has wonderfu' broad ideas about religion now. Jenny, I dinna +like the men who are their ain Bibles and ministers." + +"But there are good folk outside Dr. Morrison's kirk, deacon, surely." + +"We'll trust so, surely, we'll trust so, Jenny; but a man wi' broad +notions about religion soon gets broad notions about business and all +other things. Why, Jenny, I hae heard that Robert Leslie once spoke o' +the house o' John Callendar & Co. as 'old fogyish!'" + +"That's no hanging matter, deacon, and ye must see that the world is +moving." + +"Maybe, maybe; but I'se never help it to move except in the safe, +narrow road. Ye ken the Garloch mill-stream? It is narrow enough for a +good rider to leap, but it is deep, and it does its wark weel summer +and winter. They can break down the banks, woman, and let it spread +all over the meadow; bonnie enough it will look, but the mill-clapper +would soon stop. Now there's just sae much power, spiritual or +temporal, in any man; spread it out, and it is shallow and no to be +depended on for any purpose whatever. But narrow the channel, Jenny, +narrow the channel, and it is a driving force." + +"Ye are getting awa from the main subject, deacon. It is the £2,000, +and ye had best mak up your mind to gie it to Davie. Then ye can gang +awa to your bed and tak your rest." + +"You talk like a--like a woman. It is easy to gie other folks' siller +awa. I hae worked for my siller." + +"Your siller, deacon? Ye hae naught but a life use o' it. Ye canna +take it awa wi' ye. Ye can leave it to the ane you like best, but that +vera person may scatter it to the four corners o' the earth. And why +not? Money was made round that it might roll. It is little good yours +is doing lying in the Clyde Trust." + +"Jenny Callendar, you are my ain cousin four times removed, and you +hae a kind o' right to speak your mind in my house; but you hae said +enough, woman. It isna a question of money only; there are ither +things troubling me mair than that. But women are but one-sided +arguers. Good-night to you." + +He turned to the fire and sat down, but after a few moments of the +same restless, confused deliberation, he rose and went to his Bible. +It lay open upon its stand, and John put his hand lovingly, reverently +upon the pages. He had no glasses on, and he could not see a letter, +but he did not need to. + +"It is my Father's word," he whispered; and, standing humbly before +it, he recalled passage after passage, until a great calm fell upon +him. Then he said, + +"I will lay me down and sleep now; maybe I'll see clearer in the +morning light." + +Almost as soon as he opened his eyes in the morning there was a tap at +his door, and the gay, strong voice he loved so dearly asked, + +"Can I come in, Uncle John?" + +"Come in, Davie." + +"Uncle, I was wrong last night, and I cannot be happy with any shadow +between us two." + +Scotchmen are not demonstrative, and John only winked his eyes and +straightened out his mouth; but the grip of the old and young hand +said what no words could have said half so eloquently. Then the old +man remarked in a business-like way, + +"I hae been thinking, Davie, I would go and look o'er Hastie's +affairs, and if I like the look o' them I'll buy the whole concern out +for you. Partners are kittle cattle. Ye will hae to bear their +shortcomings as well as your ain. Tak my advice, Davie; rule your +youth well, and your age will rule itsel'." + +"Uncle, you forget that Robert Leslie is in treaty with Hastie. It +would be the height of dishonor to interfere with his bargain. You +have always told me never to put my finger in another man's bargain. +Let us say no more on the subject. I have another plan now. If it +succeeds, well and good; if not, there are chances behind this one." + +John fervently hoped there would be no more to say on this subject, +and when day after day went by without any reference to Hastie or +Robert Leslie, John Callendar felt much relieved. David also had +limited himself to one glass of toddy at night, and this unspoken +confession and reformation was a great consolation to the old man. He +said to himself that the evil he dreaded had gone by his door, and he +was rather complacent over the bold stand he had taken. + +That day, as he was slowly walking through the Exchange, pondering a +proposal for Virginia goods, Deacon Strang accosted him. "Callendar, a +good day to ye; I congratulate ye on the new firm o' Callendar & +Leslie. They are brave lads, and like enough--if a' goes weel--to do +weel." + +John did not allow an eyelash to betray his surprise and chagrin. "Ah, +Strang!" he answered, "the Callendars are a big clan, and we are a' +kin; sae, if you tak to congratulating me on every Callendar whose +name ye see aboon a doorstep, you'll hae mair business on hand than +you'll ken how to manage. A good day to you!" But Deacon Callendar +went up Great George street that day with a heavy, angry heart. His +nephew opened the door for him. "Uncle John, I have been looking all +over for you. I have something to tell you." + +"Fiddler's news, Davie. I hae heard it already. Sae you hae struck +hands wi' Robert Leslie after a', eh?" + +"He had my promise, uncle, before I spoke to you. I could not break +it." + +"H'm! Where did you get the £2,000?" + +"I borrowed it." + +"Then I hope 'the party' looked weel into the business." + +"They did not. It was loaned to me on my simple representation." + +"'Simple representation!' Vera simple! It was some woman, dootless." + +"It was my mother's aunt, Lady Brith." + +"Ou, ay! I kent it. Weel, when a bargain is made, wish it good luck; +sae, Jenny, put a partridge before the fire, and bring up a bottle O' +Madeira." + +It was not however a lively meal. John was too proud and hurt to ask +for information, and David too much chilled by his reserve to +volunteer it. The wine, being an unusual beverage to John, made him +sleepy; and when David said he had to meet Robert Leslie at nine +o'clock, John made no objection and no remark. But when Jenny came in +to cover up the fire for the night, she found him sitting before it, +rubbing his hands in a very unhappy manner. + +"Cousin," he said fretfully, "there is a new firm in Glasgo' to-day." + +"I hae heard tell o' it. God send it prosperity." + +"It isna likely, Jenny; auld Lady Brith's money to start it! The +godless auld woman! If Davie taks her advice, he's a gane lad." + +"Then, deacon, it's your ain fault. Whatna for did ye not gie him the +£2,000?" + +"Just hear the woman! It taks women and lads to talk o' £2,000 as if +it were picked up on the planestanes." + +"If ye had loaned it, deacon, ye would hae had the right to spier into +things, and gie the lad advice. He maun tak his advice where he taks +his money. Ye flung that chance o' guiding Davie to the four winds. +And let me tell ye, Cousin Callendar, ye hae far too tight a grip on +this warld's goods. The money is only loaned to you to put out at +interest for the Master. It ought to be building kirks and +schoolhouses, and sending Bibles to the far ends o' the earth. When +you are asked what ye did wi' it, how will you like to answer, 'I hid +it safely awa, Lord, in the Clyde Trust and in Andrew Fleming's +bank!'" + +"That will do, woman. Now you hae made me dissatisfied wi' my guiding +o' Davie, and meeserable anent my bank account, ye may gang to your +bed; you'll doobtless sleep weel on the thought." + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +However, sometimes things are not so ill as they look. The new firm +obtained favor, and even old, cautious men began to do a little +business with it. For Robert introduced some new machinery, and the +work it did was allowed, after considerable suspicion, to be "vera +satisfactory." A sudden emergency had also discovered to David that he +possessed singularly original ideas in designing patterns; and he set +himself with enthusiasm to that part of the business. Two years +afterwards came the Great Fair of 1851, and Callendar & Leslie took a +first prize for their rugs, both design and workmanship being +honorably mentioned. + +Their success seemed now assured. Orders came in so fast that the mill +worked day and night to fill them; and David was so gay and happy that +John could hardly help rejoicing with him. Indeed, he was very proud +of his nephew, and even inclined to give Robert a little cautious +kindness. The winter of 1851 was a very prosperous one, but the spring +brought an unlooked-for change. + +One evening David came home to dinner in a mood which Jenny +characterized as "_thrawart_." He barely answered her greeting, and +shut his room-door with a bang. He did not want any dinner, and he +wanted to be let alone. John looked troubled at this behavior. Jenny +said, "It is some lass in the matter; naething else could mak a +sensible lad like Davie act sae child-like and silly." And Jennie was +right. Towards nine o'clock David came to the parlor and sat down +beside his uncle. He said he had been "greatly annoyed." + +"Annoyances are as certain as the multiplication table," John remarked +quietly, "and ye ought to expect them--all the mair after a long run +o' prosperity." + +"But no man likes to be refused by the girl he loves." + +"Eh? Refused, say ye? Wha has refused you?" + +"Isabel Strang. I have loved her, as you and Jenny know, since we went +to school together, and I was sure that she loved me. Two days ago I +had some business with Deacon Strang, and when it was finished I spoke +to him anent Isabel. He made me no answer then, one way or the other, +but told me he would have a talk with Isabel, and I might call on him +this afternoon. When I did so he said he felt obligated to refuse my +offer." + +"Weel?" + +"That is all." + +"Nonsense! Hae you seen Isabel hersel'?" + +"She went to Edinburgh last night." + +"And if you were your uncle, lad, you would hae been in Edinburgh too +by this time. Your uncle would not stay refused twenty-four hours, if +he thought the lass loved him. Tut, tut, you ought to hae left at +once; that would hae been mair like a Callendar than ganging to your +ain room to sit out a scorning. There is a train at ten o'clock +to-night; you hae time to catch it if ye dinna lose a minute, and if +you come back wi' Mrs. David Callendar, I'll gie her a warm welcome +for your sake." + +The old man's face was aglow, and in his excitement he had risen to +his feet with the very air of one whom no circumstances could depress +or embarrass. David caught his mood and his suggestion, and in five +minutes he was on his way to the railway dépôt. The thing was done so +quickly that reflection had formed no part of it. But when Jenny heard +the front-door clash impatiently after David, she surmised some +imprudence, and hastened to see what was the matter. John told her the +"affront" David had received, and looked eagerly into the strong, +kindly face for an assurance that he had acted with becoming +promptitude and sympathy. Jenny shook her head gravely, and regarded +the deacon with a look of pitying disapproval. "To think," she said, +"of twa men trying to sort a love affair, when there was a woman +within call to seek counsel o'." + +"But we couldna hae done better, Jenny." + +"Ye couldna hae done warse, deacon. Once the lad asked ye for money, +and ye wouldna trust him wi' it; and now ye are in sic a hurry to send +him after a wife that he maun neither eat nor sleep. Ye ken which is +the maist dangerous. And you, wi' a' your years, to play into auld +Strang's hand sae glibly! Deacon, ye hae made a nice mess o' it. Dinna +ye see that Strang knew you twa fiery Hielandmen would never tak +'No,' and he sent Isabel awa on purpose for our Davie to run after her. +He kens weel they will be sure to marry, but he'll say now that his +daughter disobeyed him; sae he'll get off giving her a bawbee o' her +fortune, and he'll save a' the plenishing and the wedding expenses. +Deacon, I'm ashamed o' you. Sending a love-sick lad on sic a fool's +errand. And mair, I'm not going to hae Isabel Strang, or Isabel +Callendar here. A young woman wi' bridish ways dawdling about the +house, I canna, and I willna stand. You'll hae to choose atween Deacon +Strang's daughter and your auld cousin, Jenny Callendar." + +John had no answer ready, and indeed Jenny gave him no time to make +one: she went off with a sob in her voice, and left the impulsive old +matchmaker very unhappy indeed. For he had an unmitigated sense of +having acted most imprudently, and moreover, a shrewd suspicion that +Jenny's analysis of Deacon Strang's tactics was a correct one. For the +first time in many a year, a great tide of hot, passionate anger swept +away every other feeling. He longed to meet Strang face to face, and +with an hereditary and quite involuntary instinct he put his hand to +the place where his forefathers had always carried their dirks. The +action terrified and partly calmed him. "My God!" he exclaimed, +"forgive thy servant. I hae been guilty in my heart o' murder." + +He was very penitent, but still, as he mused the fire burned; and he +gave vent to his feelings in odd, disjointed sentences thrown up from +the very bottom of his heart, as lava is thrown up by the +irrepressible eruption: "Wha shall deliver a man from his ancestors? +Black Evan Callendar was never much nearer murder than I hae been this +night, only for the grace of God, which put the temptation and the +opportunity sae far apart. I'll hae Strang under my thumb yet. God +forgie me! what hae I got to do wi' sorting my ain wrongs? What for +couldna Davie like some other lass? It's as easy to graft on a good +stock as an ill one. I doobt I hae done wrong. I am in a sair swither. +The righteous dinna always see the right way. I maun e'en to my Psalms +again. It is a wonderfu' comfort that King David was just a weak, +sinfu' mortal like mysel'." So he went again to those pathetic, +self-accusing laments of the royal singer, and found in them, as he +always had done, words for all the great depths of his sin and fear, +his hopes and his faith. + +In the morning one thing was clear to him; David must have his own +house now--David must leave him. He could not help but acknowledge +that he helped on this consummation, and it was with something of the +feeling of a man doing a just penance that he went to look at a +furnished house, whose owner was going to the south of France with a +sick daughter. The place was pretty, and handsomely furnished, and +John paid down the year's rent. So when David returned with his young +bride, he assumed at once the dignity and the cares of a householder. + +Jenny was much offended at the marriage of David. She had looked +forward to this event as desirable and probable, but she supposed it +would have come with solemn religious rites and domestic feasting, and +with a great gathering in Blytheswood Square of all the Callendar +clan. That it had been "a wedding in a corner," as she contemptuously +called it, was a great disappointment to her. But, woman-like, she +visited it on her own sex. It was all Isabel's fault, and from the +very first day of the return of the new couple she assumed an air of +commiseration for the young husband, and always spoke of him as "poor +Davie." + +This annoyed John, and after his visits to David's house he was +perhaps unnecessarily eloquent concerning the happiness of the young +people. Jenny received all such information with a dissenting silence. +She always spoke of Isabel as "Mistress David," and when John reminded +her that David's wife was "Mistress Callendar," she said, "It was weel +kent that there were plenty o' folk called Callendar that werna +Callendars for a' that." And it soon became evident to her womanly +keen-sightedness that John did not always return from his visits to +David and Isabel in the most happy of humors. He was frequently too +silent and thoughtful for a perfectly satisfied man; but whatever his +fears were, he kept them in his own bosom. They were evidently as yet +so light that hope frequently banished them altogether; and when at +length David had a son and called it after his uncle, the old man +enjoyed a real springtime of renewed youth and pleasure. Jenny was +partly reconciled also, for the happy parents treated her with special +attention, and she began to feel that perhaps David's marriage might +turn out better than she had looked for. + +Two years after this event Deacon Strang became reconciled to his +daughter, and as a proof of it gave her a large mansion situated in +the rapidly-growing "West End." It had come into his possession at a +bargain in some of the mysterious ways of his trade; but it was, by +the very reason of its great size, quite unsuitable for a young +manufacturer like David. Indeed, it proved to be a most unfortunate +gift in many ways. + +"It will cost £5,000 to furnish it," said John fretfully, "and that +Davie can ill afford--few men could; but Isabel has set her heart on +it." + +"And she'll hae her will, deacon. Ye could put £5,000 in the business +though, or ye could furnish for them." + +"My way o' furnishing wouldna suit them; and as for putting back money +that David is set on wasting, I'll no do it. It is a poor well, Jenny, +into which you must put water. If David's business wont stand his +drafts on it, the sooner he finds it out the better." + +So the fine house was finely furnished; but that was only the +beginning of expenses. Isabel now wanted dress to suit her new +surroundings, and servants to keep the numerous rooms clean. Then she +wanted all her friends and acquaintances to see her splendid +belongings, so that erelong David found his home turned into a +fashionable gathering-place. Lunches, dinners, and balls followed +each other quickly, and the result of all this visiting was that +Isabel had long lists of calls to make every day, and that she finally +persuaded David that it would be cheaper to buy their own carriage +than to pay so much hire to livery-stables. + +These changes did not take place all at once, nor without much +disputing. John Callendar opposed every one of them step by step till +opposition was useless. David only submitted to them in order to +purchase for himself a delusive peace during the few hours he could +afford to be in his fine home; for his increased expenditure was not a +thing he could bear lightly. Every extra hundred pounds involved extra +planning and work and risks. He gradually lost all the cheerful +buoyancy of manner and the brightness of countenance that had been +always part and parcel of David Callendar. A look of care and +weariness was on his face, and his habits and hours lost all their +former regularity. It had once been possible to tell the time of day +by the return home of the two Callendars. Now no one could have done +that with David. He stayed out late at night; he stayed out all night +long. He told Isabel the mill needed him, and she either believed him +or pretended to do so. + +So that after the first winter of her fashionable existence she +generally "entertained" alone. "Mr. Callendar had gone to Stirling, or +up to the Highlands to buy wool," or, "he was so busy money-making she +could not get him to recognize the claims of society." And society +cared not a pin's point whether he presided or not at the expensive +entertainments given in his name. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +But things did not come to this pass all at once; few men take the +steps towards ruin so rapidly as to be themselves alarmed by it. It +was nearly seven years after his marriage when the fact that he was in +dangerously embarrassed circumstances forced itself suddenly on +David's mind. I say "suddenly" here, because the consummation of evil +that has been long preparing comes at last in a moment; a string +holding a picture gets weaker and weaker through weeks of tension, and +then breaks. A calamity through nights and days moves slowly towards +us step by step, and then some hour it has come. So it was with +David's business. It had often lately been in tight places, but +something had always happened to relieve him. One day, however, there +was absolutely no relief but in borrowing money, and David went to his +uncle again. + +It was a painful thing for him to do; not that they had any quarrel, +though sometimes David thought a quarrel would be better than the +scant and almost sad intercourse their once tender love had fallen +into. By some strange mental sympathy, hardly sufficiently recognized +by us, John was thinking of his nephew when he entered. He greeted him +kindly, and pulled a chair close, so that David might sit beside him. +He listened sympathizingly to his cares, and looked mournfully into +the unhappy face so dear to him; then he took his bank-book and wrote +out a check for double the amount asked. + +The young man was astonished; the tears sprang to his eyes, and he +said, "Uncle, this is very good of you. I wish I could tell you how +grateful I am." + +"Davie, sit a moment, you dear lad. I hae a word to say to ye. I hear +tell that my lad is drinking far mair than is good either for himsel' +or his business. My lad, I care little for the business; let it go, if +its anxieties are driving thee to whiskey. David, remember what thou +accused me of, yonder night, when this weary mill was first spoken of; +and then think how I suffer every time I hear tell o' thee being the +warse o' liquor. And Jenny is greeting her heart out about thee. And +there is thy sick wife, and three bonnie bit bairns." + +"Did Isabel tell you this?" + +"How can she help complaining? She is vera ill, and she sees little o' +thee, David, she says." + +"Yes, she is ill. She took cold at Provost Allison's ball, and she has +dwined away ever since. That is true. And the house is neglected and +the servants do their own will both with it and the poor children. I +have been very wretched, Uncle John, lately, and I am afraid I have +drunk more than I ought to have done. Robert and I do not hit together +as we used to; he is always fault-finding, and ever since that visit +from his cousin who is settled in America he has been dissatisfied and +heartless. His cousin has made himself a rich man in ten years there; +and Robert says we shall ne'er make money here till we are too old to +enjoy it." + +"I heard tell, too, that Robert has been speculating in railway stock. +Such reports, true or false, hurt you, David. Prudent men dinna like +to trust speculators." + +"I think the report is true; but then it is out of his private savings +he speculates." + +"Davie, gie me your word that you wont touch a drop o' whiskey for a +week--just for a week." + +"I cannot do it, uncle. I should be sure to break it. I don't want to +tell you a lie." + +"O Davie, Davie! Will you try, then?" + +"I'll try, uncle. Ask Jenny to go and see the children." + +"'Deed she shall go; she'll be fain to do it. Let them come and stay +wi' me till their mother is mair able to look after them." + +Jenny heard the story that night with a dour face. She could have said +some very bitter things about Deacon Strang's daughter, but in +consideration of her sickness she forbore. The next morning she went +to David's house and had a talk with Isabel. The poor woman was so ill +that Jenny had no heart to scold her; she only gave the house "a good +sorting," did what she could for Isabel's comfort, and took back with +her the children and their nurse. It was at her suggestion John saw +David the next day, and offered to send Isabel to the mild climate of +Devonshire. "She'll die if she stays in Glasgo' through the winter," +he urged, and David consented. Then, as David could not leave his +business, John himself took the poor woman to Torbay, and no one but +she and God ever knew how tenderly he cared for her, and how solemnly +he tried to prepare her for the great change he saw approaching. She +had not thought of death before, but when they parted he knew she had +understood him, for weeping bitterly, she said, "You will take care of +the children, Uncle John? I fear I shall see them no more." + +"I will, Isabel. While I live I will." + +"And, O uncle, poor David! I have not been a good wife to him. +Whatever happens, think of that and judge him mercifully. It is my +fault, uncle, my fault, my fault! God forgive me!" + +"Nae, nae, lassie; I am far from innocent mysel';" and with these +mournful accusations they parted for ever. + +For Isabel's sickness suddenly assumed an alarming character, and her +dissolution was so rapid that John had scarcely got back to Glasgow +ere David was sent for to see his wife die. He came back a bereaved +and very wretched man; the great house was dismantled and sold, and he +went home once more to Blytheswood Square. + +But he could not go back to his old innocent life and self; and the +change only revealed to John how terribly far astray his nephew had +gone. And even Isabel's death had no reforming influence on him; it +only roused regrets and self-reproaches, which made liquor all the +more necessary to him. Then the breaking up of the house entailed much +bargain-making, all of which was unfortunately cemented with glasses +of whiskey toddy. Still his uncle had some new element of hope on +which to work. David's home was now near enough to his place of +business to afford no excuse for remaining away all night. The +children were not to be hid away in some upper room; John was +determined they should be at the table and on the hearthstone; and +surely their father would respect their innocence and keep himself +sober for their sakes. + +"It is the highest earthly motive I can gie him," argued the anxious +old man, "and he has aye had grace enough to keep out o' my sight when +he wasna himsel'; he'll ne'er let wee John and Flora and Davie see him +when the whiskey is aboon the will and the wit--that's no to be +believed." + +And for a time it seemed as if John's tactics would prevail. There +were many evenings when they were very happy. The children made so gay +the quiet old parlor, and David learning to know his own boys and +girl, was astonished at their childish beauty and intelligence. Often +John could not bear to break up the pleasant evening time, and David +and he would sit softly talking in the firelight, with little John +musing quietly between them, and Flora asleep on her uncle's lap. Then +Jenny would come gently in and out and say tenderly, "Hadna the bairns +better come awa to their beds?" and the old man would answer, "Bide a +bit, Jenny, woman," for he thought every such hour was building up a +counter influence against the snare of strong drink. + +But there is no voice in human nature that can say authoritatively, +"_Return!_" David felt all the sweet influences with which he was +surrounded, but, it must be admitted, they were sometimes an +irritation to him. His business troubles, and his disagreements with +his partner, were increasing rapidly; for Robert--whose hopes were set +on America--was urging him to close the mill before their liabilities +were any larger. He refused to believe longer in the future making +good what they had lost; and certainly it was uphill work for David to +struggle against accumulating bills, and a partner whose heart was not +with him. + +One night at the close of the year, David did not come home to dinner, +and John and the children ate it alone. He was very anxious, and he +had not much heart to talk; but he kept the two eldest with him until +little Flora's head dropped, heavy with sleep, on his breast. Then a +sudden thought seemed to strike him, and he sent them, almost +hurriedly, away. He had scarcely done so when there was a shuffling +noise in the hall, the parlor-door was flung open with a jar, and +David staggered towards him--_drunk_! + +In a moment, John's natural temper conquered him; he jumped to his +feet, and said passionately, "How daur ye, sir? Get out o' my house, +you sinfu' lad!" Then, with a great cry he smote his hands together +and bowed his head upon them, weeping slow, heavy drops, that came +each with a separate pang. His agony touched David, though he scarcely +comprehended it. Not all at once is the tender conscience seared, and +the tender heart hardened. + +"Uncle," he said in a maudlin, hesitating way, which it would be a sin +to imitate--"Uncle John, I'm not drunk, I'm in trouble; I'm in +trouble, Uncle John. Don't cry about me. I'm not worth it." + +Then he sank down upon the sofa, and, after a few more incoherent +apologies, dropped into a deep sleep. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +John sat and looked at his fallen idol with a vacant, tear-stained +face. He tried to pray a few words at intervals, but he was not yet +able to gird up his soul and wrestle with this grief. When Jenny came +in she was shocked at the gray, wretched look with which her master +pointed to the shameful figure on the sofa. Nevertheless, she went +gently to it, raised the fallen head to the pillow, and then went and +got a blanket to cover the sleeper, muttering, + +"Poor fellow! There's nae need to let him get a pleurisy, ony gate. +Whatna for did ye no tell me, deacon? Then I could hae made him a cup +o' warm tea." + +She spoke as if she was angry, not at David, but at John; and, though +it was only the natural instinct of a woman defending what she dearly +loved, John gave it a different meaning, and it added to his +suffering. + +"You are right, Jenny, woman," he said humbly, "it is my fault. I +mixed his first glass for him." + +"Vera weel. Somebody aye mixes the first glass. Somebody mixed your +first glass. That is a bygane, and there is nae use at a' speiring +after it. How is the lad to be saved? That is the question now." + +"O Jenny, then you dare to hope for his salvation?" + +"I would think it far mair sinfu' to despair o' it. The Father has twa +kinds o' sons, deacon. Ye are ane like the elder brother; ye hae +'served him many years and transgressed not at any time his +commandment;' but this dear lad is his younger son--still his son, +mind ye--and he'll win hame again to his Father's house. What for not? +He's the bairn o' many prayers. Gae awa to your ain room, deacon; I'll +keep the watch wi' him. He'd rather see me nor you when he comes to +himsel'." + +Alas! the watch begun that night was one Jenny had very often to keep +afterwards. David's troubles gathered closer and closer round him, and +the more trouble he had the deeper he drank. Within a month after that +first shameful homecoming the firm of Callendar & Leslie went into +sequestration. John felt the humiliation of this downcome in a far +keener way than David did. His own business record was a stainless +one; his word was as good as gold on Glasgow Exchange; the house of +John Callendar & Co. was synonymous with commercial integrity. The +prudent burghers who were his nephew's creditors were far from +satisfied with the risks David and Robert Leslie had taken, and they +did not scruple to call them by words which hurt John Callendar's +honor like a sword-thrust. He did not doubt that many blamed him for +not interfering in his nephew's extravagant business methods; and he +could not explain to these people how peculiarly he was situated with +regard to David's affairs; nor, indeed, would many of them have +understood the fine delicacy which had dictated John's course. + +It was a wretched summer every way. The accountant who had charge of +David's affairs was in no hurry to close up a profitable engagement, +and the creditors, having once accepted the probable loss, did not +think it worth while to deny themselves their seaside or Highland +trips to attend meetings relating to Callendar & Leslie. So there was +little progress made in the settlement of affairs all summer, and +David was literally out of employment. His uncle's and his children's +presence was a reproach to him, and Robert and he only irritated each +other with mutual reproaches. Before autumn brought back manufacturers +and merchants to their factories and offices David had sunk still +lower. He did not come home any more when he felt that he had drunk +too much. He had found out houses where such a condition was the +natural and the most acceptable one--houses whose doors are near to +the gates of hell. + +This knowledge shocked John inexpressibly, and in the depth of his +horror and grief he craved some human sympathy. + +"I must go and see Dr. Morrison," he said one night to Jenny. + +"And you'll do right, deacon; the grip o' his hand and the shining o' +his eyes in yours will do you good; forbye, you ken weel you arena fit +to guide yoursel', let alane Davie. You are too angry, and angry men +tell many a lie to themsel's." + +There is often something luminous in the face of a good man, and Dr. +Morrison had this peculiarity in a remarkable degree. His face seemed +to radiate light; moreover, he was a man anointed with the oil of +gladness above his fellows, and John no sooner felt the glow of that +radiant countenance on him than his heart leaped up to welcome it. + +"Doctor," he said, choking back his sorrow, "doctor, I'm fain to see +you." + +"John, sit down. What is it, John?" + +"It's David, minister." + +And then John slowly, and weighing every word so as to be sure he +neither over-stated nor under-stated the case, opened up his whole +heart's sorrow. + +"I hae suffered deeply, minister; I didna think life could be such a +tragedy." + +"A tragedy indeed, John, but a tragedy with an angel audience. Think +of that. Paul says 'we are a spectacle unto men and angels.' Mind how +you play your part. What is David doing now?" + +"Nothing. His affairs are still unsettled." + +"But that wont do, John. Men learn to do ill by doing what is next to +it--nothing. Without some duty life cannot hold itself erect. If a man +has no regular calling he is an unhappy man and a cross man, and I +think prayers should be offered up for his wife and children and a' +who have to live with him. Take David into your own employ at once." + +"O minister, that I canna do! My office has aye had God-fearing, +steady men in it, and I canna, and--" + +"'And that day Jesus was guest in the house of a man that was a +sinner.' John, can't you take a sinner as a servant into your office?" + +"I'll try it, minister." + +"And, John, it will be a hard thing to do, but you must watch David +constantly. You must follow him to his drinking-haunts and take him +home; if need be, you must follow him to warse places and take him +home. You must watch him as if all depended on your vigilance, and you +must pray for him as if nothing depended on it. You hae to conquer on +your knees before you go into the world to fight your battle, John. +But think, man, what a warfare is set before you--the saving of an +immortal soul! And I'm your friend and helper in the matter; the lad +is one o' my stray lambs; he belongs to my fold. Go your ways in God's +strength, John, for this grief o' yours shall be crowned with +consolation." + +It is impossible to say how this conference strengthened John +Callendar. Naturally a very choleric man, he controlled himself into a +great patience with his erring nephew. He watched for him like a +father; nay, more like a mother's was the thoughtful tenderness of his +care. And David was often so touched by the love and forbearance shown +him, that he made passionate acknowledgments of his sin and earnest +efforts to conquer it. Sometimes for a week together he abstained +entirely, though during these intervals of reason he was very trying. +His remorse, his shame, his physical suffering, were so great that he +needed the most patient tenderness; and yet he frequently resented +this tenderness in a moody, sullen way that was a shocking contrast to +his once bright and affectionate manner. + +So things went on until the close of the year. By that time the +affairs of the broken firm had been thoroughly investigated, and it +was found that its liabilities were nearly £20,000 above its assets. +Suddenly, however, bundle wools took an enormous rise, and as the +stock of "Callendar & Leslie" was mainly of this kind, they were +pushed on the market, and sold at a rate which reduced the firm's +debts to about £17,000. This piece of good fortune only irritated +David; he was sure now that if Robert had continued the fight they +would have been in a position to clear themselves. Still, whatever +credit was due the transaction was frankly given to David. It was his +commercial instinct that had divined the opportunity and seized it, +and a short item in the "Glasgow Herald" spoke in a cautiously +flattering way of the affair. + +Both John and David were greatly pleased at the circumstance. David +also had been perfectly sober during the few days he had this stroke +of business in hand, and the public acknowledgment of his service to +the firm's creditors was particularly flattering to him. He came down +to breakfast that morning as he had not come for months. It was a +glimpse of the old Davie back again, and John was as happy as a child +in the vision. Into his heart came at once Dr. Morrison's assertion +that David must have some regular duty to keep his life erect. It was +evident that the obligation of a trust had a controlling influence +over him. + +"David," he said cheerfully, "you must hae nearly done wi' that first +venture o' yours. The next will hae to redeem it; that is all about +it. Everything is possible to a man under forty years auld." + +"We have our final meeting this afternoon, uncle. I shall lock the +doors for ever to-night." + +"And your debts are na as much as you expected." + +"They will not be over £17,000, and they may be considerably less. I +hope to make another sale this morning. There are yet three thousand +bundles in the stock." + +"David, I shall put £20,000 in your ain name and for your ain use, +whatever that use may be, in the Western Bank this morning. I think +you'll do the best thing you can do to set your name clear again. If +you are my boy you will." + +"Uncle John, you cannot really mean that I may pay every shilling I +owe, and go back on the Exchange with a white name? O uncle, if you +should mean this, what a man you would make of me!" + +"It is just what I mean to do, Davie. Is na all that I have yours and +your children's? But oh, I thank God that you hae still a heart that +counts honor more than gold. David, after this I wont let go one o' +the hopes I have ever had for you." + +"You need not, uncle. Please God, and with his help, I will make every +one of them good." + +And he meant to do it. He never had felt more certain of himself or +more hopeful for the future than when he went out that morning. He +touched nothing all day, and as the short, dark afternoon closed in, +he went cheerfully towards the mill, with his new check-book in his +pocket and the assurance in his heart that in a few hours he could +stand up among his fellow-citizens free from the stain of debt. + +His short speech at the final meeting was so frank and manly, and so +just and honorable to his uncle, that it roused a quiet but deep +enthusiasm. Many of the older men had to wipe the mist from their +glasses, and the heaviest creditor stood up and took David's hand, +saying, "Gentlemen, I hae made money, and I hae saved money, and I hae +had money left me; but I never made, nor saved, nor got money that +gave me such honest pleasure as this siller I hae found in twa honest +men's hearts. Let's hae in the toddy and drink to the twa Callendars." + +Alas! alas! how often is it our friends from whom we ought to pray to +be preserved. The man meant kindly; he was a good man, he was a +God-fearing man, and even while he was setting temptation before his +poor, weak brother, he was thinking "that money so clean and fair and +unexpected should be given to some holy purpose." But the best of us +are the slaves of habit and chronic thoughtlessness. All his life he +had signalled every happy event by a libation of toddy; everybody else +did the same; and although he knew David's weakness, he did not think +of it in connection with that wisest of all prayers, "Lead us not into +temptation." + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +David ought to have left then, but he did not; and when his uncle's +health was given, and the glass of steaming whiskey stood before him, +he raised it to his lips and drank. It was easy to drink the second +glass and the third, and so on. The men fell into reminiscence and +song, and no one knew how many glasses were mixed; and even when they +stood at the door they turned back for "a thimbleful o' raw speerit to +keep out the cold," for it had begun to snow, and there was a chill, +wet, east wind. + +Then they went; and when their forms were lost in the misty gloom, and +even their voices had died away, David turned back to put out the +lights, and lock the mill-door for the last time. Suddenly it struck +him that he had not seen Robert Leslie for an hour at least, and while +he was wondering about it in a vague, drunken way, Robert came out of +an inner room, white with scornful anger, and in a most quarrelsome +mood. + +"You have made a nice fool of yoursel', David Callendar! Flinging awa +so much gude gold for a speech and a glass o' whiskey! Ugh!" + +"You may think so, Robert. The Leslies have always been 'rievers and +thievers;' but the Callendars are of another stock." + +"The Callendars are like ither folk--good and bad, and mostly bad. +Money, not honor, rules the warld in these days; and when folk have +turned spinners, what is the use o' talking about honor! Profit is a +word more fitting." + +"I count mysel' no less a Callendar than my great-grandfather, Evan +Callendar, who led the last hopeless charge on Culloden. If I am a +spinner, I'll never be the first to smirch the roll o' my house with +debt and dishonesty, if I can help it." + +"Fair nonsense! The height of nonsense! Your ancestors indeed! Mules +make a great to-do about their ancestors having been horses!" + +David retorted with hot sarcasm on the freebooting Leslies, and their +kin the Armstrongs and Kennedys; and to Scotchmen this is the very +sorest side of a quarrel. They can forgive a bitter word against +themselves perhaps, but against their clan, or their dead, it is an +unpardonable offence. And certainly Robert had an unfair advantage; he +was in a cool, wicked temper of envy and covetousness. He could have +struck himself for not having foreseen that old John Callendar would +be sure to clear the name of dishonor, and thus let David and his +£20,000 slip out of his control. + +David had drunk enough to excite all the hereditary fight in his +nature, and not enough to dull the anger and remorse he felt for +having drunk anything at all. The dreary, damp atmosphere and the +cold, sloppy turf of Glasgow Green might have brought them back to the +ordinary cares and troubles of every-day life, but it did not. This +grim oasis in the very centre of the hardest and bitterest existences +was now deserted. The dull, heavy swash of the dirty Clyde and the +distant hum of the sorrowful voices of humanity in the adjacent +streets hardly touched the sharp, cutting accents of the two +quarrelling men. No human ears heard them, and no human eyes saw the +uplifted hands and the sway and fall of Robert Leslie upon the smutty +and half melted snow, except David's. + +Yes; David saw him fall, and heard with a strange terror the peculiar +thud and the long moan that followed it. It sobered him at once and +completely. The shock was frightful. He stood for a moment looking at +the upturned face, and then with a fearful horror he stooped and +touched it. There was no response to either entreaties or movement, +and David was sure after five minutes' efforts there never would be. +Then his children, his uncle, his own life, pressed upon him like a +surging crowd. His rapid mind took in the situation at once. There was +no proof. Nobody had seen them leave together. Robert had certainly +left the company an hour before it scattered; none of them could know +that he was waiting in that inner room. With a rapid step he took his +way through Kent street into a region where he was quite unknown, and +by a circuitous route reached the foot of Great George street. + +He arrived at home about eight o'clock. John had had his dinner, and +the younger children had gone to bed. Little John sat opposite him on +the hearthrug, but the old man and the child were both lost in +thought. David's face at once terrified his uncle. + +"Johnnie," he said, with a weary pathos in his voice, "your father +wants to see me alane. You had best say 'Gude-night,' my wee man." + +The child kissed his uncle, and after a glance into his father's face +went quietly out. His little heart had divined that he "must not +disturb papa." David's eyes followed him with an almost overmastering +grief and love, but when John said sternly, "Now, David Callendar, +what is it this time?" he answered with a sullen despair, + +"It is the last trouble I can bring you. I have killed Robert Leslie!" + +The old man uttered a cry of horror, and stood looking at his nephew +as if he doubted his sanity. + +"I am not going to excuse mysel', sir. Robert said some aggravating +things, and he struck me first; but that is neither here nor there. I +struck him and he fell. I think he hit his head in falling; but it was +dark and stormy, I could not see. I don't excuse mysel' at all. I am +as wicked and lost as a man can be. Just help me awa, Uncle John, and +I will trouble you no more for ever." + +"Where hae you left Robert?" + +"Where he fell, about 300 yards above Rutherglen Bridge." + +"You are a maist unmerciful man! I ne'er liked Robert, but had he been +my bitterest enemy I would hae got him help if there was a chance for +life, and if not, I would hae sought a shelter for his corpse." + +Then he walked to the parlor door, locked it, and put the key in his +pocket. + +"As for helping you awa, sir, I'll ne'er do it, ne'er; you hae sinned, +and you'll pay the penalty, as a man should do." + +"Uncle, have mercy on me." + +"Justice has a voice as weel as mercy. O waly, waly!" cried the +wretched old man, going back to the pathetic Gælic of his childhood, +"O waly, waly! to think o' the sin and the shame o' it. Plenty o' +Callendars hae died before their time, but it has been wi' their faces +to their foes and their claymores in their hands. O Davie, Davie! my +lad, my lad! My Davie!" + +His agony shook him as a great wind shakes the tree-tops, and David +stood watching him in a misery still keener and more hopeless. For a +few moments neither spoke. Then John rose wearily and said, + +"I'll go with you, David, to the proper place. Justice must be +done--yes, yes, it is just and right." + +Then he lifted up his eyes, and clasping his hands, cried out, + +"But, O my heavenly Father, be merciful, be merciful, for love is the +fulfilling of the law. Come, David, we hae delayed o'er long." + +"Where are you going, uncle?" + +"You ken where weel enough." + +"Dear uncle, be merciful. At least let us go see Dr. Morrison first. +Whatever he says I will do." + +"I'll do that; I'll be glad to do that; maybe he'll find me a road out +o' this sair, sair strait. God help us all, for vain is the help o' +man." + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +When they entered Dr. Morrison's house the doctor entered with them. +He was wet through, and his swarthy face was in a glow of excitement. +A stranger was with him, and this stranger he hastily took into a room +behind the parlor, and then he came back to his visitors. + +"Well, John, what is the matter?" + +"Murder. Murder is the matter, doctor," and with a strange, quiet +precision he went over David's confession, for David had quite broken +down and was sobbing with all the abandon of a little child. During +the recital the minister's face was wonderful in its changes of +expression, but at the last a kind of adoring hopefulness was the most +decided. + +"John," he said, "what were you going to do wi' that sorrowfu' lad?" + +"I was going to gie him up to justice, minister, as it was right and +just to do; but first we must see about--about the body." + +"That has, without doot, been already cared for. On the warst o' +nights there are plenty o' folk passing o'er Glasgow Green after the +tea-hour. It is David we must care for now. Why should we gie him up +to the law? Not but what 'the law is good, if a man use it lawfully.' +But see how the lad is weeping. Dinna mak yoursel' hard to a broken +heart, deacon. God himsel' has promised to listen to it. You must go +back hame and leave him wi' me. And, John," he said, with an air of +triumph, as they stood at the door together, with the snow blowing in +their uplifted faces, "John, my dear old brother John, go hame and +bless God; for, I tell you, this thing shall turn out to be a great +salvation." + +So John went home, praying as he went, and conscious of a strange +hopefulness in the midst of his grief. The minister turned back to the +sobbing criminal, and touching him gently, said, + +"Davie, my son, come wi' me." + +David rose hopelessly and followed him. They went into the room where +they had seen the minister take the stranger who had entered the house +with them. The stranger was still there, and as they entered he came +gently and on tiptoe to meet them. + +"Dr. Fleming," said the minister, "this is David Callendar, your +patient's late partner in business; he wishes to be the poor man's +nurse, and indeed, sir, I ken no one fitter for the duty." + +So Dr. Fleming took David's hand, and then in a low voice gave him +directions for the night's watch, though David, in the sudden hope and +relief that had come to him, could scarcely comprehend them. Then the +physician went, and the minister and David sat by the bedside alone. +Robert lay in the very similitude and presence of death, unconscious +both of his sufferings and his friends. Congestion of the brain had +set in, and life was only revealed by the faintest pulsations, and by +the appliances for relief which medical skill thought it worth while +to make. + +"'And sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death,'" said the +doctor solemnly. "David, there is your work." + +"God knows how patiently and willingly I'll do it, minister. Poor +Robert, I never meant to harm him." + +"Now listen to me, and wonder at God's merciful ways. Auld Deacon +Galbraith, who lives just beyond Rutherglen Bridge, sent me word this +afternoon that he had gotten a summons from his Lord, and he would +like to see my face ance mair before he went awa for ever. He has been +my right hand in the kirk, and I loved him weel. Sae I went to bid him +a short Gude-by--for we'll meet again in a few years at the maist--and +I found him sae glad and solemnly happy within sight o' the heavenly +shore, that I tarried wi' him a few hours, and we ate and drank his +last sacrament together. He dropped my hand wi' a smile at half-past +six o'clock, and after comforting his wife and children a bit I turned +my face hameward. But I was in that mood that I didna care to sit i' a +crowded omnibus, and I wanted to be moving wi' my thoughts. The +falling snow and the deserted Green seemed good to me, and I walked on +thinking o'er again the deacon's last utterances, for they were wise +and good even beyond the man's nature. That is how I came across +Robert Leslie. I thought he was dead, but I carried him in my arms to +the House o' the Humane Society, which, you ken, isna one hundred +yards from where Robert fell. The officer there said he wasna dead, +sae I brought him here and went for the physician you spoke to. Now, +Davie, it is needless for me to say mair. You ken what I expect o' +you. You'll get no whiskey in this house, not a drop o' it. If the +sick man needs anything o' that kind, I shall gie it wi' my ain hand; +and you wont leave this house, David, until I see whether Robert is to +live or die. You must gie me your word o' honor for that." + +"Minister, pray what is my word worth?" + +"Everything it promises, David Callendar. I would trust your word +afore I'd trust a couple o' constables, for a' that's come and gane." + +"Thank you, thank you, doctor! You shall not trust, and be deceived. I +solemnly promise you to do my best for Robert, and not to leave your +house until I have your permission." + +The next morning Dr. Morrison was at John Callendar's before he sat +down to breakfast. He had the morning paper with him, and he pointed +out a paragraph which ran thus: "Robert Leslie, of the late firm of +Callendar & Leslie, was found by the Rev. Dr. Morrison in an +unconscious condition on the Green last night about seven o'clock. It +is supposed the young gentleman slipped and fell, and in the fall +struck his head, as congestion of the brain has taken place. He lies +at Dr. Morrison's house, and is being carefully nursed by his late +partner, though there is but little hope of his recovery." + +"Minister, it wasna you surely wha concocted this lie?" + +"Nobody has told a lie, John. Don't be overrighteous, man; there is an +unreasonableness o' virtue that savors o' pride. I really thought +Robert had had an accident, until you told me the truth o' the matter. +The people at the Humane Society did the same; sae did Dr. Fleming. I +suppose some reporter got the information from one o' the latter +sources. But if Robert gets well, we may let it stand; and if he +doesna get well, I shall seek counsel o' God before I take a step +farther. In the meantime David is doing his first duty in nursing him; +and David will stay in my house till I see whether it be a case o' +murder or not." + +For three weeks there was but the barest possibility of Robert's +recovery. But his youth and fine constitution, aided by the skill of +his physician and the unremitting care of his nurse, were at length, +through God's mercy, permitted to gain a slight advantage. The +discipline of that three weeks was a salutary though a terrible one to +David. Sometimes it became almost intolerable; but always, when it +reached this point, Dr. Morrison seemed, by some fine spiritual +instinct, to discover the danger and hasten to his assistance. Life +has silences more pathetic than death's; and the stillness of that +darkened room, with its white prostrate figure, was a stillness in +which David heard many voices he never would have heard in the crying +out of the noisy world. + +What they said to him about his wasted youth and talents, and about +his neglected Saviour, only his own heart knew. But he must have +suffered very much, for, at the end of a month, he looked like a man +who had himself walked through the valley and shadow of death. About +this time Dr. Morrison began to drop in for an hour or two every +evening; sometimes he took his cup of tea with the young men, and then +he always talked with David on passing events in such a way as to +interest without fatiguing the sick man. His first visit of this kind +was marked by a very affecting scene. He stood a moment looking at +Robert and then taking David's hand, he laid it in Robert's. But the +young men had come to a perfect reconciliation one midnight when the +first gleam of consciousness visited the sick man, and Dr. Morrison +was delighted to see them grasp each other with a smile, while David +stooped and lovingly touched his friend's brow. + +"Doctor, it was my fault," whispered Robert. "If I die, remember that. +I did my best to anger Davie, and I struck him first. I deserved all I +have had to suffer." + +After this, however, Robert recovered rapidly, and in two months he +was quite well. + +"David," said the minister to him one morning, "your trial is nearly +over. I have a message from Captain Laird to Robert Leslie. Laird +sails to-night; his ship has dropped down the river a mile, and Robert +must leave when the tide serves; that will be at five o'clock." + +For Robert had shrunk from going again into his Glasgow life, and had +determined to sail with his friend Laird at once for New York. There +was no one he loved more dearly than David and Dr. Morrison, and with +them his converse had been constant and very happy and hopeful. He +wished to leave his old life with this conclusion to it unmingled with +any other memories. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +So that evening the three men went in a coach to the Broomilaw +together. A boat and two watermen were in waiting at the bridge-stair, +and though the evening was wet and chilly they all embarked. No one +spoke. The black waters washed and heaved beneath them, the myriad +lights shone vaguely through the clammy mist and steady drizzle, and +the roar of the city blended with the stroke of the oars and the +patter of the rain. Only when they lay under the hull of a large ship +was the silence broken. But it was broken by a blessing. + +"God bless you, Robert! The Lord Jesus, our Redeemer, make you a gude +man," said Dr. Morrison fervently, and David whispered a few broken +words in his friend's ear. Then Captain Laird's voice was heard, and +in a moment or two more they saw by the light of a lifted lantern +Robert's white face in the middle of a group on deck. + +"Farewell!" he shouted feebly, and Dr. Morrison answered it with a +lusty, "God speed you, Robert! God speed the good ship and all on +board of her!" + +So they went silently back again, and stepped into the muddy, +dreamlike, misty streets, wet through and quite weary with emotion. + +"Now gude-night, David. Your uncle is waiting dinner for you. I hae +learned to love you vera much." + +"Is there anything I can do, doctor, to show you how much I love and +respect you?" + +"You can be a good man, and you can let me see you every Sabbath in +your place at kirk. Heaven's gate stands wide open on the Sabbath day, +David; sae it is a grand time to offer your petitions." + +Yes, the good old uncle was waiting, but with that fine instinct which +is born of a true love he had felt that David would like no fuss made +about his return. He met him as if he had only been a few hours away, +and he had so tutored Jenny that she only betrayed her joy by a look +which David and she understood well. + +"The little folks," said John, "have a' gane to their beds; the day +has been that wet and wearisome that they were glad to gae to sleep +and forget a' about it." + +David sat down in his old place, and the two men talked of the Russian +war and the probable storming of the Alamo. Then John took his usual +after-dinner nap, and David went up stairs with Jenny and kissed his +children, and said a few words to them and to the old woman, which +made them all very happy. + +When he returned to the parlor his uncle was still sleeping, and he +could see how weary and worn he had become. + +"So patient, so generous, so honorable, so considerate for my +feelings," said the young man to himself. "I should be an ingrate +indeed if I did not, as soon as he wakes, say what I know he is so +anxious to hear." + +With the thought John opened his eyes, and David nodded and smiled +back to him. How alert and gladly he roused himself! How cheerily he +said, + +"Why, Davie, I hae been sleeping, I doot. Hech, but it is gude to see +you, lad." + +"Please God, uncle, it shall always be gude to see me. Can you give me +some advice to-night?" "I'll be mair than glad to do it." + +"Tell me frankly, Uncle John, what you think I ought to do. I saw +Robert off to America to-night. Shall I follow him?" + +"Davie, mind what I say. In the vera place where a man loses what he +values, there he should look to find it again. You hae lost your good +name in Glasgow; stay in Glasgow and find it again." + +"I will stay here then. What shall I do?" + +"You'll go back to your old place, and to your old business." + +"But I heard that Deacon Strang had bought the looms and the lease." + +"He bought them for me, for us, I mean. I will tell you how that came +about. One day when I was cross, and sair put out wi' your affairs, +Davie, Dr. Morrison came into my office. I'm feared I wasna glad to +see him; and though I was ceevil enough, the wise man read me like a +book. 'John,' says he, 'I am not come to ask you for siller to-day, +nor am I come to reprove you for staying awa from the service o' God +twice lately. I am come to tell you that you will hae the grandest +opportunity to-day, to be, not only a man, but a Christ-man. If you +let the opportunity slip by you, I shall feel sairly troubled about +it.' + +"Then he was gone before I could say, 'What is it?' and I wondered and +wondered all day what he could hae meant. But just before I was ready +to say, 'Mr. MacFarlane, lock the safe,' in walks Deacon Strang. He +looked vera downcast and shamefaced, and says he, 'Callendar, you can +tak your revenge on me to-morrow, for a' I hae said and done against +you for thirty years. You hold twa notes o' mine, and I canna meet +them. You'll hae to protest and post them to-morrow, and that will +ruin me and break my heart.' + +"David, I had to walk to the window and hide my face till I could +master mysel', I was that astonished. Then I called out, 'Mr. +MacFarlane, you hae two notes o' Deacon Strang's, bring them to me.' +When he did sae, I said, 'Well, deacon, we a' o' us hae our ain +fashes. How long time do you want, and we'll renew these bits o' +paper?' + +"And the thing was done, Davie, and done that pleasantly that it made +me feel twenty years younger. We shook hands when we parted, and as we +did sae, the deacon said, 'Is there aught I can do to pleasure you or +David?' and a' at once it struck me about the sales o' the looms and +lease. Sae I said, 'Yes, deacon, there is something you can do, and +I'll be vera much obligated to you for the same. Davie is sae tied +down wi' Robert's illness, will you go to the sale o' Callendar & +Leslie's looms and lease, and buy them for me? You'll get them on +better terms than I will.' And he did get them on excellent terms, +Davie; sae your mill is just as you left it--for Bailie Nicol, wha +took it at the accountant's valuation, never opened it at all. And you +hae twenty months' rent paid in advance, and you hae something in the +bank I expect." + +"I have £3,600, uncle." + +"Now, I'll be your partner this time. I'll put in the business £4,000, +but I'll hae it run on a solid foundation, however small that +foundation may be. I'll hae no risks taken that are dishonest risks; +I'll hae a broad mark made between enterprise and speculation; and +above a', I'll hae the right to examine the books, and see how things +are going on, whenever I wish to do sae. We will start no more looms +than our capital will work, and we'll ask credit from no one." + +"Uncle John, there is not another man in the world so generous and +unselfish as you are." + +"There are plenty as good men in every congregation o' the Lord; if +there wasna they would scatter in no time. Then you are willing, are +you? Gie me your hand, Davie. I shall look to you to do your best for +baith o' us." + +"I have not drunk a drop for two months, uncle. I never intend to +drink again." + +"I hae given it up mysel'," said the old man, with an affected +indifference that was pathetic in its self-abnegation. "I thought twa +going a warfare together might do better than ane alone. Ye ken Christ +sent out the disciples by twa and twa. And, Davie, when you are hard +beset, just utter the name of Christ down in your heart, and see how +much harder it is to sin." + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +The arrangement had been a very pleasant one, every way, but somehow +John did not feel as if David had as much outside help as he needed. +The young man was not imaginative; an ideal, however high, was a far +less real thing to David than to old John. He pondered during many +sleepless hours the advisability of having David sign the pledge. +David had always refused to do it hitherto. He had a keen sense of +shame in breaking a verbal promise on this subject; but he had an +almost superstitious feeling regarding the obligation of anything he +put his name to; and this very feeling made John hesitate to press the +matter. For, he argued, and not unwisely, "if David should break this +written obligation, his condition would seem to himself irremediable, +and he would become quite reckless." + +In the morning this anxiety was solved. When John came down to +breakfast, he found David walking about the room with a newspaper in +his hand, and in a fever heat of martial enthusiasm. "Uncle," he +cried, "O Uncle John, such glorious news! The Alamo is taken. Colin +Campbell and his Highlanders were first at the ramparts, and Roy and +Hector Callendar were with them. Listen?" and he threw the passion and +fervor of all his military instincts into the glowing words which +told, how in a storm of fire and shot, Sir Colin and his Highland +regiment had pushed up the hill; and how when the Life Guards were +struggling to reach their side, the brave old commander turned round +and shouted, "We'll hae nane but Hieland bonnets here!" "O Uncle John, +what would I not have given to have marched with Roy and Hector behind +him? With such a leader I would not turn my back on any foe." + +"David, you have a far harder fight before you, and a far grander +Captain." + +"Uncle, uncle, if I could see my foe; if I could meet him face to face +in a real fight; but he steals into my heart, even by my nostrils, and +unmans me, before I am aware." + +John rang the bell sharply, and when Jenny came, he amazed her by +saying, "Bring me here from the cellar three bottles of whiskey." He +spoke so curt and determined that for once Jenny only wondered, and +obeyed. + +"That will do, my woman." Then he turned to David, and putting one +bottle on the table said, "There is your foe! Face your enemy, sir! +Sit down before him morning, noon, and night. Dare him to master you! +Put this bottle on the table in your ain room; carry this in your hand +to your office, and stand it before your eyes upon your desk. If you +want a foe to face and to conquer, a foe that you can see and touch, +here is one mighty enough to stir the bravest soul. And, if you turn +your back on him you are a coward; a mean, poor-hearted coward, sir. +And there ne'er was a coward yet, o' the Callendar blood, nor o' the +Campbell line! Your Captain is nane less than the Son o' God. Hear +what he says to you! 'To him that overcometh! To him that overcometh!' +O Davie, you ken the rest!" and the old man was so lifted out of and +above himself, that his face shone and his keen gray eyes scintillated +with a light that no market-place ever saw in them. + +David caught the holy enthusiasm; he seized the idea like a visible +hand of God for his help. The black bottle became to him the +materialization of all his crime and misery. It was a foe he could +see, and touch, and defy. It seemed to mock him, to tempt him, to beg +him just to open the cork, if only to test the strength of his +resolutions. + +Thank God he never did it. He faced his enemy the first thing in the +morning and the last thing at night. He kept him in sight through the +temptations of a business day. He faced him most steadily in the +solitude of his own room. There, indeed, his most dangerous struggles +took place, and one night John heard him after two hours of restless +hurried walking up and down, throw open his window, and dash the +bottle upon the pavement beneath it. That was the last of his hard +struggles; the bottle which replaced the one flung beyond his reach +stands to-day where it has stood for nearly a quarter of a century, +and David feels now no more inclination to open it than if it +contained strychnine. + +This is no fancy story. It is a fact. It is the true history of a +soul's struggle, and I write it--God knows I do--in the strong hope +that some brave fellow, who is mastered by a foe that steals upon him +in the guise of good fellowship, or pleasure, or hospitality, may +locate his enemy, and then face and conquer him in the name of Him who +delivers his people from their sins. I do not say that all natures +could do this. Some may find safety and final victory in flight, or in +hiding from their foe; but I believe that the majority of souls would +rise to a warfare in which the enemy was confronting them to face and +fight, and would conquer. + +I have little more to say of David Callendar. It was the story of his +fall and his redemption I intended to write. But we cannot separate +our spiritual and mortal life; they are the warp and woof which we +weave together for eternity. Therefore David's struggle, though a +palpable one in some respects, was, after all, an intensely spiritual +one; for it was in the constant recognition of Christ as the Captain +of his salvation, and in the constant use of such spiritual aids as +his Bible and his minister gave him, that he was enabled to fight a +good fight and to come off more than conqueror in a contest wherein so +many strive and fail. + +David's reformation had also a very sensible influence on his business +prosperity. He has won back again now all, and far more than all, he +lost, and in all good and great works for the welfare of humanity +David Callendar is a willing worker and a noble giver. The new firm of +John and David Callendar acquired a world-wide reputation. It is still +John and David Callendar, for when the dear old deacon died he left +his interest in it to David's eldest son, a pious, steady young fellow +for whom nobody ever mixed a first glass. But God was very kind to +John in allowing him to see the full harvest of his tender love, his +patience, and his unselfishness. Out of his large fortune he left a +noble endowment for a church and college in his native town, making +only two requests concerning its management: first, that no whiskey +should ever go within the college walls: second, that all the children +in the town might have a holiday on the anniversary of his death; +"for," said he, "I have aye loved children, and I would fain connect +the happiness of childhood with the peace o' the dead." + +Dr. Morrison lived long enough to assist in filling in the grave of +his old friend and helper, but attained unto the beginning of peace +and glory soon afterwards. And I have often pictured to myself the +meeting of those two upon the hills of God. The minister anticipated +it, though upon his dying bed his great soul forgot all +individualities, and thought only of the church universal, and his +last glowing words were, "For Jerusalem that is above is free, which +is the mother of us all." + +Robert Leslie has done well in America, and no man is a more warm and +earnest advocate of "the faith once delivered to the saints." I read a +little speech of his some time ago at the dedication of a church, and +it greatly pleased me. + +"Many things," he said, "have doubtless been improved in this age, for +man's works are progressive and require improvement; but who," he +asked, "can improve the sunshine and the flowers, the wheat and the +corn? And who will give us anything worthy to take the place of the +religion of our fathers and mothers? And what teachers have come +comparable to Christ, to David, Isaiah, and Paul?" + +Jenny only died a year ago. She brought up David's children admirably, +and saw, to her great delight, the marriage of Flora and young Captain +Callendar. For it had long been her wish to go back to Argyleshire +"among her ain folk and die among the mountains," and this marriage +satisfied all her longings. One evening they found her sitting in her +open door with her face turned towards the cloud-cleaving hills. Her +knitting had fallen upon her lap, her earthly work was done for ever, +and she had put on the garments of the eternal Sabbath. But there was +a wonderful smile on her simple, kindly face. Soul and body had parted +with a smile. Oh, how happy are those whom the Master finds waiting +for him, and who, when he calls, pass gently away! + + "Up to the golden citadel they fare, + And as they go their limbs grow full of might; + And One awaits them at the topmost stair, + One whom they had not seen, but knew at sight." + + + + +Andrew Cargill's Confession. + + + + +ANDREW CARGILL'S CONFESSION. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Between Sinverness and Creffel lies the valley of Glenmora. +Sca Fells and Soutra Fells guard it on each hand, and the long, +treacherous sweep of Solway Frith is its outlet. It is a region of +hills and moors, inhabited by a people of singular gravity and +simplicity of character, a pastoral people, who in its solemn high +places have learned how to interpret the voices of winds and +watersand to devoutly love their God. + +Most of them are of the purest Saxon origin; but here and there one +meets the massive features and the blue bonnet of the Lowland Scots, +descendants of those stern Covenanters who from the coasts of Galloway +and Dumfries sought refuge in the strength of these lonely hills. They +are easily distinguished, and are very proud of their descent from +this race whom + + "God anointed with his odorous oil + To wrestle, not to reign." + +Thirty years ago their leader and elder was Andrew Cargill, a man of +the same lineage as that famous Donald Cargill who was the Boanerges +of the Covenant, and who suffered martyrdom for his faith at the town +of Queensferry. Andrew never forgot this fact, and the stern, just, +uncompromising spirit of the old Protester still lived in him. He was +a man well-to-do in the world, and his comfortable stone house was one +of the best known in the vale of Glenmora. + +People who live amid grand scenery are not generally sensitive to it, +but Andrew was. The adoring spirit in which he stood one autumn +evening at his own door was a very common mood with him. He looked +over the moors carpeted with golden brown, and the hills covered with +sheep and cattle, at the towering crags, more like clouds at sunset +than things of solid land, at the children among the heather picking +bilberries, at the deep, clear, purple mist that filled the valley, +not hindering the view, but giving everything a strangely solemn +aspect, and his face relaxed into something very like a smile as he +said, "It is the wark o' my Father's hand, and praised be his name." + +He stood at his own open door looking at these things, and inside his +wife Mysie was laying the supper-board with haver bread and cheese and +milk. A bright fire blazed on the wide hearth, and half a dozen +sheep-dogs spread out their white breasts to the heat. Great settles +of carved oak, bedded deep with fleeces of long wool, were on the +sides of the fireplace, and from every wall racks of spotless deal, +filled with crockery and pewter, reflected the shifting blaze. + +Suddenly he stepped out and looked anxiously towards the horizon on +all sides. "Mysie, woman," said he, "there is a storm coming up from +old Solway; I maun e'en gae and fauld the ewes wi' their young +lammies. Come awa', Keeper and Sandy." + +The dogs selected rose at once and followed Andrew with right +good-will. Mysie watched them a moment; but the great clouds of mist +rolling down from the mountains soon hid the stalwart figure in its +bonnet and plaid from view, and gave to the dogs' fitful barks a +distant, muffled sound. So she went in and sat down upon the settle, +folding her hands listlessly on her lap, and letting the smile fall +from her face as a mask might fall. Oh, what a sad face it was then! + +She sat thus in a very trance of sorrow until the tears dropped +heavily and slowly down, and her lips began to move in broken +supplications. Evidently these brought her the comfort she sought, for +erelong she rose, saying softly to herself, "The lost bit o' siller +was found, and the strayed sheep was come up wi', and the prodigal won +hame again, and dootless, dootless, my ain dear lad will no be lost +sight o'." + +By this time the storm had broken, but Mysie was not uneasy. Andrew +knew the hills like his own ingle, and she could tell to within five +minutes how long it would take him to go to the fauld and back. But +when it was ten minutes past his time Mysie stood anxiously in the +open door and listened. Her ears, trained to almost supernatural +quickness, soon detected above the winds and rain a sound of +footsteps. She called a wise old sheep-dog and bid him listen. The +creature held his head a moment to the ground, looked at her +affirmatively, and at her command went to seek his master. + +In a few moments she heard Andrew's peculiar "hallo!" and the joyful +barking of the dog, and knew that all was right. Yet she could not go +in; she felt that something unusual had happened, and stood waiting +for whatever was coming. It was a poor, little, half-drowned baby. +Andrew took it from under his plaid, and laid it in her arms, saying, + +"I maun go now and look after the mither. I'll need to yoke the cart +for her; she's past walking, and I'm sair feared she's past living; +but you'll save the bit bairn, Mysie, nae doot; for God disna smite +aften wi' baith hands." + +"Where is she, Andrew?" + +"'Mang the Druids' stanes, Mysie, and that's an ill place for a +Christian woman to die. God forbid it!" he muttered, as he lit a +lantern and went rapidly to the stable; "an evil place! under the vera +altar-stane o' Satan. God stay the parting soul till it can hear a +word o' his great mercy!" + +With such a motive to prompt him, Andrew was not long in reaching the +ruins of the old Druidical temple. Under a raised flat stone, which +made a kind of shelter, a woman was lying. She was now insensible, and +Andrew lifted her carefully into the cart. Perhaps it was some +satisfaction to him that she did not actually die within such +unhallowed precincts; but the poor creature herself was beyond such +care. When she had seen her child in Mysie's arms, and comprehended +Mysie's assurance that she would care for it, all anxiety slipped away +from her. Andrew strove hard to make her understand the awful +situation in which she was; but the girl lay smiling, with upturned +eyes, as if she was glad to be relieved of the burden of living. + +"You hae done your duty, gudeman," at length said Mysie, "and now you +may leave the puir bit lassie to me; I'll dootless find a word o' +comfort to say to her." + +"But I'm feared, I am awfu' feared, woman, that she is but a prodigal +and an--" + +"Hush, gudeman! There is mercy for the prodigal daughter as weel as +for the prodigal son;" and at these words Andrew went out with a dark, +stern face, while she turned with a new and stronger tenderness to the +dying woman. + +"God is love," she whispered; "if you hae done aught wrang, there's +the open grave o' Jesus, dearie; just bury your wrang-doing there." +She was answered with a happy smile. "And your little lad is my lad +fra this hour, dearie!" The dying lips parted, and Mysie knew they had +spoken a blessing for her. + +Nothing was found upon the woman that could identify her, nothing +except a cruel letter, which evidently came from the girl's father; +but even in this there was neither date nor locality named. It had no +term of endearment to commence with, and was signed simply, "John +Dunbar." Two things were, however, proven by it: that the woman's +given name was Bessie, and that by her marriage she had cut herself +off from her home and her father's affection. + +So she was laid by stranger hands within that doorless house in the +which God sometimes mercifully puts his weary ones to sleep. Mysie +took the child to her heart at once, and Andrew was not long able to +resist the little lad's beauty and winning ways. The neighbors began +to call him "wee Andrew;" and the old man grew to love his namesake +with a strangely tender affection. + +Sometimes there was indeed a bitter feeling in Mysie's heart, as she +saw how gentle he was with this child and remembered how stern and +strict he had been with their own lad. She did not understand that the +one was in reality the result of the other, the acknowledgement of his +fault, and the touching effort to atone, in some way, for it. + +One night, when wee Andrew was about seven years old, this wrong +struck her in a manner peculiarly painful. Andrew had made a most +extraordinary journey, even as far as Penrith. A large manufactory had +been begun there, and a sudden demand for his long staple of white +wool had sprung up. Moreover, he had had a prosperous journey, and +brought back with him two books for the boy, Æsop's Fables and +Robinson Crusoe. + +When Mysie saw them, her heart swelled beyond control. She remembered +a day when her own son Davie had begged for these very books and been +refused with hard rebukes. She remembered the old man's bitter words +and the child's bitter tears; but she did not reflect that the present +concession was the result of the former refusal, nor yet that the +books were much easier got and the money more plentiful than thirty +years previous. When wee Andrew ran away with his treasures to the +Druids' stones, Mysie went into the shippen, and did her milking to +some very sad thoughts. + +She was poisoning her heart with her own tears. When she returned to +the "houseplace" and saw the child bending with rapt, earnest face +over the books, she could not avoid murmuring that the son of a +strange woman should be sitting happy in Cargill spence, and her own +dear lad a banished wanderer. She had come to a point when rebellion +would be easy for her. Andrew saw a look on her face that amazed and +troubled him: and yet when she sat so hopelessly down before the fire, +and without fear or apology + + "Let the tears downfa'," + +he had no heart to reprove her. Nay, he asked with a very unusual +concern, "What's the matter, Mysie, woman?" + +"I want to see Davie, and die, gudeman!" + +"You'll no dare to speak o' dying, wife, until the Lord gies you +occasion; and Davie maun drink as he's brewed." + +"Nay, gudeman, but you brewed for him; the lad is drinking the cup you +mixed wi' your ain hands." + +"I did my duty by him." + +"He had ower muckle o' your duty, and ower little o' your indulgence. +If Davie was wrang, ither folk werena right. Every fault has its +forefault." + +Andrew looked in amazement at this woman, who for thirty and more +years had never before dared to oppose his wishes, and to whom his +word had been law. + +"Davie's wrang-doing was weel kent, gude-wife; he hasted to sin like a +moth to a candle." + +"It's weel that our faults arena written i' our faces." + +"I hae fallen on evil days, Mysie; saxty years syne wives and bairns +werena sae contrarie." + +"There was gude and bad then, as now, gudeman." + +Mysie's face had a dour, determined look that no one had ever seen on +it before. Andrew began to feel irritated at her. "What do you want, +woman?" he said sternly. + +"I want my bairn, Andrew Cargill." + +"Your bairn is i' some far-awa country, squandering his share o' +Paradise wi' publicans and sinners." + +"I hope not, I hope not; if it werena for this hope my heart would +break;" and then all the barriers that education and habit had built +were suddenly overthrown as by an earthquake, and Mysie cried out +passionately, "I want my bairn, Andrew Cargill! the bonnie bairn that +lay on my bosom, and was dandled on my knees, and sobbed out his +sorrows i' my arms. I want the bairn you were aye girding and +grumbling at! that got the rod for this, and the hard word and the +black look for that! My bonnie Davie, wha ne'er had a playtime nor a +story-book! O gudeman, I want my bairn! I want my bairn!" + +The repressed passion and sorrow of ten long years had found an outlet +and would not be controlled. Andrew laid down his pipe in amazement +and terror, and for a moment he feared his wife had lost her senses. +He had a tender heart beneath his stern, grave manner, and his first +impulse was just to take the sobbing mother to his breast and promise +her all she asked. But he did not do it the first moment, and he could +not the second. Yet he did rise and go to her, and in his awkward way +try to comfort her. "Dinna greet that way, Mysie, woman," he said; "if +I hae done amiss, I'll mak amends." + +That was a great thing for Andrew Cargill to say; Mysie hardly knew +how to believe it. Such a confession was a kind of miracle, for she +judged things by results and was not given to any consideration of the +events that led up to them. She could not know, and did not suspect, +that all the bitter truths she had spoken had been gradually forcing +themselves on her husband's mind. She did not know that wee Andrew's +happy face over his story-books, and his eager claim for sympathy, had +been an accusation and a reproach which the old man had already humbly +and sorrowfully accepted. Therefore his confession and his promise +were a wonder to the woman, who had never before dared to admit that +it was possible Andrew Cargill should do wrong in his own household. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The confidence that came after this plain speaking was very sweet and +comforting to both, although in their isolation and ignorance they +knew not what steps to take in order to find Davie. Ten years had +elapsed since he had hung for one heart-breaking moment on his +mother's neck, and bid, as he told her, a farewell for ever to the +miserable scenes of his hard, bare childhood. Mysie had not been able +to make herself believe that he was very wrong; dancing at pretty Mary +Halliday's bridal and singing two or three love-songs did not seem to +the fond mother such awful transgressions as the stern, strict +Covenanter really believed them to be, though even Mysie was willing +to allow that Davie, in being beguiled into such sinful folly, "had +made a sair tumble." + +However, Davie and his father had both said things that neither could +win over, and the lad had gone proudly down the hill with but a few +shillings in his pocket. Since then there had been ten years of +anxious, longing grief that had remained unconfessed until this night. +Now the hearts of both yearned for their lost son. But how should they +find him? Andrew read nothing but his Bible and almanac; he had no +conception of the world beyond Kendal and Keswick. He could scarcely +imagine David going beyond these places, or, at any rate, the coast of +Scotland. Should he make a pilgrimage round about all those parts? + +Mysie shook her head. She thought Andrew had better go to Keswick and +see the Methodist preacher there. She had heard they travelled all +over the world, and if so, it was more than likely they had seen Davie +Cargill; "at ony rate, he would gie advice worth speiring after." + +Andrew had but a light opinion of Methodists, and had never been +inside the little chapel at Sinverness; but Mysie's advice, he +allowed, "had a savor o' sense in it," and so the next day he rode +over to Keswick and opened his heart to John Sugden, the +superintendent of the Derwent Circuit. He had assured himself on the +road that he would only tell John just as much as was necessary for +his quest; but he was quite unable to resist the preacher's hearty +sympathy. There never were two men more unlike than Andrew Cargill and +John Sugden, and yet they loved each other at once. + +"He is a son o' consolation, and dootless ane o' God's chosen," said +Andrew to Mysie on his return. + +"He is a far nobler old fellow than he thinks he is," said John to his +wife when he told her of Andrew's visit. + +John had advised advertising for Davie in "The Watchman;" for John +really thought this organ of the Methodist creed was the greatest +paper in existence, and honestly believed that if Davie was anywhere +in the civilized world "The Watchman" would find him out. He was so +sure of it that both Mysie and Andrew caught his hopeful tone, and +began to tell each other what should be done when Davie came home. + +Poor Mysie was now doubly kind to wee Andrew. She accused herself +bitterly of "grudging the bit lammie his story-books," and persuaded +her husband to bring back from Keswick for the child the "Pilgrim's +Progress" and "The Young Christian." John Sugden, too, visited them +often, not only staying at Cargill during his regular appointments, +but often riding over to take a day's recreation with the old +Cameronian. True, they disputed the whole time. John said very +positive things and Andrew very contemptuous ones; but as they each +kept their own opinions intact, and were quite sure of their grounds +for doing so, no words that were uttered ever slackened the grip of +their hands at parting. + +One day, as John was on the way to Cargill, he perceived a man sitting +among the Druids' stones. The stranger was a pleasant fellow, and +after a few words with the preacher he proposed that they should ride +to Sinverness together. John soon got to talking of Andrew and his +lost son, and the stranger became greatly interested. He said he +should like to go up to Andrew's and get a description of Davie, +adding that he travelled far and wide, and might happen to come across +him. + +The old man met them at the door. + +"My sight fails, John," he said, "but I'd hae kent your step i' a +thousand. You too are welcome, sir, though I ken you not, and doubly +welcome if you bring God's blessing wi' you." + +The stranger lifted his hat, and Andrew led the way into the house. +John had been expected, for haver bread and potted shrimps were on the +table, and he helped himself without ceremony, taking up at the same +time their last argument just where he had dropped it at the gate of +the lower croft. But it had a singular interruption. The sheep-dogs +who had been quietly sleeping under the settle began to be strangely +uneasy. Keeper could scarcely be kept down, even by Andrew's command, +and Sandy bounded towards the stranger with low, rapid barks that made +John lose the sense of the argument in a new thought. But before he +could frame it into words Mysie came in. + +"See here, John," she cried, and then she stopped and looked with +wide-open eyes at the man coming towards her. With one long, thrilling +cry she threw herself into his arms. + +"Mother! mother! darling mother, forgive me!" + +John had instantly gone to Andrew's side, but Andrew had risen at once +to the occasion. "I'm no a woman to skirl or swoon," he said, almost +petulantly, "and it's right and fit the lad should gie his mither the +first greeting." + +But he stretched out both hands, and his cheeks were flushed and his +eyes full when Davie flung himself on his knees beside him. + +"My lad! my ain dear lad!" he cried, "I'll see nae better day than +this until I see His face." + +No one can tell the joy of that hour. The cheese curds were left in +the dairy and the wool was left at the wheel, and Mysie forget her +household, and Andrew forgot his argument, and the preacher at last +said, + +"You shall tell us, Davie, what the Lord has done for you since you +left your father's house." + +"He has been gude to me, vera gude. I had a broad Scot's tongue in my +head, and I determined to go northward. I had little siller and I had +to walk, and by the time I reached Ecclefechan I had reason enough to +be sorry for the step I had taken. As I was sitting by the fireside o' +the little inn there a man came in who said he was going to Carlisle +to hire a shepherd. I did not like the man, but I was tired and had +not plack nor bawbee, so I e'en asked him for the place. When he heard +I was Cumberland born, and had been among sheep all my life, he was +fain enough, and we soon 'greed about the fee. + +"He was a harder master than Laban, but he had a daughter who was as +bonnie as Rachel, and I loved the lass wi' my whole soul, and she +loved me. I ne'er thought about being her father's hired man. I was +aye Davie Cargill to mysel', and I had soon enough told Bessie all +about my father and mither and hame. I spoke to her father at last, +but he wouldna listen to me. He just ordered me off his place, and +Bessie went wi' me. + +"I know now that we did wrang, but we thought then that we were right. +We had a few pounds between us and we gaed to Carlisle. But naething +went as it should hae done. I could get nae wark, and Bessie fell into +vera bad health; but she had a brave spirit, and she begged me to +leave her in Carlisle and go my lane to Glasgow. 'For when wark an' +siller arena i' one place, Davie,' she said, 'then they're safe to be +in another.' + +"I swithered lang about leaving her, but a good opportunity came, and +Bessie promised me to go back to her father until I could come after +her. It was July then, and when Christmas came round I had saved money +enough, and I started wi' a blithe heart to Ecclefechan. I hadna any +fear o' harm to my bonnie bit wifie, for she had promised to go to her +hame, and I was sure she would be mair than welcome when she went +without me. I didna expect any letters, because Bessie couldna write, +and, indeed, I was poor enough wi' my pen at that time, and only wrote +once to tell her I had good wark and would be for her a New Year. + +"But when I went I found that Bessie had gane, and none knew where. I +traced her to Keswick poor-house, where she had a little lad; the +matron said she went away in a very weak condition when the child was +three weeks old, declaring that she was going to her friends. Puir, +bonnie, loving Bessie; that was the last I ever heard o' my wife and +bairn." + +Mysie had left the room, and as she returnee with a little bundle +Andrew was anxiously asking, "What was the lassie's maiden name, +Davie?" + +"Bessie Dunbar, father." + +"Then this is a wun'erful day; we are blessed and twice blessed, for I +found your wife and bairn, Davie, just where John Sugden found you, +'mang the Druids' stanes; and the lad has my ain honest name and is +weel worthy o' it." + +"See here, Davie," and Mysie tenderly touched the poor faded dress and +shawl, and laid the wedding-ring in his palm. As she spoke wee Andrew +came across the yard, walking slowly, reading as he walked. "Look at +him, Davie! He's a bonnie lad, and a gude are; and oh, my ain dear +lad, he has had a' things that thy youth wanted." + +It pleased the old man no little that, in spite of his father's loving +greeting, wee Andrew stole away to his side. + +"You see, Davie," he urged in apology, "he's mair at hame like wi' +me." + +And then he drew the child to him, and let his whole heart go out now, +without check or reproach, to "Davie's bairn." + +"But you have not finished your story, Mr. Cargill," said John, and +David sighed as he answered, + +"There is naething by the ordinar in it. I went back to the warks I +had got a footing in, the Glencart Iron Warks, and gradually won my +way to the topmost rungs o' the ladder. I am head buyer now, hae a +gude share i' the concern, and i' money matters there's plenty folk +waur off than David Cargill. When I put my father's forgiveness, my +mither's love, and my Bessie's bonnie lad to the lave, I may weel say +that 'they are weel guided that God guides.' A week ago I went into +the editor's room o' the Glasgow Herald,' and the man no being in I +lifted a paper and saw in it my father's message to me. It's sma' +credit that I left a' and answered it." + +"What paper, Mr. Cargill, what paper?" + +"They ca' it 'The Watchman.' I hae it in my pocket." + +"I thought so," said John triumphantly. "It's a grand paper; every one +ought to have it." + +"It is welcome evermore in my house," said Davie. + +"It means weel, it means weel," said Andrew, with a great stretch of +charity, "but I dinna approve o' its doctrines at a', and--" + +"It found David for you, Andrew." + +"Ay, ay, God uses a' kinds o' instruments. 'The Watchman' isna as auld +as the Bible yet, John, and it's ill praising green barley." + +"Now, Andrew, I think--" + +"Tut, tut, John, I'se no sit i' Rome and strive wi' the pope; there's +naething ill said, you ken, if it's no ill taken." + +John smiled tolerantly, and indeed there was no longer time for +further discussion, for the shepherds from the hills and the farmers +from the glen had heard of David's return, and were hurrying to +Cargill to see him. Mysie saw that there would be a goodly company, +and the long harvest-table was brought in and a feast of +thanksgiving spread. Conversation in that house could only set one +way, and after all had eaten and David had told his story again, one +old man after another spoke of the dangers they had encountered and +the spiritual foes they had conquered. + +Whether it was the speaking, or the sympathy of numbers, or some +special influence of the Holy Ghost, I know not; but suddenly Andrew +lifted his noble old head and spoke thus: + +"Frien's, ye hae some o' you said ill things o' yoursel's, but to the +sons o' God there is nae condemnation; not that I hae been althegither +faultless, but I meant weel, an' the lad was a wilfu' lad, and ye ken +what the wisest o' men said anent such. Just and right has been my +walk before you, but--still--" Then, with a sudden passion, and rising +to his feet, he cried out, "Frien's, I'm a poor sinfu' man, but I'll +play no mair pliskies wi' my conscience. I hae dootless been a hard +master, hard and stern, and loving Sinai far beyond Bethlehem. Hard +was I to my lad, and hard hae I been to the wife o' my bosom, and hard +hae I been to my ain heart. It has been my ain will and my ain way all +my life lang. God forgie me! God forgie me! for this night he has +brought my sins to my remembrance. I hae been your elder for mair than +forty years, but I hae ne'er been worthy to carry his holy vessels. +I'll e'en sit i' the lowest seat henceforward." + +"Not so," said John. And there was such eager praise, and such warm +love rose from every mouth, that words began to fail, and as the old +man sat down smiling, happier than he had ever been before, song took +up the burden speech laid down; for John started one of those old +triumphant Methodist hymns, and the rafters shook to the melody, and +the stars heard it, and the angels in heaven knew a deeper joy. +Singing, the company departed, and Andrew, standing in the moonlight +between David and John, watched the groups scatter hither and thither, +and heard, far up the hills and down the glen, that sweet, sweet +refrain, + + "Canaan, bright Canaan! + Will you go to the land of Canaan?" + +After this David stayed a week at Glenmora, and then it became +necessary for him to return to Glasgow. But wee Andrew was to have a +tutor and remain with his grandparents for some years at least. Andrew +himself determined to "tak a trip" and see Scotland and the wonderful +iron works of which he was never weary of hearing David talk. + +When he reached Kendal, however, and saw for the first time the +Caledonian Railway and its locomotives, nothing could induce him to go +farther. + +"It's ower like the deil and the place he bides in, Davie," he said, +with a kind of horror. "Fire and smoke and iron bands! I'll no ride at +the deil's tail-end, not e'en to see the land o' the Covenant." + +So he went back to Glenmora, and was well content when he stood again +at his own door and looked over the bonny braes of Sinverness, its +simmering becks and fruitful vales. "These are the warks o' His hands, +Mysie," he said, reverently lifting his bonnet and looking up to +Creffel and away to Solway, "and you'd ken that, woman, if you had +seen Satan as I saw him rampaging roun' far waur than any roaring +lion." + +After this Andrew never left Sinverness; but, the past unsighed for +and the future sure, passed through + + "----an old age serene and bright, + And lovely as a Lapland night," + +until, one summer evening, he gently fell on that sleep which God +giveth his beloved. + + "For such Death's portal opens not in gloom, + But its pure crystal, hinged on solid gold, + Shows avenues interminable--shows + Amaranth and palm quivering in sweet accord + Of human mingled with angelic song." + + + + +One Wrong Step. + + + + +ONE WRONG STEP. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +"There's few folk ken Ragon Torr as I do, mother. He is better at +heart than thou wad think; indeed he is!" + +"If better were within, better wad come out, John. He's been drunk or +dovering i' the chimney-corner these past three weeks. Hech! but he'd +do weel i' Fool's Land, where they get half a crown a day for +sleeping." + +"There's nane can hunt a seal or spear a whale like Ragon; thou saw +him theesel', mother, among the last school i' Stromness Bay." + +"I saw a raving, ranting heathen, wi' the bonnie blue bay a sea o' +blood around him, an' he shouting an' slaying like an old pagan +sea-king. Decent, God-fearing fisher-folk do their needful wark ither +gate than yon. Now there is but one thing for thee to do: thou must +break wi' Ragon Torr, an' that quick an' soon." + +"Know this, my mother, a friend is to be taken wi' his faults." + +"Thou knows this, John: I hae forty years mair than thou hast, an' +years ken mair than books. An' wi' a' thy book skill hast thou ne'er +read that 'Evil communications corrupt gude manners'? Mak up thy mind +that I shall tak it vera ill if thou sail again this year wi' that +born heathen;" and with these words Dame Alison Sabay rose up from the +stone bench at her cottage door and went dourly into the houseplace. + +John stood on the little jetty which ran from the very doorstep into +the bay, and looked thoughtfully over towards the sweet green isle of +Graemsay; but neither the beauty of land or sea, nor the splendor of +skies bright with the rosy banners of the Aurora gave him any answer +to the thoughts which troubled him. "I'll hae to talk it o'er wi' +Christine," he said decidedly, and he also turned into the house. + +Christine was ten years older than her brother John. She had known +much sorrow, but she had lived through and lived down all her trials +and come out into the peace on the other side. She was sitting by the +peat fire knitting, and softly crooning an old Scotch psalm to the +click of her needles. She answered John's look with a sweet, grave +smile, and a slight nod towards the little round table, upon which +there was a plate of smoked goose and some oaten cake for his supper. + +"I carena to eat a bite, Christine; this is what I want o' thee: the +skiff is under the window; step into it, an' do thou go on the bay wi' +me an hour." + +"I havena any mind to go, John. It is nine by the clock, an' to-morrow +the peat is to coil an' the herring to kipper; yes, indeed." + +"Well an' good. But here is matter o' mair account than peat an' +herring. Wilt thou come?" + +"At the end I ken weel thou wilt hae thy way. Mother, here is John, +an' he is for my going on the bay wi' him." + +"Then thou go. If John kept aye as gude company he wouldna be like to +bring my gray hairs wi' sorrow to the grave." + +John did not answer this remark until they had pushed well off from +the sleeping town, then he replied fretfully, "Yes, what mother says +is true enough; but a man goes into the warld. A' the fingers are not +alike, much less one's friends. How can a' be gude?" + +"To speak from the heart, John, wha is it?" + +"Ragon Torr. Thou knows we hae sat i' the same boat an' drawn the same +nets for three years; he is gude an' bad, like ither folk." + +"Keep gude company, my brother, an' thou wilt aye be counted ane o' +them. When Ragon is gude he is ower gude, and when he is bad he is +just beyont kenning." + +"Can a man help the kin he comes o'? Have not his forbears done for +centuries the vera same way? Naething takes a Norseman frae his bed or +his cup but some great deed o' danger or profit; but then wha can +fight or wark like them?" + +"Christ doesna ask a man whether he be Norse or Scot. If Ragon went +mair to the kirk an' less to the change-house, he wouldna need to +differ. Were not our ain folk cattle-lifting Hieland thieves lang +after the days o' the Covenant?" + +"Christine, ye'll speak nae wrang o' the Sabays. It's an ill bird +'files its ain nest." + +"Weel, weel, John! The gude name o' the Sabays is i' thy hands now. +But to speak from the heart, this thing touches thee nearer than Ragon +Torr. Thou did not bring me out to speak only o' him." + +"Thou art a wise woman, Christine, an' thou art right. It touches +Margaret Fae, an' when it does that, it touches what is dearer to me +than life." + +"I see it not." + +"Do not Ragon an' I sail i' Peter Fae's boats? Do we not eat at his +table, an' bide round his house during the whole fishing season? If I +sail no more wi' Ragon, I must quit Peter's employ; for he loves Ragon +as he loves no ither lad i' Stromness or Kirkwall. The Norse blood we +think little o', Peter glories in; an' the twa men count thegither +o'er their glasses the races o' the Vikings, an' their ain generations +up to Snorro an' Thorso." + +"Is there no ither master but Peter Fae? ask theesel' that question, +John." + +"I hae done that, Christine. Plenty o' masters, but nane o' them hae +Margaret for a daughter. Christine, I love Margaret, an' she loves me +weel. Thou hast loved theesel', my sister." + +"I ken that, John," she said tenderly; "I hae loved, therefore I hae +got beyont doots, an' learned something holier than my ain way. Thou +trust Margaret now. Thou say 'Yes' to thy mother, an' fear not." + +"Christine thou speaks hard words." + +"Was it to speak easy anes thou brought me here? An' if I said, 'I +counsel thee to tak thy ain will i' the matter,' wad my counsel mak +bad gude, or wrang right? Paul Calder's fleet sails i' twa days; seek +a place i' his boats." + +"Then I shall see next to naught o' Margaret, an' Ragon will see her +every day." + +"If Margaret loves thee, that can do thee nae harm." + +"But her father favors Ragon, an' of me he thinks nae mair than o' the +nets, or aught else that finds his boats for sea." + +"Well an' good; but no talking can alter facts. Thou must now choose +atween thy mother an' Margaret Fae, atween right an' wrang. God doesna +leave that choice i' the dark; thy way may be narrow an' unpleasant, +but it is clear enough. Dost thou fear to walk i' it?" + +"There hae been words mair than plenty, Christine. Let us go hame." + +Silently the little boat drifted across the smooth bay, and silently +the brother and sister stood a moment looking up the empty, flagged +street of the sleeping town. The strange light, which was neither +gloaming nor dawning, but a mixture of both, the waving boreal +banners, the queer houses, gray with the storms of centuries, the +brown undulating heaths, and the phosphorescent sea, made a strangely +solemn picture which sank deep into their hearts. After a pause, +Christine went into the house, but John sat down on the stone bench to +think over the alternatives before him. + +Now the power of training up a child in the way it should go asserted +itself. It became at once a fortification against self-will. John +never had positively disobeyed his mother's explicit commands; he +found it impossible to do so. He must offer his services to Paul +Calder in the morning, and try to trust Margaret Fae's love for him. + +He had determined now to do right, but he did not do it very +pleasantly--it is a rare soul that grows sweeter in disappointments. +Both mother and sister knew from John's stern, silent ways that he had +chosen the path of duty, and they expected that he would make it a +valley of Baca. This Dame Alison accepted as in some sort her desert. +"I ought to hae forbid the lad three years syne," she said +regretfully; "aft ill an' sorrow come o' sich sinfu' putting aff. +There's nae half-way house atween right an' wrang." + +Certainly the determination involved some unpleasant explanations to +John. He must first see old Peter Fae and withdraw himself from his +service. He found him busy in loading a small vessel with smoked geese +and kippered fish, and he was apparently in a very great passion. +Before John could mention his own matters, Peter burst into a torrent +of invectives against another of his sailors, who, he said, had given +some information to the Excise which had cost him a whole cargo of +Dutch specialties. The culprit was leaning against a hogshead, and was +listening to Peter's intemperate words with a very evil smile. + +"How much did ye sell yoursel' for, Sandy Beg? It took the son of a +Hieland robber like you to tell tales of a honest man's cargo. It was +an ill day when the Scots cam to Orkney, I trow." + +"She'll hae petter right to say tat same 'fore lang time." And Sandy's +face was dark with a subdued passion that Peter might have known to be +dangerous, but which he continued to aggravate by contemptuous +expressions regarding Scotchmen in general. + +This John Sabay was in no mood to bear; he very soon took offence at +Peter's sweeping abuse, and said he would relieve him at any rate of +one Scot. "He didna care to sail again wi' such a crowd as Peter +gathered round him." + +It was a very unadvised speech. Ragon lifted it at once, and in the +words which followed John unavoidably found himself associated with +Sandy Beg, a man whose character was of the lowest order. And he had +meant to be so temperate, and to part with both Peter and Ragon on the +best terms possible. How weak are all our resolutions! John turned +away from Peter's store conscious that he had given full sway to all +the irritation and disappointment of his feelings, and that he had +spoken as violently as either Peter, Ragon, or even the half-brutal +Sandy Beg. Indeed, Sandy had said very little; but the malignant look +with which he regarded Peter, John could never forget. + +This was not his only annoyance. Paul Calder's boats were fully +manned, and the others had already left for Brassey's Sound. The +Sabays were not rich; a few weeks of idleness would make the long +Orkney winter a dreary prospect. Christine and his mother sat from +morning to night braiding straw into the once famous Orkney Tuscans, +and he went to the peat-moss to cut a good stock of winter fuel; but +his earnings in money were small and precarious, and he was so anxious +that Christine's constant cheerfulness hurt him. + +Sandy Beg had indeed said something of an offer he could make "if +shentlemans wanted goot wages wi' ta chance of a lucky bit for +themsel's; foive kuineas ta month an' ta affsets. Oigh! oigh!" But +John had met the offer with such scorn and anger that Sandy had +thought it worth while to bestow one of his most wicked looks upon +him. The fact was, Sandy felt half grateful to John for his apparent +partisanship, and John indignantly resented any disposition to put him +in the same boat with a man so generally suspected and disliked. + +"It might be a come-down," he said, "for a gude sailor an' fisher to +coil peats and do days' darg, but it was honest labor; an', please +God, he'd never do that i' the week that wad hinder him fra going to +the kirk on Sabbath." + +"Oigh! she'll jist please hersel'; she'll pe owing ta Beg naething by +ta next new moon." And with a mocking laugh Sandy loitered away +towards the seashore. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Just after this interview a little lad put a note in John's hand from +Margaret Fae. It only asked him to be on Brogar Bridge at eight +o'clock that night. Now Brogar Bridge was not a spot that any Orcadian +cared to visit at such an hour. In the pagan temple whose remains +stood there it was said pale ghosts of white-robed priests still +offered up shadowy human sacrifices, and though John's faith was firm +and sure, superstitions are beyond reasoning with, and he recalled the +eerie, weird aspect of the grim stones with an unavoidable +apprehension. What could Margaret want with him in such a place and at +an hour so near that at which Peter usually went home from his shop? +He had never seen Margaret's writing, and he half suspected Sandy Beg +had more to do with the appointment than she had; but he was too +anxious to justify himself in Margaret's eyes to let any fears or +doubts prevent him from keeping the tryst. + +He had scarcely reached the Stones of Stennis when he saw her leaning +against one of them. The strange western light was over her thoughtful +face. She seemed to have become a part of the still and solemn +landscape. John had always loved her with a species of reverence; +to-night he felt almost afraid of her beauty and the power she had +over him. She was a true Scandinavian, with the tall, slender, and +rather haughty form which marks Orcadian and Zetland women. Her hair +was perhaps a little too fair and cold, and yet it made a noble +setting to the large, finely-featured, tranquil face. + +She put out her hand as John approached, and said, "Was it well that +thou shouldst quarrel with my father? I thought that thou didst love +me." + +Then John poured out his whole heart--his love for her, his mother's +demand of him, his quarrel with Ragon and Peter and Sandy Beg. "It has +been an ill time, Margaret," he said, "and thou hast been long in +comforting me." + +Well, Margaret had plenty of reasons for her delay and plenty of +comfort for her lover. Naturally slow of pulse and speech, she had +been long coming to a conclusion; but, having satisfied herself of its +justice, she was likely to be immovable in it. She gave John her hand +frankly and lovingly, and promised, in poverty or wealth, in weal or +woe, to stand truly by his side. It was not a very hopeful +troth-plighting, but they were both sure of the foundations of their +love, and both regarded the promise as solemnly binding. + +Then Margaret told John that she had heard that evening that the +captain of the Wick steamer wanted a mate, and the rough Pentland +Frith being well known to John, she hoped, if he made immediate +application, he would be accepted. If he was, John declared his +intention of at once seeing Peter and asking his consent to their +engagement. In the meantime the Bridge of Brogar was to be their +tryst, when tryst was possible. Peter's summer dwelling lay not far +from it, and it was Margaret's habit to watch for his boat and walk up +from the beach to the house with him. She would always walk over first +to Brogar, and if John could meet her there that would be well; if +not, she would understand that it was out of the way of duty, and be +content. + +John fortunately secured the mate's place. Before he could tell +Margaret this she heard her father speak well of him to the captain. +"There is nae better sailor, nor better lad, for that matter," said +Peter. "I like none that he wad hang roun' my bonnie Marg'et; but +then, a cat may look at a king without it being high treason, I wot." + +A week afterwards Peter thought differently. When John told him +honestly how matters stood between him and Margaret he was more angry +than when Sandy Beg swore away his whole Dutch cargo. He would listen +to neither love nor reason, and positively forbid him to hold any +further intercourse with his daughter. John had expected this, and was +not greatly discouraged. He had Margaret's promise. Youth is hopeful, +and they could wait; for it never entered their minds absolutely to +disobey the old man. + +In the meantime there was a kind of peacemaking between Ragon and +John. The good Dominie Sinclair had met them both one day on the +beach, and insisted on their forgiving and shaking hands. Neither of +them were sorry to do so. Men who have shared the dangers of the +deep-sea fishing and the stormy Northern Ocean together cannot look +upon each other as mere parts of a bargain. There was, too, a wild +valor and a wonderful power in emergencies belonging to Ragon that had +always dazzled John's more cautious nature. In some respects, he +thought Ragon Torr the greatest sailor that left Stromness harbor, and +Ragon was willing enough to admit that John "was a fine fellow," and +to give his hand at the dominie's direction. + +Alas! the good man's peacemaking was of short duration. As soon as +Peter told the young Norse sailor of John's offer for Margaret's hand, +Ragon's passive good-will turned to active dislike and bitter +jealousy. For, though he had taken little trouble to please Margaret, +he had come to look upon her as his future wife. He knew that Peter +wished it so, and he now imagined that it was also the only thing on +earth he cared for. + +Thus, though John was getting good wages, he was not happy. It was +rarely he got a word with Margaret, and Peter and Ragon were only too +ready to speak. It became daily more and more difficult to avoid an +open quarrel with them, and, indeed, on several occasions sharp, cruel +words, that hurt like wounds, had passed between them on the public +streets and quays. + +Thus Stromness, that used to be so pleasant to him, was changing fast. +He knew not how it was that people so readily believed him in the +wrong. In Wick, too, he had been troubled with Sandy Beg, and a kind +of nameless dread possessed him about the man; he could not get rid of +it, even after he had heard that Sandy had sailed in a whaling ship +for the Arctic seas. + +Thus things went on until the end of July. John was engaged now until +the steamer stopped running in September, and the little sum of ready +money necessary for the winter's comfort was assured. Christine sat +singing and knitting, or singing and braiding straw, and Dame Alison +went up and down her cottage with a glad heart. They knew little of +John's anxieties. Christine had listened sympathizingly to his trouble +about Margaret, and said, "Thou wait an' trust; John dear, an' at the +end a' things will be well." Even Ragon's ill-will and Peter's ill +words had not greatly frightened them--"The wrath o' man shall praise +Him," read old Alison, with just a touch of spiritual satisfaction, +"an' the rest o' the wrath he will restrain." + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +It was a Saturday night in the beginning of August, and John was at +home until the following Monday. He dressed himself and went out +towards Brogar, and Christine watched him far over the western moor, +and blessed him as he went. He had not seen Margaret for many days, +but he had a feeling to-night that she would be able to keep her +tryst. And there, standing amid the rushes on the lakeside, he found +her. They had so much to say to each other that Margaret forgot her +father's return, and delayed so long that she thought it best to go +straight home, instead of walking down the beach to meet him. + +He generally left Stromness about half-past eight, and his supper was +laid for nine o'clock. But this night nine passed, and he did not +come; and though the delay could be accounted for in various ways, she +had a dim but anxious forecasting of calamity in her heart. The +atmosphere of the little parlor grew sorrowful and heavy, the lamp did +not seem to light it, her father's chair had a deserted, lonely +aspect, the house was strangely silent; in fifteen minutes she had +forgotten how happy she had been, and wandered to and from the door +like some soul in an uneasy dream. + +All at once she heard the far-away shouting of angry and alarmed +voices, and to her sensitive ears her lover's and her father's names +were mingled. It was her nature to act slowly; for a few moments she +could not decide what was to be done. The first thought was the +servants. There were only two, Hacon Flett and Gerda Vedder. Gerda had +gone to bed, Hacon was not on the place. As she gathered her energies +together she began to walk rapidly over the springy heath towards the +white sands of the beach. Her father, if he was coming, would come +that way. She was angry with herself for the _if_. Of course he was +coming. What was there to prevent it? She told herself, Nothing, and +the next moment looked up and saw two men coming towards her, and in +their arms a figure which she knew instinctively was her father's. + +She slowly retraced her steps, set open the gate and the door, and +waited for the grief that was coming to her. But however slow her +reasoning faculties, her soul knew in a moment what it needed. It was +but a little prayer said with trembling lips and fainting heart; but +no prayer loses its way. Straight to the heart of Christ it went. And +the answer was there and the strength waiting when Ragon and Hacon +brought in the bleeding, dying old man, and laid him down upon his +parlor floor. + +Ragon said but one word, "Stabbed!" and then, turning to Hacon, bid +him ride for life and death into Stromness for a doctor. Most sailors +of these islands know a little rude surgery, and Ragon stayed beside +his friend, doing what he could to relieve the worst symptoms. +Margaret, white and still, went hither and thither, bringing whatever +Ragon wanted, and fearing, she knew not why, to ask any questions. + +With the doctor came the dominie and two of the town bailies. There +was little need of the doctor; Peter Fae's life was ebbing rapidly +away with every moment of time. There was but little time now for +whatever had yet to be done. The dominie stooped first to his ear, and +in a few solemn words bid him lay himself at the foot of the cross. +"Thou'lt never perish there, Peter," he said; and the dying man seemed +to catch something of the comfort of such an assurance. + +Then Bailie Inkster said, "Peter Fae, before God an' his +minister--before twa o' the town bailies an' thy ain daughter +Margaret, an' thy friend Ragon Torr, an' thy servants Hacon Flett an' +Gerda Vedder, thou art now to say what man stabbed thee." + +Peter made one desperate effort, a wild, passionate gleam shot from +the suddenly-opened eyes, and he cried out in a voice terrible in its +despairing anger, "_John Sabay! John Sabay--stabb-ed--me! +Indeed--he--did_!" + +"Oh, forgive him, man! forgive him! Dinna think o' that now, Peter! +Cling to the cross--cling to the cross, man! Nane ever perished that +only won to the foot o' it." Then the pleading words were whispered +down into fast-sealing ears, and the doctor quietly led away a poor +heart-stricken girl, who was too shocked to weep and too humbled and +wretched to tell her sorrow to any one but God. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +The bailies, after hearing the deposition, immediately repaired to +John Sabay's cottage. It was Saturday night, and no warrant could now +be got, but the murderer must be secured. No two men bent on such an +errand ever found it more difficult to execute. The little family had +sat later than usual. John had always news they were eager to hear--of +tourists and strangers he had seen in Wick, or of the people the +steamer had brought to Kirkwall. + +He was particularly cheerful this evening; his interview with Margaret +had been hopeful and pleasant, and Christine had given the houseplace +and the humble supper-table quite a festival look. They had sat so +long over the meal that when the bailies entered John was only then +reading the regular portion for the evening exercise. All were a +little amazed at the visit, but no one thought for a moment of +interrupting the Scripture; and the two men sat down and listened +attentively while John finished the chapter. + +Bailie Tulloch then rose and went towards the dame. He was a far-off +cousin of the Sabays, and, though not on the best of terms with them, +his relationship was considered to impose the duty particularly on +him. + +"Gude-e'en, if thou comes on a gude errand," said old Dame Alison, +suspiciously; "but that's no thy custom, bailie." + +"I came, dame, to ask John anent Peter Fae." + +The dame laughed pleasantly. "If thou had asked him anent Margaret +Fae, he could tell thee more about it." + +"This is nae laughing matter, dame. Peter Fae has been murdered--yes, +murdered! An' he said, ere he died, that John Sabay did the deed." + +"Then Peter Fae died wi' a lie on his lips--tell them that, John," and +the old woman's face was almost majestic in its defiance and anger. + +"I hae not seen Peter Fae for a week," said John. "God knows that, +bailie. I wad be the vera last man to hurt a hair o' his gray head; +why he is Margaret's father!" + +"Still, John, though we hae nae warrant to hold thee, we are beholden +to do sae; an' thou maun come wi' us," said Bailie Inkster. + +"Wrang has nae warrant at ony time, an' ye will no touch my lad," said +Alison, rising and standing before her son. + +"Come, dame, keep a still tongue." + +"My tongue's no under thy belt, Tulloch; but it's weel kenned that +since thou wranged us thou ne'er liked us." + +"Mother, mother, dinna fash theesel'. It's naught at a' but a mistake; +an' I'll gae wi' Bailie Inkster, if he's feared to tak my word." + +"I could tak thy word fain enough, John--" + +"But the thing isna possible, Inkster. Besides, if he were missing +Monday morn, I, being i' some sort a relation, wad be under suspicion +o' helping him awa." + +"Naebody wad e'er suspect thee o' a helping or mercifu' deed, Tulloch. +Indeed na!" + +"Tak care, dame; thou art admitting it wad be a mercifu' deed. I heard +Peter Fae say that John Sabay stabbed him, an' Ragon Torr and Hacon +Flett saw John, as I understan' the matter." + +"Mother," said John, "do thou talk to nane but God. Thou wilt hae to +lead the prayer theesel' to-night; dinna forget me. I'm as innocent o' +this matter as Christine is; mak up thy mind on that." + +"God go wi' thee, John. A' the men i' Orkney can do nae mair than they +may against thee." + +"It's an unco grief an' shame to me," said Tulloch, "but the Sabays +hae aye been a thorn i' the flesh to me, an' John's the last o' them, +the last o' them!" + +"Thou art makin' thy count without Providence, Tulloch. There's mair +Sabays than Tullochs; for there's Ane for them that counts far beyont +an' above a' that can be against them. Now, thou step aff my honest +hearthstane--there is mair room for thee without than within." + +Then John held his mother's and sister's hands a moment, and there was +such _virtue_ in the clasp, and such light and trust in their faces, +that it was impossible for him not to catch hope from them. Suddenly +Bailie Tulloch noticed that John was in his Sabbath-day clothes. In +itself this was not remarkable on a Saturday night. Most of the people +kept this evening as a kind of preparation for the Holy Day, and the +best clothing and the festival meal were very general. But just then +it struck the bailies as worth inquiring about. + +"Where are thy warking-claes, John--the uniform, I mean, o' that +steamship company thou sails for--and why hast na them on thee?" + +"I had a visit to mak, an' I put on my best to mak it in. The ithers +are i' my room." + +"Get them, Christine." + +Christine returned in a few minutes pale-faced and empty-handed. "They +are not there, John, nor yet i' thy kist." + +"I thought sae." + +"Then God help me, sister! I know not where they are." + +Even Bailie Inkster looked doubtful and troubled at this circumstance. +Silence, cold and suspicious, fell upon them, and poor John went away +half-bereft of all the comfort his mother's trust and Christine's look +had given him. + +The next day being Sabbath, no one felt at liberty to discuss the +subject; but as the little groups passed one another on their way to +church their solemn looks and their doleful shakes of the head +testified to its presence in their thoughts. The dominie indeed, +knowing how nearly impossible it would be for them not to think their +own thoughts this Lord's day, deemed it best to guide those thoughts +to charity. He begged every one to be kind to all in deep affliction, +and to think no evil until it was positively known who the guilty +person was. + +Indeed, in spite of the almost overwhelming evidence against John +Sabay, there was a strong disposition to believe him innocent. "If ye +believe a' ye hear, ye may eat a' ye see," said Geordie Sweyn. "Maybe +John Sabay killed old Peter Fae, but every maybe has a may-not-be." +And to this remark there were more nods of approval than shakes of +dissent. + +But affairs, even with this gleam of light, were dark enough to the +sorrowful family. John's wages had stopped, and the winter fuel was +not yet all cut. A lawyer had to be procured, and they must mortgage +their little cottage to do it; and although ten days had passed, +Margaret Fae had not shown, either by word or deed, what was her +opinion regarding John's guilt or innocence. + +But Margaret, as before said, was naturally slow in all her movements, +so slow that even Scotch caution had begun to call her cruel or +careless. But this was a great injustice. She had weighed carefully in +her own mind everything against John, and put beside it his own letter +to her and her intimate knowledge of his character, and then solemnly +sat down in God's presence to take such counsel as he should put into +her heart. After many prayerful, waiting days she reached a conclusion +which was satisfactory to herself; and she then put away from her +every doubt of John's innocence, and resolved on the course to be +pursued. + +In the first place she would need money to clear the guiltless and to +seek the guilty, and she resolved to continue her father's business. +She had assisted him so long with his accounts that his methods were +quite familiar to her; all she needed was some one to handle the rough +goods, and stand between her and the rude sailors with whom the +business was mainly conducted. + +Who was this to be? Ragon Torr? She was sure Ragon would have been her +father's choice. He had taken all charge of the funeral, and had since +hung round the house, ready at any moment to do her service. But Ragon +would testify against John Sabay, and she had besides an unaccountable +antipathy to his having any nearer relation with her. "I'll ask +Geordie Sweyn," she said, after a long consultation with her own slow +but sure reasoning powers; "he'll keep the skippers an' farmers i' awe +o' him; an' he's just as honest as any ither man." + +So Geordie was sent for and the proposal made and accepted. "Thou wilt +surely be true to me, Geordie?" + +"As sure as death, Miss Margaret;" and when he gave her his great +brawny hand on it, she knew her affairs in that direction were safe. + +Next morning the shop was opened as usual, and Geordie Sweyn stood in +Peter Fae's place. The arrangement had been finally made so rapidly +that it had taken all Stromness by surprise. But no one said anything +against it; many believed it to be wisely done, and those who did not, +hardly cared to express dissatisfaction with a man whose personal +prowess and ready hand were so well known. + +The same day Christine received a very sisterly letter from Margaret, +begging her to come and talk matters over with her. There were such +obvious reasons why Margaret could not go to Christine, that the +latter readily complied with the request; and such was the influence +that this calm, cool, earnest girl had over the elder woman, that she +not only prevailed upon her to accept money to fee the lawyer in +John's defence, but also whatever was necessary for their comfort +during the approaching winter. Thus Christine and Margaret mutually +strengthened each other, and both cottage and prison were always the +better for every meeting. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +But soon the summer passed away, and the storms and snows of winter +swept over the lonely island. There would be no court until December +to try John, and his imprisonment in Kirkwall jail grew every day more +dreary. But no storms kept Christine long away from him. Over almost +impassable roads and mosses she made her way on the little ponies of +the country, which had to perform a constant steeple-chase over the +bogs and chasms. + +All things may be borne when they are sure; and every one who loved +John was glad when at last he could have a fair hearing. Nothing +however was in his favor. The bailies and the murdered man's servants, +even the dominie and his daughter could tell but one tale. "Peter Fae +had declared with his last breath that John Sabay had stabbed him." +The prosecution also brought forward strong evidence to show that very +bitter words had passed, a few days before the murder, between the +prisoner and the murdered man. + +In the sifting of this evidence other points were brought out, still +more convincing. Hacon Flett said that he was walking to Stromness by +the beach to meet his sweetheart, when he heard the cry of murder, and +in the gloaming light saw John Sabay distinctly running across the +moor. When asked how he knew certainly that it was John, he said that +he knew him by his peculiar dress, its bright buttons, and the glimmer +of gold braid on his cap. He said also, in a very decided manner, that +John Sabay passed Ragon Torr so closely that he supposed they had +spoken. + +Then Ragon being put upon his oath, and asked solemnly to declare who +was the man that had thus passed him, tremblingly answered, + +"_John Sabay!_" + +John gave him such a look as might well haunt a guilty soul through +all eternity; and old Dame Alison, roused by a sense of intolerable +wrong, cried out, + +"Know this, there's a day coming that will show the black heart; but +traitors' words ne'er yet hurt the honest cause." + +"Peace, woman!" said an officer of the court, not unkindly. + +"Weel, then, God speak for me! an' my thoughts are free; if I daurna +say, I may think." + +In defence Margaret Fae swore that she had been with John on Brogar +Bridge until nearly time to meet her father, and that John then wore a +black broadcloth suit and a high hat; furthermore, that she believed +it utterly impossible for him to have gone home, changed his clothes, +and then reached the scene of the murder at the time Hacon Flett and +Ragon Torr swore to his appearance there. + +But watches were very uncommon then; no one of the witnesses had any +very distinct idea of the time; some of them varied as much as an hour +in their estimate. It was also suggested by the prosecution that John +probably had the other suit secreted near the scene of the murder. +Certain it was that he had not been able either to produce it or to +account for its mysterious disappearance. + +The probability of Sandy Beg being the murderer was then advanced; but +Sandy was known to have sailed in a whaling vessel before the murder, +and no one had seen him in Stromness since his departure for Wick +after his dismissal from Peter Fae's service. + +No one? Yes, some one had seen him. That fatal night, as Ragon Torr +was crossing the moor to Peter's house--he having some news of a very +particular vessel to give--he heard the cry of "Murder," and he heard +Hacon Flett call out, "I know thee, John Sabay. Thou hast stabbed my +master!" and he instantly put himself in the way of the flying man. +Then he knew at once that it was Sandy Beg in John Sabay's clothes. +The two men looked a moment in each other's face, and Sandy saw in +Ragon's something that made him say, + +"She'll pat Sandy safe ta night, an' that will mak her shure o' ta +lass she's seeking far." + +There was no time for parley; Ragon's evil nature was strongest, and +he answered, "There is a cellar below my house, thou knows it weel." + +Indeed, most of the houses in Stromness had underground passages, and +places of concealment used for smuggling purposes, and Ragon's lonely +house was a favorite rendezvous. The vessel whose arrival he had been +going to inform Peter of was a craft not likely to come into Stromness +with all her cargo. + +Towards morning Ragon had managed to see Sandy and send him out to her +with such a message as insured her rapid disappearance. Sandy had also +with him a sum of money which he promised to use in transporting +himself at once to India, where he had a cousin in the forty-second +Highland regiment. + +Ragon had not at first intended to positively swear away his friend's +life; he had been driven to it, not only by Margaret's growing +antipathy to him and her decided interest in John's case and family, +but also by that mysterious power of events which enable the devil to +forge the whole chain that binds a man when the first link is given +him. But the word once said, he adhered positively to it, and even +asserted it with quite unnecessary vehemence and persistence. + +After such testimony there was but one verdict possible. John Sabay +was declared guilty of murder, and sentenced to death. But there was +still the same strange and unreasonable belief in his innocence, and +the judge, with a peculiar stretch of clemency, ordered the sentence +to be suspended until he could recommend the prisoner to his majesty's +mercy. + +A remarkable change now came over Dame Alison. Her anger, her sense of +wrong, her impatience, were over. She had come now to where she could +do nothing else but trust implicitly in God; and her mind, being thus +stayed, was kept in a strange exultant kind of perfect peace. Lost +confidence? Not a bit of it! Both Christine and her mother had reached +a point where they knew + + "That right is right, since God is God, + And right the day must win; + To doubt would be disloyalty, + To falter would be sin." + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Slowly the weary winter passed away. And just as spring was opening +there began to be talk of Ragon Torr's going away. Margaret continued +to refuse his addresses with a scorn he found it ill to bear; and he +noticed that many of his old acquaintances dropped away from him. +There is a distinct atmosphere about every man, and the atmosphere +about Ragon people began to avoid. No one could have given a very +clear reason for doing so; one man did not ask another why; but the +fact needed no reasoning about, it was there. + +One day, when Paul Calder was making up his spring cargoes, Ragon +asked for a boat, and being a skilful sailor, he was accepted. But no +sooner was the thing known, than Paul had to seek another crew. + +"What was the matter?" + +"Nothing; they did not care to sail with Ragon Torr, that was all." + +This circumstance annoyed Ragon very much. He went home quite +determined to leave Stromness at once and for ever. Indeed he had been +longing to do so for many weeks, but had stayed partly out of bravado, +and partly because there were few opportunities of getting away during +the winter. + +He went home and shut himself in his own room, and began to count his +hoarded gold. While thus employed, there was a stir or movement under +his feet which he quite understood. Some one was in the secret cellar, +and was coming up. He turned hastily round, and there was Sandy Beg. + +"Thou scoundrel!" and he fairly gnashed his teeth at the intruder, +"what dost thou want here?" + +"She'll be wanting money an' help." + +Badly enough Sandy wanted both; and a dreadful story he told. He had +indeed engaged himself at Wick for a whaling voyage, but at the last +moment had changed his mind and deserted. For somewhere among the +wilds of Rhiconich in Sutherland he had a mother, a wild, +superstitious, half-heathen Highland woman, and he wanted to see her. +Coming back to the coast, after his visit, he had stopped a night at a +little wayside inn, and hearing some drovers talking of their gold in +Gallic, a language which he well understood, he had followed them into +the wild pass of Gualon, and there shot them from behind a rock. For +this murder he had been tracked, and was now so closely pursued that +he had bribed with all the gold he had a passing fishing-smack to drop +him at Stromness during the night. + +"She'll gae awa now ta some ither place; 'teet will she! An' she's +hungry--an' unco dry;" all of which Sandy emphasized by a desperate +and very evil look. + +The man was not to be trifled with, and Ragon knew that he was in his +power. If Sandy was taken, he would confess all, and Ragon knew well +that in such case transportation for life and hard labor would be his +lot. Other considerations pressed him heavily--the shame, the loss, +the scorn of Margaret, the triumph of all his ill-wishers. No, he had +gone too far to retreat. + +He fed the villain, gave him a suit of his own clothes, and £50, and +saw him put off to sea. Sandy promised to keep well out in the bay, +until some vessel going North to Zetland or Iceland, or some Dutch +skipper bound for Amsterdam, took him up. All the next day Ragon was +in misery, but nightfall came and he had heard nothing of Sandy, +though several craft had come into port. If another day got over he +would feel safe; but he told himself that he was in a gradually +narrowing circle, and that the sooner he leaped outside of it the +better. + +When he reached home the old couple who hung about the place, and who +had learned to see nothing and to hear nothing, came to him and +voluntarily offered a remark. + +"Queer folk an' strange folk have been here, an' ta'en awa some claes +out o' the cellar." + +Ragon asked no questions. He knew what clothes they were--that suit of +John Sabay's in which Sandy Beg had killed Peter Fae, and the rags +which Sandy had a few hours before exchanged for one of his own +sailing-suits. He needed no one to tell him what had happened. Sandy +had undoubtedly bespoke the very vessel containing the officers in +search of him, and had confessed all, as he said he would. The men +were probably at this moment looking for him. + +He lifted the gold prepared for any such emergency, and, loosening his +boat, pulled for life and death towards Mayness Isle. Once in the +rapid "race" that divides it and Olla from the ocean, he knew no boat +would dare to follow him. While yet a mile from it he saw that he was +rapidly pursued by a four-oared boat. Now all his wild Norse nature +asserted itself. He forgot everything but that he was eluding his +pursuers, and as the chase grew hotter, closer, more exciting, his +enthusiasm carried him far beyond all prudence. + +He began to shout or chant to his wild efforts some old Norse +death-song, and just as they gained on him he shot into the "race" and +defied them. Oars were useless there, and they watched him fling them +far away and stand up with outstretched arms in the little skiff. The +waves tossed it hither and thither, the boiling, racing flood hurried +it with terrific force towards the ocean. The tall, massive figure +swayed like a reed in a tempest, and suddenly the half despairing, +half defying song was lost in the roar of the bleak, green surges. All +knew then what had happened. + +"Let me die the death o' the righteous," murmured one old man, piously +veiling his eyes with his bonnet; and then the boat turned and went +silently back to Stromness. + +Sandy Beg was in Kirkwall jail. He had made a clean breast of all his +crimes, and measures were rapidly taken for John Sabay's enlargement +and justification. When he came out of prison Christine and Margaret +were waiting for him, and it was to Margaret's comfortable home he was +taken to see his mother. "For we are ane household now, John," she +said tenderly, "an' Christine an' mother will ne'er leave me any +mair." + +Sandy's trial came on at the summer term. He was convicted on his own +confession, and sentenced to suffer the penalty of his crime upon the +spot where he stabbed Peter Fae. For some time he sulkily rejected all +John's efforts to mitigate his present condition, or to prepare him +for his future. But at last the tender spot in his heart was found. +John discovered his affection for his half-savage mother, and promised +to provide for all her necessities. + +"It's only ta poun' o' taa, an' ta bit cabin ta shelter her she'll +want at a'," but the tears fell heavily on the red, hairy hands; "an' +she'll na tell her fat ill outsent cam to puir Sandy." + +"Thou kens I will gie her a' she needs, an' if she chooses to come to +Orkney--" + +"Na, na, she wullna leave ta Hieland hills for naught at a'." + +"Then she shall hae a siller crown for every month o' the year, +Sandy." + +The poor, rude creature hardly knew how to say a "thanks;" but John +saw it in his glistening eyes and heard it in the softly-muttered +words, "She was ta only are tat e'er caret for Santy Beg." + +It was a solemn day in Stromness when he went to the gallows. The +bells tolled backward, the stores were all closed, and there were +prayers both in public and private for the dying criminal. But few +dared to look upon the awful expiation, and John spent the hour in +such deep communion with God and his own soul that its influence +walked with him to the end of life. + +And when his own sons were grown up to youths, one bound for the sea +and the other for Marischal College, Aberdeen, he took them aside and +told them this story, adding, + +"An' know this, my lads: the shame an' the sorrow cam a' o' ane +thing--I made light o' my mother's counsel, an' thought I could do +what nane hae ever done, gather mysel' with the deil's journeymen, an' +yet escape the wages o' sin. Lads! lads! there's nae half-way house +atween right and wrang; know that." + +"But, my father," said Hamish, the younger of the two, "thou did at +the last obey thy mother." + +"Ay, ay, Hamish; but mak up thy mind to this: it isna enough that a +man rins a gude race; he maun also _start at the right time_. This is +what I say to thee, Hamish, an' to thee, Donald: fear God, an' ne'er +lightly heed a gude mother's advice. It's weel wi' the lads that carry +a mother's blessing through the warld wi' them." + + + + +Lile Davie. + + + + +LILE DAVIE. + + +In Yorkshire and Lancashire the word "lile" means "little," but in the +Cumberland dales it has a far wider and nobler definition. There it is +a term of honor, of endearment, of trust, and of approbation. David +Denton won the pleasant little prefix before he was ten years old. +When he saved little Willy Sabay out of the cold waters of Thirlmere, +the villagers dubbed him "Lile Davie." When he took a flogging to +spare the crippled lad of Farmer Grimsby, men and women said proudly, +"He were a lile lad;" and when he gave up his rare half-holiday to +help the widow Gates glean, they had still no higher word of praise +than "kind lile Davie." + +However, it often happens that a prophet has no honor among his own +people, and David was the black sheep of the miserly household of +Denton Farm. It consisted of old Christopher Denton, his three sons, +Matthew, Sam, and David, and his daughter Jennie. They had the +reputation of being "people well-to-do," but they were not liked among +the Cumberland "states-men," who had small sympathy for their +niggardly hospitality and petty deeds of injustice. + +One night in early autumn Christopher was sitting at the great black +oak table counting over the proceeds of the Kendal market, and Matt +and Sam looked greedily on. There was some dispute about the wool and +the number of sheep, and Matt said angrily, "There's summat got to be +done about Davie. He's just a clish-ma-saunter, lying among the ling +wi' a book in his hand the lee-long day. It is just miff-maff and +nonsense letting him go any longer to the schoolmaster. I am fair +jagged out wi' his ways." + +"That's so," said Sam. + +"Then why don't you gie the lad a licking, and make him mind the sheep +better? I saw him last Saturday playing sogers down at Thirlston with +a score or more of idle lads like himsel'." The old man spoke +irritably, and looked round for the culprit. "I'll lay thee a penny +he's at the same game now. Gie him a licking when he comes in, son +Matt." + +"Nay, but Matt wont," said Jennie Denton, with a quiet decision. She +stood at her big wheel, spinning busily, though it was nine o'clock; +and though her words were few and quiet, the men knew from her face +and manner that Davie's licking would not be easily accomplished. In +fact, Jennie habitually stood between Davie and his father and +brothers. She had nursed him through a motherless babyhood, and had +always sympathized in his eager efforts to rise above the sordid life +that encompassed him. It was Jennie who had got him the grudging +permission to go in the evening to the village schoolmaster for some +book-learning. But peculiar circumstances had favored her in this +matter, for neither the old man nor his sons could read or write, and +they had begun to find this, in their changed position, and in the +rapid growth of general information, a serious drawback in business +matters. + +Therefore, as Davie could not be spared in the day, the schoolmaster +agreed for a few shillings a quarter to teach him in the evening. This +arrangement altered the lad's whole life. He soon mastered the simple +branches he had been sent to acquire, and then master and pupil far +outstepped old Christopher's programme, and in the long snowy nights, +and in the balmy summer ones, pored with glowing cheeks over old +histories and wonderful lives of great soldiers and sailors. + +In fact, David Denton, like most good sons, had a great deal of his +mother in him, and she had been the daughter of a long line of brave +Westmoreland troopers. The inherited tendencies which had passed over +the elder boys asserted themselves with threefold force in this last +child of a dying woman. And among the sheepcotes in the hills he felt +that he was the son of the men who had defied Cromwell on the banks of +the Kent and followed Prince Charlie to Preston. + +But the stern discipline of a Cumberland states-man's family is not +easily broken. Long after David had made up his mind to be a soldier +he continued to bear the cuffs and sneers and drudgery that fell to +him, watching eagerly for some opportunity of securing his father's +permission. But of this there was little hope. His knowledge of +writing and accounts had become of service, and his wish to go into +the world and desert the great cause of the Denton economies was an +unheard-of piece of treason and ingratitude. + +David ventured to say that he "had taught Jennie to write and count, +and she was willing to do his work." + +The ignorant, loutish brothers scorned the idea of "women-folk +meddling wi' their 'counts and wool," and, "besides," as Matt argued, +"Davie's going would necessitate the hiring of two shepherds; no hired +man would do more than half of what folk did for their ain." + +These disputes grew more frequent and more angry, and when Davie had +added to all his other faults the unpardonable one of falling in love +with the schoolmaster's niece, there was felt to be no hope for the +lad. The Dentons had no poor relations; they regarded them as the one +thing _not_ needful, and they concluded it was better to give Davie a +commission and send him away. + +Poor Jennie did all the mourning for the lad; his father and brothers +were in the midst of a new experiment for making wool water-proof, and +pretty Mary Butterworth did not love David as David wished her to love +him. It was Jennie only who hung weeping on his neck and watched him +walk proudly and sorrowfully away over the hills into the wide, wide +world beyond. + +Then for many, many long years no more was heard of "Lile Davie +Denton." The old schoolmaster died and Christopher followed him. But +the Denton brothers remained together. However, when men make saving +money the sole end of their existence, their life soon becomes as +uninteresting as the multiplication table, and people ceased to care +about the Denton farm, especially as Jennie married a wealthy squire +over the mountains, and left her brothers to work out alone their new +devices and economies. + +Jennie's marriage was a happy one, but she did not forget her brother. +There was in Esthwaite Grange a young man who bore his name and who +was preparing for a like career. And often Jennie Esthwaite told to +the lads and lasses around her knees the story of their "lile uncle," +whom every one but his own kin had loved, and who had gone away to the +Indies and never come back again. "Lile Davie" was the one bit of +romance in Esthwaite Grange. + +Jennie's brothers had never been across the "fells" that divided +Denton from Esthwaite; therefore, one morning, twenty-seven years +after Davie's departure, she was astonished to see Matt coming slowly +down the Esthwaite side. But she met him with hearty kindness, and +after he had been rested and refreshed he took a letter from his +pocket and said, "Jennie, this came from Davie six months syne, but I +thought then it would be seeking trouble to answer it." + +"Why, Matt, this letter is directed to me! How dared you open and keep +it?" + +"Dared, indeed! That's a nice way for a woman to speak to her eldest +brother!' Read it, and then you'll see why I kept it from you." + +Poor Jennie's eyes filled fuller at every line. He was sick and +wounded and coming home to die, and wanted to see his old home and +friends once more. + +"O Matt! Matt!" she cried; "how cruel, how shameful, not to answer +this appeal." + +"Well, I did it for the best; but it seems I have made a mistake. Sam +and I both thought an ailing body dovering round the hearthstone and +doorstone was not to be thought of--and nobody to do a hand's turn but +old Elsie, who is nearly blind--and Davie never was one to do a decent +hand job, let by it was herding sheep, and that it was not like he'd +be fit for; so we just agreed to let the matter lie where it was." + +"Oh, it was a cruel shame, Matt." + +"Well, it was a mistake; for yesterday Sam went to Kendall, and there, +in the Stramon-gate, he met Tom Philipson, who is just home from +India. And what does Tom say but, 'Have you seen the general yet?' +and, 'Great man is Gen. Denton,' and, 'Is it true that he is going to +buy the Derwent estate?' and, 'Wont the Indian Government miss Gen. +Denton!' Sam wasn't going to let Tom see how the land lay, and Tom +went off saying that Sam had no call to be so pesky proud; that it +wasn't him who had conquered the Mahrattas and taken the Ghiznee +Pass." + +Jennie was crying bitterly, and saying softly to herself, "O my brave +laddie! O my bonnie lile Davie!" + +"Hush, woman! No good comes of crying. Write now as soon as you like, +and the sooner the better." + +In a very few hours Jennie had acted on this advice, and, though the +writing and spelling were wonderful, the poor sick general, nursing +himself at the Bath waters, felt the love that spoke in every word. He +had not expected much from his brothers; it was Jennie and Jennie's +bairns he wanted to see. He was soon afterwards an honored guest in +Esthwaite Grange, and the handsome old soldier, riding slowly among +the lovely dales, surrounded by his nephews and nieces, became a +well-known sight to the villages around. + +Many in Thirlston remembered him, and none of his old companions found +themselves forgotten. Nor did he neglect his brothers. These cautious +men had become of late years manufacturers, and it was said were +growing fabulously rich. They had learned the value of the low coppice +woods on their fell-side, and had started a bobbin-mill which Sam +superintended, while Matt was on constant duty at the great steam-mill +on Milloch-Force, where he spun his own wools into blankets and +serges. + +The men were not insensible to the honor of their brother's career; +they made great capital of it privately. But they were also intensely +dissatisfied at the reckless way in which he spent his wealth. Young +David Esthwaite had joined a crack regiment with his uncle's +introduction and at his uncle's charges, and Jennie and Mary Esthwaite +had been what the brothers considered extravagantly dowered in order +that they might marry two poor clergymen whom they had set their +hearts on. + +"It is just sinful, giving women that much good gold," said Matt +angrily: "and here we are needing it to keep a great business afloat." + +It was the first time Matt had dared to hint that the mill under his +care was not making money, and he was terribly shocked when Sam made a +similar confession. In fact, the brothers, with all their cleverness +and industry, were so ignorant that they were necessarily at the mercy +of those they employed, and they had fallen into roguish hands. Sam +proposed that David should be asked to look over their affairs and +tell them where the leakage was: "He was always a lile-hearted chap, +and I'd trust him, Matt, up hill and down dale, I would." + +But Matt objected to this plan. He said David must be taken through +the mills and the most made of everything, and then in a week or two +afterwards be offered a partnership; and Matt, being the eldest, +carried the day. A great festival was arranged, everything was seen to +the best advantage, and David was exceedingly interested. He lingered +with a strange fascination among the steam-looms, and Matt saw the +bait had taken, for as they walked back together to the old homestead +David said, "You were ever a careful man, Matt, but it must take a +deal of money--you understand, brother--if you need at any time--I +hope I don't presume." + +"Certainly not. Yes, we are doing a big business--a very good business +indeed; perhaps when you are stronger you may like to join us." + +"I sha'n't get stronger, Matt--so I spoke now." + +Sam, in his anxiety, thought Matt had been too prudent; he would have +accepted Davie's offer at once; but Matt was sure that by his plan +they would finally get all the general's money into their hands. +However, the very clever always find some quantity that they have +failed to take into account. After this long day at the mills General +Denton had a severe relapse, and it was soon evident that his work was +nearly finished. + +"But you must not fret, Jennie dear," he said cheerfully; "I am indeed +younger in years than you, but then I have lived a hundred times as +long. What a stirring, eventful life I have had! I must have lived a +cycle among these hills to have evened it; and most of my comrades are +already gone." + +One day, at the very last, he said, "Jennie, there is one bequest in +my will may astonish you, but it is all right. I went to see her a +month ago. She is a widow now with a lot of little lads around her. +And I loved her, Jennie--never loved any woman but her. Poor Mary! She +has had a hard time; I have tried to make things easier." + +"You had always a lile heart, Davie; you could do no wrong to any +one." + +"I hope not. I--hope--not." And with these words and a pleasant smile +the general answered some call that he alone heard, and trusting in +his Saviour, passed confidently + + "The quicks and drift that fill the rift + Between this world and heaven." + +His will, written in the kindest spirit, caused a deal of angry +feeling; for it was shown by it that after his visit to the Denton +Mills he had revoked a bequest to the brothers of £20,000, because, as +he explicitly said, "My dear brothers do not need it;" and this +£20,000 he left to Mary Butterworth Pierson, "who is poor and +delicate, and does sorely need it." And the rest of his property he +divided between Jennie and Jennie's bairns. + +In the first excitement of their disappointment and ruin, Sam, who +dreaded his brother's anger, and who yet longed for some sympathetic +word, revealed to Jennie and her husband the plan Matt had laid, and +how signally it had failed. + +"I told him, squire, I did for sure, to be plain and honest with +Davie. Davie was always a lile fellow, and he would have helped us out +of trouble. Oh, dear! oh, dear! that £20,000 would just have put a' +things right." + +"A straight line, lad, is always the shortest line in business and +morals, as well as in geometry; and I have aye found that to be true +in my dealings is to be wise. Lying serves no one but the devil, as +ever I made out." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Scottish sketches, by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCOTTISH SKETCHES *** + +***** This file should be named 14494-8.txt or 14494-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/4/9/14494/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Amy and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading +Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Barr + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-family: Times New Roman; font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Project Gutenberg's Scottish sketches, by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Scottish sketches + +Author: Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +Release Date: December 28, 2004 [EBook #14494] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCOTTISH SKETCHES *** + + +Etext produced by Ted Garvin, Amy and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading +Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + SCOTTISH SKETCHES + </h1> + <h2> + By Amelia E. Barr + </h2> + <h4> + 1883 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> CRAWFORD'S SAIR STRAIT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> JAMES BLACKIE'S REVENGE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> FACING HIS ENEMY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> ANDREW CARGILL'S CONFESSION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> ONE WRONG STEP. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> LILE DAVIE. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CRAWFORD'S SAIR STRAIT. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + Alexander Crawford sat reading a book which he studied frequently with a + profound interest. Not the Bible: that volume had indeed its place of + honor in the room, but the book Crawford read was a smaller one; it was + stoutly bound and secured by a brass lock, and it was all in manuscript. + It was his private ledger, and it contained his bank account. Its contents + seemed to give him much solid satisfaction; and when at last he locked the + volume and replaced it in his secretary, it was with that careful respect + which he considered due to the representative of so many thousand pounds. + </p> + <p> + He was in a placid mood, and strangely inclined to retrospection. + Thoughtfully fingering the key which locked up the record of his wealth, + he walked to the window and looked out. It was a dreary prospect of brown + moor and gray sea, but Crawford loved it. The bare land and the barren + mountains was the country of the Crawfords. He had a fixed idea that it + always had been theirs, and whenever he told himself—as he did this + night—that so many acres of old Scotland were actually his own, he + was aggressively a Scotchman. + </p> + <p> + "It is a bonnie bit o' land," he murmured, "and I hae done as my father + Laird Archibald told me. If we should meet in another warld I'll be able + to gie a good account o' Crawford and Traquare. It is thirty years + to-night since he gave me the ring off his finger, and said, 'Alexander, I + am going the way o' all flesh; be a good man, and <i>grip tight</i>.' I + hae done as he bid me; there is #80,000 in the Bank o' Scotland, and every + mortgage lifted. I am vera weel pleased wi' mysel' to-night. I hae been a + good holder o' Crawford and Traquare." + </p> + <p> + His self-complacent reflections were cut short by the entrance of his + daughter. She stood beside him, and laid her hand upon his arm with a + caressing gesture. No other living creature durst have taken that liberty + with him; but to Crawford his daughter Helen was a being apart from common + humanity. She was small, but very lovely, with something almost + Puritanical in her dainty, precise dress and carefully snooded golden + hair. + </p> + <p> + "Father!" + </p> + <p> + "Helen, my bird." + </p> + <p> + "Colin is coming home. I have just had a letter from him. He has taken + high honors in Glasgow. We'll both be proud of Colin, father." + </p> + <p> + "What has he done?" + </p> + <p> + "He has written a prize poem in Latin and Greek, and he is second in + mathematics." + </p> + <p> + "Latin and Greek! Poor ghostlike languages that hae put off flesh and + blood lang syne. Poetry! Warse than nonsense! David and Solomon hae gien + us such sacred poetry as is good and necessary; and for sinfu' love verses + and such vanities, if Scotland must hae them, Robert Burns is mair than + enough. As to mathematics, there's naething against them. A study that is + founded on figures is to be depended upon; it has nae flights and fancies. + You ken what you are doing wi' figures. When is this clever fellow to be + here?" + </p> + <p> + "He is coming by the afternoon packet to-morrow. We must send the carriage + to meet it, for Colin is bringing a stranger with him. I came to ask you + if I must have the best guest-room made ready." + </p> + <p> + "Wha for?" + </p> + <p> + "He is an English gentleman, from London, father." + </p> + <p> + "And you would put an Englishman in the room where the twa last Stuarts + slept? I'll not hear tell o' it. I'm not the man to lift a quarrel my + fathers dropped, but I'll hae no English body in Prince Charlie's room. + Mind that, noo! What is the man's name?" + </p> + <p> + "Mr. George Selwyn." + </p> + <p> + "George Selwyn! There's nae Scotch Selwyns that I ken o'. He'll be Saxon + altogether. Put him in the East room." + </p> + <p> + Crawford was not pleased at his son bringing any visitor. In the first + place, he had important plans to discuss and carry out, and he was + impatient of further delay. In the second, he was intensely jealous of + Helen. Every young man was a probable suitor, and he had quite decided + that Farquharson of Blair was the proper husband for her. Crawford and + Blair had stood shoulder to shoulder in every national quarrel, and a + marriage would put the two estates almost in a ring fence. + </p> + <p> + But he went the next day to meet the young men. He had not seen his son + for three years, and the lad was an object very near and dear to his + heart. He loved him tenderly as his son, he respected him highly as the + future heir of Crawford and Traquare. The Crawfords were a very handsome + race; he was anxious that this, their thirteenth representative, should be + worthy, even physically, of his ancestors. He drew a long sigh of + gratification as young Colin, with open hands, came up to him. The future + laird was a noble-looking fellow, a dark, swarthy Highlandman, with + glowing eyes, and a frame which promised in a few years to fill up + splendidly. + </p> + <p> + His companion was singularly unlike him. Old Crawford had judged rightly. + He was a pure Saxon, and showed it in his clear, fresh complexion, pale + brown hair, and clear, wide-open blue eyes. But there was something about + this young man which struck a deeper and wider sympathy than race—he + had a heart beating for all humanity. Crawford looked at him physically + only, and he decided at once, "There is no fear of Helen." He told himself + that young Farquharson was six inches taller and every way a far "prettier + man." Helen was not of this opinion. No hero is so fascinating to a woman + as the man mentally and spiritually above her, and whom she must love from + a distance; and if Crawford could have known how dangerous were those + walks over the springy heather and through the still pine woods, Mr. + Selwyn would have taken them far more frequently alone than he did. + </p> + <p> + But Crawford had other things to employ his attention at that time, and + indeed the young English clergyman was far beyond his mental and spiritual + horizon; he could not judge him fairly. So these young people walked and + rode and sailed together, and Selwyn talked like an apostle of the wrongs + that were to be righted and the poor perishing souls that were to be + redeemed. The spiritual warfare in which he was enlisted had taken + possession of him, and he spoke with the martial enthusiasm of a young + soldier buckling on his armor. + </p> + <p> + Helen and Colin listened in glowing silence, Helen showing her sympathy by + her flushing cheeks and wet eyes, and Colin by the impatient way in which + he struck down with his stick the thistles by the path side, as if they + were the demons of sin and ignorance and dirt Selwyn was warring against. + But after three weeks of this intercourse Crawford became sensible of some + change in the atmosphere of his home. When Selwyn first arrived, and + Crawford learned that he was a clergyman in orders, he had, out of respect + to the office, delegated to him the conduct of family worship. Gradually + Selwyn had begun to illustrate the gospel text with short, earnest + remarks, which were a revelation of Bible truth to the thoughtful men and + women who heard them. + </p> + <p> + The laird's "exercises" had often been slipped away from, excuses had been + frequent, absentees usual; but they came to listen to Selwyn with an + eagerness which irritated him. In our day, the gospel of Christ has + brought forth its last beautiful blossom—the gospel of humanity. + Free schools, free Bibles, Tract and City Missions, Hospitals and Clothing + Societies, loving helps of all kinds are a part of every church + organization. But in the time of which I am writing they were unknown in + country parishes, they struggled even in great cities for a feeble life. + </p> + <p> + The laird and his servants heard some startling truths, and the laird + began to rebel against them. A religion of intellectual faith, and which + had certain well-recognized claims on his pocket, he was willing to + support, and to defend, if need were; but he considered one which made him + on every hand his brother's keeper a dangerously democratic theology. + </p> + <p> + "I'll hae no socialism in my religion, any more than I'll hae it in my + politics, Colin," he said angrily. "And if yon Mr. Selwyn belongs to what + they call the Church o' England, I'm mair set up than ever wi' the Kirk o' + Scotland! God bless her!" + </p> + <p> + They were sitting in the room sacred to business and to the memory of the + late Laird Archibald. Colin was accustomed to receive his father's + opinions in silence, and he made no answer to this remark. This time, + however, the laird was not satisfied with the presumed assent of silence; + he asked sharply, "What say ye to that, son Colin?" + </p> + <p> + "I say God bless the Kirk of Scotland, father, and I say it the more + heartily because I would like to have a place among those who serve her." + </p> + <p> + "What are ye saying now?" + </p> + <p> + "That I should like to be a minister. I suppose you have no objections." + </p> + <p> + "I hae vera great objections. I'll no hear tell o' such a thing. Ministers + canna mak money, and they canna save it. If you should mak it, that would + be an offence to your congregation; if ye should save it, they would say + ye ought to hae gien it to the poor. There will be nae Dominie Crawford o' + my kin, Colin. Will naething but looking down on the warld from a pulpit + sarve you?" + </p> + <p> + "I like art, father. I can paint a little, and I love music." + </p> + <p> + "Art! Painting! Music! Is the lad gane daft? God has gien to some men + wisdom and understanding, to ithers the art o' playing on the fiddle and + painting pictures. There shall be no painting, fiddling Crawford among my + kin, Colin." + </p> + <p> + The young fellow bit his lip, and his eyes flashed dangerously beneath + their dropped lids. But he said calmly enough, + </p> + <p> + "What is your own idea, father? I am twenty-two, I ought to be doing a + man's work of some kind." + </p> + <p> + "Just sae. That is warld-like talk. Now I'll speak wi' you anent a grand + plan I hae had for a long time." With these words he rose, and took from + his secretary a piece of parchment containing the plan of the estate. "Sit + down, son Colin, and I'll show you your inheritance." Then he went + carefully over every acre of moor and wood, of moss and water, growing + enthusiastic as he pointed out how many sheep could be grazed on the + hills, what shooting and fishing privileges were worth, etc. "And the best + is to come, my lad. There is coal on the estate, and I am going to open it + up, for I hae the ready siller to do it." + </p> + <p> + Colin sat silent; his cold, dissenting air irritated the excited laird + very much. + </p> + <p> + "What hae ye got to say to a' this, Colin?" he asked proudly, "for you'll + hae the management o' everything with me. Why, my dear son, if a' goes + weel—and it's sure to—we'll be rich enough in a few years to + put in our claim for the old Earldom o' Crawford, and you may tak your + seat in the House o' Peers yet. The old chevalier promised us a Dukedom," + he said sadly, "but I'm feared that will be aboon our thumb—" + </p> + <p> + "Father, what are you going to do with the clansmen? Do you think + Highlandmen who have lived on the mountains are going to dig coal? Do you + imagine that these men, who, until a generation or two ago, never handled + anything but a claymore, and who even now scorn to do aught but stalk deer + or spear salmon, will take a shovel and a pickaxe and labor as + coal-miners? There is not a Crawford among them who would do it. I would + despise him if he did." + </p> + <p> + "There is a glimmer o' good sense in what you say, Colin. I dinna intend + any Crawford to work in my coal mine. Little use they would be there. I'll + send to Glasgow for some Irish bodies." + </p> + <p> + "And then you will have more fighting than working on the place; and + you'll have to build a Roman-catholic chapel, and have a Roman priest in + Crawford, and you ken whether the Crawfords will thole <i>that</i> or + not." + </p> + <p> + "As to the fighting, I'll gie them no chance. I'm going to send the + Crawfords to Canada. I hae thought it all out. The sheilings will do for + the others; the land I want for sheep grazing. They are doing naething for + themsel's, and they are just a burden to me. It will be better for them to + gang to Canada. I'll pay their passage, and I'll gie them a few pounds + each to start them. You must stand by me in this matter, for they'll hae + to go sooner or later." + </p> + <p> + "That is a thing I cannot do, father. There is not a Laird of Crawford + that was not nursed on some clanswoman's breast. We are all kin. Do you + think I would like to see Rory and Jean Crawford packed off to Canada? And + there is young Hector, my foster-brother! And old Ailsa, your own + foster-sister! Every Crawford has a right to a bite and a sup from the + Crawford land." + </p> + <p> + "That is a' bygane nonsense. Your great-grandfather, if he wanted cattle + or meal, could just take the clan and go and harry some Southern body out + o' them. That is beyond our power, and it's an unca charge to hae every + Crawford looking to you when hunting and fishing fails. They'll do fine in + Canada. There is grand hunting, and if they want fighting, doubtless there + will be Indians. They will hae to go, and you will hae to stand by me in + this matter." + </p> + <p> + "It is against my conscience, sir. I had also plans about these poor, + half-civilized, loving kinsmen of ours. You should hear Selwyn talk of + what we might do with them. There is land enough to give all who want it a + few acres, and the rest could be set up with boats and nets as fishers. + They would like that." + </p> + <p> + "Nae doubt. But I don't like it, and I wont hae it. Mr. Selwyn may hae a + big parish in London, but the Crawfords arena in his congregation. I am + king and bishop within my ain estate, Colin." Then he rose in a decided + passion and locked up again the precious parchment, and Colin understood + that, for the present, the subject was dismissed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + At the very time this conversation was in progress, one strangely + dissimilar was being carried on between George Selwyn and Helen Crawford. + They were sitting in the sweet, old-fashioned garden and Selwyn had been + talking of the work so dear to his heart, but a silence had fallen between + them. Then softly and almost hesitatingly Helen said "Mr. Selwyn, I cannot + help in this grand evangel, except with money and prayers. May I offer you + #300? It is entirely my own, and it lies useless in my desk. Will you take + it?" + </p> + <p> + "I have no power to refuse it. 'You give it to God, durst I say no?' But + as I do not return at once, you had better send it in a check to our + treasurer." Then he gave her the necessary business directions, and was + writing the address of the treasurer when the laird stopped in front of + them. + </p> + <p> + "Helen, you are needed in the house," he said abruptly; and then turning + to Selwyn, he asked him to take a walk up the hill. The young man + complied. He was quite unconscious of the anger in the tone of the + request. For a few yards neither spoke; then the laird, with an irritable + glance at his placid companion, said, "Mr. Selwyn, fore-speaking saves + after-speaking. Helen Crawford is bespoke for young Farquharson of Blair, + and if you have any hopes o' wiving in my house—" + </p> + <p> + "Crawford, thank you for your warning, but I have no thoughts of marrying + any one. Helen Crawford is a pearl among women; but even if I wanted a + wife, she is unfit for my helpmate. When I took my curacy in the East End + of London I counted the cost. Not for the fairest of the daughters of men + would I desert my first love—the Christ-work to which I have + solemnly dedicated my life." + </p> + <p> + His voice fell almost to a whisper, but the outward, upward glance of the + inspired eyes completely disconcerted the aggressive old chieftain. His + supposed enemy, in some intangible way, had escaped him, and he felt + keenly his own mistake. He was glad to see Colin coming; it gave him an + opportunity of escaping honorably from a conversation which had been very + humiliating to him. He had a habit when annoyed of seeking the sea-beach. + The chafing, complaining waves suited his fretful mood, and leaving the + young men, he turned to the sea, taking the hillside with such mighty + strides that Selwyn watched him with admiration and astonishment. + </p> + <p> + "Four miles of that walking will bring him home in the most amiable of + moods," said Colin. And perhaps it would, if he had been left to the sole + companionship of nature. But when he was half way home he met Dominie + Tallisker, a man of as lofty a spirit as any Crawford who ever lived. The + two men were close friends, though they seldom met without disagreeing on + some point. + </p> + <p> + "Weel met, dominie! Are you going to the Keep?" + </p> + <p> + "Just so, I am for an hour's talk wi' that fine young English clergyman + you hae staying wi' you." + </p> + <p> + "Tallisker, let me tell you, man, you hae been seen o'er much wi' him + lately. Why, dominie! he is an Episcopal, and an Arminian o' the vera + warst kind." + </p> + <p> + "Hout, laird! Arminianism isna a contagious disease. I'll no mair tak + Arminianism from the Rev. George Selwyn than I'll tak Toryism fra Laird + Alexander Crawford. My theology and my politics are far beyond + inoculation. Let me tell you that, laird." + </p> + <p> + "Hae ye gotten an argument up wi' him, Tallisker? I would like weel to + hear ye twa at it." + </p> + <p> + "Na, na; he isna one o' them that argues. He maks downright assertions; + every one o' them hits a body's conscience like a sledge-hammer. He said + that to me as we walked the moor last night that didna let me sleep a + wink." + </p> + <p> + "He is a vera disagreeable young man. What could he say to you? You have + aye done your duty." + </p> + <p> + "I thought sae once, Crawford. I taught the bairns their catechism; I + looked weel to the spiritual life o' young and old; I had aye a word in + season for all. But maybe this I ought to hae done, and not left the other + undone." + </p> + <p> + "You are talking foolishness, Tallisker, and that's a thing no usual wi' + you." + </p> + <p> + "No oftener wi' me nor other folk. But, laird, I feel there must be a + change. I hae gotten my orders, and I am going to obey them. You may be + certain o' that." + </p> + <p> + "I didna think I would ever see Dominie Tallisker taking orders from a + disciple o' Arminius—and an Englishman forbye!" + </p> + <p> + "I'll tak my orders, Crawford, from any messenger the Lord chooses to send + them by. And I'll do this messenger justice; he laid down no law to me, he + only spak o' the duty laid on his own conscience; but my conscience said + 'Amen' to his—that's about it. There has been a breath o' the Holy + Ghost through the Church o' England lately, and the dry bones o' its + ceremonials are being clothed upon wi' a new and wonderfu' life." + </p> + <p> + "Humff!" said the laird with a scornful laugh as he kicked a pebble out of + his way. + </p> + <p> + "There is a great outpouring at Oxford among the young men, and though I + dinna agree wi' them in a' things, I can see that they hae gotten a + revelation." + </p> + <p> + "Ou, ay, the young ken a' things. It is aye young men that are for turning + the warld upside down. Naething is good enough for them." + </p> + <p> + The dominie took no notice of the petulant interruption. "Laird," he said + excitedly, "it is like a fresh Epiphany, what this young Mr. Selwyn says—the + hungry are fed, the naked clothed, the prisoners comforted, the puir wee, + ragged, ignorant bairns gathered into homes and schools, and it is the + gospel wi' bread and meat and shelter and schooling in its hand. That was + Christ's ain way, you'll admit that. And while he was talking, my heart + burned, and I bethought me of a night-school for the little herd laddies + and lasses. They could study their lessons on the hillside all day, and + I'll gather them for an hour at night, and gie them a basin o' porridge + and milk after their lessons. And we ought not to send the orphan weans o' + the kirk to the warkhouse; we ought to hae a hame for them, and our sick + ought to be better looked to. There is many another good thing to do, but + we'll begin wi' these, and the rest will follow." + </p> + <p> + The laird had listened thus far in speechless indignation. He now stood + still, and said, + </p> + <p> + "I'll hae you to understand, Dominie Tallisker, that I am laird o' + Crawford and Traquare, and I'll hae nae such pliskies played in either o' + my clachans." + </p> + <p> + "If you are laird, I am dominie. You ken me weel enough to be sure if this + thing is a matter o' conscience to me, neither king nor kaiser can stop + me. I'd snap my fingers in King George's face if he bid me 'stay,' when my + conscience said 'go,'" and the dominie accompanied the threat with that + sharp, resonant fillip of the fingers that is a Scotchman's natural + expression of intense excitement of any kind. + </p> + <p> + "King George!" cried the laird, in an ungovernable temper, "there is the + whole trouble. If we had only a Charles Stuart on the throne there would + be nane o' this Whiggery." + </p> + <p> + "There would be in its place masses, and popish priests, and a few private + torture-chambers, and whiles a Presbyterian heretic or twa burned at the + Grass-market. Whiggery is a grand thing when it keeps the Scarlet Woman on + her ain seven hills. Scotland's hills and braes can do weel, weel without + her." + </p> + <p> + This speech gave the laird time to think. It would never do to quarrel + with Tallisker. If he should set himself positively against his scheme of + sending his clan to Canada it would be almost a hopeless one; and then he + loved and respected his friend. His tall, powerful frame and his dark, + handsome face, all aglow with a passionate conviction of right, and an + invincible determination to do it, commanded his thorough admiration. He + clasped his hands behind his back and said calmly, + </p> + <p> + "Tallisker, you'll be sorry enough for your temper erelong. You hae gien + way mair than I did. Ye ken how you feel about it." + </p> + <p> + "I feel ashamed o' mysel', laird. You'll no lay the blame o' it to my + office, but to Dugald Tallisker his ain sel'. There's a deal o' Dugald + Tallisker in me yet, laird; and whiles he is o'er much for Dominie + Tallisker." + </p> + <p> + They were at the gate by this time, and Crawford held out his hand and + said, + </p> + <p> + "Come in, dominie." + </p> + <p> + "No; I'll go hame, laird, and gie mysel' a talking to. Tell Mr. Selwyn I + want to see him." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + Alas, how often do Christ's words, "I come not to bring peace, but a + sword," prove true. George Selwyn went away, but the seed he had dropped + in this far-off corner of Scotland did not bring forth altogether the + peaceable fruits of righteousness. In fact, as we have seen, it had + scarcely begun to germinate before the laird and the dominie felt it to be + a root of bitterness between them. For if Crawford knew anything he knew + that Tallisker would never relinquish his new work, and perhaps if he + yielded to any reasonable object Tallisker would stand by him in his + project. + </p> + <p> + He did not force the emigration plan upon his notice. The summer was far + advanced; it would be unjustifiable to send the clan to Canada at the + beginning of winter. And, as it happened, the subject was opened with the + dominie in a very favorable manner. They were returning from the moors one + day and met a party of six men. They were evidently greatly depressed, but + they lifted their bonnets readily to the chief. There was a hopeless, + unhappy look about them that was very painful. + </p> + <p> + "You have been unsuccessful on the hills, Archie, I fear." + </p> + <p> + "There's few red deer left," said the man gloomily. "It used to be deer + and men; it is sheep and dogs now." + </p> + <p> + After a painful silence the dominie said, + </p> + <p> + "Something ought to be done for those braw fellows. They canna ditch and + delve like an Irish peasant. It would be like harnessing stags in a + plough." + </p> + <p> + Then Crawford spoke cautiously of his intention, and to his delight the + dominie approved it. + </p> + <p> + "I'll send them out in Read & Murray's best ships. I'll gie each head + o' a family what you think right, Tallisker, and I'll put #100 in your + hands for special cases o' help. And you will speak to the men and their + wives for me, for it is a thing I canna bear to do." + </p> + <p> + But the men too listened eagerly to the proposition. They trusted the + dominie, and they were weary of picking up a precarious living in hunting + and fishing, and relying on the chief in emergencies. Their old feudal + love and reverence still remained in a large measure, but they were quite + sensible that everything had changed in their little world, and that they + were out of tune with it. Some few of their number had made their way to + India or Canada, and there was a vague dissatisfaction which only required + a prospect of change to develop. As time went on, and the laird's plan for + opening the coal beds on his estate got known, the men became impatient to + be gone. + </p> + <p> + In the early part of March two large ships lay off the coast waiting for + them, and they went in a body to Crawford Keep to bid the chief + "farewell." It was a hard hour, after all, to Crawford. The great purpose + that he had kept before his eyes for years was not at that moment + sufficient. He had dressed himself in his full chieftain's suit to meet + them. The eagle's feather in his Glengary gave to his great stature the + last grace. The tartan and philibeg, the garters at his knee, the silver + buckles at his shoulder, belt, and shoon, the jewelled mull and dirk, had + all to these poor fellows in this last hour a proud and sad significance. + As he stood on the steps to welcome them, the wind colored his handsome + face and blew out the long black hair which fell curling on his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Whatever they intended to say to him, when they thus saw him with young + Colin by his side they were unable to say. They could only lift their + bonnets in silence. The instincts and traditions of a thousand years were + over them; he was at this moment the father and the chief of their deepest + affection. One by one they advanced to him. He pressed the hands of all. + Some of the older men—companions of his youth in play and sport—he + kissed with a solemn tenderness. They went away silently as they came, but + every heart was full and every eye was dim. There was a great feast for + them in the clachan that night, but it was a sombre meeting, and the + dominie's cheerful words of advice and comfort formed its gayest feature. + </p> + <p> + The next day was calm and clear. The women and children were safely on + board soon after noon, and about four o'clock the long boats left the + shore full of men. Tallisker was in the front one. As they pulled away he + pointed silently to a steep crag on the shingly beach. The chief stood + upon it. He waved his bonnet, and then the long-pent feelings of the clan + found vent in one long, pitiful Gallic lament, <i>O hon a rie! O hon a + rie!</i> For a few moments the boats lay at rest, no man was able to lift + an oar. Suddenly Tallisker's clear, powerful voice touched the right + chord. To the grand, plaintive melody of St. Mary's he began the 125th + Psalm, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "They in the Lord that firmly trust + shall be like Sion hill, + Which at no time can be removed, + but standeth ever still. + + As round about Jerusalem + the mountains stand alway; + The Lord his folk doth compass so + from henceforth and for aye." +</pre> + <p> + And thus singing together they passed from their old life into a new one. + </p> + <p> + Colin had been indignant and sorrowful over the whole affair. He and Helen + were still young enough to regret the breaking of a tie which bound them + to a life whose romance cast something like a glamour over the prosaic one + of more modern times. Both would, in the unreasonableness of youthful + sympathy, have willingly shared land and gold with their poor kinsmen; but + in this respect Tallisker was with the laird. + </p> + <p> + "It was better," he said, "that the old feudal tie should be severed even + by a thousand leagues of ocean. They were men and not bairns, and they + could feel their ain feet;" and then he smiled as he remembered how + naturally they had taken to self-dependence. For one night, in a + conversation with the oldest men, he said, "Crawfords, ye'll hae to + consider, as soon as you are gathered together in your new hame, the + matter o' a dominie. Your little flock in the wilderness will need a + shepherd, and the proper authorities maun be notified." + </p> + <p> + Then an old gray-headed man had answered firmly, "Dominie, we will elect + our ain minister. We hae been heart and soul, every man o' us, with the + Relief Kirk; but it is ill living in Rome and striving wi' the pope, and + sae for the chief's sake and your sake we hae withheld our testimony. But + we ken weel that even in Scotland the Kirk willna hirple along much + farther wi' the State on her back, and in the wilderness, please God, + we'll plant only a Free Kirk." + </p> + <p> + The dominie heard the resolve in silence, but to himself he said softly, "<i>They'll + do! They'll do!</i> They'll be a bit upsetting at first, maybe, but they + are queer folk that have nae failings." + </p> + <p> + A long parting is a great strain; it was a great relief when the ships had + sailed quite out of sight. The laird with a light heart now turned to his + new plans. No reproachful eyes and unhappy faces were there to damp his + ardor. Everything promised well. The coal seam proved to be far richer + than had been anticipated, and those expert in such matters said there + were undoubted indications of the near presence of iron ore. Great + furnaces began to loom up in Crawford's mental vision, and to cast + splendid lustres across his future fortunes. + </p> + <p> + In a month after the departure of the clan, the little clachan of Traquare + had greatly changed. Long rows of brick cottages, ugly and monotonous + beyond description, had taken the place of the more picturesque sheilings. + Men who seemed to measure everything in life with a two-foot rule were + making roads and building jetties for coal-smacks to lie at. There was + constant influx of strange men and women—men of stunted growth and + white faces, and who had an insolent, swaggering air, intolerably vulgar + when contrasted with the Doric simplicity and quiet gigantic manhood of + the mountain shepherds. + </p> + <p> + The new workers were, however, mainly Lowland Scotchmen from the mining + districts of Ayrshire. The dominie had set himself positively against the + introduction of a popish element and an alien people; and in this position + he had been warmly upheld by Farquharson and the neighboring proprietors. + As it was, there was an antagonism likely to give him full employment. The + Gael of the mountains regarded these Lowland "working bodies" with + something of that disdain which a rich and cultivated man feels for kin, + not only poor, but of contemptible nature and associations. The Gael was + poor truly, but he held himself as of gentle birth. He had lived by his + sword, or by the care of cattle, hunting, and fishing. Spades, hammers, + and looms belonged to people of another kind. + </p> + <p> + Besides this great social gulf, there were political and religious ones + still wider. That these differences were traditional, rather than real, + made no distinction. Man have always fought as passionately for an idea as + for a fact. But Dominie Tallisker was a man made for great requirements + and great trusts. He took in the position with the eye of a general. He + watched the two classes passing down the same streets as far apart as if + separated by a continent, and he said, with a very positive look on his + face, "These men are brethren and they ought to dwell in unity; and, God + helping Dugald Tallisker, they will do it, yes, indeed, they will." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + In a year after the departure of the clan, the clachans of Crawford and + Traquare had lost almost all traces of their old pastoral character. The + coal pit had been opened, and great iron furnaces built almost at its + mouth. Things had gone well with Crawford; the seam had proved to be + unusually rich; and, though the iron had been found, not on his land, but + on the extreme edge of Blair, he was quite satisfied. Farquharson had + struck hands with him over it, and the Blair iron ore went to the Crawford + furnaces to be smelted into pig iron. + </p> + <p> + Crawford had grown younger in the ardent life he had been leading. No one + would have taken him to be fifty-five years old. He hardly thought of the + past; he only told himself that he had never been as strong and + clear-headed and full of endurance, and that it was probable he had yet + nearly half a century before him. What could he not accomplish in that + time? + </p> + <p> + But in every earthly success there is a Mordecai sitting in its gate, and + Colin was the uncomfortable feature in the laird's splendid hopes. He had + lounged heartlessly to and from the works; the steady, mechanical routine + of the new life oppressed him, and he had a thorough dislike for the new + order of men with whom he had to come in contact. The young Crawfords had + followed him about the hills with an almost canine affection and + admiration. To them he was always "the young laird." These sturdy Ayrshire + and Galloway men had an old covenanting rebelliousness about them. They + disputed even with Dominie Tallisker on church government; they sang + Robert Burns' most democratic songs in Crawford's very presence. + </p> + <p> + Then Colin contrasted them physically with the great fellows he had been + accustomed to see striding over the hills, and he despised the forms + stunted by working in low seams and unhealthy vapors and the faces white + for lack of sunshine and grimy with the all-pervading coal dust. The + giants who toiled in leather masks and leather suits before the furnaces + suited his taste better. When he watched them moving about amid the din + and flames and white-hot metal, he thought of Vulcan and Mount Ftna, and + thus threw over them the enchantments of the old Roman age. But in their + real life the men disappointed him. They were vulgar and quarrelsome; the + poorest Highland gillie had a vein of poetry in his nature, but these + iron-workers were painfully matter of fact; they could not even understand + a courtesy unless it took the shape of a glass of whiskey. + </p> + <p> + It was evident to the laird that the new life was very distasteful to his + heir; it was evident to the dominie that it was developing the worst sides + of Colin's character. Something of this he pointed out to Helen one + morning. Helen and he had lately become great friends, indeed, they were + co-workers together in all the new labors which the dominie's conscience + had set him. The laird had been too busy and anxious about other matters + to interfere as yet with this alliance, but he promised himself he would + do so very soon. Helen Crawford was not going to nurse sick babies and sew + for all the old women in the clachan much longer. And the night-school! + This was particularly offensive to him. Some of the new men had gone + there, and Crawford was sure he was in some way defrauded by it. He + thought it impossible to work in the day and study an hour at night. In + some way he suffered by it. + </p> + <p> + "If they werna in the schoolroom they would be in the Change House," + Tallisker had argued. + </p> + <p> + But the laird thought in his heart that the whiskey would be more to his + advantage than the books. Yet he did not like to say so; there was + something in the dominie's face which restrained him. He had opened the + subject in that blustering way which always hides the white feather + somewhere beneath it, and Tallisker had answered with a solemn severity, + </p> + <p> + "Crawford, it seems to be your wark to mak money; it is mine to save + souls. Our roads are sae far apart we arena likely to run against each + other, if we dinna try to." + </p> + <p> + "But I don't like the way you are doing your wark; that is all, dominie." + </p> + <p> + "Mammon never did like God's ways. There is a vera old disagreement + between them. A man has a right to consider his ain welfare, Crawford, but + it shouldna be mair than the twa tables o' the law to him." + </p> + <p> + Now Tallisker was one of those ministers who bear their great commission + in their faces. There was something almost imperial about the man when he + took his stand by the humblest altar of his duty. Crawford had intended at + this very time to speak positively on the subject of his own workers to + Tallisker. But when he looked at the dark face, set and solemn and full of + an irresistible authority, he was compelled to keep silence. A dim fear + that Tallisker would say something to him which would make him + uncomfortable crept into his heart. It was better that both the dominie + and conscience should be quiet at present. + </p> + <p> + Still he could not refrain from saying, + </p> + <p> + "You hae set yoursel' a task you'll ne'er win over, dominie. You could as + easy mak Ben-Cruchan cross the valley and sit down by Ben-Appin as mak + Gael and Lowlander call each other brothers." + </p> + <p> + "We are told, Crawford, that mountains may be moved by faith; why not, + then, by love? I am a servant o' God. I dinna think it any presumption to + expect impossibilities." + </p> + <p> + Still it must be acknowledged that Tallisker looked on the situation as a + difficult one. The new workers to a man disapproved of the Established + Church of Scotland. Perhaps of all classes of laborers Scotch colliers are + the most theoretically democratic and the most practically indifferent in + matters of religion. Every one of them had relief and secession arguments + ready for use, and they used them chiefly as an excuse for not attending + Tallisker's ministry. When conscience is used as an excuse, or as a weapon + for wounding, it is amazing how tender it becomes. It pleased these + Lowland workers to assert a religious freedom beyond that of the dominie + and the shepherd Gael around them. And if men wish to quarrel, and can + give their quarrel a religious basis, they secure a tolerance and a + respect which their own characters would not give them. Tallisker might + pooh-pooh sectional or political differences, but he was himself far too + scrupulous to regard with indifference the smallest theological + hesitation. + </p> + <p> + One day as he was walking up the clachan pondering these things, he + noticed before him a Highland shepherd driving a flock to the hills. There + was a party of colliers sitting around the Change House; they were the + night-gang, and having had their sleep and their breakfast, were now + smoking and drinking away the few hours left of their rest. Anything + offering the chance of amusement was acceptable, and Jim Armstrong, a + saucy, bullying fellow from the Lonsdale mines, who had great confidence + in his Cumberland wrestling tricks, thought he saw in the placid + indifference of the shepherd a good opportunity for bravado. + </p> + <p> + "Sawnie, ye needna pass the Change House because we are here. We'll no + hurt you, man." + </p> + <p> + The shepherd was as one who heard not. + </p> + <p> + Then followed an epithet that no Highlander can hear unmoved, and the man + paused and put his hand under his plaid. Tallisker saw the movement and + quickened his steps. The word was repeated, with the scornful laugh of the + group to enforce it. The shepherd called his dog— + </p> + <p> + "Keeper, you tak the sheep to the Cruchan corrie, and dinna let are o' + them stray." + </p> + <p> + The dumb creature looked in his face assentingly, and with a sharp bark + took the flock charge. Then the shepherd walked up to the group, and Jim + Armstrong rose to meet him. + </p> + <p> + "Nae dirks," said an old man quietly; "tak your hands like men." + </p> + <p> + Before the speech was over they were clinched in a grasp which meant + gigantic strength on one side, and a good deal of practical bruising + science on the other. But before there was an opportunity of testing the + quality of either the dominie was between the men. He threw them apart + like children, and held each of them at arm's length, almost as a father + might separate two fighting schoolboys. The group watching could not + refrain a shout of enthusiasm, and old Tony Musgrave jumped to his feet + and threw his pipe and his cap in the air. + </p> + <p> + "Dugald," said the dominie to the shepherd, "go your ways to your sheep. + I'll hae nae fighting in my parish. + </p> + <p> + "Jim Armstrong, you thrawart bully you, dinna think you are the only man + that kens Cumberland cantrips. I could fling you mysel' before you could + tell your own name;" and as if to prove his words, he raised an immense + stone, that few men could have lifted, and with apparent ease flung it + over his right shoulder. A shout of astonishment greeted the exploit, and + Tony Musgrave—whose keen, satirical ill-will had hitherto been + Tallisker's greatest annoyance—came frankly forward and said, + "Dominie, you are a guid fellow! Will you tak some beer wi' me?" + </p> + <p> + Tallisker did not hesitate a moment. + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, Tony. If it be a drink o' good-will, I'll tak it gladly." + </p> + <p> + But he was not inclined to prolong the scene; the interference had been + forced upon him. It had been the only way to stop a quarrel which there + would have been no healing if blood had once been shed. Yet he was keenly + alive to the dignity of his office, and resumed it in the next moment. + Indeed, the drinking of the glass of good-will together was rather a + ceremonial than a convivial affair. Perhaps that also was the best. The + men were silent and respectful, and for the first time lifted their caps + with a hearty courtesy to Tallisker when he left them. + </p> + <p> + "Weel! Wonders never cease!" said Jim Armstrong scornfully. "To see Tony + Musgrave hobnobbing wi' a black-coat! The deil must 'a' had a spasm o' + laughing." + </p> + <p> + "Let the deil laugh," said Tony, with a snap of his grimy fingers. Then, + after a moment's pause, he added, "Lads, I heard this morning that the + dominie's wheat was spoiling, because he couldna get help to cut it. I + laughed when I heard it; I didna ken the man then. I'm going to-morrow to + cut the dominie's wheat; which o' you will go wi' me?" + </p> + <p> + "I!" and "I!" and "I!" was the hearty response; and so next day Traquare + saw a strange sight—a dozen colliers in a field of wheat, making a + real holiday of cutting the grain and binding the sheaves, so that before + the next Sabbath it had all been brought safely home. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + But during these very days, when the dominie and his parishioners were + drawing a step closer to each other, the laird and his son were drifting + farther apart. Crawford felt keenly that Colin took no interest in the + great enterprises which filled his own life. The fact was, Colin inherited + his mother's, and not his father's temperament. The late Lady Crawford had + been the daughter of a Zetland Udaller, a pure Scandinavian, a descendant + of the old Vikings, and she inherited from them a poetic imagination and a + nature dreamy and inert, though capable of rousing itself into fits of + courage that could dare the impossible. Colin would have led a forlorn + hope or stormed a battery; but the bare ugliness and monotony of his life + at the works fretted and worried him. + </p> + <p> + Tallisker had repeatedly urged a year's foreign travel. But the laird had + been much averse to the plan. France, in his opinion, was a hotbed of + infidelity; Italy, of popery; Germany, of socialistic and revolutionary + doctrines. There was safety only in Scotland. Pondering these things, he + resolved that marriage was the proper means to "settle" the lad. So he + entered into communication with an old friend respecting his daughter and + his daughter's portion; and one night he laid the result before Colin. + </p> + <p> + Colin was indignant. He wanted to marry no woman, and least of all women, + Isabel McLeod. + </p> + <p> + "She'll hae #50,000!" said the laird sententiously. + </p> + <p> + "I would not sell myself for #50,000." + </p> + <p> + "You'd be a vera dear bargain at half the price to any woman, Colin. And + you never saw Isabel. She was here when you were in Glasgow. She has the + bonniest black e'en in Scotland, and hair like a raven's wing." + </p> + <p> + "When I marry, sir, I shall marry a woman like my mother: a woman with + eyes as blue as heaven, and a face like a rose. I'll go, as you did, to + Shetland for her." + </p> + <p> + "There isna a house there fit for you to take a wife from, Colin, save and + except the Earl's ain; and his daughter, the Lady Selina, is near thirty + years old." + </p> + <p> + "There are my second cousins, Helga and Saxa Vedder." + </p> + <p> + Then the laird was sure in his own heart that Tallisker's advice was best. + France and Italy were less to be feared than pretty, portionless cousins. + Colin had better travel a year, and he proposed it. It hurt him to see how + eagerly his heir accepted the offer. However, if the thing was to be done, + it was best done quickly. Letters of credit suitable to the young laird's + fortune were prepared, and in less than a month he was ready to begin his + travels. It had been agreed that he should remain away one year, and if it + seemed desirable, that his stay might even be lengthened to two. But no + one dreamed that advantage would be taken of this permission. + </p> + <p> + "He'll be hamesick ere a twelvemonth, laird," said the dominie; and the + laird answered fretfully, "A twelvemonth is a big slice o' life to fling + awa in far countries." + </p> + <p> + The night before Colin left he was walking with his sister on the moor. A + sublime tranquillity was in the still September air. The evening crimson + hung over the hills like a royal mantle. The old church stood framed in + the deepest blue. At that distance the long waves broke without a sound, + and the few sails on the horizon looked like white flowers at sea. + </p> + <p> + "How beautiful is this mansion of our father!" said Helen softly. "One + blushes to be caught worrying in it, and yet, Colin, I fear to have you go + away." + </p> + <p> + "Why, my dear?" + </p> + <p> + "I have a presentiment that we shall meet no more in this life. Nay, do + not smile; this strange intelligence of sorrow, this sudden trembling in a + soul at rest, is not all a delusion. We shall part to-morrow, Colin. Oh, + darling brother, where shall we meet again?" + </p> + <p> + He looked into the fair, tender face and the eager, questioning eyes, and + found himself unable to reply. + </p> + <p> + "Remember, Colin! I give you a rendezvous in heaven." + </p> + <p> + He clasped her hand tightly, and they walked on in a silence that Colin + remembered often afterwards. Sometimes, in dreams, to the very end of his + life, he took again with Helen that last evening walk, and his soul leaned + and hearkened after hers. "I give you a rendezvous in heaven!" + </p> + <p> + In the morning they had a few more words alone. She was standing looking + out thoughtfully into the garden. "Are you going to London?" she asked + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "You will call on Mr. Selwyn?" + </p> + <p> + "I think so." + </p> + <p> + "Tell him we remember him—and try to follow, though afar off, the + example he sets us." + </p> + <p> + "Well, you know, Helen, I may not see him. We never were chums. I have + often wondered why I asked him here. It was all done in a moment. I had + thought of asking Walter Napier, and then I asked Selwyn. I have often + thought it would have pleased me better if I had invited Walter." + </p> + <p> + "Sometimes it is permitted to us to do things for the pleasure of others, + rather than our own. I have often thought that God—who foresaw the + changes to take place here—sent Mr. Selwyn with a message to Dominie + Tallisker. The dominie thinks so too. Then how glad you ought to be that + you asked him. He came to prepare for those poor people who as yet were + scattered over Ayrshire and Cumberland. And this thought comforts me for + you, Colin. God knows just where you are going, dear, and the people you + are going to meet, and all the events that will happen to you." + </p> + <p> + The events and situations of life resemble ocean waves—every one is + alike and yet every one is different. It was just so at Crawford Keep + after Colin left it. The usual duties of the day were almost as regular as + the clock, but little things varied them. There were letters or no letters + from Colin; there were little events at the works or in the village; the + dominie called or he did not call. Occasionally there were visitors + connected with the mines or furnaces, and sometimes there were social + evening gatherings of the neighboring young people, or formal state + dinners for the magistrates and proprietors who were on terms of intimacy + with the laird. + </p> + <p> + For the first year of Colin's absence, if his letters were not quite + satisfactory, they were condoned. It did not please his father that Colin + seemed to have settled himself so completely in Rome, among "artists and + that kind o' folk," and he was still more angry when Colin declared his + intention of staying away another year. Poor father! How he had toiled and + planned to aggrandize this only son, who seemed far more delighted with an + old coin or an old picture than with the great works which bore his name. + In all manner of ways he had made it clear to his family that in the + dreamy, sensuous atmosphere of Italian life he remembered the gray + earnestness of Scottish life with a kind of terror. + </p> + <p> + Tallisker said, "Give him his way a little longer, laird. To bring him + hame now is no use. People canna thole blue skies for ever; he'll be + wanting the moors and the misty corries and the gray clouds erelong." So + Colin had another year granted him, and his father added thousand to + thousand, and said to his heart wearily many and many a time, "It is all + vexation of spirit." + </p> + <p> + At the end of the second year Crawford wrote a most important letter to + his son. There was an opening for the family that might never come again. + All arrangements had been made for Colin to enter the coming contest for a + seat in Parliament. The Marquis of B—— had been spoken to, and + Crawford and he had come to an understanding Crawford did not give the + particulars of the "understanding," but he told Colin that his "political + career was assured." He himself would take care of the works. Political + life was open to his son, and if money and influence could put him in the + House of Peers, money should not be spared. + </p> + <p> + The offer was so stupendous, the future it looked forward to so great, + Crawford never doubted Colin's proud, acquiescence. That much he owed to a + long line of glorious ancestors; it was one of the obligations of noble + birth; he would not dare to, neglect it. + </p> + <p> + Impatiently he waited Colin's answer. Indeed, he felt sure Colin would + answer such a call in person. He was disappointed when a letter came; he + had not known, till then, how sure he had felt of seeing his son. And the + letter was a simple blow to him. Very respectfully, but very firmly, the + proposition was declined. Colin said he knew little of parties and cabals, + and was certain, at least, that nothing could induce him to serve under + the Marquis of B——. He could not see his obligations to the + dead Crawfords as his father did. He considered his life his own. It had + come to him with certain tastes, which he meant to improve and gratify, + for only in that way was life of any value to him. + </p> + <p> + The laird laid the letter in Tallisker's hands without a word. He was + almost broken-hearted. He had not yet got to that point where money-making + for money's sake was enough. Family aggrandizement and political ambition + are not the loftiest motives of a man's life, but still they lift + money-making a little above the dirty drudgery of mere accumulation. + Hitherto Crawford had worked for an object, and the object, at least in + his own eyes, had dignified the labor. + </p> + <p> + In his secret heart he was angry at Colin's calm respectability. A + spendthrift prodigal, wasting his substance in riotous living, would have + been easier to manage than this young man of fsthetic tastes, whose + greatest extravagance was a statuette or a picture. Tallisker, too, was + more uneasy than he would confess. He had hoped that Colin would answer + his father's summons, because he believed now that the life he was leading + was unmanning him. The poetical element in his character was usurping an + undue mastery. He wrote to Colin very sternly, and told him plainly that a + poetic pantheism was not a whit less sinful than the most vulgar + infidelity. + </p> + <p> + Still he advised the laird to be patient, and by no means to answer + Colin's letter in a hurry. But only fixed more firmly the angry father's + determination. Colin must come home and fulfil his wish, or he must time + remain away until he returned as master. As his son, he would know him no + more; as the heir of Crawford, he would receive at intervals such + information as pertained to that position. For the old man was just in his + anger; it never seemed possible to him to deprive Colin of the right of + his heritage. To be the 13th Laird of Crawford was Colin's birthright; he + fully recognized his title to the honor, and, as the future head of the + house, rendered him a definite respect. + </p> + <p> + Of course a letter written in such a spirit did no good whatever. Nothing + after it could have induced Colin to come home. He wrote and declined to + receive even the allowance due to him as heir of Crawford. The letter was + perfectly respectful, but cruelly cold and polite, and every word cut the + old man like a sword. + </p> + <p> + For some weeks he really seemed to lose all interest in life. Then the + result Tallisker feared was arrived at. He let ambition go, and settled + down to the simple toil of accumulation. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + But Crawford had not a miser's nature. His house, his name, his children + were dearer, after all, to him than gold. Hope springs eternal in the + breast; in a little while he had provided himself with a new motive: he + would marry Helen to young Farquharson, and endow her so royally that + Farquharson would gladly take her name. There should be another house of + Crawford of which Helen should be the root. + </p> + <p> + Helen had been long accustomed to consider Hugh Farquharson as her future + husband. The young people, if not very eager lovers, were at least very + warm and loyal friends. They had been in no hurry to finish the + arrangement. Farquharson was in the Scot's Greys; it was understood that + at his marriage he should resign his commission, so, though he greatly + admired Helen, he was in no hurry to leave the delights of metropolitan + and military life. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly Crawford became urgent for the fulfilment of the contract, + and Helen, seeing how anxious he was, and knowing how sorely Colin had + disappointed him, could no longer plead for a delay. And yet a strange + sadness fell over her; some inexplicable symptoms as to her health led her + to fear she would never be Farquharson's wife; the gay wedding attire that + came from Edinburgh filled her with a still sorrow; she could not + appropriate any part of it as her own. + </p> + <p> + One day when the preparations were nearly finished, Tallisker came up to + the Keep. Helen saw at once that he was moved by some intense feeling, and + there was a red spot on his cheeks which she had been accustomed to + associate with the dominie's anger. The laird was sitting placidly + smoking, and drinking toddy. He had been telling Helen of the grand house + he was going to build on the new estate he had just bought; and he was now + calmly considering how to carry out his plans on the most magnificent + scale, for he had firmly determined there should be neither Keep nor + Castle in the North Country as splendid as the new Crawfords' Home. + </p> + <p> + He greeted Tallisker with a peculiar kindness, and held his hand almost + lovingly. His friendship for the dominie—if he had known it—was + a grain of salt in his fast deteriorating life. He did not notice the + dominie's stern preoccupation, he was so full of his own new plans. He + began at once to lay them before his old friend; he had that very day got + the estimates from the Edinburgh architect. + </p> + <p> + Tallisker looked at them a moment with a gathering anger. Then he pushed + them passionately away, saying in a voice that was almost a sob, "I darena + look at them, laird; I darena look at them! Do you ken that there are + fourteen cases o' typhus in them colliers' cottages you built? Do you + remember what Mr. Selwyn said about the right o' laborers to pure air and + pure water? I knew he was right then, and yet, God forgive me! I let you + tak your ain way. Six little bits o' bairns, twa women, and six o' your + pit men! You must awa to Athol instanter for doctors and medicines and + brandy and such things as are needfu'. There isna a minute to lose, + laird." + </p> + <p> + Helen had risen while he was speaking with a calm determination that + frightened her father. He did not answer Tallisker, he spoke to her: + "Where are you going, Helen?" + </p> + <p> + "Down to the village; I can do something till better help is got." + </p> + <p> + "Helen Crawford, you'll bide where you are! Sit still, and I'll do + whatever Tallisker bids me." + </p> + <p> + Then he turned angrily to the dominie. + </p> + <p> + "You are aye bringing me ill tidings. Am I to blame if death comes?" + </p> + <p> + "Am I my brother's keeper? It's an auld question, laird. The first + murderer of a' asked it. I'm bound to say you are to blame. When you gie + fever an invite to your cotters' homes, you darena lay the blame on the + Almighty. You should hae built as Mr. Selwyn advised." + </p> + <p> + "Dominie, be quiet. I'm no a bairn, to be hectored o'er in this way. Say + what I must do and I'll do it—anything in reason—only Helen. + I'll no hae her leave the Keep; that's as sure as deathe. Sit down, Helen. + Send a' the wine and dainties you like to, but don't you stir a foot o'er + the threshold." + </p> + <p> + His anger was, in its way, as authoritative as the dominie's. Helen did as + she was bid, more especially as Tallisker in this seconded the laird. + </p> + <p> + "There is naething she could do in the village that some old crone could + not do better." + </p> + <p> + It was a bitterly annoying interruption to Crawford's pleasant dreams and + plans. He got up and went over to the works. He found things very bad + there. Three more of the men had left sick, and there was an unusual + depression in the village. The next day the tidings were worse. He foresaw + that he would have to work the men half time, and there had never been so + many large and peremptory orders on hand. It was all very unfortunate to + him. + </p> + <p> + Tallisker's self-reproaches were his own; he resented them, even while he + acknowledged their truth. He wished he had built as Selwyn advised; he + wished Tallisker had urged him more. It was not likely he would have + listened to any urging, but it soothed him to think he would. And he + greatly aggravated the dominie's trouble by saying, + </p> + <p> + "Why did ye na mak me do right, Tallisker? You should hae been mair + determined wi' me, dominie." + </p> + <p> + During the next six weeks the dominie's efforts were almost superhuman. He + saw every cottage whitewashed; he was nurse and doctor and cook. The laird + saw him carrying wailing babies and holding raving men in his strong arms. + He watched over the sick till the last ray of hope fled; he buried them + tenderly when all was over. The splendor of the man's humanity had never + shown itself until it stood erect and feared not, while the pestilence + that walked in darkness and the destruction that wasted at noon-day dogged + his every step. + </p> + <p> + The laird, too, tried to do his duty. Plenty of people are willing to play + the Samaritan without the oil and the twopence, but that was not + Crawford's way. Tallisker's outspoken blame had really made him tremble at + his new responsibilities; he had put his hand liberally in his pocket to + aid the sufferers. Perhaps at the foundation of all lay one haunting + thought—Helen! If he did what he could for others, Helen would + safer. He never audibly admitted that Helen was in any danger, but—but—if + there should be danger, he was, he hoped, paying a ransom for her safety. + </p> + <p> + In six weeks the epidemic appeared to have spent itself. There was a talk + of resuming full hours at the works. Twenty new hands had been sent for to + fill vacant places. Still there was a shadow on the dominie's face, and he + knew himself there was a shadow on his heart. Was it the still solemnity + of death in which he had lately lived so much? Or was it the shadow of a + coming instead of a departing sorrow? + </p> + <p> + One afternoon he thought he would go and sit with Helen a little while. + During his close intimacy with the colliers he had learned many things + which would change his methods of working for their welfare; and of these + changes he wished to speak with Helen. She was just going for a walk on + the moor, and he went with her. It was on such a September evening she had + walked last with Colin. As they sauntered slowly, almost solemnly home, + she remembered it. Some impulse far beyond her control or understanding + urged her to say, "Dominie, when I am gone I leave Colin to you." + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with a sudden enlightenment. Her face had for a moment a + far-away death-like predestination over it. His heart sank like lead as he + looked at her. + </p> + <p> + "Are you ill, Helen?" + </p> + <p> + "I have not been well for two weeks." + </p> + <p> + He felt her hands; they were burning with fever. + </p> + <p> + "Let us go home," she said, and then she turned and gave one long, + mournful look at the mountains and the sea and the great stretch of + moorland. Tallisker knew in his heart she was bidding farewell to them. He + had no word to say. There are moods of the soul beyond all human + intermeddling. + </p> + <p> + The silence was broken by Helen. She pointed to the mountains. "How + steadfast they are, how familiar with forgotten years! How small we are + beside them!" + </p> + <p> + "I don't think so," said Tallisker stoutly. "Mountains are naething to + men. How small is Sinai when the man Moses stands upon it!" + </p> + <p> + Then they were at the Keep garden. Helen pulled a handful of white and + golden asters, and the laird, who had seen them coming, opened the door + wide to welcome them. Alas! Alas! Though he saw it not, death entered with + them. At midnight there was the old, old cry of despair and anguish, the + hurrying for help, where no help was of avail, the desolation of a terror + creeping hour by hour closer to the hearthstone. + </p> + <p> + The laird was stricken with a stony grief which was deaf to all + consolation. He wandered up and down wringing his hands, and crying out at + intervals like a man in mortal agony. Helen lay in a stupor while the + fever burned her young life away. She muttered constantly the word + "Colin;" and Tallisker, though he had no hope that Colin would ever reach + his sister, wrote for the young laird. + </p> + <p> + Just before the last she became clearly, almost radiantly conscious. She + would be alone with her father, and the old man, struggling bravely with + his grief, knelt down beside her. She whispered to him that there was a + paper in the jewel-box on her table. He went and got it. It was a tiny + scrap folded crosswise. "Read it, father, when I am beyond all pain and + grief. I shall trust you, dear." He could only bow his head upon her hands + and weep. + </p> + <p> + "Tallisker!" she whispered, and he rose softly and called him. The two men + stood together by her side. + </p> + <p> + "Is it well, my daughter?" said the dominie, with a tone of tender triumph + in his voice. "You fear not, Helen, the bonds of death?" + </p> + <p> + "I trust in those pierced hands which have broken the bonds of death. Oh! + the unspeakable riches!" + </p> + <p> + These were her last words. Tallisker prayed softly as the mystical gray + shadow stole over the fair, tranquil face. It was soon all over. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "She had outsoared the shadow of our night, + And that unrest which men misname delight." +</pre> + <p> + The bridal robes were folded away, the bridegroom went back to his + regiment, the heartsore father tried to take up his life again. But it + seemed to him to have been broken in two by the blow; and besides this, + there was a little strip of paper which lay like a load upon his heart. It + was the paper he had taken from Helen's dying fingers, and it contained + her last request: + </p> + <p> + "Father, dear, dear father, whatever you intended to give me—I pray + you—give it to God's poor. + </p> + <p> + "HELEN." <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <p> + The dominie had felt certain that Colin would answer his letter in person, + but after a long silence he received it back again. Colin had left Rome, + and left no trace behind him. The laird knew that Tallisker had written, + and he too had been hoping and expecting. But he received the news of his + son's disappearance without remark. Life for some time was a dreary weight + to him, he scarce felt as if he could lift it again. Hope after hope had + failed him. He had longed so to be a rich man, had God in his anger + granted him his wish? And was no other thing to prosper with him? All the + same he clung to his gold with a deeper affection. When all other vices + are old avarice is still young. As ambition and other motives died out, + avarice usurped their places, and Tallisker saw with a feeling half angry, + and half pitiful, the laird's life dwindling down to this most + contemptible of all aims. He kept his duty as proprietor constantly before + the laird, but he no longer seemed to care that people should say, + "Crawford's men have the best laborers' cottages in Scotland." + </p> + <p> + "I hae made up my mind, Tallisker," said fretfully, "the warld thinks more + o' the who mak money than o' those who gie it awa." Certainly this change + was not a sudden one; for two years after Helen's death it was coming + slowly forward, yet there were often times when Tallisker hoped that it + was but a temptation, and would be finally conquered. Men do not lose the + noble savor of humanity in a moment. Even on the downward road good angels + wait anxiously, and whisper in every better moment to the lapsing soul, + "Return!" + </p> + <p> + But there was a seed of bitterness in Crawford's heart, that was poisoning + the man's spiritual life—a little bit of paper, yet it lay like a + great stone over his noblest feelings, and sealed them up as in a + sepulchre. Oh, if some angel would come and roll it away! He had never + told the dominie of Helen's bequest. He did not dare to destroy the slip + of paper, but he hid it in the most secret drawer of his secretary. He + told himself that it was only a dying sentiment in Helen to wish it, and + that it would be a foolish superstition in him to regard it. Perhaps in + those last moments she had not understood what she was asking. + </p> + <p> + For a little while he found relief in this suggestion; then he remembered + that the request must have been dictated before the fever had conquered + her strength or judgment. The words were clearly written in Helen's neat, + precise manner; there was not a hesitating line in the whole. She had + evidently written it with care and consideration. No one could tell how + that slip of paper haunted him. Even in the darkness of its secret + hiding-place his spiritual eyes saw it clearly day and night. + </p> + <p> + To give to the poor all he had intended to give to Helen! He could not! He + could not! He could not do it! Helen could not have known what she was + asking. He had meant, in one way or another, to give her, as the founder + of the new line of Crawfords, at least one hundred thousand pounds. Was it + reasonable to scatter hither and yon such a large sum, earned, as he told + himself pitifully, "by his ain wisdom and enterprise!" + </p> + <p> + The dominie knew nothing of this terrible struggle going on ever in the + man's soul who sat by his side. He saw that Crawford was irritable and + moody, but he laid the blame of it on Colin. Oh, if the lad would only + write, he would go himself and bring him back to his father, though he + should have to seek him at the ends of the earth. But four years passed + away, and the prodigal sent no backward, homeward sign. Every night, then, + the laird looked a moment into the dominie's face, and always the dominie + shook his head. Ah, life has silences that are far more pathetic than + death's. + </p> + <p> + One night Crawford said, almost in a whisper, + </p> + <p> + "He'll be dead, Tallisker." + </p> + <p> + And Tallisker answered promptly, + </p> + <p> + "He'll come hame, laird." + </p> + <p> + No other words about Colin passed between the two men in four years. But + destiny loves surprises. One night Tallisker laid a letter on the table. + </p> + <p> + "It is for you, laird; read it." + </p> + <p> + It was a singular letter to come after so long a silence, and the laird's + anger was almost excusable. + </p> + <p> + "Listen, Tallisker; did e'er you hear the like? + </p> + <p> + "'DEAR FATHER: I want, for a very laudable purpose, #4,000. It is not for + myself in any way. If you will let me have it, I will trouble you with the + proper explanations. If not, they will not be necessary. I have heard that + you are well. I pray God to continue his mercy to you. + </p> + <p> + "'Your dutiful son, + </p> + <p> + "'COLIN CRAWFORD.' + </p> + <p> + "'Laudable purpose!'" cried the unhappy father, in a passion. "The lad is + altogether too laudable. The letter is an insult, Tallisker. I'll ne'er + forgive him for it. Oh, what a miserable father I am!" + </p> + <p> + And the dominie was moved to tears at the sight of his old friend's bitter + anguish. + </p> + <p> + Still he asserted that Colin had meant it to be a kind letter. + </p> + <p> + "Dinna tak want o' sense for want o' affection laird. The lad is a + conceited prig. He's set up wi' himsel' about something he is going to do. + Let him hae the money. I would show him you can gie as grandly as he can + ask loftily." + </p> + <p> + And, somehow, the idea pleased the laird. It was something that Colin had + been obliged to ask him for money at all. He sat down and wrote out a + check for the amount. Then he enclosed it with these words: + </p> + <p> + "SON COLIN CRAWFORD: I send you what you desire. I am glad your prospects + are sae laudable; maybe it may enter your heart, some day, to consider it + laudable to keep the Fifth Command. Your sister is dead. Life is lonely, + but I thole it. I want nae explanations. + </p> + <p> + "Your father, + </p> + <p> + "ALEX. CRAWFORD." + </p> + <p> + "What's the address, Tallisker?" + </p> + <p> + "Regent's Place, London." + </p> + <p> + The answer arrived in due time. It was as proper as a letter could be. + Colin said he was just leaving for America, but did not expect to be more + than six months there. But he never said a word about coming to Crawford. + Tallisker was downright angry at the young man. It was true his father had + told him he did not wish to see him again, but that had been said under a + keen sense of family wrong and of bitter disappointment. Colin ought to + have taken his father's ready response to his request as an overture of + reconciliation. For a moment he was provoked with both of them. + </p> + <p> + "You are a dour lot, you Crawfords; ane o' you is prouder than the ither." + </p> + <p> + "The Crawfords are as God made them, dominie." + </p> + <p> + "And some o' them a little warse." + </p> + <p> + Yet, after all, it was Colin Tallisker was really angry at. For the + present he had to let his anger lie by. Colin had gone, and given him no + address in America. + </p> + <p> + "He is feared I will be telling him his duty, and when he comes back that + is what I shall do, if I go to London to mak him hear me." + </p> + <p> + For a moment the laird looked hopefully into the dominie's face, but the + hope was yet so far off he could not grasp it. Yet, in a dim, + unacknowledged way it influenced him. He returned to his money-making with + renewed vigor. It was evident he had let the hope of Colin's return steal + into his heart. And the giving of that #4,000 Tallisker considered almost + a sign of grace. It had not been given from any particularly noble motive; + but any motive, not sinful, roused in opposition to simple avarice, was a + gain. He was quite determined now to find Colin as soon as he returned + from America. + </p> + <p> + In rather less than six months there were a few lines from Colin, saying + that the money sent had been applied to the proper purpose, and had nobly + fulfilled it. The laird had said he wanted no explanations, and Colin gave + him none. + </p> + <p> + Tallisker read the letter with a half smile. + </p> + <p> + "He is just the maist contrary, conceited young man I e'er heard tell o'. + Laird, as he wont come to us, I am going to him." + </p> + <p> + The laird said nothing. Any grief is better than a grief not sure. It + would be a relief to know all, even if that "all" were painful. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <p> + Tallisker was a man as quick in action as in resolve; the next night he + left for London, it was no light journey in those days for a man of his + years, and who had never in all his life been farther away from Perthshire + than Edinburgh. But he feared nothing. He was going into the wilderness + after his own stray sheep, and he had a conviction that any path of duty + is a safe path. He said little to any one. The people looked strangely on + him. He almost fancied himself to be Christian going through Vanity Fair. + </p> + <p> + He went first to Colin's old address in Regent's Place. He did not expect + to find him there, but it might lead him to the right place. Number 34 + Regent's Place proved to be a very grand house. As he went up to the door, + an open carriage, containing a lady and a child, left it. A man dressed in + the Crawford tartan opened the door. + </p> + <p> + "Crawford?" inquired Tallisker, "is he at home?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, he is at home;" and the servant ushered him into, a carefully-shaded + room, where marble statues gleamed in dusk corners and great flowering + plants made the air fresh and cool. It as the first time Tallisker had + ever seen a calla lily and he looked with wonder and delight at the + gleaming flowers. And somehow he thought of Helen. Colin sat in a great + leathern chair reading. He did not lift his head until the door closed and + he was sensible the servant had left some one behind. Then for a moment he + could hardly realize who it was; but when he did, he came forward with a + glad cry. + </p> + <p> + "Dominie! O Tallisker!" + </p> + <p> + "Just so, Colin, my dear lad. O Colin, you are the warst man I ever + kenned. You had a good share o' original sin to start wi', but what wi' + pride and self-will and ill-will, the old trouble is sairly increased." + </p> + <p> + Colin smiled gravely. "I think you misjudge me, dominie." Then + refreshments were sent for, and the two men sat down for a long mutual + confidence. + </p> + <p> + Colin's life had not been uneventful. He told it frankly, without reserve + and without pride. When he quarrelled with his father about entering + Parliament, he left Rome at once, and went to Canada. He had some idea of + joining his lot with his own people there. But he found them in a state of + suffering destitution. They had been unfortunate in their choice of + location, and were enduring an existence barer than the one they had left, + without any of its redeeming features. Colin gave them all he had, and + left them with promises of future aid. + </p> + <p> + Then he went to New York. When he arrived, there was an intense excitement + over the struggle then going on in the little republic of Texas. He found + out something about the country; as for the struggle, it was the old + struggle of freedom against papal and priestly dominion. That was a + quarrel for which Scotchmen have always been ready to draw the sword. It + was Scotland's old quarrel in the New World, and Colin went into it heart + and soul. His reward had been an immense tract of the noble rolling + Colorado prairie. Then he determined to bring the Crawfords down, and + plant them in this garden of the Lord. It was for this end he had written + to his father for #4,000. This sum had sufficed to transplant them to + their new home, and give them a start. He had left them happy and + contented, and felt now that in this matter he had absolved his conscience + of all wrong. + </p> + <p> + "But you ought to hae told the laird. It was vera ill-considered. It was + his affair more than yours. I like the thing you did, Colin, but I hate + the way you did it. One shouldna be selfish even in a good wark." + </p> + <p> + "It was the laird's own fault; he would not let me explain." + </p> + <p> + "Colin, are you married?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes. I married a Boston lady. I have a son three years old. My wife was + in Texas with me. She had a large fortune of her own." + </p> + <p> + "You are a maist respectable man, Colin, but I dinna like it at all. What + are you doing wi' your time? This grand house costs something." + </p> + <p> + "I am an artist—a successful one, if that is not also against me." + </p> + <p> + "Your father would think sae. Oh, my dear lad, you hae gane far astray + from the old Crawford ways." + </p> + <p> + "I cannot help that, dominie. I must live according to my light. I am + sorry about father." + </p> + <p> + Then the dominie in the most forcible manner painted the old laird's hopes + and cruel disappointments. There were tears in Colin's eyes as he reasoned + with him. And at this point his own son came into the room. Perhaps for + the first time Colin looked at the lad as the future heir of Crawford. A + strange thrill of family and national pride stirred his heart. He threw + the little fellow shoulder high, and in that moment regretted that he had + flung away the child's chance of being Earl of Crawford. He understood + then something of the anger and suffering his father had endured, and he + put the boy down very solemnly. For if Colin was anything, he was just; if + his father had been his bitterest enemy, he would, at this moment, have + acknowledged his own aggravation. + </p> + <p> + Then Mrs. Crawford came in. She had heard all about the dominie, and she + met him like a daughter. Colin had kept his word. This fair, sunny-haired, + blue-eyed woman was the wife he had dreamed about; and Tallisker told him + he had at any rate done right in that matter. "The bonnie little + Republican," as he called her, queened it over the dominie from the first + hour of their acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + He stayed a week in London, and during it visited Colin's studio. He went + there at Colin's urgent request, but with evident reluctance. A studio to + the simple dominie had almost the same worldly flavor as a theatre. He had + many misgivings as they went down Pall Mall, but he was soon reassured. + There was a singular air of repose and quiet in the large, cool room. And + the first picture he cast his eyes upon reconciled him to Colin's most + un-Crawford-like taste. + </p> + <p> + It was "The Farewell of the Emigrant Clan." The dominie's knees shook, and + he turned pale with emotion. How had Colin reproduced that scene, and not + only reproduced but idealized it! There were the gray sea and the gray + sky, and the gray granite boulder rocks on which the chief stood, the + waiting ships, and the loaded boats, and he himself in the prow of the + foremost one. He almost felt the dear old hymn thrilling through the still + room. In some way, too, Colin had grasped the grandest points of his + father's character. In this picture the man's splendid physical beauty + seemed in some mysterious way to give assurance of an equally splendid + spiritual nature. + </p> + <p> + "If this is making pictures, Colin, I'll no say but what you could paint a + sermon, my dear lad. I hae ne'er seen a picture before." Then he turned to + another, and his swarthy face glowed with an intense emotion. There was a + sudden sense of tightening in his throat, and he put his hand up and + slowly raised his hat. It was Prince Charlie entering Edinburgh. The + handsome, unfortunate youth rode bareheaded amid the Gordons and the + Murrays and a hundred Highland noblemen. The women had their children + shoulder high to see him, the citizens, bonnets up, were pressing up to + his bridle-rein. It stirred Tallisker like a peal of trumpets. With the + tears streaming down his glowing face, he cried out, + </p> + <p> + "How daur ye, sir! You are just the warst rebel between the seas! King + George ought to hang you up at Carlisle-gate. And this is painting! This + is artist's wark! And you choose your subjects wisely, Colin: it is a gift + the angels might be proud o'." He lingered long in the room, and when he + left it, "Prince Charlie" and the "Clan's Farewell" were his own. They + were to go back with him to the manse at Crawford. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <p> + It was, upon the whole, a wonderful week to Tallisker; he returned home + with the determination that the laird must recall his banished. He had + tried to induce Colin to condone all past grievances, but Colin had, + perhaps wisely, said that he could not go back upon a momentary impulse. + The laird must know all, and accept him just as he was. He had once been + requested not to come home unless he came prepared to enter into political + life. He had refused the alternative then, and he should refuse it again. + The laird must understand these things, or the quarrel would probably be + renewed, perhaps aggravated. + </p> + <p> + And Tallisker thought that, in this respect, Colin was right. He would at + any rate hide nothing from the laird, he should know all; and really he + thought he ought to be very grateful that the "all" was so much better + than might have been. + </p> + <p> + The laird was not glad. A son brought down to eat the husk of evil ways, + poor, sick, suppliant, would have found a far readier welcome. He would + gladly have gone to meet Colin, even while he was yet a great way off, + only he wanted Colin to be weary and footsore and utterly dependent on his + love. He heard with a grim silence Tallisker's description of the house in + Regent's Place, with its flowers and books, its statues, pictures, and + conservatory. When Tallisker told him of the condition of the Crawfords in + Canada, he was greatly moved. He was interested and pleased with the Texan + struggle. He knew nothing of Texas, had never heard of the country, but + Mexicans, Spaniards, and the Inquisition were one in his mind. + </p> + <p> + "That at least was Crawford-like," he said warmly, when told of Colin's + part in the struggle. + </p> + <p> + But the subsequent settlement of the clan there hurt him terribly. "He + should hae told me. He shouldna hae minded what I said in such a case. I + had a right to know. Colin has used me vera hardly about this. Has he not, + Tallisker?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, laird, Colin was vera wrong there. He knows it now." + </p> + <p> + "What is he doing in such a grand house? How does he live?" + </p> + <p> + "He is an artist—a vera great one, I should say." + </p> + <p> + "He paints pictures for a living! He! A Crawford o' Traquare! I'll no + believe it, Tallisker." + </p> + <p> + "There's naught to fret about, laird. You'll ken that some day. Then his + wife had money." + </p> + <p> + "His wife! Sae he is married. That is o' a piece wi' the rest. Wha is + she?" + </p> + <p> + "He married an American—a Boston lady." + </p> + <p> + Then the laird's passion was no longer controllable, and he said some + things the dominie was very angry at. + </p> + <p> + "Laird," he answered, "Mrs. Colin Crawford is my friend. You'll no daur to + speak any way but respectful o' her in my presence. She is as good as any + Crawford that ever trod the heather. She came o' the English Hampdens. + Whar will ye get better blood than that?" + </p> + <p> + "No Hampdens that ever lived—" + </p> + <p> + "Whist! Whist, laird! The Crawfords are like a' ither folk; they have twa + legs and twa hands." + </p> + <p> + "He should hae married a Scots lass, though she had carried a + milking-pail." + </p> + <p> + "Laird, let me tell you there will be nae special heaven for the Gael. + They that want to go to heaven by themsel's arena likely to win there at + a'. You may as well learn to live with ither folk here; you'll hae to do + it to a' eternity." + </p> + <p> + "If I get to heaven, Dominie Tallisker, I'll hae special graces for the + place. I'm no going to put mysel' in a blazing passion for you to-night. + Yon London woman has bewitched you. She's wanting to come to the Keep, + I'll warrant." + </p> + <p> + "If ye saw the hame she has you wouldna warrant your ain word a minute + longer, laird. And I'm sure I dinna see what she would want to hae twa + Crawfords to guide for. One is mair than enough whiles. It's a wonder to + me how good women put up wi' us at all!" + </p> + <p> + "<i>Humff!</i>" said the laird scornfully. "Too many words on a spoiled + subject." + </p> + <p> + "I must say one mair, though. There is a little lad, a bonnie, brave, bit + fellow, your ain grandson, Crawford." + </p> + <p> + "An American Crawford!" And the laird laughed bitterly. "A foreigner! an + alien! a Crawford born in England! Guid-night, Tallisker! We'll drop the + subject, an it please you." + </p> + <p> + Tallisker let it drop. He had never expected the laird to give in at the + first cry of "Surrender." But he reflected that the winter was coming, and + that its long nights would give plenty of time for thought and plenty of + opportunities for further advocacy. He wrote constantly to Colin and his + wife, perhaps oftener to Mrs. Crawford than to the young laird, for she + was a woman of great tact and many resources, and Tallisker believed in + her. + </p> + <p> + Crawford had said a bitter word about her coming to the Keep, and + Tallisker could not help thinking what a blessing she would be there; for + one of Crawford's great troubles now was the wretchedness of his household + arrangements. The dainty cleanliness and order which had ruled it during + Helen's life were quite departed. The garden was neglected, and all was + disorder and discomfort. Now it is really wonderful how much of the solid + comfort of life depends upon a well-arranged home, and the home must + depend upon some woman. Men may mar the happiness of a household, but they + cannot make it. Women are the happiness makers. The laird never thought of + it in this light, but he did know that he was very uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + "I canna even get my porridge made right," he said fretfully to the + dominie. + </p> + <p> + "You should hae a proper person o'er them ne'er-do-weel servants o' yours, + laird. I ken one that will do you." + </p> + <p> + "Wha is she?" + </p> + <p> + "A Mrs. Hope." + </p> + <p> + "A widow?" + </p> + <p> + "No, not a widow, but she is not living with her husband." + </p> + <p> + "Then she'll ne'er win into my house, dominie." + </p> + <p> + "She has good and sufficient reasons. I uphold her. Do you think I would + sanction aught wrong, laird?" + </p> + <p> + No more was said at that time, but a month afterwards Mrs. Hope had walked + into the Keep and taken everything in her clever little hands. Drunken, + thieving, idle servants had been replaced by men and women thoroughly + capable and efficient. The laird's tastes were studied, his wants + anticipated, his home became bright, restful, and quiet. The woman was + young and wonderfully pretty, and Crawford soon began to watch her with a + genuine interest. + </p> + <p> + "She'll be ane o' the Hopes o' Beaton," he thought; "she is vera like + them." + </p> + <p> + At any rate he improved under her sway, for being thoroughly comfortable + himself, he was inclined to have consideration for others. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon, as he came from the works, it began to snow. He turned + aside to the manse to borrow a plaid of Tallisker. He very seldom went to + the manse, but in the keen, driving snow the cheerful fire gleaming + through the window looked very inviting. He thought he would go in and + take a cup of tea with Tallisker. + </p> + <p> + "Come awa in, laird," cried old Janet, "come awa in. You are a sight good + for sair e'en. The dominie will be back anon, and I'll gie ye a drap o' + hot tay till he comes." + </p> + <p> + So the laird went in, and the first thing he saw was Colin's picture of + "The Clan's Farewell." It moved him to his very heart. He divined at once + whose work it was, and he felt that it was wonderful. It must be + acknowledged, too, that he was greatly pleased with Colin's conception of + himself. + </p> + <p> + "I'm no a bad-looking Crawford," he thought complacently; "the lad has had + a vera clear notion o' what he was doing." + </p> + <p> + Personal flattery is very subtle and agreeable. Colin rose in his father's + opinion that hour. + </p> + <p> + Then he turned to Prince Charlie. How strange is that vein of romantic + loyalty marbling the granite of Scotch character! The common-place man of + coal and iron became in the presence of his ideal prince a feudal + chieftain again. His heart swelled to that pictured face as the great sea + swells to the bending moon. He understood in that moment how his fathers + felt it easy to pin on the white cockade and give up everything for an + impossible loyalty. + </p> + <p> + The dominie found him in this mood. He turned back to every-day life with + a sigh. + </p> + <p> + "Weel, dominie, you are a man o' taste. When did you begin buying + pictures?" + </p> + <p> + "I hae no money for pictures, laird. The artist gave me them." + </p> + <p> + "You mean Colin Crawford gave you them." + </p> + <p> + "That is what I mean." + </p> + <p> + "Weel, I'm free to say Colin kens how to choose grand subjects. I didna + think there was so much in a picture. I wouldna dare to keep that poor + dear prince in my house. I shouldna be worth a bawbee at the works. It was + a wonderfu' wise step, that forbidding o' pictures in the kirks. I can + vera weel see how they would lead to a sinfu' idolatry." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, John Knox kent well the temper o' the metal he had to work. There's + nae greater hero-worshippers than Scots folk. They are aye making idols + for themsel's. Whiles it's Wallace, then it's Bruce or Prince Charlie; + nay, there are decent, pious folk that gie Knox himsel' a honoring he + wouldna thank them for. But, laird, there is a mair degraded idolatry + still—that o' gold. We are just as ready as ever the Jews were to + fall down before a calf, an' it only be a golden one." + </p> + <p> + "Let that subject alane, dominie. It will tak a jury o' rich men to judge + rich men. A poor man isna competent. The rich hae straits the poor canna + fathom." + </p> + <p> + And then he saw in light as clear as crystal a slip of paper hid away in a + secret drawer. + </p> + <p> + Just at this moment a little lad bairn entered the room; a child with + bright, daring eyes, and a comically haughty, confident manner. He + attracted Crawford's attention at once. + </p> + <p> + "What's your name, my wee man?" + </p> + <p> + "Alexander is my name." + </p> + <p> + "That is my name." + </p> + <p> + "It is not," he answered positively; "don't say that any more." + </p> + <p> + "Will you hae a sixpence?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I will. Money is good. It buys sweeties." + </p> + <p> + "Whose boy is that, dominie?" + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Hope's. I thought he would annoy you. He is a great pleasure to me." + </p> + <p> + "Let him come up to the Keep whiles. I'll no mind him." + </p> + <p> + When he rose to go he stood a moment before each picture, and then + suddenly asked, + </p> + <p> + "Whar is young Crawford?" + </p> + <p> + "In Rome." + </p> + <p> + "A nice place for him to be! He'd be in Babylon, doubtless, if it was on + the face o' the earth." + </p> + <p> + When he went home he shut himself in his room and almost stealthily took + out that slip of paper. It had begun to look yellow and faded, and + Crawford had a strange fancy that it had a sad, pitiful appearance. He + held it in his hand a few moments and then put it back again. It would be + the new year soon, and he would decide then. He had made similar promises + often; they always gave him temporary comfort. + </p> + <p> + Then gradually another element of pleasure crept into his life—Mrs. + Hope's child. The boy amused him; he never resented his pretty, + authoritative ways; a queer kind of companionship sprang up between them. + It was one of perfect equality every way; an old man easily becomes a + little child. And those who only knew Crawford among coals and pig iron + would have been amazed to see him keeping up a mock dispute with this + baby. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <p> + One day, getting towards the end of December, the laird awoke in a + singular mood. He had no mind to go to the works, and the weather promised + to give him a good excuse. Over the dreary hills there was a mournful + floating veil of mist. Clouds were flying rapidly in great masses, and + showers streaming through the air in disordered ranks, driven furiously + before a mad wind—a wind that before noon shook the doors and + windows, and drove the bravest birds into hiding. + </p> + <p> + The laird wandered restlessly up and down. + </p> + <p> + "There is the dominie," cried Mrs. Hope, about one o'clock. "What brings + him here through such a storm?" + </p> + <p> + Crawford walked to the door to meet him. He came striding over the soaking + moor with his plaid folded tightly around him and his head bent before the + blast. He was greatly excited. + </p> + <p> + "Crawford, come wi' me. The Athol passenger packet is driving before this + wind, and there is a fishing smack in her wake." + </p> + <p> + "Gie us some brandy wi' us, Mrs. Hope, and you'll hae fires and blankets + and a' things needfu' in case O' accident, ma'am." He was putting on his + bonnet and plaid as he spoke, and in five minutes the men were hastening + to the seaside. + </p> + <p> + It was a deadly coast to be on in a storm with a gale blowing to land. A + long reef of sharp rocks lay all along it, and now the line of foaming + breakers was to any ship a terrible omen of death and destruction. The + packet was almost helpless, and the laird and Tallisker found a crowd of + men waiting the catastrophe that was every moment imminent. + </p> + <p> + "She ought to hae gien hersel' plenty o' sea room," said the laird. He was + half angry to see all the interest centred on the packet. The little + fishing cobble was making, in his opinion, a far more sensible struggle + for existence. She was managing her small resources with desperate skill. + </p> + <p> + "Tallisker," said the laird, "you stay here with these men. Rory and I are + going half a mile up the coast. If the cobble drives on shore, the current + will take a boat as light as she is over the Bogie Rock and into the surf + yonder. There are doubtless three or four honest men in her, quite as weel + worth the saving as those stranger merchant bodies that will be in the + packet." + </p> + <p> + So Crawford and Rory hastened to the point they had decided on, and just + as they reached it the boat became unmanageable. The wind took her in its + teeth, shook her a moment or two like a thing of straw and rags, and then + flung her, keel upwards, on the Bogie Rock. Two of the men were evidently + good swimmers; the others were a boy and an old man. Crawford plunged + boldly in after the latter. The waves buffeted him, and flung him down, + and lifted him up, but he was a fine surf swimmer, and he knew every rock + on that dangerous coast. After a hard struggle, all were brought safe to + land. + </p> + <p> + Then they walked back to where the packet had been last seen. She had gone + to pieces. A few men waited on the beach, picking up the dead, and such + boxes and packages as were dashed on shore. Only three of all on board had + been rescued, and they had been taken to the Keep for succor and rest. + </p> + <p> + The laird hastened home. He had not felt as young for many years. The + struggle, though one of life and death, had not wearied him like a day's + toil at the works, for it had been a struggle to which the soul had girded + itself gladly, and helped and borne with it the mortal body. He came in + all glowing and glad; a form lay on his own couch before the fire. The + dominie and Mrs. Hope were bending over it. As he entered, Mrs. Hope + sprang forward— + </p> + <p> + "Father!" + </p> + <p> + "Eh? Father? What is this?" + </p> + <p> + "Father, it is Colin." + </p> + <p> + Then he knew it all. Colin stretched out a feeble hand towards him. He was + sorely bruised and hurt, he was white and helpless and death-like. + </p> + <p> + "Father!" + </p> + <p> + And the father knelt down beside him. Wife and friend walked softly away. + In the solemn moment when these two long-parted souls met again there was + no other love that could inter-meddle. + </p> + <p> + "My dear father—forgive me!" + </p> + <p> + Then the laird kissed his recovered son, and said tenderly, + </p> + <p> + "Son Colin, you are all I have, and all I have is yours." + </p> + <p> + "Father, my wife and son." + </p> + <p> + Then the old man proudly and fondly kissed Hope Crawford too, and he + clasped the little lad in his arms. He was well pleased that Hope had + thought it worth while to minister to his comfort, and let him learn how + to know her fairly. + </p> + <p> + "But it was your doing, Tallisker, I ken it was; it has your mark on it." + And he grasped his old friend's hand with a very hearty grip. + </p> + <p> + "Not altogether, laird. Colin had gone to Rome on business, and you were + in sair discomfort, and I just named it to Mrs. Hope. After a' it was her + proposal. Naebody but a woman would hae thought o' such a way to win round + you." + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was well that Colin was sick and very helpless for some weeks. + During them the two men learned to understand and to respect each other's + peculiarities. Crawford himself was wonderfully happy; he would not let + any thought of the past darken his heart. He looked forward as hopefully + as if he were yet on the threshold of life. + </p> + <p> + O mystery of life! from what depths proceed thy comforts and thy lessons! + One morning at very early dawn Crawford awoke from a deep sleep in an + indescribable awe. In some vision of the night he had visited that piteous + home which memory builds, and where only in sleep we walk. Whom had he + seen there? What message had he received? This he never told. He had been + "spoken to." + </p> + <p> + Tallisker was not the man to smile at any such confidence. He saw no + reason why God's messengers should not meet his children in the + border-land of dreams. Thus he had counselled and visited the patriarchs + and prophets of old. He was a God who changeth not; and if he had chosen + to send Crawford a message in this way, it was doubtless some special + word, for some special duty or sorrow. But he had really no idea of what + Crawford had come to confess to him. + </p> + <p> + "Tallisker, I hae been a man in a sair strait for many a year. I hae not + indeed hid the Lord's talent in a napkin, but I hae done a warse thing; I + hae been trading wi' it for my ain proper advantage. O dominie, I hae been + a wretched man through it all. Nane ken better than I what a hard master + the deil is." + </p> + <p> + Then he told the dominie of Helen's bequest. He went over all the + arguments with which he had hitherto quieted his conscience, and he + anxiously watched their effect upon Tallisker. He had a hope even yet that + the dominie might think them reasonable. But the table at which they sat + was not less demonstrative than Tallisker's face; for once he absolutely + controlled himself till the story was told. Then he said to Crawford, + </p> + <p> + "I'll no tak any responsibility in a matter between you and your + conscience. If you gie it, gie it without regret and without holding back. + Gie it cheerfully; God loves a cheerful giver. But it isna wi' me you'll + find the wisdom to guide you in this matter. Shut yoursel' in your ain + room, and sit down at the foot o' the cross and think it out. It is a big + sum to gie away, but maybe, in the face o' that stupendous Sacrifice it + willna seem so big. I'll walk up in the evening, laird; perhaps you will + then hae decided what to do." + </p> + <p> + Crawford was partly disappointed. He had hoped that Tallisker would in + some way take the burden from him—he had instead sent him to the + foot of the cross. He did not feel as if he dared to neglect the advice; + so he went thoughtfully to his own room and locked the door. Then he took + out his private ledger. Many a page had been written the last ten years. + It was the book of a very rich man. He thought of all his engagements and + plans and hopes, and of how the withdrawal of so large a sum would affect + them. + </p> + <p> + Then he took out Helen's last message, and sat down humbly with it where + Tallisker had told him to sit. Suddenly Helen's last words came back to + him, "Oh! the unspeakable riches!" What of? The cross of Christ—the + redemption from eternal death—the promise of eternal life! Sin is + like a nightmare; when we stir under it, we awake. Crawford sat thinking + until his heart burned and softened, and great tears rolled slowly down + his cheeks and dropped upon the paper in his hands. Then he thought of the + richness of his own life—Colin and Hope, and the already beloved + child Alexander—of his happy home, of the prosperity of his + enterprises, of his loyal and loving friend Tallisker. What a contrast to + the Life he had been told to remember! that pathetic Life that had not + where to lay its head, that mysterious agony in Gethsemane, that sublime + death on Calvary, and he cried out, "O Christ! O Saviour of my soul! all + that I have is too little!" + </p> + <p> + When Tallisker came in the evening, Hope noticed a strange solemnity about + the man. He, too, had been in the presence of God all day. He had been + praying for his friend. But as soon as he saw Crawford he knew how the + struggle had ended. Quietly they grasped each other's hand, and the + evening meal was taken by Colin's side in pleasant cheerfulness. After it, + when all were still, the laird spoke: + </p> + <p> + "Colin and Hope, I hae something I ought to tell you. When your sister + Helen died she asked me to gie her share o' the estate to the poor + children of our Father. I had intended giving Helen #100,000. It is a big + sum, and I hae been in a sair strait about it. What say you, Colin?" + </p> + <p> + "My dear father, I say there is only one way out of that strait. The money + must be given as Helen wished it. Helen was a noble girl. It was just like + her." + </p> + <p> + "Ah, Colin, if you could only tell what a burden this bit o' paper has + been to me! I left the great weight at the foot o' the cross this + morning." As he spoke the paper dropped from his fingers and fell upon the + table. Colin lifted it reverently and kissed it. "Father," he said, "may I + keep it now? The day will come when the Crawfords will think with more + pride of it than of any parchment they possess." + </p> + <p> + Then there was an appeal to Tallisker about its disposal. "Laird," he + answered, "such a sum must be handled wi' great care. It is not enough to + gie money, it must be gien wisely." But he promised to take on himself the + labor of inquiry into different charities, and the consideration of what + places and objects needed help most. "But, Crawford," he said, "if you hae + any special desire, I think it should be regarded." + </p> + <p> + Then Crawford said he had indeed one. When he was himself young he had + desired greatly to enter the ministry, but his father had laid upon him a + duty to the family and estate which he had accepted instead. + </p> + <p> + "Now, dominie," he said, "canna I keep aye a young man in my place?" + </p> + <p> + "It is a worthy thought, Crawford." + </p> + <p> + So the first portion of Helen's bequest went to Aberdeen University. This + endowment has sent out in Crawford's place many a noble young man into the + harvest-field of the world, and who shall say for how many centuries it + will keep his name green in earth and heaven! The distribution of the rest + does not concern our story. It may safely be left in Dominie Tallisker's + hands. + </p> + <p> + Of course, in some measure it altered Crawford's plans. The new house was + abandoned and a wing built to the Keep for Colin's special use. In this + portion the young man indulged freely his poetic, artistic tastes. And the + laird got to like it. He used to tread softly as soon as his feet entered + the large shaded rooms, full of skilful lights and white gleaming statues. + He got to enjoy the hot, scented atmosphere and rare blossoms of the + conservatory, and it became a daily delight to him to sit an hour in + Colin's studio and watch the progress of some favorite picture. + </p> + <p> + But above all his life was made rich by his grandson. Nature, as she often + does, reproduced in the second generation what she had totally omitted in + the first. The boy was his grandfather over again. They agreed upon every + point. It was the laird who taught Alexander to spear a salmon, and throw + a trout-line, and stalk a deer. They had constant confidences about tackle + and guns and snares. They were all day together on the hills. The works + pleased the boy better than his father's studio. He trotted away with his + grandfather gladly to them. The fires and molten metal, the wheels and + hammers and tumult, were all enchantments to him. He never feared to leap + into a collier's basket and swing down the deep, black shaft. He had also + an appreciative love of money; he knew just how many sixpences he owned, + and though he could give if asked to do so, he always wanted the dominie + to give him a good reason for giving. The child gave him back again his + youth, and a fuller and nobler one than he himself had known. + </p> + <p> + And God was very gracious to him, and lengthened out this second youth to + a green old age. These men of old Gaul had iron constitutions; they did + not begin to think themselves old men until they had turned fourscore. It + was thirty years after Helen's death when Tallisker one night sent this + word to his life-long friend, + </p> + <p> + "I hae been called, Crawford; come and see me once more." + </p> + <p> + They all went together to the manse. The dominie was in his ninety-first + year, and he was going home. No one could call it dying. He had no pain. + He was going to his last sleep + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "As sweetly as a child, + Whom neither thought disturbs nor care encumbers, + Tired with long play, at close of summer's day + Lies down and slumbers." +</pre> + <p> + "Good-by, Crawford—for a little while. We'll hae nae tears. I hae + lived joyfully before my God these ninety years; I am going out o' the + sunshine into the sunshine. Crawford, through that sair strait o' yours + you hae set a grand, wide-open door for a weight o' happiness. I am glad + ye didna wait. A good will is a good thing, but a good life is far better. + It is a grand thing to sow your ain good seed. Nae ither hand could hae + done it sae well and sae wisely. Far and wide there are lads and lasses + growing up to call you blessed. This is a thought to mak death easy, + Crawford. Good-night, dears." + </p> + <p> + And then "God's finger touched him and he slept." + </p> + <p> + Crawford lived but a few weeks longer. After the dominie's death he simply + sat waiting. His darling Alexander came home specially to brighten these + last hours, and in his company he showed almost to the last hour the true + Crawford spirit. + </p> + <p> + "Alexander," he would say, "you'll ding for your ain side and the + Crawfords always, but you'll be a good man; there is nae happiness else, + dear. Never rest, my lad, till ye sit where your fathers sat in the House + o' Peers. Stand by the State and the Kirk, and fear God, Alexander. The + lease o' the Cowden Knowes is near out; don't renew it. Grip tight what ye + hae got, but pay every debt as if God wrote the bill. Remember the poor, + dear lad. Charity gies itsel' rich. Riches mak to themselves wings, but + charity clips the wings. The love o' God, dear, the love o' God—that + is the best o' all." + </p> + <p> + Yes, he had a sair struggle with his lower nature to the very last, but he + was constantly strengthened by the conviction of a "Power closer to him + than breathing, nearer than hands or feet." Nine weeks after the dominie's + death they found him sitting in his chair, fallen on that sleep whose + waking is eternal day. His death was like Tallisker's—a perfectly + natural one. He had been reading. The Bible lay open at that grand + peroration of St. Paul's on faith, in the twelfth of Hebrews. The "great + cloud of witnesses," "the sin which doth so easily beset us," "Jesus, the + Author and Finisher of our faith"—these were probably his last + earthly thoughts, and with them he passed into + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "That perfect presence of His face + Which we, for want of words, call heaven." +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JAMES BLACKIE'S REVENGE. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + Few people who have travelled will deny that of all cities Glasgow is + apparently the least romantic. Steeped in wet, white mist, or wrapped in + yellow fog vapor, all gray stone and gray sky, dirty streets, and sloppy + people, it presents none of the features of a show town. Yet it has great + merits; it is enterprising, persevering, intensely national, and + practically religious; and people who do not mind being damp have every + chance to make a good living there. Even the sombre appearance of the dark + gray granite of which it is built is not unsuitable to the sterling + character of its people; for though this stone may be dull and ugly, there + is a natural nobility about it, and it never can be mean. + </p> + <p> + I have said that, as a city, Glasgow is practically religious, and + certainly this was the case something less than half a century ago. The + number of its churches was not more remarkable than the piety and learning + of its clergy; and the "skailing" of their congregations on a Sabbath + afternoon was one of the most impressive sights, of its kind, in the + world. + </p> + <p> + My true little story opens with the skailing of the Ramshorn Kirk, a very + favorite place of worship with the well-to-do burghers of the east end of + the city, and it was a peculiarly douce, decent, solemn-looking crowd that + slowly and reverently passed out of its gates into the absolutely silent + streets. For no vehicles of any kind disturbed the Sabbath stillness, and + not until the people had gone some distance from the house of God did they + begin to think their own thoughts, and with a certain grave reserve put + them into words. + </p> + <p> + Among the groups who proceeded still farther east, towards the pleasant + houses facing the "Green," one alone was remarkable enough to have + elicited special notice from an observing stranger. It consisted of an old + man and a young girl, evidently his daughter. Both were strikingly + handsome, and the girl was much better dressed than the majority of women + who took the same road. Long before they reached the Green they were + joined by a younger man, whom the elder at once addressed in a reproving + voice. + </p> + <p> + "Ye didna pay as much attention to the sermon as it behooved ye to do, + James Blackie; and what for did ye speak to Robert Laird a'most within + 'the Gates'?" + </p> + <p> + "I only asked if he had heard of the 'Bonnie Bess;' she is overdue five + days, and eight good men in her, not to speak of the cargo." + </p> + <p> + "It's no cannie to be aye asking questions. Sit still and the news will + come to ye: forbye, I'm no sure if yon was a lawfu' question; the Sabbath + sun hasna set yet." + </p> + <p> + James Blackie mechanically turned to the west, and then slowly let his + glance fall on the lovely face at his side. + </p> + <p> + "Christine," he asked softly, "how is all with you?" + </p> + <p> + "All is well, James." + </p> + <p> + Not another word was spoken until they reached David Cameron's home. He + was carefully reconsidering the sermon—going over every point on his + finger ends, lest he should drop any link of the argument; and James and + Christine were listening to his criticisms and remarks. They all stopped + before a shop over the windows of which was painted, "David Cameron, + Dealer in Fine Teas;" and David, taking a large key from his pocket, + opened the door, and said, + </p> + <p> + "Come in and eat wi' us, James; ye ken ye're welcome." + </p> + <p> + "Our friendship, Mr. Cameron, is a kind of Montgomery division—all + on one side, nothing on the other; but I am 'so by myself' that I thank + you heartily." + </p> + <p> + So David, followed by Christine and James, passed slowly through the + darkened store, with its faint smells of Eastern spices and fragrant teas, + into the little parlor beyond. The early winter night had now fallen, and + the room, having only an outlet into a small court, would have been dark + also but for the red glow of the "covered" fire. David took the poker and + struck the great block of coal, and instantly the cheerful blaze threw an + air of cosey and almost picturesque comfort over the homelike room. + </p> + <p> + The two men sat down beside the fire, spreading their hands to its warmth, + and apparently finding their own thoughts excellent company, for neither + of them spoke or moved until Christine reappeared. She had divested + herself of the handsome black satin and velvet which formed her kirk suit; + but in her long, plain dress of gray winsey, with a snowy lawn kerchief + and cuffs, she looked still more fair and lovable. + </p> + <p> + James watched her as she spread the cloth and produced from various + cupboards cold meats and pastries, bread and cakes, and many kinds of + delicate preserves and sweetmeats. Her large, shapely hands among the + gold-and-white china fascinated him, while her calm, noiseless, unhurried + movements induced a feeling of passive repose that it required an effort + to dispel, when she said in a low, even voice, + </p> + <p> + "Father, the food is waiting for the blessing." + </p> + <p> + It was a silent but by no means an unhappy meal. David was a good man, and + he ate his food graciously and gratefully, dropping now and then a word of + praise or thanks; and James felt it delightful enough to watch Christine. + For James, though he had not yet admitted the fact to his own heart, loved + Christine Cameron as men love only once, with that deep, pure affection + that has perchance a nearer kindred than this life has hinted of. + </p> + <p> + He thought her also exquisitely beautiful, though this opinion would not + have been indorsed by a majority of men. For Christine had one of those + pale, statuesque faces apt to be solemn in repose; its beauty was tender + and twilight, its expression serious and steadfast, and her clear, + spiritual eyes held in them no light of earthly passion. She had grown up + in that little back parlor amid the din and tumult of the city, under the + gray, rainy skies, and surrounded by care and sin, as a white lily grows + out of the dark, damp soil, drawing from the elements around only + sweetness and purity. + </p> + <p> + She was very silent this afternoon, but apparently very happy. Indeed, + there was an expression on her face which attracted her father's + attention, and he said, + </p> + <p> + "The sermon has pleased thee well, I see, Christine." + </p> + <p> + "The sermon was good, but the text was enough, father. I think it over in + my heart, and it leaves a light on all the common things of life." And she + repeated it softly, "O Thou preserver of men, unto Thee shall all flesh + come." + </p> + <p> + David lifted his bonnet reverently, and James, who was learned in what the + Scotch pleasantly call "the humanities," added slowly, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "'But I, the mortal, + Planted so lowly, with death to bless me, + I sorrow no longer.'" +</pre> + <p> + When people have such subjects of conversation, they talk moderately—for + words are but poor interpreters of emotions whose sources lie in the + depths of eternity. But they were none the less happy, and James felt as + if he had been sitting at one of those tables which the Lord "prepareth in + the wilderness," where the "cup runneth over" with joy and content. + </p> + <p> + Such moments rarely last long; and it is doubtful if we could bear to keep + the soul always to its highest bent. When Christine had sided away the + dishes and put in order the little room, David laid down his pipe, and + said, "The Lord's day being now over, I may speak anent my ain matters. I + had a letter, Christine, on Saturday, from my brother-in-law, McFarlane. + He says young Donald will be in Glasgow next week." + </p> + <p> + "Will he stay here, father?" + </p> + <p> + "Na, na; he'll bide wi' the McFarlanes. They are rich folk; but siller is + nae sin—an' it be clean-won siller." + </p> + <p> + "Then why did Uncle McFarlane write to you, father?" + </p> + <p> + "He wrote concerning the lad's pecuniary matters, Christine. Young Donald + will need gude guiding; and he is my sister Jessie's only bairn—blood + is thicker than water, ye'll allow that—and Donald is o' gentle + blood. I'm no saying that's everything; but it is gude to come o' a gude + kind." + </p> + <p> + "The McFarlanes have aye been for the pope and the Stuarts," said James, a + little scornfully. "They were 'out' in the '79'; and they would pin the + white cockade on to-morrow, if there was ever a Stuart to bid them do it." + </p> + <p> + "Maybe they would, James. Hielandmen hae a way o' sticking to auld + friends. There's Camerons I wadna go bail for, if Prince Charlie could + come again; but let that flea stick to the wa'. And the McFarlanes arena + exactly papist noo; the twa last generations hae been 'Piscopals—that's + ane step ony way towards the truth. Luther mayna be John Knox, but they'll + win up to him some time, dootless they will." + </p> + <p> + "How old is young McFarlane?" asked James. + </p> + <p> + "He is turned twenty—a braw lad, his father says. I hae ne'er seen + him, but he's Jessie's bairn, and my heart gaes out to meet him." + </p> + <p> + "Why did you not tell me on Saturday, father? I could have spoken for + Maggie Maclean to help me put the house in order." + </p> + <p> + "I didna get the letter till the evening post. It was most as good as + Sabbath then. Housecleaning is an unco temptation to women-folk, so I + keepit the news till the Sabbath sun was weel set." + </p> + <p> + During this conversation James Blackie's heart had become heavy with some + sad presentiment of trouble, such as arise very naturally in similar + circumstances. As a poet says, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Ah, no! it is not all delusion, + That strange intelligence of sorrow + Searching the tranquil heart's seclusion, + Making us quail before the morrow. + 'Tis the farewell of happiness departing, + The sudden tremor of a soul at rest; + The wraith of coming grief upstarting + Within the watchful breast." +</pre> + <p> + He listened to David Cameron's reminiscences of his bonnie sister Jessie, + and of the love match she had made with the great Highland chieftain, with + an ill-disguised impatience. He had a Lowlander's scorn for the + thriftless, fighting, freebooting traditions of the Northern clans and a + Calvinist's dislike to the Stuarts and the Stuarts' faith; so that David's + unusual emotion was exceedingly and, perhaps, unreasonably irritating to + him. He could not bear to hear him speak with trembling voice and gleaming + eyes of the grand mountains and the silent corries around Ben-Nevis, the + red deer trooping over the misty steeps, and the brown hinds lying among + the green plumes of fern, and the wren and the thrush lilting in song + together. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, the bonnie, bonnie Hielands!" cried David with a passionate + affection; "it is always Sabbath up i' the mountains, Christine. I maun + see them once again ere I lay by my pilgrim-staff and shoon for ever." + </p> + <p> + "Then you are not Glasgow born, Mr. Cameron," said James, with the air of + one who finds out something to another's disadvantage. + </p> + <p> + "Me! Glasgo' born! Na, na, man! I was born among the mountains o' Argyle. + It was a sair downcome fra them to the Glasgo' pavements. But I'm saying + naething against Glasgo'. I was but thinking o' the days when I wore the + tartan and climbed the hills in the white dawns, and, kneeling on the top + o' Ben Na Keen, saw the sun sink down wi' a smile. It's little ane sees o' + sunrising or sunsetting here, James," and David sighed heavily and wiped + away the tender mist from his sight. + </p> + <p> + James looked at the old man with some contempt; he himself had been born + and reared in one or other of the closest and darkest streets of the city. + The memories of his loveless, hard-worked childhood were bitter to him, + and he knew nothing of the joy of a boyhood spent in the hills and woods. + </p> + <p> + "Life is the same everywhere, Mr. Cameron. I dare say there is as much sin + and as much worry and care among the mountains as on the Glasgow + pavements." + </p> + <p> + "You may 'daur say' it, James, but that winna mak it true. Even in this + warld our Father's house has many mansions. Gang your way up and up + through thae grand solitudes and ye'll blush to be caught worrying among + them." + </p> + <p> + And then in a clear, jubilant voice he broke into the old Scotch version + of the 121st Psalm: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "I to the hills will lift mine eyes + from whence doth come mine aid; + My safety cometh from the Lord, + who heaven and earth hath made." +</pre> + <p> + And he sang it to that loveliest of all psalm tunes, Rathiel's "St. + Mary's." It was impossible to resist the faith, the enthusiasm, the + melody. At the second bar Christine's clear, sweet voice joined in, and at + the second line James was making a happy third. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Henceforth thy goings out and in + God keep for ever will." +</pre> + <p> + "Thae twa lines will do for a 'Gude-night,'" said David in the pause at + the end of the psalm, and James rose with a sigh and wrapped his plaid + around him. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + James had gone into the house so happy and hopeful, he left it so anxious + and angry—yes, angry. He knew well that he had no just cause for + anger, but that knowledge only irritated him the more. Souls, as well as + bodies, are subject to malignant diseases, and to-night envy and jealousy + were causing James Blackie more acute suffering than any attack of fever + or contagion. A feeling of dislike towards young Donald McFarlane had + taken possession of his heart; he lay awake to make a mental picture of + the youth, and then he hated the picture he had made. + </p> + <p> + Feverish and miserable, he went next morning to the bank in which he was + employed, and endeavored amid the perplexities of compound interest to + forget the anxieties he had invented for himself. But it was beyond his + power, and he did not pray about them; for the burdens we bind on our own + shoulders we rarely dare to go to God with, and James might have known + from this circumstance alone that his trouble was no lawful one. He nursed + it carefully all day and took it to bed with him again at night. The next + day he had begun to understand how envy grew to hatred, and hatred to + murder. Still he did not go to God for help, and still he kept ever before + his eyes the image of the youth that he had determined was to be his + enemy. + </p> + <p> + On Thursday night he could no longer bear his uncertainties. He dressed + himself carefully and went to David Cameron's. David was in his shop + tasting and buying teas, and apparently absorbed in business. He merely + nodded to James, and bid him "walk through." He had no intention of being + less kindly than usual, but James was in such a suspicious temper that he + took his preoccupation for coolness, and so it was almost with a resentful + feeling he opened the half-glass door dividing the shop from the parlor. + </p> + <p> + As his heart had foretold him, there sat the youth whom he had determined + to hate, but his imagination had greatly deceived him with regard to his + appearance. He had thought of Donald only as a "fair, false Highlander" in + tartan, kilt, and philibeg. He found him a tall, dark youth, richly + dressed in the prevailing Southern fashion, and retaining no badge of his + country's costume but the little Glengary cap with its chieftain's token + of an eagle's feather. His manners were not rude and haughty, as James had + decided they would be; they were singularly frank and pleasant. Gracious + and graceful, exceedingly handsome and light-hearted, he was likely to + prove a far more dangerous rival than even James' jealous heart had + anticipated. + </p> + <p> + He rose at Christine's introduction, and offered his hand with a pleasant + smile to James. The latter received the courtesy with such marked aversion + that Donald slightly raised his eyebrows ere he resumed his interrupted + conversation with Christine. And now that James sat down with a + determination to look for offences he found plenty. Christine was sewing, + and Donald sat beside her winding and unwinding her threads, playing with + her housewife, or teasingly hiding her scissors. Christine, half pleased + and half annoyed, gradually fell into Donald's mood, and her still face + dimpled into smiles. James very quickly decided that Donald presumed in a + very offensive manner on his relationship to Christine. + </p> + <p> + A little after nine o'clock David, having closed his shop, joined them in + the parlor. He immediately began to question James about the loss of the + "Bonnie Bess," and from that subject they drifted easily into others of a + local business interest. It was very natural that Donald, being a stranger + both to the city and its business, should take no part in this discourse, + and that he should, in consequence, devote himself to Christine. But James + felt it an offence, and rose much earlier than was his wont to depart. + David stayed him, almost authoritatively: + </p> + <p> + "Ye maun stop, baith o' ye lads, and join in my meat and worship. They are + ill visitors that canna sit at ane board and kneel at ane altar." + </p> + <p> + For David had seen, through all their drifting talk of ships and cargoes, + the tumult in James' heart, and he did not wish him to go away in an + ungenerous and unjust temper. So both Donald and James partook of the + homely supper of pease brose and butter, oatmeal cakes and fresh milk, and + then read aloud with David and Christine the verses of the evening Psalm + that came to each in turn. James was much softened by the exercise; so + much so that when Donald asked permission to walk with him as far as their + way lay together, he very pleasantly acceded to the request. And Donald + was so bright and unpretentious it was almost impossible to resist the + infectious good temper which seemed to be his characteristic. + </p> + <p> + Still James was very little happier or more restful. He lay awake again, + but this night it was not to fret and fume, but to calmly think over his + position and determine what was best and right to do. For James still + thought of "right," and would have been shocked indeed if any angel of + conscience had revealed to him the lowest depths of his desires and + intentions. In the first place, he saw that David would tolerate no + element of quarrelling and bitterness in his peaceful home, and that if he + would continue to visit there he must preserve the semblance of friendship + for Donald McFarlane. In the second, he saw that Donald had already made + so good his lien upon his uncle's and cousin's affections that it would be + very hard to make them believe wrong of the lad, even if he should do + wrong, though of this James told himself there would soon be abundance. + </p> + <p> + "For the things David will think sinful beyond all measure," he argued, + "will seem but Puritanical severity to him; forbye, he is rich, gay, + handsome, and has little to do with his time, he'll get well on to Satan's + ground before he knows it;" and then some whisper dim and low in his soul + made him blush and pause and defer the following out of a course which was + to begin in such a way. + </p> + <p> + So Donald and he fell into the habit of meeting at David's two or three + nights every week, and an apparent friendship sprang up between them. It + was only apparent, however. On Donald's side was that good-natured + indifference that finds it easy enough to say smooth words, and is not + ready to think evil or to take offence; on James' part a wary + watchfulness, assuming the rtle of superior wisdom, half admiring and half + condemning Donald's youthful spirits and ways. + </p> + <p> + David was quite deceived; he dropped at once the authoritative manner + which had marked his displeasure when he perceived James' disposition to + envy and anger; he fell again into his usual pleasant familiar talks with + the young man, for David thought highly of James as of one likely to do + his duty to God and himself. + </p> + <p> + In these conversations Donald soon began to take a little share, and when + he chose to do so, evinced a thought and shrewdness which greatly pleased + his uncle; more generally, however, he was at Christine's side, reading + her some poem he had copied, or telling her about some grand party he had + been at. Sometimes James could catch a few words of reproof addressed in a + gentle voice to Donald by Christine; more often he heard only the murmur + of an earnest conversation, or Christine's low laugh at some amusing + incident. + </p> + <p> + The little room meanwhile had gradually become a far brighter place. + Donald kept it sweet and bright with his daily offerings of fresh flowers; + the pet canary he had given Christine twittered and sang to her all the + day through. Over Christine herself had come the same bright change; her + still, calm face often dimpled into smiles, her pale-gold hair was snooded + with a pretty ribbon, and her dress a little richer. Yet, after all, the + change was so slight that none but a lover would have noticed it. But + there was not a smile or a shade of brighter color that James did not see; + and he bore it with an equanimity which used often to astonish himself, + though it would not have done so if he had dared just once to look down + into his heart; he bore it because he knew that Donald was living two + lives—one that Christine saw, and one that she could not even have + imagined. + </p> + <p> + It was, alas, too true that this gay, good-natured young man, who had + entered the fashionable world without one bad habit, was fast becoming + proficient in all its follies and vices. That kind of negative goodness + which belonged naturally to him, unfortified by strict habits and strong + principles, had not been able to repel the seductions and temptations that + assail young men, rich, handsome, and well-born. There was an evil triumph + in James' heart one night when Donald said to him, as they walked home + after an evening at David's, + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Blackie, I wish you could lend me #20. I am in a little trouble, and + I cannot ask Uncle David for more, as I have already overdrawn my father's + allowance." + </p> + <p> + James loaned it with an eager willingness, though he was usually very + cautious and careful of every bawbee of his hard-earned money. He knew it + was but the beginning of confidence, and so it proved; in a very little + while Donald had fallen into the habit of going to James in every + emergency, and of making him the confidant of all his youthful hopes and + follies. + </p> + <p> + James even schooled himself to listen patiently to Donald's praises of his + cousin Christine. "She is just the wife I shall need when I settle down in + three or four years," Donald would say complacently, "and I think she + loves me. Of course no man is worthy of such a woman, but when I have seen + life a little I mean to try and be so." + </p> + <p> + "Umph!" answered James scornfully, "do you suppose, Mr. McFarlane, that + ye'll be fit for a pure lassie like Christine Cameron when you have played + the prodigal and consorted with foolish women, and wasted your substance + in riotous living?" + </p> + <p> + And Donald said with an honest blush, "By the memory of my mother, no, I + do not, James. And I am ashamed when I think of Christine's white soul and + the stained love I have to offer it. But women forgive! Oh, what mothers + and wives and sisters there are in this world!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, don't try Christine too far, Donald. She is of an old Covenanting + stock; her conscience feels sin afar off. I do not believe she would marry + a bad, worldly man, though it broke her heart to say 'No.' I have known + her far longer than you have." + </p> + <p> + "Tut, man, I love her! I know her better in an hour than you could do in a + lifetime;" and Donald looked rather contemptuously on the plain man who + was watching him with eyes that might have warned any one more suspicious + or less confident and self-satisfied. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + The summer brought some changes. Christine went to the seaside for a few + weeks, and Donald went away in Lord Neville's yacht with a party of gay + young men; James and David passed the evenings generally together. If it + was wet, they remained in the shop or parlor; if fine, they rambled to the + "Green," and sitting down by the riverside talked of business, of + Christine, and of Donald. In one of these confidential rambles James first + tried to arouse in David's mind a suspicion as to his nephew's real + character. David himself introduced the subject by speaking of a letter he + had received from Donald. + </p> + <p> + "He's wi' the great Earl o' Egremont at present," said David proudly, for + he had all a Scotsman's respect for good birth; "and there is wi' them + young Argyle, and Lord Lovat, and ithers o' the same quality. But our + Donald can cock his bonnet wi' ony o' them; there is na better blood in + Scotland than the McFarlanes'. It taks money though to foregather wi' + nobeelity, and Donald is wanting some. So, James, I'll gie ye the siller + to-night, and ye'll send it through your bank as early as may be in the + morn." + </p> + <p> + "Donald wanting money is an old want, Mr. Cameron." + </p> + <p> + David glanced quickly at James, and answered almost haughtily, "It's a + common want likewise, James Blackie. But if Donald McFarlane wants money, + he's got kin that can accommodate him, James; wanters arena always that + fortunate." + </p> + <p> + "He has got friends likewise, Mr. Cameron; and I am sure I was proud + enough to do him a kindness, and he knows it well." + </p> + <p> + "And how much may Donald be owing you, I wonder?" + </p> + <p> + "Only a little matter of #20. You see he had got into—" + </p> + <p> + "Dinna fash yoursel' wi' explanations, James. Dootless Donald has his + faults; but I may weel wink at his small faults, when I hae sae mony great + faults o' my ain." + </p> + <p> + And David's personal accusation sounded so much like a reproof, that James + did not feel it safe to pursue the subject. + </p> + <p> + That very night David wrote thus to his nephew: + </p> + <p> + "Donald, my dear lad, if thou owest James Blackie #20, pay it immediate. + Lying is the second vice, owing money is the first. I enclose draft for + #70 instead o' #50, as per request." + </p> + <p> + That #70 was a large sum in the eyes of the careful Glasgow trader; in the + young Highlander's eyes it seemed but a small sum. He could not form any + conception of the amount of love it represented, nor of the struggle it + had cost David to "gie awa for nae consideration" the savings of many + days, perhaps weeks, of toil and thought. + </p> + <p> + In September Christine came back, and towards the end of October, Donald. + He was greatly improved externally by his trip and his associations—more + manly and more handsome—while his manners had acquired a slight + touch of hauteur that both amused and pleased his uncle. It had been + decided that he should remain in Glasgow another winter, and then select + his future profession. But at present Donald troubled himself little about + the future. He had returned to Christine more in love with the peace and + purity of her character than ever; and besides, his pecuniary + embarrassments in Glasgow were such as to require his personal presence + until they were arranged. + </p> + <p> + This arrangement greatly troubled him. He had only a certain allowance + from his father—a loving but stern man—who having once decided + what sum was sufficient for a young man in Donald's position, would not, + under any ordinary circumstances, increase it. David Cameron had already + advanced him #70. James Blackie was a resource he did not care again to + apply to. In the meantime he was pressed by small debts on every hand, and + was living among a class of young men whose habits led him into expenses + far beyond his modest income. He began to be very anxious and miserable. + In Christine's presence he was indeed still the same merry-hearted + gentleman; but James saw him in other places, and he knew from long + experience the look of care that drew Donald's handsome brows together. + </p> + <p> + One night, towards the close of this winter, James went to see an old man + who was a broker or trader in bills and money, doing business in the + Cowcaddens. James also did a little of the same business in a cautious + way, and it was some mutual transaction in gold and silver that took him + that dreary, soaking night into such a locality. + </p> + <p> + The two men talked for some time in a low and earnest voice, and then the + old man, opening a greasy leather satchel, displayed a quantity of paper + which he had bought. James looked it over with a keen and practised eye. + Suddenly his attitude and expression changed; he read over and over one + piece of paper, and every time he read it he looked at it more critically + and with a greater satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + "Andrew Starkie," he said, "where did you buy this?" + </p> + <p> + "Weel, James, I bought it o' Laidlaw—Aleck Laidlaw. Ye wadna think a + big tailoring place like that could hae the wind in their faces; but folks + maun hae their bad weather days, ye ken; but it blew me gude, so I'll + ne'er complain. Ye see it is for #89, due in twenty days now, and I only + gied #79 for it—a good name too, nane better." + </p> + <p> + "David Cameron! But what would he be owing Laidlaw #89 for clothes for?" + </p> + <p> + "Tut, tut! The claithes were for his nephew. There was some trouble anent + the bill, but the old man gied a note for the amount at last, at three + months. It's due in twenty days now. As he banks wi' your firm, ye may + collect it for me; it will be an easy-made penny or twa." + </p> + <p> + "I would like to buy this note. What will you sell it for?" + </p> + <p> + "I'm no minded to sell it. What for do ye want it?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing particular. I'll give you #90 for it." + </p> + <p> + "If it's worth that to you, it is worth mair. I'm no minded to tak #90." + </p> + <p> + "I'll give you #95." + </p> + <p> + "I'm no minded to tak it. It's worth mair to you, I see that. What are you + going to mak by it? I'll sell it for half o' what you are counting on." + "Then you would not make a bawbee. I am going to ware #95 on—on a + bit of revenge. Now will you go shares?" + </p> + <p> + "Not I. Revenge in cold blood is the deil's own act. I dinna wark wi' the + deil, when it's a losing job to me." + </p> + <p> + "Will you take #95 then?" + </p> + <p> + "No. When lads want whistles they maun pay for them." + </p> + <p> + "I'll give no more. For why? Because in twenty days you will do my work + for me; then it will cost me nothing, and it will cost you #89, that is + all about it, Starkie." + </p> + <p> + Starkie lifted the note which James had flung carelessly down, and his + skinny hands trembled as he fingered it. "This is David Cameron's note o' + hand, and David Cameron is a gude name." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, very good. Only that is not David Cameron's writing, it is a—forgery. + Light your pipe with it, Andrew Starkie." + </p> + <p> + "His nephew gave it himsel' to Aleck Laidlaw—" + </p> + <p> + "I know. And I hate his nephew. He has come between me and Christine + Cameron. Do you see now?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh! oh! oh! I see, I see! Well, James, you can have it for #100—as + a favor." + </p> + <p> + "I don't want it now. He could not have a harder man to deal with than you + are. You suit me very well." + </p> + <p> + "James, such business wont suit me. I can't afford to be brought into + notice. I would rather lose double the money than prosecute any gentleman + in trouble." + </p> + <p> + The older man had reasoned right—James dared not risk the note out + of sight, dared not trust to Starkie's prosecution. He longed to have the + bit of paper in his own keeping, and after a wary battle of a full hour's + length Andrew Starkie had his #89 back again, and James had the note in + his pocket-book. + </p> + <p> + Through the fog, and through the wind, and through the rain he went, and + he knew nothing, and he felt nothing but that little bit of paper against + his breast. Oh, how greedily he remembered Donald's handsome looks and + stately ways, and all the thousand little words and acts by which he + imagined himself wronged and insulted. Now he had his enemy beneath his + feet, and for several days this thought satisfied him, and he hid his + secret morsel of vengeance and found it sweet—sharply, bitterly + sweet—for even yet conscience pleaded hard with him. + </p> + <p> + As he sat counting his columns of figures, every gentle, forgiving word of + Christ came into his heart. He knew well that Donald would receive his + quarterly allowance before the bill was due, and that he must have relied + on this to meet it. He also knew enough of Donald's affairs to guess + something of the emergency that he must have been in ere he would have + yielded to so dangerous an alternative. There were times when he + determined to send for Donald, show him the frightful danger in which he + stood, and then tear the note before his eyes, and leave its payment to + his honor. He even realized the peace which would flow from such a deed. + Nor were these feelings transitory, his better nature pleaded so hard with + him that he walked his room hour after hour under their influence, and + their power over him was such as delayed all action in the matter for + nearly a week. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + At length one morning David Cameron came into the bank, and having + finished his business, walked up to James and said, "I feared ye were ill, + James. Whatna for hae ye stayed awa sae lang? I wanted ye sairly last + night to go o'er wi' me the points in this debate at our kirk. We are to + hae anither session to-night; ye'll come the morn and talk it o'er wi' + me?" + </p> + <p> + "I will, Mr. Cameron." + </p> + <p> + But James instantly determined to see Christine that night. Her father + would be at the kirk session, and if Donald was there, he thought he knew + how to whisper him away. He meant to have Christine all to himself for an + hour or two, and if he saw any opportunity he would tell her all. When he + got to David's the store was still open, but the clerk said, "David has + just gone," and James, as was his wont, walked straight to the parlor. + </p> + <p> + Donald was there; he had guessed that, because a carriage was in waiting, + and he knew it could belong to no other caller at David Cameron's. And + never had Donald roused in him such an intense antagonism. He was going to + some National Celebration, and he stood beside Christine in all the + splendid picturesque pomp of the McFarlane tartans. He was holding + Christine's hand, and she stood as a white lily in the glow and color of + his dark beauty. Perhaps both of them felt James' entrance inopportune. At + any rate they received him coldly, Donald drew Christine a little apart, + said a few whispered words to her, and lifting his bonnet slightly to + James, he went away. + </p> + <p> + In the few minutes of this unfortunate meeting the devil entered into + James' heart. Even Christine was struck with the new look on his face. It + was haughty, malicious, and triumphant, and he leaned against the high + oaken chimney-piece in a defiant way that annoyed Christine, though she + could not analyze it. + </p> + <p> + "Sit down, James," she said with a touch of authority—for his + attitude had unconsciously put her on the defensive. "Donald has gone to + the Caledonian club; there is to be a grand gathering of Highland + gentlemen there to-night." + </p> + <p> + "<i>Gentlemen!</i>" + </p> + <p> + "Well, yes, <i>gentlemen!</i> And there will be none there more worthy the + name than our Donald." + </p> + <p> + "The rest of them are much to be scorned at, then." + </p> + <p> + "James, James, that speech was little like you. Sit down and come to + yourself; I am sure you are not so mean as to grudge Donald the rights of + his good birth." + </p> + <p> + "Donald McFarlane shall have all the rights he has worked for; and when he + gets his just payment he will be in Glasgow jail." + </p> + <p> + "James, you are ill. You have not been here for a week, and you look so + unlike yourself. I know you must be ill. Will you let me send for our + doctor?" And she approached him kindly, and looked with anxious scrutiny + into his face. + </p> + <p> + He put her gently away, and said in a thick, rapid voice, + </p> + <p> + "Christine, I came to-night to tell you that Donald McFarlane is unworthy + to come into your presence—he has forged your father's name." + </p> + <p> + "James, you are mad, or ill, what you say is just impossible!" + </p> + <p> + "I am neither mad nor ill. I will prove it, if you wish." + </p> + <p> + At these words every trace of sympathy or feeling vanished from her face; + and she said in a low, hoarse whisper, + </p> + <p> + "You cannot prove it. I would not believe such a thing possible." + </p> + <p> + Then with a pitiless particularity he went over all the events relating to + the note, and held it out for her to examine the signature. + </p> + <p> + "Is that David Cameron's writing?" he cried; "did you ever see such a weak + imitation? The man is a fool as well as a villain." + </p> + <p> + Christine gazed blankly at the witness of her cousin's guilt, and James, + carried away with the wicked impetuosity of his passionate accusations of + Donald's life, did not see the fair face set in white despair and the eyes + close wearily, as with a piteous cry she fell prostrate at his feet. + </p> + <p> + Ah, how short was his triumph! When he saw the ruin that his words had + made he shrieked aloud in his terror and agony. Help was at hand, and + doctors were quickly brought, but she had received a shock from which it + seemed impossible to revive her. David was brought home, and knelt in + speechless distress by the side of his insensible child, but no hope + lightened the long, terrible night, and when the reaction came in the + morning, it came in the form of fever and delirium. + </p> + <p> + Questioned closely by David, James admitted nothing but that while talking + to him about Donald McFarlane she had fallen at his feet, and Donald could + only say that he had that evening told her he was going to Edinburgh in + two weeks, to study law with his cousin, and that he had asked her to be + his wife. + </p> + <p> + This acknowledgement bound David and Donald in a closer communion of + sorrow. James and his sufferings were scarcely noticed. Yet, probably of + all that unhappy company, he suffered the most. He loved Christine with a + far deeper affection than Donald had ever dreamed of. He would have given + his life for hers, and yet he had, perhaps, been her murderer. How he + hated Donald in those days! What love and remorse tortured him! And what + availed it that he had bought the power to ruin the man he hated? He was + afraid to use it. If Christine lived, and he did use it, she would never + forgive him; if she died, he would be her murderer. + </p> + <p> + But the business of life cannot be delayed for its sorrows. David must + wait in his shop, and James must be at the bank; and in two weeks Donald + had to leave for Edinburgh, though Christine was lying in a silent, + broken-hearted apathy, so close to the very shoal of Time that none dared + say, "She will live another day." + </p> + <p> + How James despised Donald for leaving her at all; he desired nothing + beyond the permission to sit by her side, and watch and aid the slow + struggle of life back from the shores and shades of death. + </p> + <p> + It was almost the end of summer before she was able to resume her place in + the household, but long before that she had asked to see James. The + interview took place one Sabbath afternoon while David was at church. + Christine had been lifted to a couch, but she was unable to move, and even + speech was exhausting and difficult to her. James knelt down by her side, + and, weeping bitterly, said, + </p> + <p> + "O Christine, forgive me!" + </p> + <p> + She smiled faintly. + </p> + <p> + "You—have—not—used—yonder—paper,—James?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no, no." + </p> + <p> + "It—would—kill—me. You—would—not—kill—me?" + </p> + <p> + "I would die to make you strong again." + </p> + <p> + "Don't—hurt—Donald. Forgive—for—Christ's—sake,—James!" + </p> + <p> + Poor James! It was hard for him to see that still Donald was her first + thought, and, looking on the wreck of Christine's youth and beauty, it was + still harder not to hate him worse than ever. + </p> + <p> + Nor did the temptation to do so grow less with time. He had to listen + every evening to David's praises of his nephew: how "he had been entered + wi' Advocate Scott, and was going to be a grand lawyer," or how he had + been to some great man's house and won all hearts with his handsome face + and witty tongue. Or, perhaps, he would be shown some rich token of his + love that had come for Christine; or David would say, "There's the + 'Edinbro' News,' James; it cam fra Donald this morn; tak it hame wi' you. + You're welcome." And James feared not to take it, feared to show the + slightest dislike to Donald, lest David's anger at it should provoke him + to say what was in his heart, and Christine only be the sufferer. + </p> + <p> + One cold night in early winter, James, as was his wont now, went to spend + the evening in talking with David and in watching Christine. That was + really all it was; for, though she had resumed her house duties, she took + little part in conversation. She had always been inclined to silence, but + now a faint smile and a "Yes" or "No" were her usual response, even to her + father's remarks. This night he found David out, and he hesitated whether + to trouble Christine or not. He stood for a moment in the open door and + looked at her. She was sitting by the table with a little Testament open + in her hand; but she was rather musing on what she had been reading than + continuing her occupation. + </p> + <p> + "Christine!" + </p> + <p> + "James!" + </p> + <p> + "May I come in?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, surely." + </p> + <p> + "I hear your father has gone to a town-meeting." + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "And he is to be made a bailie." + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "I am very glad. It will greatly please him, and there is no citizen more + worthy of the honor." + </p> + <p> + "I think so also." + </p> + <p> + "Shall I disturb you if I wait to see him?" + </p> + <p> + "No, James; sit down." + </p> + <p> + Then Christine laid aside her book and took her sewing, and James sat + thinking how he could best introduce the subject ever near his heart. He + felt that there was much to say in his own behalf, if he only knew how to + begin. Christine opened the subject for him. She laid down her work and + went and stood before the fire at his side. The faintest shadow of color + was in her face, and her eyes were unspeakably sad and anxious. He could + not bear their eager, searching gaze, and dropped his own. + </p> + <p> + "James, have you destroyed yonder paper?" + </p> + <p> + "Nay, Christine; I am too poor a man to throw away so much hard-won gold. + I am keeping it until I can see Mr. McFarlane and quietly collect my own." + </p> + <p> + "You will never use it in any way against him?" + </p> + <p> + "Will you ever marry him? Tell me that." + </p> + <p> + "O sir!" she cried indignantly, "you want to make a bargain with my poor + heart. Hear, then. If Donald wants me to marry him I'll never cast him + off. Do you think God will cast him off for one fault? You dare not say + it." + </p> + <p> + "I do not say but what God will pardon. But we are human beings; we are + not near to God yet." + </p> + <p> + "But we ought to be trying to get near him; and oh, James, you never had + so grand a chance. See the pitiful face of Christ looking down on you from + the cross. If that face should turn away from you, James—if it + should!" + </p> + <p> + "You ask a hard thing of me, Christine." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I do." + </p> + <p> + "But if you will only try and love me—" + </p> + <p> + "Stop, James! I will make no bargain in a matter of right and wrong. If + for Christ's sake, who has forgiven you so much, you can forgive Donald, + for Christ's dear sake do it. If not, I will set no earthly love before + it. Do your worst. God can find out a way. I'll trust him." + </p> + <p> + "Christine! dear Christine!" + </p> + <p> + "Hush! I am Donald's promised wife. May God speak to you for me. I am very + sad and weary. Good-night." + </p> + <p> + James did not wait for David's return. He went back to his own lodging, + and, taking the note out of his pocket-book, spread it before him. His + first thought was that he had wared #89 on his enemy's fine clothes, and + James loved gold and hated foppish, extravagant dress; his next that he + had saved Andrew Starkie #89, and he knew the old usurer was quietly + laughing at his folly. But worse than all was the alternative he saw as + the result of his sinful purchase: if he used it to gratify his personal + hatred, he deeply wounded, perhaps killed, his dearest love and his oldest + friend. Hour after hour he sat with the note before him. His good angel + stood at his side and wooed him to mercy. There was a fire burning in the + grate, and twice he held the paper over it, and twice turned away from his + better self. + </p> + <p> + The watchman was calling "half-past two o'clock," when, cold and weary + with his mental struggle, he rose and went to his desk. There was a secret + hiding-place behind a drawer there, in which he kept papers relating to + his transactions with Andrew Starkie, and he put it among them. "I'll + leave it to its chance," he muttered; "a fire might come and burn it up + some day. If it is God's will to save Donald, he could so order it, and I + am fully insured against pecuniary loss." He did not at that moment see + how presumptuously he was throwing his own responsibility on God; he did + not indeed want to see anything but some plausible way of avoiding a road + too steep for a heart weighed down with earthly passion to dare. + </p> + <p> + Then weeks and months drifted away in the calm regular routine of David's + life. But though there were no outward changes, there was a very important + inward one. About sixteen months after Donald's departure he returned to + visit Christine. James, at Christine's urgent request, absented himself + during this visit; but when he next called at David's, he perceived at + once that all was not as had been anticipated. David had little to say + about him; Christine looked paler and sadder than ever. Neither quite + understood why. There had been no visible break with Donald, but both + father and daughter felt that he had drifted far away from them and their + humble, pious life. Donald had lost the child's heart he had brought with + him from the mountains; he was ambitious of honors, and eager after + worldly pleasures and advantages. He had become more gravely handsome, and + he talked more sensibly to David; but David liked him less. + </p> + <p> + After this visit there sprang up a new hope in James' heart, and he waited + and watched, though often with very angry feelings; for he was sure that + Donald was gradually deserting Christine. + </p> + <p> + She grew daily more sad and silent; it was evident she was suffering. The + little Testament lay now always with her work, and he noticed that she + frequently laid aside her sewing and read it earnestly, even while David + and he were quietly talking at the fireside. + </p> + <p> + One Sabbath, two years after Donald's departure, James met David coming + out of church alone. He could only say, "I hope Christine is well." + </p> + <p> + "Had she been well, she had been wi' me; thou kens that, James." + </p> + <p> + "I might have done so. Christine is never absent from God's house when it + is open." + </p> + <p> + "It is a good plan, James; for when they who go regular to God's house are + forced to stay away, God himself asks after them. I hae no doubt but what + Christine has been visited." + </p> + <p> + They walked on in silence until David's house was in sight. "I'm no caring + for any company earth can gie me the night, James; but the morn I hae + something to tell you I canna speak anent to-day." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + The next day David came into the bank about noon, and said, "Come wi' me + to McLellan's, James, and hae a mutton pie, it's near by lunch-time." + While they were eating it David said, "Donald McFarlane is to be wedded + next month. He's making a grand marriage." + </p> + <p> + James bit his lip, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + "He's spoken for Miss Margaret Napier; her father was ane o' the Lords o' + Session; she's his sole heiress, and that will mean #50,000, foreby the + bonnie place and lands o' Ellenshawe." + </p> + <p> + "And Christine?" + </p> + <p> + "Dinna look that way, man. Christine is content; she kens weel enough she + isna like her cousin." + </p> + <p> + "God be thanked she is not. Go away from me, David Cameron, or I shall say + words that will make more suffering than you can dream off. Go away, man." + </p> + <p> + David was shocked and grieved at his companion's passion. "James," he said + solemnly, "dinna mak a fool o' yoursel'. I hae long seen your ill-will at + Donald. Let it go. Donald's aboon your thumb now, and the anger o' a poor + man aye falls on himsel'." + </p> + <p> + "For God's sake don't tempt me farther. You little know what I could do if + I had the ill heart to do it." + </p> + <p> + "Ow! ay!" said David scornfully, "if the poor cat had only wings it would + extirpate the race of sparrows from the world; but when the wings arena + there, James lad, it is just as weel to mak no boast o' them." + </p> + <p> + James had leaned his head in his hands, and was whispering, "Christine! + Christine! Christine!" in a rapid inaudible voice. He took no notice of + David's remark, and David was instantly sorry for it. "The puir lad is + just sorrowful wi' love for Christine, and that's nae sin that I can see," + he thought. "James," he said kindly, "I am sorry enough to grieve you. + Come as soon as you can like to do it. You'll be welcome." + </p> + <p> + James slightly nodded his head, but did not move; and David left him alone + in the little boarded room where they had eaten. In a few minutes he + collected himself, and, like one dazed, walked back to his place in the + bank. Never had its hours seemed so long, never had the noise and traffic, + the tramping of feet, and the banging of doors seemed so intolerable. As + early as possible he was at David's, and David, with that fine instinct + that a kind heart teaches, said as he entered, "Gude evening, James. Gae + awa ben and keep Christine company. I'm that busy that I'll no shut up for + half an hour yet." + </p> + <p> + James found Christine in her usual place. The hearth had been freshly + swept, the fire blazed brightly, and she sat before it with her white seam + in her hand. She raised her eyes at James' entrance, and smilingly nodded + to a vacant chair near her. He took it silently. Christine seemed annoyed + at his silence in a little while, and asked, "Why don't you speak, James? + Have you nothing to say?" + </p> + <p> + "A great deal, Christine. What now do you think of Donald McFarlane?" + </p> + <p> + "I think well of Donald." + </p> + <p> + "And of his marriage also?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly I do. When he was here I saw how unfit I was to be his wife. I + told him so, and bid him seek a mate more suitable to his position and + prospects." + </p> + <p> + "Do you think it right to let yonder lady wed such a man with her eyes + shut?" + </p> + <p> + "Are you going to open them?" Her face was sad and mournful, and she laid + her hand gently on James' shoulder. + </p> + <p> + "I think it is my duty, Christine." + </p> + <p> + "Think again, James. Be sure it is your duty before you go on such an + errand. See if you dare kneel down and ask God to bless you in this duty." + </p> + <p> + "Christine, you treat me very hardly. You know how I love you, and you use + your power over me unmercifully." + </p> + <p> + "No, no, James, I only want you to keep yourself out of the power of + Satan. If indeed I have any share in your heart, do not wrong me by giving + Satan a place there also. Let me at least respect you, James." + </p> + <p> + Christine had never spoken in this way before to him; the majesty and + purity of her character lifted him insensibly to higher thoughts, her + gentleness soothed and comforted him. When David came in he found them + talking in a calm, cheerful tone, and the evening that followed was one of + the pleasantest he could remember. Yet James understood that Christine + trusted in his forbearance, and he had no heart to grieve her, especially + as she did her best to reward him by striving to make his visits to her + father unusually happy. + </p> + <p> + So Donald married Miss Napier, and the newspapers were full of the + bridegroom's beauty and talents, and the bride's high lineage and great + possessions. After this Donald and Donald's affairs seemed to very little + trouble David's humble household. His marriage put him far away from + Christine's thoughts, for her delicate conscience would have regarded it + as a great sin to remember with any feeling of love another woman's + affianced husband; and when the struggle became one between right and + wrong, it was ended for Christine. David seldom named him, and so Donald + McFarlane gradually passed out of the lives he had so sorely troubled. + </p> + <p> + Slowly but surely James continued to prosper; he rose to be cashier in the + bank, and he won a calm but certain place in Christine's regard. She had + never quite recovered the shock of her long illness; she was still very + frail, and easily exhausted by the least fatigue or excitement. But in + James' eyes she was perfect; he was always at his best in her presence, + and he was a very proud and happy man when, after eight years' patient + waiting and wooing, he won from her the promise to be his wife; for he + knew that with Christine the promise meant all that it ought to mean. + </p> + <p> + The marriage made few changes in her peaceful life. James left the bank, + put his savings in David's business, and became his partner. But they + continued to live in the same house, and year after year passed away in + that happy calm which leaves no records, and has no fate days for the + future to date from. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes a letter, a newspaper, or some public event, would bring back + the memory of the gay, handsome lad that had once made so bright the + little back parlor. Such strays from Donald's present life were always + pleasant ones. In ten years he had made great strides forward. Every one + had a good word for him. His legal skill was quoted as authority, his + charities were munificent, his name unblemished by a single mean deed. + </p> + <p> + Had James forgotten? No, indeed. Donald's success only deepened his hatred + of him. Even the silence he was compelled to keep on the subject + intensified the feeling. Once after his marriage he attempted to discuss + the subject with Christine, but the scene had been so painful he had never + attempted it again; and David was swift and positive to dismiss any + unfavorable allusion to Donald. Once, on reading that "Advocate McFarlane + had joined the Free Kirk of Scotland on open confession of faith," James + flung down the paper and said pointedly, "I wonder whether he confessed + his wrong-doing before his faith or not." + </p> + <p> + "There's nane sae weel shod, James, that they mayna slip," answered David, + with a stern face. "He has united wi' Dr. Buchan's kirk—there's nane + taken into that fellowship unworthily, as far as man can judge." + </p> + <p> + "He would be a wise minister that got at all Advocate McFarlane's sins, I + am thinking." + </p> + <p> + "Dinna say all ye think, James. They walk too fair for earth that naebody + can find fault wi'." + </p> + <p> + So James nursed the evil passion in his own heart; indeed, he had nursed + it so long that he could not of himself resign it, and in all his prayers—and + he did pray frequently, and often sincerely—he never named this + subject to God, never once asked for his counsel or help in the matter. + </p> + <p> + Twelve years after his marriage with Christine David died, died as he had + often wished to die, very suddenly. He was well at noon; at night he had + put on the garments of eternal Sabbath. He had but a few moments of + consciousness in which to bid farewell to his children. "Christine," he + said cheerfully, "we'll no be lang parted, dear lassie;" and to James a + few words on his affairs, and then almost with his last breath, "James, + heed what I say: 'Blessed are the merciful, for they shall—obtain + mercy.'" + </p> + <p> + There seemed to have been some prophetic sense in David's parting words to + his daughter, for soon after his death she began to fail rapidly. What + James suffered as he saw it only those can tell who have watched their + beloved slowly dying, and hoped against hope day after day and week after + week. Perhaps the hardest part was the knowledge that she had never + recovered the health she had previous to the terrible shock which his + revelation of Donald's guilt had been to her. He forgot his own share in + the shock and threw the whole blame of her early decay on Donald. "And if + she dies," he kept saying in his angry heart, "I will make him suffer for + it." + </p> + <p> + And Christine was drawing very near to death, though even when she was + confined to her room and bed James would not believe it. And it was at + this time that Donald came once more to Glasgow. There was a very exciting + general election for a new Parliament, and Donald stood for the + Conservative party in the city of Glasgow. Nothing could have so speedily + ripened James' evil purpose. Should a forger represent his native city? + Should he see the murderer of his Christine win honor upon honor, when he + had but to speak and place him among thieves? + </p> + <p> + During the struggle he worked frantically to defeat him—and failed. + That night he came home like a man possessed by some malicious, + ungovernable spirit of hell. He would not go to Christine's room, for he + was afraid she would discover his purpose in his face, and win him from + it. For now he had sworn to himself that he would only wait until the + congratulatory dinner. He could get an invitation to it. All the bailies + and the great men of the city would be there. The newspaper reporters + would be there. His triumph would be complete. Donald would doubtless make + a great speech, and after it <i>he</i> would say his few words. + </p> + <p> + Then he thought of Christine. But she did not move him now, for she was + never likely to hear of it. She was confined to her bed; she read nothing + but her Bible; she saw no one but her nurse. He would charge the nurse, + and he would keep all papers and letters from her. He thought of nothing + now but the near gratification of a revengeful purpose for which he had + waited twenty years. Oh, how sweet it seemed to him! + </p> + <p> + The dinner was to be in a week, and during the next few days he was like a + man in a bad dream. He neglected his business, and wandered restlessly + about the house, and looked so fierce and haggard that Christine began to + notice, to watch, and to fear. She knew that Donald was in the city, and + her heart told her that it was his presence only that could so alter her + husband; and she poured it out in strong supplications for strength and + wisdom to avert the calamity she felt approaching. + </p> + <p> + That night her nurse became sick and could not remain with her, and James, + half reluctantly, took her place, for he feared Christine's influence now. + She would ask him to read the Bible, to pray with her; she might talk to + him of death and heaven; she might name Donald, and extract some promise + from him. And he was determined now that nothing should move him. So he + pretended great weariness, drew a large chair to her bedside, and said, + </p> + <p> + "I shall try and sleep a while, darling; if you need me you have only to + speak." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + He was more weary than he knew, and ere he was aware he fell asleep—a + restless, wretched sleep, that made him glad when the half-oblivion was + over. Christine, however, was apparently at rest, and he soon relapsed + into the same dark, haunted state of unconsciousness. Suddenly he began to + mutter and moan, and then to speak with a hoarse, whispered rapidity that + had in it something frightful and unearthly. But Christine listened with + wide-open eyes, and heard with sickening terror the whole wicked plot. It + fell from his half-open lips over and over in every detail; and over and + over he laughed low and terribly at the coming shame of the hated Donald. + </p> + <p> + She had not walked alone for weeks, nor indeed been out of her room for + months, but she must go now; and she never doubted her strength. As if she + had been a spirit, she slipped out of bed, walked rapidly and noiselessly + into the long-unfamiliar parlor. A rushlight was burning, and the key of + the old desk was always in it. Nothing valuable was kept there, and people + unacquainted with the secret of the hidden drawer would have looked in + vain for the entrance to it. Christine had known it for years, but her + wifely honor had held it more sacred than locks or keys could have done. + She was aware only that James kept some private matter of importance + there, and she would as readily have robbed her husband's purse as have + spied into things of which he did not speak to her. + </p> + <p> + Now, however, all mere thoughts of courtesy or honor must yield before the + alternative in which James and Donald stood. She reached the desk, drew + out the concealing drawer, pushed aside the slide, and touched the paper. + There were other papers there, but something taught her at once the right + one. To take it and close the desk was but the work of a moment, then back + she flew as swiftly and noiselessly as a spirit with the condemning + evidence tightly clasped in her hand. + </p> + <p> + James was still muttering and moaning in his troubled sleep, and with the + consciousness of her success all her unnatural strength passed away. She + could hardly secrete it in her bosom ere she fell into a semi-conscious + lethargy, through which she heard with terror her husband's low, weird + laughter and whispered curses. + </p> + <p> + At length the day for the dinner came. James had procured an invitation, + and he made unusual personal preparations for it. He was conscious that he + was going to do a very mean action, but he would look as well as possible + in the act. He had even his apology for it ready; he would say that "as + long as it was a private wrong he had borne the loss patiently for twenty + years, but that the public welfare demanded honest men, men above + reproach, and he could no longer feel it his duty," etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + After he was dressed he bid Christine "Good-by." + </p> + <p> + "He would only stay an hour," he said, "and he must needs go, as Donald + was her kin." + </p> + <p> + Then he went to the desk, and with hands trembling in their eagerness + sought the bill. It was not there. <i>Impossible!</i> He looked again—again + more carefully—could not believe his eyes, and looked again and + again. It was really gone. If the visible hand of God had struck him, he + could not have felt it more consciously. He mechanically closed the desk + and sat down like one stunned. Cain might have felt as James did when God + asked him, "Where is thy brother?" He did not think of prayer. No "God be + merciful to me a sinner" came as yet from his dry, white lips. The + fountains of his heart seemed dry as dust. The anger of God weighed him + down till + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "He felt as one + Who, waking after some strange, fevered dream, + Sees a dim land and things unspeakable, + And comes to know at last that it is hell." +</pre> + <p> + Meantime Christine was lying with folded hands, praying for him. She knew + what an agony he was going through, and ceaselessly with pure + supplications she prayed for his forgiveness. About midnight one came and + told him his wife wanted to see him. He rose with a wretched sigh, and + looked at the clock. He had sat there six hours. He had thought over + everything, over and over—the certainty that the paper was there, + the fact that no other paper had been touched, and that no human being but + Christine knew of the secret place. These things shocked him beyond + expression. It was to his mind a visible assertion of the divine + prerogative; he had really heard God say to him, "Vengeance is mine." The + lesson that in these materialistic days we would reason away, James humbly + accepted. His religious feelings were, after all, his deepest feelings, + and in those six hours he had so palpably felt the frown of his angry + Heavenly Father that he had quite forgotten his poor, puny wrath at Donald + McFarlane. + </p> + <p> + As he slowly walked up stairs to Christine he determined to make to her a + full confession of the deed he had meditated. But when he reached her + bedside he saw that she was nearly dead. She smiled faintly and said, + </p> + <p> + "Send all away, James. I must speak alone with you, dear; we are going to + part, my husband." + </p> + <p> + Then he knelt down by her side and held her cold hands, and the gracious + tears welled up in his hot eyes, and he covered them with the blessed + rain. + </p> + <p> + "O James, how you have suffered—since six o'clock." + </p> + <p> + "You know then, Christine! I would weep tears of blood over my sin. O + dear, dear wife, take no shameful memory of me into eternity with you." + </p> + <p> + "See how I trust you, James. Here is poor, weak Donald's note. I know now + you will never use it against him. What if your six hours were lengthened + out through life—through eternity? I ask no promise from you now, + dear." + </p> + <p> + "But I give it. Before God I give it, with all my heart. My sin has found + me out this night. How has God borne with me all these years? Oh, how + great is his mercy!" + </p> + <p> + Then Christine told him how he had revealed his wicked plot, and how + wonderful strength had been given her to defeat it; and the two souls, + amid their parting sighs and tears, knew each other as they had never done + through all their years of life. + </p> + <p> + For a week James remained in his own room. Then Christine was laid beside + her father, and the shop was reopened, and the household returned to its + ways. But James was not seen in house or shop, and the neighbors said, + </p> + <p> + "Kirsty Cameron has had a wearisome sickness, and nae doobt her gudeman + was needing a rest. Dootless he has gane to the Hielands a bit." + </p> + <p> + But it was not northward James Blackie went. It was south; south past the + bonnie Cumberland Hills and the great manufacturing towns of Lancashire + and the rich valleys of Yorkshire; southward until he stopped at last in + London. Even then, though he was weary and sick and the night had fallen, + he did not rest. He took a carriage and drove at once to a fashionable + mansion in Baker street. The servant looked curiously at him and felt half + inclined to be insolent to such a visitor. + </p> + <p> + "Take that card to your master at once," he said in a voice whose + authority could not be disputed, and the man went. + </p> + <p> + His master was lying on a sofa in a luxuriously-furnished room, playing + with a lovely girl about four years old, and listening meanwhile to an + enthusiastic account of a cricket match that two boys of about twelve and + fourteen years were giving him. He was a strikingly handsome man, in the + prime of life, with a thoroughly happy expression. He took James' card in + a careless fashion, listened to the end of his sons' story, and then + looked at it. Instantly his manner changed; he stood up, and said + promptly, + </p> + <p> + "Go away now, Miss Margaret, and you also, Angus and David; I have an old + friend to see." Then to the servant, "Bring the gentleman here at once." + </p> + <p> + When he heard James' step he went to meet him with open hand; but James + said, + </p> + <p> + "Not just yet, Mr. McFarlane; hear what I have to say. Then if you offer + your hand I will take it." + </p> + <p> + "Christine is dead?" + </p> + <p> + "Dead, dead." + </p> + <p> + They sat down opposite each other, and James did not spare himself. From + his discovery of the note in old Starkie's possession until the death of + Christine, he confessed everything. Donald sat with downcast eyes, quite + silent. Once or twice his fierce Highland blood surged into his face, and + his hand stole mechanically to the place where his dirk had once been, but + the motion was as transitory as a thought. When James had finished he sat + with compressed lips for a few moments, quite unable to control his + speech; but at length he slowly said, + </p> + <p> + "I wish I had known all this before; it would have saved much sin and + suffering. You said that my indifference at first angered you. I must + correct this. I was not indifferent. No one can tell what suffering that + one cowardly act cost me. But before the bill fell due I went frankly to + Uncle David and confessed all my sin. What passed between us you may + guess; but he forgave me freely and fully, as I trust God did also. Hence + there was no cause for its memory to darken life." + </p> + <p> + "I always thought Christine had told her father," muttered James. + </p> + <p> + "Nay, but I told him myself. He said he would trace the note, and I have + no doubt he knew it was in your keeping from the first." + </p> + <p> + Then James took it from his pocket-book. + </p> + <p> + "There it is, Mr. McFarlane. Christine gave it back to me the hour she + died. I promised her to bring it to you and tell you all." + </p> + <p> + "Christine's soul was a white rose without a thorn. I count it an honor to + have known and loved her. But the paper is yours, Mr. Blackie, unless I + may pay for it." + </p> + <p> + "O man, man! what money could pay for it? I would not dare to sell it for + the whole world! Take it, I pray you." + </p> + <p> + "I will not. Do as you wish with it, James, I can trust you." + </p> + <p> + Then James walked towards the table. There were wax lights burning on it, + and he held it in the flame and watched it slowly consume away to ashes. + The silence was so intense that they heard each other breathing, and the + expression on James' face was so rapt and noble that even Donald's stately + beauty was for the moment less attractive. Then he walked towards Donald + and said, + </p> + <p> + "Now give me your hand, McFarlane, and I'll take it gladly." + </p> + <p> + And that was a handclasp that meant to both men what no words could have + expressed. + </p> + <p> + "Farewell, McFarlane; our ways in this world lie far apart; but when we + come to die it will comfort both of us to remember this meeting. God be + with you!" + </p> + <p> + "And with you also, James. Farewell." + </p> + <p> + Then James went back to his store and his shadowed household life. And + people said he looked happier than ever he had done, and pitied him for + his sick wife, and supposed he felt it a happy release to be rid of her. + So wrongly does the world, which knows nothing of our real life, judge us. + </p> + <p> + You may see his gravestone in Glasgow Necropolis to-day, and people will + tell you that he was a great philanthropist, and gave away a noble fortune + to the sick and the ignorant; and you will probably wonder to see only + beneath his name the solemn text, "Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith + the Lord." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FACING HIS ENEMY. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + Forty years ago there stood in the lower part of the city of Glasgow a + large, plain building which was to hundreds of very intelligent Scotchmen + almost sacred ground. It stood among warehouses and factories, and in a + very unfashionable quarter; but for all that, it was Dr. William + Morrison's kirk. And Dr. Morrison was in every respect a remarkable man—a + Scotchman with the old Hebrew fervor and sublimity, who accepted the + extremest tenets of his creed with a deep religious faith, and scorned to + trim or moderate them in order to suit what he called "a sinfu' + latitudinarian age." + </p> + <p> + Such a man readily found among the solid burghers of Glasgow a large + "following" of a very serious kind, douce, dour men, whose strongly-marked + features looked as if they had been chiselled out of their native granite—men + who settled themselves with a grave kind of enjoyment to listen to a full + hour's sermon, and who watched every point their minister made with a + critical acumen that seemed more fitting to a synod of divines than a + congregation of weavers and traders. + </p> + <p> + A prominent man in this remarkable church was Deacon John Callendar. He + had been one of its first members, and it was everything to his heart that + Jerusalem is to the Jew, or Mecca to the Mohammedan. He believed his + minister to be the best and wisest of men, though he was by no means + inclined to allow himself a lazy confidence in this security. It was the + special duty of deacons to keep a strict watch over doctrinal points, and + though he had never had occasion to dissent in thirty years' scrutiny, he + still kept the watch. + </p> + <p> + In the temporal affairs of the church it had been different. There was no + definite creed for guidance in these matters, and eight or ten men with + strong, rugged wills about #, <i>s</i>., <i>d</i>., each thinking highly + of his own discretion in monetary affairs, and rather indifferently of the + minister's gifts in this direction, were not likely to have always + harmonious sessions. + </p> + <p> + They had had a decidedly inharmonious one early in January of 184-, and + Deacon Callendar had spoken his mind with his usual blunt directness. He + had been a good deal nettled at the minister's attitude, for, instead of + seconding his propositions, Dr. Morrison had sat with a faraway, + indifferent look, as if the pending discussion was entirely out of his + range of interest. John could have borne contradiction better. An argument + would have gratified him. But to have the speech and statistics which he + had so carefully prepared fall on the minister's ear without provoking any + response was a great trial of his patience. He was inwardly very angry, + though outwardly very calm; but Dr. Morrison knew well what a tumult was + beneath the dour still face of the deacon as he rose from his chair, put + on his plaid, and pulled his bonnet over his brows. + </p> + <p> + "John," he said kindly, "you are a wise man, and I aye thought so. It + takes a Christian to lead passion by the bridle. A Turk is a placid + gentleman, John, but he cannot do it." + </p> + <p> + "Ou, ay! doubtless! There is talk o' the Turk and the Pope, but it is my + neighbors that trouble me the maist, minister. Good-night to ye all. If ye + vote to-night you can e'en count my vote wi' Dr. Morrison's; it will be as + sensible and warld-like as any o' the lave." + </p> + <p> + With this parting reflection he went out. It had begun to snow, and the + still, white solitude made him ashamed of his temper. He looked up at the + quiet heavens above him, then at the quiet street before him, and muttered + with a spice of satisfaction, "Speaking comes by nature, and silence by + understanding. I am thankfu' now I let Deacon Strang hae the last word. + I'm saying naught against Strang; he may gie good counsel, but they'll be + fools that tak it." + </p> + <p> + "Uncle!" + </p> + <p> + "Hout, Davie! Whatna for are you here?" + </p> + <p> + "It began to snow, and I thought you would be the better of your cloak and + umbrella. You seem vexed, uncle." + </p> + <p> + "Vexed? Ay. The minister is the maist contrary o' mortals. He kens + naething about church government, and he treats gude siller as if it wasna + worth the counting; but he's a gude man, and a great man, Davie, and folk + canna serve the altar and be money-changers too. I ought to keep that i' + mind. It's Deacon Strang, and no the minister." + </p> + <p> + "Well, uncle, you must just thole it; you know what the New Testament + says?" + </p> + <p> + "Ay, ay; I ken it says if a man be struck on one cheek, he must turn the + other; but, Davie, let me tell you that the man who gets the first blow + generally deserves the second. It is gude Christian law no to permit the + first stroke. That is my interpretation o' the matter." + </p> + <p> + "I never thought of that." + </p> + <p> + "Young folk don't think o' everything." + </p> + <p> + There was something in the tone of this last remark which seemed to fit + best into silence, and David Callendar had a particular reason for not + further irritating his uncle. The two men without any other remark reached + the large, handsome house in Blytheswood Square which was their home. Its + warmth and comfort had an immediate effect on the deacon. He looked + pleasantly at the blazing fire and the table on the hearthrug, with its + basket of oaten cakes, its pitcher of cream, and its whiskey-bottle and + toddy glasses. The little brass kettle was simmering before the fire, his + slippers were invitingly warm, his loose coat lying over the back of his + soft, ample chair, and just as he had put them on, and sank down with a + sigh of content, a bright old lady entered with a spicy dish of kippered + salmon. + </p> + <p> + "I thought I wad bring ye a bit relish wi' your toddy, deacon. Talking is + hungry wark. I think a man might find easier pleasuring than going to a + kirk session through a snowstorm." + </p> + <p> + "A man might, Jenny. They'd suit women-folk wonderfu'; there's plenty o' + talk and little wark." + </p> + <p> + "Then I dinna see ony call to mak a change, deacon." + </p> + <p> + "Now, Jenny, you've had the last word, sae ye can go to bed wi' an easy + mind. And, Jenny, woman, dinna let your quarrel wi' Maggie Launder come + between you and honest sleep. I think that will settle her," he observed + with a pawky smile, as his housekeeper shut the door with unnecessary + haste. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour afterwards, David, mixing another glass of toddy, drew his + chair closer to the fire, and said, "Uncle John, I want to speak to you." + </p> + <p> + "Speak on, laddie;" but David noticed that even with the permission, + cautious curves settled round his uncle's eyes, and his face assumed that + business-like immobility which defied his scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + "I have had a very serious talk with Robert Leslie; he is thinking of + buying Alexander Hastie out." + </p> + <p> + "Why not think o' buying out Robert Napier, or Gavin Campbell, or + Clydeside Woolen Works? A body might as weel think o' a thousand spindles + as think o' fifty." + </p> + <p> + "But he means business. An aunt, who has lately died in Galloway, has left + him #2,000." + </p> + <p> + "That isna capital enough to run Sandy Hastie's mill." + </p> + <p> + "He wants me to join him." + </p> + <p> + "And how will that help matters? Twa thousand pounds added to Davie + Callendar will be just #2,000." + </p> + <p> + "I felt sure you would lend me #2,000; and in that case it would be a + great chance for me. I am very anxious to be—" + </p> + <p> + "Your ain maister." + </p> + <p> + "Not that altogether, uncle, although you know well the Callendars come of + a kind that do not like to serve. I want to have a chance to make money." + </p> + <p> + "How much of your salary have you saved?" + </p> + <p> + "I have never tried to save anything yet, uncle, but I am going to begin." + </p> + <p> + The old man sat silent for a few moments, and then said, "I wont do it, + Davie." + </p> + <p> + "It is only #2,000, Uncle John." + </p> + <p> + "<i>Only</i> #2,000! Hear the lad! Did ye ever mak #2,000? Did ye ever + save #2,000? When ye hae done that ye'll ne'er put in the adverb, Davie. + <i>Only #2,000, indeed!</i>" + </p> + <p> + "I thought you loved me, uncle." + </p> + <p> + "I love no human creature better than you. Whatna for should I not love + you? You are the only thing left to me o' the bonnie brave brother who + wrapped his colors round him in the Afghan Pass, the brave-hearted lad who + died fighting twenty to one. And you are whiles sae like him that I'm + tempted—na, na, that is a' byganes. I will not let you hae the + #2,000, that is the business in hand." + </p> + <p> + "What for?" + </p> + <p> + "If you will hear the truth, that second glass o' whiskey is reason + plenty. I hae taken my ane glass every night for forty years, and I hae + ne'er made the ane twa, except New Year's tide." + </p> + <p> + "That is fair nonsense, Uncle John. There are plenty of men whom you trust + for more than #2,000 who can take four glasses for their nightcap always." + </p> + <p> + "That may be; I'm no denying it; but what is lawfu' in some men is sinfu' + in others." + </p> + <p> + "I do not see that at all." + </p> + <p> + "Do you mind last summer, when we were up in Argyleshire, how your cousin, + Roy Callendar, walked, with ne'er the wink o' an eyelash, on a + mantel-shelf hanging over a three-hundred-feet precipice? Roy had the + trained eyesight and the steady nerve which made it lawfu' for him; for + you or me it had been suicide—naething less sinfu'. Three or four + glasses o' whiskey are safer for some men than twa for you. I hae been + feeling it my duty to tell you this for some time. Never look sae glum, + Davie, or I'll be thinking it is my siller and no mysel' you were caring + for the night when ye thought o' my cloak and umbrella." + </p> + <p> + The young man rose in a perfect blaze of passion. + </p> + <p> + "Sit down, sit down," said his uncle. "One would think you were your + grandfather, Evan Callendar, and that some English red-coat had trod on + your tartan. Hout! What's the use o' a temper like that to folk wha hae + taken to the spindle instead o' the claymore?" + </p> + <p> + "I am a Callendar for all that." + </p> + <p> + "Sae am I, sae am I, and vera proud o' it fore-bye. We are a' kin, Davie; + blood is thicker than water, and we wont quarrel." + </p> + <p> + David put down his unfinished glass of toddy. He could not trust himself + to discuss the matter any farther, but as he left the room he paused, with + the open door in his hand, and said, + </p> + <p> + "If you are afraid I am going to be a drunkard, why did you not care for + the fear before it became a question of #2,000? And if I ever do become + one, remember this, Uncle John—you mixed my first glass for me!" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + A positive blow could hardly have stunned John Callendar as this + accusation did. He could not have answered it, even if he had had an + opportunity, and the shock was the greater that it brought with it a + sudden sense of responsibility, yea, even guilt. At first the feeling was + one of anger at this sudden charge of conscience. He began to excuse + himself; he was not to blame if other people could not do but they must + o'erdo; then to assure himself that, being God's child, there could be no + condemnation in the matter to him. But his heart was too tender and honest + to find rest in such apologies, and close upon his anger at the lad + crowded a host of loving memories that would not be put away. + </p> + <p> + David's father had been very dear to him. He recalled his younger brother + in a score of tender situations: the schoolhouse in which they had studied + cheek to cheek over one book; the little stream in which they had paddled + and fished on holidays, the fir-wood, the misty corries, and the heathery + mountains of Argyle; above all, he remembered the last time that he had + ever seen the bright young face marching at the head of his company down + Buchanan street on his way to India. David's mother was a still tenderer + memory, and John Callendar's eyes grew misty as his heart forced him to + recall that dark, wintry afternoon when she had brought David to him, and + he had solemnly promised to be a father to the lad. It was the last + promise between them; three weeks afterwards he stood at her grave's side. + Time is said to dim such memories as these. It never does. After many + years some sudden event recalls the great crises of any life with all the + vividness of their first occurrence. + </p> + <p> + Confused as these memories were, they blended with an equal confusion of + feelings. Love, anger, regret, fear, perplexity, condemnation, excuse, + followed close on each other, and John's mind, though remarkably clear and + acute, was one trained rather to the consideration of things point by + point than to the catching of the proper clew in a mental labyrinth. After + an hour's miserable uncertainty he was still in doubt what to do. The one + point of comfort he had been able to reach was the hope that David had + gone straight to Jenny with his grievance. "And though women-folk arena + much as counsellors," thought John, "they are wonderfu' comforters; and + Jenny will ne'er hear tell o' his leaving the house; sae there will be + time to put right what is wrong." + </p> + <p> + But though David had always hitherto, when lessons were hard or lassies + scornful, gone with his troubles to the faithful Jenny, he did not do so + at this time. He did not even bid her "Good-night," and there was such a + look on his face that she considered it prudent not to challenge the + omission. + </p> + <p> + "It will be either money or marriage," she thought. "If it be money, the + deacon has mair than is good for him to hae; if it be marriage, it will be + Isabel Strang, and that the deacon wont like. But it is his ain wife Davie + is choosing, and I am for letting the lad hae the lass he likes best." + </p> + <p> + Jenny had come to these conclusions in ten minutes, but she waited + patiently for an hour before she interrupted her master. Then the clock + struck midnight, and she felt herself aggrieved. "Deacon," she said + sharply, "ye should mak the day day and the night night, and ye would if + ye had a three weeks' ironing to do the morn. It has chappit twelve, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Jenny, I'm not sleeplike to-night. There hae been ill words between David + and me." + </p> + <p> + "And I am mair than astonished at ye, deacon. Ye are auld enough to ken + that ill words canna be wiped out wi' a sponge. Our Davie isna an ordinar + lad; he can be trusted where the lave would need a watcher. Ye ken that, + deacon, for he is your ain bringing up." + </p> + <p> + "But, Jenny, #2,000 for his share o' Hastie's mill! Surely ye didna + encourage the lad in such an idea?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, sae it's money," thought Jenny. "What is #2,000 to you, deacon? Why + should you be sparing and saving money to die wi'? The lad isna a fool." + </p> + <p> + "I dinna approve o' the partner that is seeking him, Jenny. I hae heard + things anent Robert Leslie that I dinna approve of; far from it." + </p> + <p> + "Hae ye <i>seen</i> anything wrong?" + </p> + <p> + "I canna say I hae." + </p> + <p> + "Trust to your eyes, deacon; they believe themselves, and your ears + believe other people; ye ken which is best. His father was a decent body." + </p> + <p> + "Ay, ay; but Alexander Leslie was different from his son Robert. He was a + canny, cautious man, who could ding for his ain side, and who always stood + by the kirk. Robert left Dr. Morrison's soon after his father died. The + doctor was too narrow for Robert Leslie. Robert Leslie has wonderfu' broad + ideas about religion now. Jenny, I dinna like the men who are their ain + Bibles and ministers." + </p> + <p> + "But there are good folk outside Dr. Morrison's kirk, deacon, surely." + </p> + <p> + "We'll trust so, surely, we'll trust so, Jenny; but a man wi' broad + notions about religion soon gets broad notions about business and all + other things. Why, Jenny, I hae heard that Robert Leslie once spoke o' the + house o' John Callendar & Co. as 'old fogyish!'" + </p> + <p> + "That's no hanging matter, deacon, and ye must see that the world is + moving." + </p> + <p> + "Maybe, maybe; but I'se never help it to move except in the safe, narrow + road. Ye ken the Garloch mill-stream? It is narrow enough for a good rider + to leap, but it is deep, and it does its wark weel summer and winter. They + can break down the banks, woman, and let it spread all over the meadow; + bonnie enough it will look, but the mill-clapper would soon stop. Now + there's just sae much power, spiritual or temporal, in any man; spread it + out, and it is shallow and no to be depended on for any purpose whatever. + But narrow the channel, Jenny, narrow the channel, and it is a driving + force." + </p> + <p> + "Ye are getting awa from the main subject, deacon. It is the #2,000, and + ye had best mak up your mind to gie it to Davie. Then ye can gang awa to + your bed and tak your rest." + </p> + <p> + "You talk like a—like a woman. It is easy to gie other folks' siller + awa. I hae worked for my siller." + </p> + <p> + "Your siller, deacon? Ye hae naught but a life use o' it. Ye canna take it + awa wi' ye. Ye can leave it to the ane you like best, but that vera person + may scatter it to the four corners o' the earth. And why not? Money was + made round that it might roll. It is little good yours is doing lying in + the Clyde Trust." + </p> + <p> + "Jenny Callendar, you are my ain cousin four times removed, and you hae a + kind o' right to speak your mind in my house; but you hae said enough, + woman. It isna a question of money only; there are ither things troubling + me mair than that. But women are but one-sided arguers. Good-night to + you." + </p> + <p> + He turned to the fire and sat down, but after a few moments of the same + restless, confused deliberation, he rose and went to his Bible. It lay + open upon its stand, and John put his hand lovingly, reverently upon the + pages. He had no glasses on, and he could not see a letter, but he did not + need to. + </p> + <p> + "It is my Father's word," he whispered; and, standing humbly before it, he + recalled passage after passage, until a great calm fell upon him. Then he + said, + </p> + <p> + "I will lay me down and sleep now; maybe I'll see clearer in the morning + light." + </p> + <p> + Almost as soon as he opened his eyes in the morning there was a tap at his + door, and the gay, strong voice he loved so dearly asked, + </p> + <p> + "Can I come in, Uncle John?" + </p> + <p> + "Come in, Davie." + </p> + <p> + "Uncle, I was wrong last night, and I cannot be happy with any shadow + between us two." + </p> + <p> + Scotchmen are not demonstrative, and John only winked his eyes and + straightened out his mouth; but the grip of the old and young hand said + what no words could have said half so eloquently. Then the old man + remarked in a business-like way, + </p> + <p> + "I hae been thinking, Davie, I would go and look o'er Hastie's affairs, + and if I like the look o' them I'll buy the whole concern out for you. + Partners are kittle cattle. Ye will hae to bear their shortcomings as well + as your ain. Tak my advice, Davie; rule your youth well, and your age will + rule itsel'." + </p> + <p> + "Uncle, you forget that Robert Leslie is in treaty with Hastie. It would + be the height of dishonor to interfere with his bargain. You have always + told me never to put my finger in another man's bargain. Let us say no + more on the subject. I have another plan now. If it succeeds, well and + good; if not, there are chances behind this one." + </p> + <p> + John fervently hoped there would be no more to say on this subject, and + when day after day went by without any reference to Hastie or Robert + Leslie, John Callendar felt much relieved. David also had limited himself + to one glass of toddy at night, and this unspoken confession and + reformation was a great consolation to the old man. He said to himself + that the evil he dreaded had gone by his door, and he was rather + complacent over the bold stand he had taken. + </p> + <p> + That day, as he was slowly walking through the Exchange, pondering a + proposal for Virginia goods, Deacon Strang accosted him. "Callendar, a + good day to ye; I congratulate ye on the new firm o' Callendar & + Leslie. They are brave lads, and like enough—if a' goes weel—to + do weel." + </p> + <p> + John did not allow an eyelash to betray his surprise and chagrin. "Ah, + Strang!" he answered, "the Callendars are a big clan, and we are a' kin; + sae, if you tak to congratulating me on every Callendar whose name ye see + aboon a doorstep, you'll hae mair business on hand than you'll ken how to + manage. A good day to you!" But Deacon Callendar went up Great George + street that day with a heavy, angry heart. His nephew opened the door for + him. "Uncle John, I have been looking all over for you. I have something + to tell you." + </p> + <p> + "Fiddler's news, Davie. I hae heard it already. Sae you hae struck hands + wi' Robert Leslie after a', eh?" + </p> + <p> + "He had my promise, uncle, before I spoke to you. I could not break it." + </p> + <p> + "H'm! Where did you get the #2,000?" + </p> + <p> + "I borrowed it." + </p> + <p> + "Then I hope 'the party' looked weel into the business." + </p> + <p> + "They did not. It was loaned to me on my simple representation." + </p> + <p> + "'Simple representation!' Vera simple! It was some woman, dootless." + </p> + <p> + "It was my mother's aunt, Lady Brith." + </p> + <p> + "Ou, ay! I kent it. Weel, when a bargain is made, wish it good luck; sae, + Jenny, put a partridge before the fire, and bring up a bottle O' Madeira." + </p> + <p> + It was not however a lively meal. John was too proud and hurt to ask for + information, and David too much chilled by his reserve to volunteer it. + The wine, being an unusual beverage to John, made him sleepy; and when + David said he had to meet Robert Leslie at nine o'clock, John made no + objection and no remark. But when Jenny came in to cover up the fire for + the night, she found him sitting before it, rubbing his hands in a very + unhappy manner. + </p> + <p> + "Cousin," he said fretfully, "there is a new firm in Glasgo' to-day." + </p> + <p> + "I hae heard tell o' it. God send it prosperity." + </p> + <p> + "It isna likely, Jenny; auld Lady Brith's money to start it! The godless + auld woman! If Davie taks her advice, he's a gane lad." + </p> + <p> + "Then, deacon, it's your ain fault. Whatna for did ye not gie him the + #2,000?" + </p> + <p> + "Just hear the woman! It taks women and lads to talk o' #2,000 as if it + were picked up on the planestanes." + </p> + <p> + "If ye had loaned it, deacon, ye would hae had the right to spier into + things, and gie the lad advice. He maun tak his advice where he taks his + money. Ye flung that chance o' guiding Davie to the four winds. And let me + tell ye, Cousin Callendar, ye hae far too tight a grip on this warld's + goods. The money is only loaned to you to put out at interest for the + Master. It ought to be building kirks and schoolhouses, and sending Bibles + to the far ends o' the earth. When you are asked what ye did wi' it, how + will you like to answer, 'I hid it safely awa, Lord, in the Clyde Trust + and in Andrew Fleming's bank!'" + </p> + <p> + "That will do, woman. Now you hae made me dissatisfied wi' my guiding o' + Davie, and meeserable anent my bank account, ye may gang to your bed; + you'll doobtless sleep weel on the thought." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + However, sometimes things are not so ill as they look. The new firm + obtained favor, and even old, cautious men began to do a little business + with it. For Robert introduced some new machinery, and the work it did was + allowed, after considerable suspicion, to be "vera satisfactory." A sudden + emergency had also discovered to David that he possessed singularly + original ideas in designing patterns; and he set himself with enthusiasm + to that part of the business. Two years afterwards came the Great Fair of + 1851, and Callendar & Leslie took a first prize for their rugs, both + design and workmanship being honorably mentioned. + </p> + <p> + Their success seemed now assured. Orders came in so fast that the mill + worked day and night to fill them; and David was so gay and happy that + John could hardly help rejoicing with him. Indeed, he was very proud of + his nephew, and even inclined to give Robert a little cautious kindness. + The winter of 1851 was a very prosperous one, but the spring brought an + unlooked-for change. + </p> + <p> + One evening David came home to dinner in a mood which Jenny characterized + as "<i>thrawart</i>." He barely answered her greeting, and shut his + room-door with a bang. He did not want any dinner, and he wanted to be let + alone. John looked troubled at this behavior. Jenny said, "It is some lass + in the matter; naething else could mak a sensible lad like Davie act sae + child-like and silly." And Jennie was right. Towards nine o'clock David + came to the parlor and sat down beside his uncle. He said he had been + "greatly annoyed." + </p> + <p> + "Annoyances are as certain as the multiplication table," John remarked + quietly, "and ye ought to expect them—all the mair after a long run + o' prosperity." + </p> + <p> + "But no man likes to be refused by the girl he loves." + </p> + <p> + "Eh? Refused, say ye? Wha has refused you?" + </p> + <p> + "Isabel Strang. I have loved her, as you and Jenny know, since we went to + school together, and I was sure that she loved me. Two days ago I had some + business with Deacon Strang, and when it was finished I spoke to him anent + Isabel. He made me no answer then, one way or the other, but told me he + would have a talk with Isabel, and I might call on him this afternoon. + When I did so he said he felt obligated to refuse my offer." + </p> + <p> + "Weel?" + </p> + <p> + "That is all." + </p> + <p> + "Nonsense! Hae you seen Isabel hersel'?" + </p> + <p> + "She went to Edinburgh last night." + </p> + <p> + "And if you were your uncle, lad, you would hae been in Edinburgh too by + this time. Your uncle would not stay refused twenty-four hours, if he + thought the lass loved him. Tut, tut, you ought to hae left at once; that + would hae been mair like a Callendar than ganging to your ain room to sit + out a scorning. There is a train at ten o'clock to-night; you hae time to + catch it if ye dinna lose a minute, and if you come back wi' Mrs. David + Callendar, I'll gie her a warm welcome for your sake." + </p> + <p> + The old man's face was aglow, and in his excitement he had risen to his + feet with the very air of one whom no circumstances could depress or + embarrass. David caught his mood and his suggestion, and in five minutes + he was on his way to the railway diptt. The thing was done so quickly that + reflection had formed no part of it. But when Jenny heard the front-door + clash impatiently after David, she surmised some imprudence, and hastened + to see what was the matter. John told her the "affront" David had + received, and looked eagerly into the strong, kindly face for an assurance + that he had acted with becoming promptitude and sympathy. Jenny shook her + head gravely, and regarded the deacon with a look of pitying disapproval. + "To think," she said, "of twa men trying to sort a love affair, when there + was a woman within call to seek counsel o'." + </p> + <p> + "But we couldna hae done better, Jenny." + </p> + <p> + "Ye couldna hae done warse, deacon. Once the lad asked ye for money, and + ye wouldna trust him wi' it; and now ye are in sic a hurry to send him + after a wife that he maun neither eat nor sleep. Ye ken which is the maist + dangerous. And you, wi' a' your years, to play into auld Strang's hand sae + glibly! Deacon, ye hae made a nice mess o' it. Dinna ye see that Strang + knew you twa fiery Hielandmen would never tak 'No,' and he sent Isabel awa + on purpose for our Davie to run after her. He kens weel they will be sure + to marry, but he'll say now that his daughter disobeyed him; sae he'll get + off giving her a bawbee o' her fortune, and he'll save a' the plenishing + and the wedding expenses. Deacon, I'm ashamed o' you. Sending a love-sick + lad on sic a fool's errand. And mair, I'm not going to hae Isabel Strang, + or Isabel Callendar here. A young woman wi' bridish ways dawdling about + the house, I canna, and I willna stand. You'll hae to choose atween Deacon + Strang's daughter and your auld cousin, Jenny Callendar." + </p> + <p> + John had no answer ready, and indeed Jenny gave him no time to make one: + she went off with a sob in her voice, and left the impulsive old + matchmaker very unhappy indeed. For he had an unmitigated sense of having + acted most imprudently, and moreover, a shrewd suspicion that Jenny's + analysis of Deacon Strang's tactics was a correct one. For the first time + in many a year, a great tide of hot, passionate anger swept away every + other feeling. He longed to meet Strang face to face, and with an + hereditary and quite involuntary instinct he put his hand to the place + where his forefathers had always carried their dirks. The action terrified + and partly calmed him. "My God!" he exclaimed, "forgive thy servant. I hae + been guilty in my heart o' murder." + </p> + <p> + He was very penitent, but still, as he mused the fire burned; and he gave + vent to his feelings in odd, disjointed sentences thrown up from the very + bottom of his heart, as lava is thrown up by the irrepressible eruption: + "Wha shall deliver a man from his ancestors? Black Evan Callendar was + never much nearer murder than I hae been this night, only for the grace of + God, which put the temptation and the opportunity sae far apart. I'll hae + Strang under my thumb yet. God forgie me! what hae I got to do wi' sorting + my ain wrongs? What for couldna Davie like some other lass? It's as easy + to graft on a good stock as an ill one. I doobt I hae done wrong. I am in + a sair swither. The righteous dinna always see the right way. I maun e'en + to my Psalms again. It is a wonderfu' comfort that King David was just a + weak, sinfu' mortal like mysel'." So he went again to those pathetic, + self-accusing laments of the royal singer, and found in them, as he always + had done, words for all the great depths of his sin and fear, his hopes + and his faith. + </p> + <p> + In the morning one thing was clear to him; David must have his own house + now—David must leave him. He could not help but acknowledge that he + helped on this consummation, and it was with something of the feeling of a + man doing a just penance that he went to look at a furnished house, whose + owner was going to the south of France with a sick daughter. The place was + pretty, and handsomely furnished, and John paid down the year's rent. So + when David returned with his young bride, he assumed at once the dignity + and the cares of a householder. + </p> + <p> + Jenny was much offended at the marriage of David. She had looked forward + to this event as desirable and probable, but she supposed it would have + come with solemn religious rites and domestic feasting, and with a great + gathering in Blytheswood Square of all the Callendar clan. That it had + been "a wedding in a corner," as she contemptuously called it, was a great + disappointment to her. But, woman-like, she visited it on her own sex. It + was all Isabel's fault, and from the very first day of the return of the + new couple she assumed an air of commiseration for the young husband, and + always spoke of him as "poor Davie." + </p> + <p> + This annoyed John, and after his visits to David's house he was perhaps + unnecessarily eloquent concerning the happiness of the young people. Jenny + received all such information with a dissenting silence. She always spoke + of Isabel as "Mistress David," and when John reminded her that David's + wife was "Mistress Callendar," she said, "It was weel kent that there were + plenty o' folk called Callendar that werna Callendars for a' that." And it + soon became evident to her womanly keen-sightedness that John did not + always return from his visits to David and Isabel in the most happy of + humors. He was frequently too silent and thoughtful for a perfectly + satisfied man; but whatever his fears were, he kept them in his own bosom. + They were evidently as yet so light that hope frequently banished them + altogether; and when at length David had a son and called it after his + uncle, the old man enjoyed a real springtime of renewed youth and + pleasure. Jenny was partly reconciled also, for the happy parents treated + her with special attention, and she began to feel that perhaps David's + marriage might turn out better than she had looked for. + </p> + <p> + Two years after this event Deacon Strang became reconciled to his + daughter, and as a proof of it gave her a large mansion situated in the + rapidly-growing "West End." It had come into his possession at a bargain + in some of the mysterious ways of his trade; but it was, by the very + reason of its great size, quite unsuitable for a young manufacturer like + David. Indeed, it proved to be a most unfortunate gift in many ways. + </p> + <p> + "It will cost #5,000 to furnish it," said John fretfully, "and that Davie + can ill afford—few men could; but Isabel has set her heart on it." + </p> + <p> + "And she'll hae her will, deacon. Ye could put #5,000 in the business + though, or ye could furnish for them." + </p> + <p> + "My way o' furnishing wouldna suit them; and as for putting back money + that David is set on wasting, I'll no do it. It is a poor well, Jenny, + into which you must put water. If David's business wont stand his drafts + on it, the sooner he finds it out the better." + </p> + <p> + So the fine house was finely furnished; but that was only the beginning of + expenses. Isabel now wanted dress to suit her new surroundings, and + servants to keep the numerous rooms clean. Then she wanted all her friends + and acquaintances to see her splendid belongings, so that erelong David + found his home turned into a fashionable gathering-place. Lunches, + dinners, and balls followed each other quickly, and the result of all this + visiting was that Isabel had long lists of calls to make every day, and + that she finally persuaded David that it would be cheaper to buy their own + carriage than to pay so much hire to livery-stables. + </p> + <p> + These changes did not take place all at once, nor without much disputing. + John Callendar opposed every one of them step by step till opposition was + useless. David only submitted to them in order to purchase for himself a + delusive peace during the few hours he could afford to be in his fine + home; for his increased expenditure was not a thing he could bear lightly. + Every extra hundred pounds involved extra planning and work and risks. He + gradually lost all the cheerful buoyancy of manner and the brightness of + countenance that had been always part and parcel of David Callendar. A + look of care and weariness was on his face, and his habits and hours lost + all their former regularity. It had once been possible to tell the time of + day by the return home of the two Callendars. Now no one could have done + that with David. He stayed out late at night; he stayed out all night + long. He told Isabel the mill needed him, and she either believed him or + pretended to do so. + </p> + <p> + So that after the first winter of her fashionable existence she generally + "entertained" alone. "Mr. Callendar had gone to Stirling, or up to the + Highlands to buy wool," or, "he was so busy money-making she could not get + him to recognize the claims of society." And society cared not a pin's + point whether he presided or not at the expensive entertainments given in + his name. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + But things did not come to this pass all at once; few men take the steps + towards ruin so rapidly as to be themselves alarmed by it. It was nearly + seven years after his marriage when the fact that he was in dangerously + embarrassed circumstances forced itself suddenly on David's mind. I say + "suddenly" here, because the consummation of evil that has been long + preparing comes at last in a moment; a string holding a picture gets + weaker and weaker through weeks of tension, and then breaks. A calamity + through nights and days moves slowly towards us step by step, and then + some hour it has come. So it was with David's business. It had often + lately been in tight places, but something had always happened to relieve + him. One day, however, there was absolutely no relief but in borrowing + money, and David went to his uncle again. + </p> + <p> + It was a painful thing for him to do; not that they had any quarrel, + though sometimes David thought a quarrel would be better than the scant + and almost sad intercourse their once tender love had fallen into. By some + strange mental sympathy, hardly sufficiently recognized by us, John was + thinking of his nephew when he entered. He greeted him kindly, and pulled + a chair close, so that David might sit beside him. He listened + sympathizingly to his cares, and looked mournfully into the unhappy face + so dear to him; then he took his bank-book and wrote out a check for + double the amount asked. + </p> + <p> + The young man was astonished; the tears sprang to his eyes, and he said, + "Uncle, this is very good of you. I wish I could tell you how grateful I + am." + </p> + <p> + "Davie, sit a moment, you dear lad. I hae a word to say to ye. I hear tell + that my lad is drinking far mair than is good either for himsel' or his + business. My lad, I care little for the business; let it go, if its + anxieties are driving thee to whiskey. David, remember what thou accused + me of, yonder night, when this weary mill was first spoken of; and then + think how I suffer every time I hear tell o' thee being the warse o' + liquor. And Jenny is greeting her heart out about thee. And there is thy + sick wife, and three bonnie bit bairns." + </p> + <p> + "Did Isabel tell you this?" + </p> + <p> + "How can she help complaining? She is vera ill, and she sees little o' + thee, David, she says." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, she is ill. She took cold at Provost Allison's ball, and she has + dwined away ever since. That is true. And the house is neglected and the + servants do their own will both with it and the poor children. I have been + very wretched, Uncle John, lately, and I am afraid I have drunk more than + I ought to have done. Robert and I do not hit together as we used to; he + is always fault-finding, and ever since that visit from his cousin who is + settled in America he has been dissatisfied and heartless. His cousin has + made himself a rich man in ten years there; and Robert says we shall ne'er + make money here till we are too old to enjoy it." + </p> + <p> + "I heard tell, too, that Robert has been speculating in railway stock. + Such reports, true or false, hurt you, David. Prudent men dinna like to + trust speculators." + </p> + <p> + "I think the report is true; but then it is out of his private savings he + speculates." + </p> + <p> + "Davie, gie me your word that you wont touch a drop o' whiskey for a week—just + for a week." + </p> + <p> + "I cannot do it, uncle. I should be sure to break it. I don't want to tell + you a lie." + </p> + <p> + "O Davie, Davie! Will you try, then?" + </p> + <p> + "I'll try, uncle. Ask Jenny to go and see the children." + </p> + <p> + "'Deed she shall go; she'll be fain to do it. Let them come and stay wi' + me till their mother is mair able to look after them." + </p> + <p> + Jenny heard the story that night with a dour face. She could have said + some very bitter things about Deacon Strang's daughter, but in + consideration of her sickness she forbore. The next morning she went to + David's house and had a talk with Isabel. The poor woman was so ill that + Jenny had no heart to scold her; she only gave the house "a good sorting," + did what she could for Isabel's comfort, and took back with her the + children and their nurse. It was at her suggestion John saw David the next + day, and offered to send Isabel to the mild climate of Devonshire. "She'll + die if she stays in Glasgo' through the winter," he urged, and David + consented. Then, as David could not leave his business, John himself took + the poor woman to Torbay, and no one but she and God ever knew how + tenderly he cared for her, and how solemnly he tried to prepare her for + the great change he saw approaching. She had not thought of death before, + but when they parted he knew she had understood him, for weeping bitterly, + she said, "You will take care of the children, Uncle John? I fear I shall + see them no more." + </p> + <p> + "I will, Isabel. While I live I will." + </p> + <p> + "And, O uncle, poor David! I have not been a good wife to him. Whatever + happens, think of that and judge him mercifully. It is my fault, uncle, my + fault, my fault! God forgive me!" + </p> + <p> + "Nae, nae, lassie; I am far from innocent mysel';" and with these mournful + accusations they parted for ever. + </p> + <p> + For Isabel's sickness suddenly assumed an alarming character, and her + dissolution was so rapid that John had scarcely got back to Glasgow ere + David was sent for to see his wife die. He came back a bereaved and very + wretched man; the great house was dismantled and sold, and he went home + once more to Blytheswood Square. + </p> + <p> + But he could not go back to his old innocent life and self; and the change + only revealed to John how terribly far astray his nephew had gone. And + even Isabel's death had no reforming influence on him; it only roused + regrets and self-reproaches, which made liquor all the more necessary to + him. Then the breaking up of the house entailed much bargain-making, all + of which was unfortunately cemented with glasses of whiskey toddy. Still + his uncle had some new element of hope on which to work. David's home was + now near enough to his place of business to afford no excuse for remaining + away all night. The children were not to be hid away in some upper room; + John was determined they should be at the table and on the hearthstone; + and surely their father would respect their innocence and keep himself + sober for their sakes. + </p> + <p> + "It is the highest earthly motive I can gie him," argued the anxious old + man, "and he has aye had grace enough to keep out o' my sight when he + wasna himsel'; he'll ne'er let wee John and Flora and Davie see him when + the whiskey is aboon the will and the wit—that's no to be believed." + </p> + <p> + And for a time it seemed as if John's tactics would prevail. There were + many evenings when they were very happy. The children made so gay the + quiet old parlor, and David learning to know his own boys and girl, was + astonished at their childish beauty and intelligence. Often John could not + bear to break up the pleasant evening time, and David and he would sit + softly talking in the firelight, with little John musing quietly between + them, and Flora asleep on her uncle's lap. Then Jenny would come gently in + and out and say tenderly, "Hadna the bairns better come awa to their + beds?" and the old man would answer, "Bide a bit, Jenny, woman," for he + thought every such hour was building up a counter influence against the + snare of strong drink. + </p> + <p> + But there is no voice in human nature that can say authoritatively, "<i>Return!</i>" + David felt all the sweet influences with which he was surrounded, but, it + must be admitted, they were sometimes an irritation to him. His business + troubles, and his disagreements with his partner, were increasing rapidly; + for Robert—whose hopes were set on America—was urging him to + close the mill before their liabilities were any larger. He refused to + believe longer in the future making good what they had lost; and certainly + it was uphill work for David to struggle against accumulating bills, and a + partner whose heart was not with him. + </p> + <p> + One night at the close of the year, David did not come home to dinner, and + John and the children ate it alone. He was very anxious, and he had not + much heart to talk; but he kept the two eldest with him until little + Flora's head dropped, heavy with sleep, on his breast. Then a sudden + thought seemed to strike him, and he sent them, almost hurriedly, away. He + had scarcely done so when there was a shuffling noise in the hall, the + parlor-door was flung open with a jar, and David staggered towards him—<i>drunk</i>! + </p> + <p> + In a moment, John's natural temper conquered him; he jumped to his feet, + and said passionately, "How daur ye, sir? Get out o' my house, you sinfu' + lad!" Then, with a great cry he smote his hands together and bowed his + head upon them, weeping slow, heavy drops, that came each with a separate + pang. His agony touched David, though he scarcely comprehended it. Not all + at once is the tender conscience seared, and the tender heart hardened. + </p> + <p> + "Uncle," he said in a maudlin, hesitating way, which it would be a sin to + imitate—"Uncle John, I'm not drunk, I'm in trouble; I'm in trouble, + Uncle John. Don't cry about me. I'm not worth it." + </p> + <p> + Then he sank down upon the sofa, and, after a few more incoherent + apologies, dropped into a deep sleep. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + John sat and looked at his fallen idol with a vacant, tear-stained face. + He tried to pray a few words at intervals, but he was not yet able to gird + up his soul and wrestle with this grief. When Jenny came in she was + shocked at the gray, wretched look with which her master pointed to the + shameful figure on the sofa. Nevertheless, she went gently to it, raised + the fallen head to the pillow, and then went and got a blanket to cover + the sleeper, muttering, + </p> + <p> + "Poor fellow! There's nae need to let him get a pleurisy, ony gate. Whatna + for did ye no tell me, deacon? Then I could hae made him a cup o' warm + tea." + </p> + <p> + She spoke as if she was angry, not at David, but at John; and, though it + was only the natural instinct of a woman defending what she dearly loved, + John gave it a different meaning, and it added to his suffering. + </p> + <p> + "You are right, Jenny, woman," he said humbly, "it is my fault. I mixed + his first glass for him." + </p> + <p> + "Vera weel. Somebody aye mixes the first glass. Somebody mixed your first + glass. That is a bygane, and there is nae use at a' speiring after it. How + is the lad to be saved? That is the question now." + </p> + <p> + "O Jenny, then you dare to hope for his salvation?" + </p> + <p> + "I would think it far mair sinfu' to despair o' it. The Father has twa + kinds o' sons, deacon. Ye are ane like the elder brother; ye hae 'served + him many years and transgressed not at any time his commandment;' but this + dear lad is his younger son—still his son, mind ye—and he'll + win hame again to his Father's house. What for not? He's the bairn o' many + prayers. Gae awa to your ain room, deacon; I'll keep the watch wi' him. + He'd rather see me nor you when he comes to himsel'." + </p> + <p> + Alas! the watch begun that night was one Jenny had very often to keep + afterwards. David's troubles gathered closer and closer round him, and the + more trouble he had the deeper he drank. Within a month after that first + shameful homecoming the firm of Callendar & Leslie went into + sequestration. John felt the humiliation of this downcome in a far keener + way than David did. His own business record was a stainless one; his word + was as good as gold on Glasgow Exchange; the house of John Callendar & + Co. was synonymous with commercial integrity. The prudent burghers who + were his nephew's creditors were far from satisfied with the risks David + and Robert Leslie had taken, and they did not scruple to call them by + words which hurt John Callendar's honor like a sword-thrust. He did not + doubt that many blamed him for not interfering in his nephew's extravagant + business methods; and he could not explain to these people how peculiarly + he was situated with regard to David's affairs; nor, indeed, would many of + them have understood the fine delicacy which had dictated John's course. + </p> + <p> + It was a wretched summer every way. The accountant who had charge of + David's affairs was in no hurry to close up a profitable engagement, and + the creditors, having once accepted the probable loss, did not think it + worth while to deny themselves their seaside or Highland trips to attend + meetings relating to Callendar & Leslie. So there was little progress + made in the settlement of affairs all summer, and David was literally out + of employment. His uncle's and his children's presence was a reproach to + him, and Robert and he only irritated each other with mutual reproaches. + Before autumn brought back manufacturers and merchants to their factories + and offices David had sunk still lower. He did not come home any more when + he felt that he had drunk too much. He had found out houses where such a + condition was the natural and the most acceptable one—houses whose + doors are near to the gates of hell. + </p> + <p> + This knowledge shocked John inexpressibly, and in the depth of his horror + and grief he craved some human sympathy. + </p> + <p> + "I must go and see Dr. Morrison," he said one night to Jenny. + </p> + <p> + "And you'll do right, deacon; the grip o' his hand and the shining o' his + eyes in yours will do you good; forbye, you ken weel you arena fit to + guide yoursel', let alane Davie. You are too angry, and angry men tell + many a lie to themsel's." + </p> + <p> + There is often something luminous in the face of a good man, and Dr. + Morrison had this peculiarity in a remarkable degree. His face seemed to + radiate light; moreover, he was a man anointed with the oil of gladness + above his fellows, and John no sooner felt the glow of that radiant + countenance on him than his heart leaped up to welcome it. + </p> + <p> + "Doctor," he said, choking back his sorrow, "doctor, I'm fain to see you." + </p> + <p> + "John, sit down. What is it, John?" + </p> + <p> + "It's David, minister." + </p> + <p> + And then John slowly, and weighing every word so as to be sure he neither + over-stated nor under-stated the case, opened up his whole heart's sorrow. + </p> + <p> + "I hae suffered deeply, minister; I didna think life could be such a + tragedy." + </p> + <p> + "A tragedy indeed, John, but a tragedy with an angel audience. Think of + that. Paul says 'we are a spectacle unto men and angels.' Mind how you + play your part. What is David doing now?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing. His affairs are still unsettled." + </p> + <p> + "But that wont do, John. Men learn to do ill by doing what is next to it—nothing. + Without some duty life cannot hold itself erect. If a man has no regular + calling he is an unhappy man and a cross man, and I think prayers should + be offered up for his wife and children and a' who have to live with him. + Take David into your own employ at once." + </p> + <p> + "O minister, that I canna do! My office has aye had God-fearing, steady + men in it, and I canna, and—" + </p> + <p> + "'And that day Jesus was guest in the house of a man that was a sinner.' + John, can't you take a sinner as a servant into your office?" + </p> + <p> + "I'll try it, minister." + </p> + <p> + "And, John, it will be a hard thing to do, but you must watch David + constantly. You must follow him to his drinking-haunts and take him home; + if need be, you must follow him to warse places and take him home. You + must watch him as if all depended on your vigilance, and you must pray for + him as if nothing depended on it. You hae to conquer on your knees before + you go into the world to fight your battle, John. But think, man, what a + warfare is set before you—the saving of an immortal soul! And I'm + your friend and helper in the matter; the lad is one o' my stray lambs; he + belongs to my fold. Go your ways in God's strength, John, for this grief + o' yours shall be crowned with consolation." + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to say how this conference strengthened John Callendar. + Naturally a very choleric man, he controlled himself into a great patience + with his erring nephew. He watched for him like a father; nay, more like a + mother's was the thoughtful tenderness of his care. And David was often so + touched by the love and forbearance shown him, that he made passionate + acknowledgments of his sin and earnest efforts to conquer it. Sometimes + for a week together he abstained entirely, though during these intervals + of reason he was very trying. His remorse, his shame, his physical + suffering, were so great that he needed the most patient tenderness; and + yet he frequently resented this tenderness in a moody, sullen way that was + a shocking contrast to his once bright and affectionate manner. + </p> + <p> + So things went on until the close of the year. By that time the affairs of + the broken firm had been thoroughly investigated, and it was found that + its liabilities were nearly #20,000 above its assets. Suddenly, however, + bundle wools took an enormous rise, and as the stock of "Callendar & + Leslie" was mainly of this kind, they were pushed on the market, and sold + at a rate which reduced the firm's debts to about #17,000. This piece of + good fortune only irritated David; he was sure now that if Robert had + continued the fight they would have been in a position to clear + themselves. Still, whatever credit was due the transaction was frankly + given to David. It was his commercial instinct that had divined the + opportunity and seized it, and a short item in the "Glasgow Herald" spoke + in a cautiously flattering way of the affair. + </p> + <p> + Both John and David were greatly pleased at the circumstance. David also + had been perfectly sober during the few days he had this stroke of + business in hand, and the public acknowledgment of his service to the + firm's creditors was particularly flattering to him. He came down to + breakfast that morning as he had not come for months. It was a glimpse of + the old Davie back again, and John was as happy as a child in the vision. + Into his heart came at once Dr. Morrison's assertion that David must have + some regular duty to keep his life erect. It was evident that the + obligation of a trust had a controlling influence over him. + </p> + <p> + "David," he said cheerfully, "you must hae nearly done wi' that first + venture o' yours. The next will hae to redeem it; that is all about it. + Everything is possible to a man under forty years auld." + </p> + <p> + "We have our final meeting this afternoon, uncle. I shall lock the doors + for ever to-night." + </p> + <p> + "And your debts are na as much as you expected." + </p> + <p> + "They will not be over #17,000, and they may be considerably less. I hope + to make another sale this morning. There are yet three thousand bundles in + the stock." + </p> + <p> + "David, I shall put #20,000 in your ain name and for your ain use, + whatever that use may be, in the Western Bank this morning. I think you'll + do the best thing you can do to set your name clear again. If you are my + boy you will." + </p> + <p> + "Uncle John, you cannot really mean that I may pay every shilling I owe, + and go back on the Exchange with a white name? O uncle, if you should mean + this, what a man you would make of me!" + </p> + <p> + "It is just what I mean to do, Davie. Is na all that I have yours and your + children's? But oh, I thank God that you hae still a heart that counts + honor more than gold. David, after this I wont let go one o' the hopes I + have ever had for you." + </p> + <p> + "You need not, uncle. Please God, and with his help, I will make every one + of them good." + </p> + <p> + And he meant to do it. He never had felt more certain of himself or more + hopeful for the future than when he went out that morning. He touched + nothing all day, and as the short, dark afternoon closed in, he went + cheerfully towards the mill, with his new check-book in his pocket and the + assurance in his heart that in a few hours he could stand up among his + fellow-citizens free from the stain of debt. + </p> + <p> + His short speech at the final meeting was so frank and manly, and so just + and honorable to his uncle, that it roused a quiet but deep enthusiasm. + Many of the older men had to wipe the mist from their glasses, and the + heaviest creditor stood up and took David's hand, saying, "Gentlemen, I + hae made money, and I hae saved money, and I hae had money left me; but I + never made, nor saved, nor got money that gave me such honest pleasure as + this siller I hae found in twa honest men's hearts. Let's hae in the toddy + and drink to the twa Callendars." + </p> + <p> + Alas! alas! how often is it our friends from whom we ought to pray to be + preserved. The man meant kindly; he was a good man, he was a God-fearing + man, and even while he was setting temptation before his poor, weak + brother, he was thinking "that money so clean and fair and unexpected + should be given to some holy purpose." But the best of us are the slaves + of habit and chronic thoughtlessness. All his life he had signalled every + happy event by a libation of toddy; everybody else did the same; and + although he knew David's weakness, he did not think of it in connection + with that wisest of all prayers, "Lead us not into temptation." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + David ought to have left then, but he did not; and when his uncle's health + was given, and the glass of steaming whiskey stood before him, he raised + it to his lips and drank. It was easy to drink the second glass and the + third, and so on. The men fell into reminiscence and song, and no one knew + how many glasses were mixed; and even when they stood at the door they + turned back for "a thimbleful o' raw speerit to keep out the cold," for it + had begun to snow, and there was a chill, wet, east wind. + </p> + <p> + Then they went; and when their forms were lost in the misty gloom, and + even their voices had died away, David turned back to put out the lights, + and lock the mill-door for the last time. Suddenly it struck him that he + had not seen Robert Leslie for an hour at least, and while he was + wondering about it in a vague, drunken way, Robert came out of an inner + room, white with scornful anger, and in a most quarrelsome mood. + </p> + <p> + "You have made a nice fool of yoursel', David Callendar! Flinging awa so + much gude gold for a speech and a glass o' whiskey! Ugh!" + </p> + <p> + "You may think so, Robert. The Leslies have always been 'rievers and + thievers;' but the Callendars are of another stock." + </p> + <p> + "The Callendars are like ither folk—good and bad, and mostly bad. + Money, not honor, rules the warld in these days; and when folk have turned + spinners, what is the use o' talking about honor! Profit is a word more + fitting." + </p> + <p> + "I count mysel' no less a Callendar than my great-grandfather, Evan + Callendar, who led the last hopeless charge on Culloden. If I am a + spinner, I'll never be the first to smirch the roll o' my house with debt + and dishonesty, if I can help it." + </p> + <p> + "Fair nonsense! The height of nonsense! Your ancestors indeed! Mules make + a great to-do about their ancestors having been horses!" + </p> + <p> + David retorted with hot sarcasm on the freebooting Leslies, and their kin + the Armstrongs and Kennedys; and to Scotchmen this is the very sorest side + of a quarrel. They can forgive a bitter word against themselves perhaps, + but against their clan, or their dead, it is an unpardonable offence. And + certainly Robert had an unfair advantage; he was in a cool, wicked temper + of envy and covetousness. He could have struck himself for not having + foreseen that old John Callendar would be sure to clear the name of + dishonor, and thus let David and his #20,000 slip out of his control. + </p> + <p> + David had drunk enough to excite all the hereditary fight in his nature, + and not enough to dull the anger and remorse he felt for having drunk + anything at all. The dreary, damp atmosphere and the cold, sloppy turf of + Glasgow Green might have brought them back to the ordinary cares and + troubles of every-day life, but it did not. This grim oasis in the very + centre of the hardest and bitterest existences was now deserted. The dull, + heavy swash of the dirty Clyde and the distant hum of the sorrowful voices + of humanity in the adjacent streets hardly touched the sharp, cutting + accents of the two quarrelling men. No human ears heard them, and no human + eyes saw the uplifted hands and the sway and fall of Robert Leslie upon + the smutty and half melted snow, except David's. + </p> + <p> + Yes; David saw him fall, and heard with a strange terror the peculiar thud + and the long moan that followed it. It sobered him at once and completely. + The shock was frightful. He stood for a moment looking at the upturned + face, and then with a fearful horror he stooped and touched it. There was + no response to either entreaties or movement, and David was sure after + five minutes' efforts there never would be. Then his children, his uncle, + his own life, pressed upon him like a surging crowd. His rapid mind took + in the situation at once. There was no proof. Nobody had seen them leave + together. Robert had certainly left the company an hour before it + scattered; none of them could know that he was waiting in that inner room. + With a rapid step he took his way through Kent street into a region where + he was quite unknown, and by a circuitous route reached the foot of Great + George street. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at home about eight o'clock. John had had his dinner, and the + younger children had gone to bed. Little John sat opposite him on the + hearthrug, but the old man and the child were both lost in thought. + David's face at once terrified his uncle. + </p> + <p> + "Johnnie," he said, with a weary pathos in his voice, "your father wants + to see me alane. You had best say 'Gude-night,' my wee man." + </p> + <p> + The child kissed his uncle, and after a glance into his father's face went + quietly out. His little heart had divined that he "must not disturb papa." + David's eyes followed him with an almost overmastering grief and love, but + when John said sternly, "Now, David Callendar, what is it this time?" he + answered with a sullen despair, + </p> + <p> + "It is the last trouble I can bring you. I have killed Robert Leslie!" + </p> + <p> + The old man uttered a cry of horror, and stood looking at his nephew as if + he doubted his sanity. + </p> + <p> + "I am not going to excuse mysel', sir. Robert said some aggravating + things, and he struck me first; but that is neither here nor there. I + struck him and he fell. I think he hit his head in falling; but it was + dark and stormy, I could not see. I don't excuse mysel' at all. I am as + wicked and lost as a man can be. Just help me awa, Uncle John, and I will + trouble you no more for ever." + </p> + <p> + "Where hae you left Robert?" + </p> + <p> + "Where he fell, about 300 yards above Rutherglen Bridge." + </p> + <p> + "You are a maist unmerciful man! I ne'er liked Robert, but had he been my + bitterest enemy I would hae got him help if there was a chance for life, + and if not, I would hae sought a shelter for his corpse." + </p> + <p> + Then he walked to the parlor door, locked it, and put the key in his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + "As for helping you awa, sir, I'll ne'er do it, ne'er; you hae sinned, and + you'll pay the penalty, as a man should do." + </p> + <p> + "Uncle, have mercy on me." + </p> + <p> + "Justice has a voice as weel as mercy. O waly, waly!" cried the wretched + old man, going back to the pathetic Gflic of his childhood, "O waly, waly! + to think o' the sin and the shame o' it. Plenty o' Callendars hae died + before their time, but it has been wi' their faces to their foes and their + claymores in their hands. O Davie, Davie! my lad, my lad! My Davie!" + </p> + <p> + His agony shook him as a great wind shakes the tree-tops, and David stood + watching him in a misery still keener and more hopeless. For a few moments + neither spoke. Then John rose wearily and said, + </p> + <p> + "I'll go with you, David, to the proper place. Justice must be done—yes, + yes, it is just and right." + </p> + <p> + Then he lifted up his eyes, and clasping his hands, cried out, + </p> + <p> + "But, O my heavenly Father, be merciful, be merciful, for love is the + fulfilling of the law. Come, David, we hae delayed o'er long." + </p> + <p> + "Where are you going, uncle?" + </p> + <p> + "You ken where weel enough." + </p> + <p> + "Dear uncle, be merciful. At least let us go see Dr. Morrison first. + Whatever he says I will do." + </p> + <p> + "I'll do that; I'll be glad to do that; maybe he'll find me a road out o' + this sair, sair strait. God help us all, for vain is the help o' man." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <p> + When they entered Dr. Morrison's house the doctor entered with them. He + was wet through, and his swarthy face was in a glow of excitement. A + stranger was with him, and this stranger he hastily took into a room + behind the parlor, and then he came back to his visitors. + </p> + <p> + "Well, John, what is the matter?" + </p> + <p> + "Murder. Murder is the matter, doctor," and with a strange, quiet + precision he went over David's confession, for David had quite broken down + and was sobbing with all the abandon of a little child. During the recital + the minister's face was wonderful in its changes of expression, but at the + last a kind of adoring hopefulness was the most decided. + </p> + <p> + "John," he said, "what were you going to do wi' that sorrowfu' lad?" + </p> + <p> + "I was going to gie him up to justice, minister, as it was right and just + to do; but first we must see about—about the body." + </p> + <p> + "That has, without doot, been already cared for. On the warst o' nights + there are plenty o' folk passing o'er Glasgow Green after the tea-hour. It + is David we must care for now. Why should we gie him up to the law? Not + but what 'the law is good, if a man use it lawfully.' But see how the lad + is weeping. Dinna mak yoursel' hard to a broken heart, deacon. God himsel' + has promised to listen to it. You must go back hame and leave him wi' me. + And, John," he said, with an air of triumph, as they stood at the door + together, with the snow blowing in their uplifted faces, "John, my dear + old brother John, go hame and bless God; for, I tell you, this thing shall + turn out to be a great salvation." + </p> + <p> + So John went home, praying as he went, and conscious of a strange + hopefulness in the midst of his grief. The minister turned back to the + sobbing criminal, and touching him gently, said, + </p> + <p> + "Davie, my son, come wi' me." + </p> + <p> + David rose hopelessly and followed him. They went into the room where they + had seen the minister take the stranger who had entered the house with + them. The stranger was still there, and as they entered he came gently and + on tiptoe to meet them. + </p> + <p> + "Dr. Fleming," said the minister, "this is David Callendar, your patient's + late partner in business; he wishes to be the poor man's nurse, and + indeed, sir, I ken no one fitter for the duty." + </p> + <p> + So Dr. Fleming took David's hand, and then in a low voice gave him + directions for the night's watch, though David, in the sudden hope and + relief that had come to him, could scarcely comprehend them. Then the + physician went, and the minister and David sat by the bedside alone. + Robert lay in the very similitude and presence of death, unconscious both + of his sufferings and his friends. Congestion of the brain had set in, and + life was only revealed by the faintest pulsations, and by the appliances + for relief which medical skill thought it worth while to make. + </p> + <p> + "'And sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death,'" said the doctor + solemnly. "David, there is your work." + </p> + <p> + "God knows how patiently and willingly I'll do it, minister. Poor Robert, + I never meant to harm him." + </p> + <p> + "Now listen to me, and wonder at God's merciful ways. Auld Deacon + Galbraith, who lives just beyond Rutherglen Bridge, sent me word this + afternoon that he had gotten a summons from his Lord, and he would like to + see my face ance mair before he went awa for ever. He has been my right + hand in the kirk, and I loved him weel. Sae I went to bid him a short + Gude-by—for we'll meet again in a few years at the maist—and I + found him sae glad and solemnly happy within sight o' the heavenly shore, + that I tarried wi' him a few hours, and we ate and drank his last + sacrament together. He dropped my hand wi' a smile at half-past six + o'clock, and after comforting his wife and children a bit I turned my face + hameward. But I was in that mood that I didna care to sit i' a crowded + omnibus, and I wanted to be moving wi' my thoughts. The falling snow and + the deserted Green seemed good to me, and I walked on thinking o'er again + the deacon's last utterances, for they were wise and good even beyond the + man's nature. That is how I came across Robert Leslie. I thought he was + dead, but I carried him in my arms to the House o' the Humane Society, + which, you ken, isna one hundred yards from where Robert fell. The officer + there said he wasna dead, sae I brought him here and went for the + physician you spoke to. Now, Davie, it is needless for me to say mair. You + ken what I expect o' you. You'll get no whiskey in this house, not a drop + o' it. If the sick man needs anything o' that kind, I shall gie it wi' my + ain hand; and you wont leave this house, David, until I see whether Robert + is to live or die. You must gie me your word o' honor for that." + </p> + <p> + "Minister, pray what is my word worth?" + </p> + <p> + "Everything it promises, David Callendar. I would trust your word afore + I'd trust a couple o' constables, for a' that's come and gane." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, thank you, doctor! You shall not trust, and be deceived. I + solemnly promise you to do my best for Robert, and not to leave your house + until I have your permission." + </p> + <p> + The next morning Dr. Morrison was at John Callendar's before he sat down + to breakfast. He had the morning paper with him, and he pointed out a + paragraph which ran thus: "Robert Leslie, of the late firm of Callendar + & Leslie, was found by the Rev. Dr. Morrison in an unconscious + condition on the Green last night about seven o'clock. It is supposed the + young gentleman slipped and fell, and in the fall struck his head, as + congestion of the brain has taken place. He lies at Dr. Morrison's house, + and is being carefully nursed by his late partner, though there is but + little hope of his recovery." + </p> + <p> + "Minister, it wasna you surely wha concocted this lie?" + </p> + <p> + "Nobody has told a lie, John. Don't be overrighteous, man; there is an + unreasonableness o' virtue that savors o' pride. I really thought Robert + had had an accident, until you told me the truth o' the matter. The people + at the Humane Society did the same; sae did Dr. Fleming. I suppose some + reporter got the information from one o' the latter sources. But if Robert + gets well, we may let it stand; and if he doesna get well, I shall seek + counsel o' God before I take a step farther. In the meantime David is + doing his first duty in nursing him; and David will stay in my house till + I see whether it be a case o' murder or not." + </p> + <p> + For three weeks there was but the barest possibility of Robert's recovery. + But his youth and fine constitution, aided by the skill of his physician + and the unremitting care of his nurse, were at length, through God's + mercy, permitted to gain a slight advantage. The discipline of that three + weeks was a salutary though a terrible one to David. Sometimes it became + almost intolerable; but always, when it reached this point, Dr. Morrison + seemed, by some fine spiritual instinct, to discover the danger and hasten + to his assistance. Life has silences more pathetic than death's; and the + stillness of that darkened room, with its white prostrate figure, was a + stillness in which David heard many voices he never would have heard in + the crying out of the noisy world. + </p> + <p> + What they said to him about his wasted youth and talents, and about his + neglected Saviour, only his own heart knew. But he must have suffered very + much, for, at the end of a month, he looked like a man who had himself + walked through the valley and shadow of death. About this time Dr. + Morrison began to drop in for an hour or two every evening; sometimes he + took his cup of tea with the young men, and then he always talked with + David on passing events in such a way as to interest without fatiguing the + sick man. His first visit of this kind was marked by a very affecting + scene. He stood a moment looking at Robert and then taking David's hand, + he laid it in Robert's. But the young men had come to a perfect + reconciliation one midnight when the first gleam of consciousness visited + the sick man, and Dr. Morrison was delighted to see them grasp each other + with a smile, while David stooped and lovingly touched his friend's brow. + </p> + <p> + "Doctor, it was my fault," whispered Robert. "If I die, remember that. I + did my best to anger Davie, and I struck him first. I deserved all I have + had to suffer." + </p> + <p> + After this, however, Robert recovered rapidly, and in two months he was + quite well. + </p> + <p> + "David," said the minister to him one morning, "your trial is nearly over. + I have a message from Captain Laird to Robert Leslie. Laird sails + to-night; his ship has dropped down the river a mile, and Robert must + leave when the tide serves; that will be at five o'clock." + </p> + <p> + For Robert had shrunk from going again into his Glasgow life, and had + determined to sail with his friend Laird at once for New York. There was + no one he loved more dearly than David and Dr. Morrison, and with them his + converse had been constant and very happy and hopeful. He wished to leave + his old life with this conclusion to it unmingled with any other memories. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <p> + So that evening the three men went in a coach to the Broomilaw together. A + boat and two watermen were in waiting at the bridge-stair, and though the + evening was wet and chilly they all embarked. No one spoke. The black + waters washed and heaved beneath them, the myriad lights shone vaguely + through the clammy mist and steady drizzle, and the roar of the city + blended with the stroke of the oars and the patter of the rain. Only when + they lay under the hull of a large ship was the silence broken. But it was + broken by a blessing. + </p> + <p> + "God bless you, Robert! The Lord Jesus, our Redeemer, make you a gude + man," said Dr. Morrison fervently, and David whispered a few broken words + in his friend's ear. Then Captain Laird's voice was heard, and in a moment + or two more they saw by the light of a lifted lantern Robert's white face + in the middle of a group on deck. + </p> + <p> + "Farewell!" he shouted feebly, and Dr. Morrison answered it with a lusty, + "God speed you, Robert! God speed the good ship and all on board of her!" + </p> + <p> + So they went silently back again, and stepped into the muddy, dreamlike, + misty streets, wet through and quite weary with emotion. + </p> + <p> + "Now gude-night, David. Your uncle is waiting dinner for you. I hae + learned to love you vera much." + </p> + <p> + "Is there anything I can do, doctor, to show you how much I love and + respect you?" + </p> + <p> + "You can be a good man, and you can let me see you every Sabbath in your + place at kirk. Heaven's gate stands wide open on the Sabbath day, David; + sae it is a grand time to offer your petitions." + </p> + <p> + Yes, the good old uncle was waiting, but with that fine instinct which is + born of a true love he had felt that David would like no fuss made about + his return. He met him as if he had only been a few hours away, and he had + so tutored Jenny that she only betrayed her joy by a look which David and + she understood well. + </p> + <p> + "The little folks," said John, "have a' gane to their beds; the day has + been that wet and wearisome that they were glad to gae to sleep and forget + a' about it." + </p> + <p> + David sat down in his old place, and the two men talked of the Russian war + and the probable storming of the Alamo. Then John took his usual + after-dinner nap, and David went up stairs with Jenny and kissed his + children, and said a few words to them and to the old woman, which made + them all very happy. + </p> + <p> + When he returned to the parlor his uncle was still sleeping, and he could + see how weary and worn he had become. + </p> + <p> + "So patient, so generous, so honorable, so considerate for my feelings," + said the young man to himself. "I should be an ingrate indeed if I did + not, as soon as he wakes, say what I know he is so anxious to hear." + </p> + <p> + With the thought John opened his eyes, and David nodded and smiled back to + him. How alert and gladly he roused himself! How cheerily he said, + </p> + <p> + "Why, Davie, I hae been sleeping, I doot. Hech, but it is gude to see you, + lad." + </p> + <p> + "Please God, uncle, it shall always be gude to see me. Can you give me + some advice to-night?" "I'll be mair than glad to do it." + </p> + <p> + "Tell me frankly, Uncle John, what you think I ought to do. I saw Robert + off to America to-night. Shall I follow him?" + </p> + <p> + "Davie, mind what I say. In the vera place where a man loses what he + values, there he should look to find it again. You hae lost your good name + in Glasgow; stay in Glasgow and find it again." + </p> + <p> + "I will stay here then. What shall I do?" + </p> + <p> + "You'll go back to your old place, and to your old business." + </p> + <p> + "But I heard that Deacon Strang had bought the looms and the lease." + </p> + <p> + "He bought them for me, for us, I mean. I will tell you how that came + about. One day when I was cross, and sair put out wi' your affairs, Davie, + Dr. Morrison came into my office. I'm feared I wasna glad to see him; and + though I was ceevil enough, the wise man read me like a book. 'John,' says + he, 'I am not come to ask you for siller to-day, nor am I come to reprove + you for staying awa from the service o' God twice lately. I am come to + tell you that you will hae the grandest opportunity to-day, to be, not + only a man, but a Christ-man. If you let the opportunity slip by you, I + shall feel sairly troubled about it.' + </p> + <p> + "Then he was gone before I could say, 'What is it?' and I wondered and + wondered all day what he could hae meant. But just before I was ready to + say, 'Mr. MacFarlane, lock the safe,' in walks Deacon Strang. He looked + vera downcast and shamefaced, and says he, 'Callendar, you can tak your + revenge on me to-morrow, for a' I hae said and done against you for thirty + years. You hold twa notes o' mine, and I canna meet them. You'll hae to + protest and post them to-morrow, and that will ruin me and break my + heart.' + </p> + <p> + "David, I had to walk to the window and hide my face till I could master + mysel', I was that astonished. Then I called out, 'Mr. MacFarlane, you hae + two notes o' Deacon Strang's, bring them to me.' When he did sae, I said, + 'Well, deacon, we a' o' us hae our ain fashes. How long time do you want, + and we'll renew these bits o' paper?' + </p> + <p> + "And the thing was done, Davie, and done that pleasantly that it made me + feel twenty years younger. We shook hands when we parted, and as we did + sae, the deacon said, 'Is there aught I can do to pleasure you or David?' + and a' at once it struck me about the sales o' the looms and lease. Sae I + said, 'Yes, deacon, there is something you can do, and I'll be vera much + obligated to you for the same. Davie is sae tied down wi' Robert's + illness, will you go to the sale o' Callendar & Leslie's looms and + lease, and buy them for me? You'll get them on better terms than I will.' + And he did get them on excellent terms, Davie; sae your mill is just as + you left it—for Bailie Nicol, wha took it at the accountant's + valuation, never opened it at all. And you hae twenty months' rent paid in + advance, and you hae something in the bank I expect." + </p> + <p> + "I have #3,600, uncle." + </p> + <p> + "Now, I'll be your partner this time. I'll put in the business #4,000, but + I'll hae it run on a solid foundation, however small that foundation may + be. I'll hae no risks taken that are dishonest risks; I'll hae a broad + mark made between enterprise and speculation; and above a', I'll hae the + right to examine the books, and see how things are going on, whenever I + wish to do sae. We will start no more looms than our capital will work, + and we'll ask credit from no one." + </p> + <p> + "Uncle John, there is not another man in the world so generous and + unselfish as you are." + </p> + <p> + "There are plenty as good men in every congregation o' the Lord; if there + wasna they would scatter in no time. Then you are willing, are you? Gie me + your hand, Davie. I shall look to you to do your best for baith o' us." + </p> + <p> + "I have not drunk a drop for two months, uncle. I never intend to drink + again." + </p> + <p> + "I hae given it up mysel'," said the old man, with an affected + indifference that was pathetic in its self-abnegation. "I thought twa + going a warfare together might do better than ane alone. Ye ken Christ + sent out the disciples by twa and twa. And, Davie, when you are hard + beset, just utter the name of Christ down in your heart, and see how much + harder it is to sin." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <p> + The arrangement had been a very pleasant one, every way, but somehow John + did not feel as if David had as much outside help as he needed. The young + man was not imaginative; an ideal, however high, was a far less real thing + to David than to old John. He pondered during many sleepless hours the + advisability of having David sign the pledge. David had always refused to + do it hitherto. He had a keen sense of shame in breaking a verbal promise + on this subject; but he had an almost superstitious feeling regarding the + obligation of anything he put his name to; and this very feeling made John + hesitate to press the matter. For, he argued, and not unwisely, "if David + should break this written obligation, his condition would seem to himself + irremediable, and he would become quite reckless." + </p> + <p> + In the morning this anxiety was solved. When John came down to breakfast, + he found David walking about the room with a newspaper in his hand, and in + a fever heat of martial enthusiasm. "Uncle," he cried, "O Uncle John, such + glorious news! The Alamo is taken. Colin Campbell and his Highlanders were + first at the ramparts, and Roy and Hector Callendar were with them. + Listen?" and he threw the passion and fervor of all his military instincts + into the glowing words which told, how in a storm of fire and shot, Sir + Colin and his Highland regiment had pushed up the hill; and how when the + Life Guards were struggling to reach their side, the brave old commander + turned round and shouted, "We'll hae nane but Hieland bonnets here!" "O + Uncle John, what would I not have given to have marched with Roy and + Hector behind him? With such a leader I would not turn my back on any + foe." + </p> + <p> + "David, you have a far harder fight before you, and a far grander + Captain." + </p> + <p> + "Uncle, uncle, if I could see my foe; if I could meet him face to face in + a real fight; but he steals into my heart, even by my nostrils, and unmans + me, before I am aware." + </p> + <p> + John rang the bell sharply, and when Jenny came, he amazed her by saying, + "Bring me here from the cellar three bottles of whiskey." He spoke so curt + and determined that for once Jenny only wondered, and obeyed. + </p> + <p> + "That will do, my woman." Then he turned to David, and putting one bottle + on the table said, "There is your foe! Face your enemy, sir! Sit down + before him morning, noon, and night. Dare him to master you! Put this + bottle on the table in your ain room; carry this in your hand to your + office, and stand it before your eyes upon your desk. If you want a foe to + face and to conquer, a foe that you can see and touch, here is one mighty + enough to stir the bravest soul. And, if you turn your back on him you are + a coward; a mean, poor-hearted coward, sir. And there ne'er was a coward + yet, o' the Callendar blood, nor o' the Campbell line! Your Captain is + nane less than the Son o' God. Hear what he says to you! 'To him that + overcometh! To him that overcometh!' O Davie, you ken the rest!" and the + old man was so lifted out of and above himself, that his face shone and + his keen gray eyes scintillated with a light that no market-place ever saw + in them. + </p> + <p> + David caught the holy enthusiasm; he seized the idea like a visible hand + of God for his help. The black bottle became to him the materialization of + all his crime and misery. It was a foe he could see, and touch, and defy. + It seemed to mock him, to tempt him, to beg him just to open the cork, if + only to test the strength of his resolutions. + </p> + <p> + Thank God he never did it. He faced his enemy the first thing in the + morning and the last thing at night. He kept him in sight through the + temptations of a business day. He faced him most steadily in the solitude + of his own room. There, indeed, his most dangerous struggles took place, + and one night John heard him after two hours of restless hurried walking + up and down, throw open his window, and dash the bottle upon the pavement + beneath it. That was the last of his hard struggles; the bottle which + replaced the one flung beyond his reach stands to-day where it has stood + for nearly a quarter of a century, and David feels now no more inclination + to open it than if it contained strychnine. + </p> + <p> + This is no fancy story. It is a fact. It is the true history of a soul's + struggle, and I write it—God knows I do—in the strong hope + that some brave fellow, who is mastered by a foe that steals upon him in + the guise of good fellowship, or pleasure, or hospitality, may locate his + enemy, and then face and conquer him in the name of Him who delivers his + people from their sins. I do not say that all natures could do this. Some + may find safety and final victory in flight, or in hiding from their foe; + but I believe that the majority of souls would rise to a warfare in which + the enemy was confronting them to face and fight, and would conquer. + </p> + <p> + I have little more to say of David Callendar. It was the story of his fall + and his redemption I intended to write. But we cannot separate our + spiritual and mortal life; they are the warp and woof which we weave + together for eternity. Therefore David's struggle, though a palpable one + in some respects, was, after all, an intensely spiritual one; for it was + in the constant recognition of Christ as the Captain of his salvation, and + in the constant use of such spiritual aids as his Bible and his minister + gave him, that he was enabled to fight a good fight and to come off more + than conqueror in a contest wherein so many strive and fail. + </p> + <p> + David's reformation had also a very sensible influence on his business + prosperity. He has won back again now all, and far more than all, he lost, + and in all good and great works for the welfare of humanity David + Callendar is a willing worker and a noble giver. The new firm of John and + David Callendar acquired a world-wide reputation. It is still John and + David Callendar, for when the dear old deacon died he left his interest in + it to David's eldest son, a pious, steady young fellow for whom nobody + ever mixed a first glass. But God was very kind to John in allowing him to + see the full harvest of his tender love, his patience, and his + unselfishness. Out of his large fortune he left a noble endowment for a + church and college in his native town, making only two requests concerning + its management: first, that no whiskey should ever go within the college + walls: second, that all the children in the town might have a holiday on + the anniversary of his death; "for," said he, "I have aye loved children, + and I would fain connect the happiness of childhood with the peace o' the + dead." + </p> + <p> + Dr. Morrison lived long enough to assist in filling in the grave of his + old friend and helper, but attained unto the beginning of peace and glory + soon afterwards. And I have often pictured to myself the meeting of those + two upon the hills of God. The minister anticipated it, though upon his + dying bed his great soul forgot all individualities, and thought only of + the church universal, and his last glowing words were, "For Jerusalem that + is above is free, which is the mother of us all." + </p> + <p> + Robert Leslie has done well in America, and no man is a more warm and + earnest advocate of "the faith once delivered to the saints." I read a + little speech of his some time ago at the dedication of a church, and it + greatly pleased me. + </p> + <p> + "Many things," he said, "have doubtless been improved in this age, for + man's works are progressive and require improvement; but who," he asked, + "can improve the sunshine and the flowers, the wheat and the corn? And who + will give us anything worthy to take the place of the religion of our + fathers and mothers? And what teachers have come comparable to Christ, to + David, Isaiah, and Paul?" + </p> + <p> + Jenny only died a year ago. She brought up David's children admirably, and + saw, to her great delight, the marriage of Flora and young Captain + Callendar. For it had long been her wish to go back to Argyleshire "among + her ain folk and die among the mountains," and this marriage satisfied all + her longings. One evening they found her sitting in her open door with her + face turned towards the cloud-cleaving hills. Her knitting had fallen upon + her lap, her earthly work was done for ever, and she had put on the + garments of the eternal Sabbath. But there was a wonderful smile on her + simple, kindly face. Soul and body had parted with a smile. Oh, how happy + are those whom the Master finds waiting for him, and who, when he calls, + pass gently away! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Up to the golden citadel they fare, + And as they go their limbs grow full of might; + And One awaits them at the topmost stair, + One whom they had not seen, but knew at sight." +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ANDREW CARGILL'S CONFESSION. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + Between Sinverness and Creffel lies the valley of Glenmora. Sca Fells and + Soutra Fells guard it on each hand, and the long, treacherous sweep of + Solway Frith is its outlet. It is a region of hills and moors, inhabited + by a people of singular gravity and simplicity of character, a pastoral + people, who in its solemn high places have learned how to interpret the + voices of winds and watersand to devoutly love their God. + </p> + <p> + Most of them are of the purest Saxon origin; but here and there one meets + the massive features and the blue bonnet of the Lowland Scots, descendants + of those stern Covenanters who from the coasts of Galloway and Dumfries + sought refuge in the strength of these lonely hills. They are easily + distinguished, and are very proud of their descent from this race whom + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "God anointed with his odorous oil + To wrestle, not to reign." +</pre> + <p> + Thirty years ago their leader and elder was Andrew Cargill, a man of the + same lineage as that famous Donald Cargill who was the Boanerges of the + Covenant, and who suffered martyrdom for his faith at the town of + Queensferry. Andrew never forgot this fact, and the stern, just, + uncompromising spirit of the old Protester still lived in him. He was a + man well-to-do in the world, and his comfortable stone house was one of + the best known in the vale of Glenmora. + </p> + <p> + People who live amid grand scenery are not generally sensitive to it, but + Andrew was. The adoring spirit in which he stood one autumn evening at his + own door was a very common mood with him. He looked over the moors + carpeted with golden brown, and the hills covered with sheep and cattle, + at the towering crags, more like clouds at sunset than things of solid + land, at the children among the heather picking bilberries, at the deep, + clear, purple mist that filled the valley, not hindering the view, but + giving everything a strangely solemn aspect, and his face relaxed into + something very like a smile as he said, "It is the wark o' my Father's + hand, and praised be his name." + </p> + <p> + He stood at his own open door looking at these things, and inside his wife + Mysie was laying the supper-board with haver bread and cheese and milk. A + bright fire blazed on the wide hearth, and half a dozen sheep-dogs spread + out their white breasts to the heat. Great settles of carved oak, bedded + deep with fleeces of long wool, were on the sides of the fireplace, and + from every wall racks of spotless deal, filled with crockery and pewter, + reflected the shifting blaze. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he stepped out and looked anxiously towards the horizon on all + sides. "Mysie, woman," said he, "there is a storm coming up from old + Solway; I maun e'en gae and fauld the ewes wi' their young lammies. Come + awa', Keeper and Sandy." + </p> + <p> + The dogs selected rose at once and followed Andrew with right good-will. + Mysie watched them a moment; but the great clouds of mist rolling down + from the mountains soon hid the stalwart figure in its bonnet and plaid + from view, and gave to the dogs' fitful barks a distant, muffled sound. So + she went in and sat down upon the settle, folding her hands listlessly on + her lap, and letting the smile fall from her face as a mask might fall. + Oh, what a sad face it was then! + </p> + <p> + She sat thus in a very trance of sorrow until the tears dropped heavily + and slowly down, and her lips began to move in broken supplications. + Evidently these brought her the comfort she sought, for erelong she rose, + saying softly to herself, "The lost bit o' siller was found, and the + strayed sheep was come up wi', and the prodigal won hame again, and + dootless, dootless, my ain dear lad will no be lost sight o'." + </p> + <p> + By this time the storm had broken, but Mysie was not uneasy. Andrew knew + the hills like his own ingle, and she could tell to within five minutes + how long it would take him to go to the fauld and back. But when it was + ten minutes past his time Mysie stood anxiously in the open door and + listened. Her ears, trained to almost supernatural quickness, soon + detected above the winds and rain a sound of footsteps. She called a wise + old sheep-dog and bid him listen. The creature held his head a moment to + the ground, looked at her affirmatively, and at her command went to seek + his master. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments she heard Andrew's peculiar "hallo!" and the joyful + barking of the dog, and knew that all was right. Yet she could not go in; + she felt that something unusual had happened, and stood waiting for + whatever was coming. It was a poor, little, half-drowned baby. Andrew took + it from under his plaid, and laid it in her arms, saying, + </p> + <p> + "I maun go now and look after the mither. I'll need to yoke the cart for + her; she's past walking, and I'm sair feared she's past living; but you'll + save the bit bairn, Mysie, nae doot; for God disna smite aften wi' baith + hands." + </p> + <p> + "Where is she, Andrew?" + </p> + <p> + "'Mang the Druids' stanes, Mysie, and that's an ill place for a Christian + woman to die. God forbid it!" he muttered, as he lit a lantern and went + rapidly to the stable; "an evil place! under the vera altar-stane o' + Satan. God stay the parting soul till it can hear a word o' his great + mercy!" + </p> + <p> + With such a motive to prompt him, Andrew was not long in reaching the + ruins of the old Druidical temple. Under a raised flat stone, which made a + kind of shelter, a woman was lying. She was now insensible, and Andrew + lifted her carefully into the cart. Perhaps it was some satisfaction to + him that she did not actually die within such unhallowed precincts; but + the poor creature herself was beyond such care. When she had seen her + child in Mysie's arms, and comprehended Mysie's assurance that she would + care for it, all anxiety slipped away from her. Andrew strove hard to make + her understand the awful situation in which she was; but the girl lay + smiling, with upturned eyes, as if she was glad to be relieved of the + burden of living. + </p> + <p> + "You hae done your duty, gudeman," at length said Mysie, "and now you may + leave the puir bit lassie to me; I'll dootless find a word o' comfort to + say to her." + </p> + <p> + "But I'm feared, I am awfu' feared, woman, that she is but a prodigal and + an—" + </p> + <p> + "Hush, gudeman! There is mercy for the prodigal daughter as weel as for + the prodigal son;" and at these words Andrew went out with a dark, stern + face, while she turned with a new and stronger tenderness to the dying + woman. + </p> + <p> + "God is love," she whispered; "if you hae done aught wrang, there's the + open grave o' Jesus, dearie; just bury your wrang-doing there." She was + answered with a happy smile. "And your little lad is my lad fra this hour, + dearie!" The dying lips parted, and Mysie knew they had spoken a blessing + for her. + </p> + <p> + Nothing was found upon the woman that could identify her, nothing except a + cruel letter, which evidently came from the girl's father; but even in + this there was neither date nor locality named. It had no term of + endearment to commence with, and was signed simply, "John Dunbar." Two + things were, however, proven by it: that the woman's given name was + Bessie, and that by her marriage she had cut herself off from her home and + her father's affection. + </p> + <p> + So she was laid by stranger hands within that doorless house in the which + God sometimes mercifully puts his weary ones to sleep. Mysie took the + child to her heart at once, and Andrew was not long able to resist the + little lad's beauty and winning ways. The neighbors began to call him "wee + Andrew;" and the old man grew to love his namesake with a strangely tender + affection. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes there was indeed a bitter feeling in Mysie's heart, as she saw + how gentle he was with this child and remembered how stern and strict he + had been with their own lad. She did not understand that the one was in + reality the result of the other, the acknowledgement of his fault, and the + touching effort to atone, in some way, for it. + </p> + <p> + One night, when wee Andrew was about seven years old, this wrong struck + her in a manner peculiarly painful. Andrew had made a most extraordinary + journey, even as far as Penrith. A large manufactory had been begun there, + and a sudden demand for his long staple of white wool had sprung up. + Moreover, he had had a prosperous journey, and brought back with him two + books for the boy, Fsop's Fables and Robinson Crusoe. + </p> + <p> + When Mysie saw them, her heart swelled beyond control. She remembered a + day when her own son Davie had begged for these very books and been + refused with hard rebukes. She remembered the old man's bitter words and + the child's bitter tears; but she did not reflect that the present + concession was the result of the former refusal, nor yet that the books + were much easier got and the money more plentiful than thirty years + previous. When wee Andrew ran away with his treasures to the Druids' + stones, Mysie went into the shippen, and did her milking to some very sad + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + She was poisoning her heart with her own tears. When she returned to the + "houseplace" and saw the child bending with rapt, earnest face over the + books, she could not avoid murmuring that the son of a strange woman + should be sitting happy in Cargill spence, and her own dear lad a banished + wanderer. She had come to a point when rebellion would be easy for her. + Andrew saw a look on her face that amazed and troubled him: and yet when + she sat so hopelessly down before the fire, and without fear or apology + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Let the tears downfa'," +</pre> + <p> + he had no heart to reprove her. Nay, he asked with a very unusual concern, + "What's the matter, Mysie, woman?" + </p> + <p> + "I want to see Davie, and die, gudeman!" + </p> + <p> + "You'll no dare to speak o' dying, wife, until the Lord gies you occasion; + and Davie maun drink as he's brewed." + </p> + <p> + "Nay, gudeman, but you brewed for him; the lad is drinking the cup you + mixed wi' your ain hands." + </p> + <p> + "I did my duty by him." + </p> + <p> + "He had ower muckle o' your duty, and ower little o' your indulgence. If + Davie was wrang, ither folk werena right. Every fault has its forefault." + </p> + <p> + Andrew looked in amazement at this woman, who for thirty and more years + had never before dared to oppose his wishes, and to whom his word had been + law. + </p> + <p> + "Davie's wrang-doing was weel kent, gude-wife; he hasted to sin like a + moth to a candle." + </p> + <p> + "It's weel that our faults arena written i' our faces." + </p> + <p> + "I hae fallen on evil days, Mysie; saxty years syne wives and bairns + werena sae contrarie." + </p> + <p> + "There was gude and bad then, as now, gudeman." + </p> + <p> + Mysie's face had a dour, determined look that no one had ever seen on it + before. Andrew began to feel irritated at her. "What do you want, woman?" + he said sternly. + </p> + <p> + "I want my bairn, Andrew Cargill." + </p> + <p> + "Your bairn is i' some far-awa country, squandering his share o' Paradise + wi' publicans and sinners." + </p> + <p> + "I hope not, I hope not; if it werena for this hope my heart would break;" + and then all the barriers that education and habit had built were suddenly + overthrown as by an earthquake, and Mysie cried out passionately, "I want + my bairn, Andrew Cargill! the bonnie bairn that lay on my bosom, and was + dandled on my knees, and sobbed out his sorrows i' my arms. I want the + bairn you were aye girding and grumbling at! that got the rod for this, + and the hard word and the black look for that! My bonnie Davie, wha ne'er + had a playtime nor a story-book! O gudeman, I want my bairn! I want my + bairn!" + </p> + <p> + The repressed passion and sorrow of ten long years had found an outlet and + would not be controlled. Andrew laid down his pipe in amazement and + terror, and for a moment he feared his wife had lost her senses. He had a + tender heart beneath his stern, grave manner, and his first impulse was + just to take the sobbing mother to his breast and promise her all she + asked. But he did not do it the first moment, and he could not the second. + Yet he did rise and go to her, and in his awkward way try to comfort her. + "Dinna greet that way, Mysie, woman," he said; "if I hae done amiss, I'll + mak amends." + </p> + <p> + That was a great thing for Andrew Cargill to say; Mysie hardly knew how to + believe it. Such a confession was a kind of miracle, for she judged things + by results and was not given to any consideration of the events that led + up to them. She could not know, and did not suspect, that all the bitter + truths she had spoken had been gradually forcing themselves on her + husband's mind. She did not know that wee Andrew's happy face over his + story-books, and his eager claim for sympathy, had been an accusation and + a reproach which the old man had already humbly and sorrowfully accepted. + Therefore his confession and his promise were a wonder to the woman, who + had never before dared to admit that it was possible Andrew Cargill should + do wrong in his own household. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + The confidence that came after this plain speaking was very sweet and + comforting to both, although in their isolation and ignorance they knew + not what steps to take in order to find Davie. Ten years had elapsed since + he had hung for one heart-breaking moment on his mother's neck, and bid, + as he told her, a farewell for ever to the miserable scenes of his hard, + bare childhood. Mysie had not been able to make herself believe that he + was very wrong; dancing at pretty Mary Halliday's bridal and singing two + or three love-songs did not seem to the fond mother such awful + transgressions as the stern, strict Covenanter really believed them to be, + though even Mysie was willing to allow that Davie, in being beguiled into + such sinful folly, "had made a sair tumble." + </p> + <p> + However, Davie and his father had both said things that neither could win + over, and the lad had gone proudly down the hill with but a few shillings + in his pocket. Since then there had been ten years of anxious, longing + grief that had remained unconfessed until this night. Now the hearts of + both yearned for their lost son. But how should they find him? Andrew read + nothing but his Bible and almanac; he had no conception of the world + beyond Kendal and Keswick. He could scarcely imagine David going beyond + these places, or, at any rate, the coast of Scotland. Should he make a + pilgrimage round about all those parts? + </p> + <p> + Mysie shook her head. She thought Andrew had better go to Keswick and see + the Methodist preacher there. She had heard they travelled all over the + world, and if so, it was more than likely they had seen Davie Cargill; "at + ony rate, he would gie advice worth speiring after." + </p> + <p> + Andrew had but a light opinion of Methodists, and had never been inside + the little chapel at Sinverness; but Mysie's advice, he allowed, "had a + savor o' sense in it," and so the next day he rode over to Keswick and + opened his heart to John Sugden, the superintendent of the Derwent + Circuit. He had assured himself on the road that he would only tell John + just as much as was necessary for his quest; but he was quite unable to + resist the preacher's hearty sympathy. There never were two men more + unlike than Andrew Cargill and John Sugden, and yet they loved each other + at once. + </p> + <p> + "He is a son o' consolation, and dootless ane o' God's chosen," said + Andrew to Mysie on his return. + </p> + <p> + "He is a far nobler old fellow than he thinks he is," said John to his + wife when he told her of Andrew's visit. + </p> + <p> + John had advised advertising for Davie in "The Watchman;" for John really + thought this organ of the Methodist creed was the greatest paper in + existence, and honestly believed that if Davie was anywhere in the + civilized world "The Watchman" would find him out. He was so sure of it + that both Mysie and Andrew caught his hopeful tone, and began to tell each + other what should be done when Davie came home. + </p> + <p> + Poor Mysie was now doubly kind to wee Andrew. She accused herself bitterly + of "grudging the bit lammie his story-books," and persuaded her husband to + bring back from Keswick for the child the "Pilgrim's Progress" and "The + Young Christian." John Sugden, too, visited them often, not only staying + at Cargill during his regular appointments, but often riding over to take + a day's recreation with the old Cameronian. True, they disputed the whole + time. John said very positive things and Andrew very contemptuous ones; + but as they each kept their own opinions intact, and were quite sure of + their grounds for doing so, no words that were uttered ever slackened the + grip of their hands at parting. + </p> + <p> + One day, as John was on the way to Cargill, he perceived a man sitting + among the Druids' stones. The stranger was a pleasant fellow, and after a + few words with the preacher he proposed that they should ride to + Sinverness together. John soon got to talking of Andrew and his lost son, + and the stranger became greatly interested. He said he should like to go + up to Andrew's and get a description of Davie, adding that he travelled + far and wide, and might happen to come across him. + </p> + <p> + The old man met them at the door. + </p> + <p> + "My sight fails, John," he said, "but I'd hae kent your step i' a + thousand. You too are welcome, sir, though I ken you not, and doubly + welcome if you bring God's blessing wi' you." + </p> + <p> + The stranger lifted his hat, and Andrew led the way into the house. John + had been expected, for haver bread and potted shrimps were on the table, + and he helped himself without ceremony, taking up at the same time their + last argument just where he had dropped it at the gate of the lower croft. + But it had a singular interruption. The sheep-dogs who had been quietly + sleeping under the settle began to be strangely uneasy. Keeper could + scarcely be kept down, even by Andrew's command, and Sandy bounded towards + the stranger with low, rapid barks that made John lose the sense of the + argument in a new thought. But before he could frame it into words Mysie + came in. + </p> + <p> + "See here, John," she cried, and then she stopped and looked with + wide-open eyes at the man coming towards her. With one long, thrilling cry + she threw herself into his arms. + </p> + <p> + "Mother! mother! darling mother, forgive me!" + </p> + <p> + John had instantly gone to Andrew's side, but Andrew had risen at once to + the occasion. "I'm no a woman to skirl or swoon," he said, almost + petulantly, "and it's right and fit the lad should gie his mither the + first greeting." + </p> + <p> + But he stretched out both hands, and his cheeks were flushed and his eyes + full when Davie flung himself on his knees beside him. + </p> + <p> + "My lad! my ain dear lad!" he cried, "I'll see nae better day than this + until I see His face." + </p> + <p> + No one can tell the joy of that hour. The cheese curds were left in the + dairy and the wool was left at the wheel, and Mysie forget her household, + and Andrew forgot his argument, and the preacher at last said, + </p> + <p> + "You shall tell us, Davie, what the Lord has done for you since you left + your father's house." + </p> + <p> + "He has been gude to me, vera gude. I had a broad Scot's tongue in my + head, and I determined to go northward. I had little siller and I had to + walk, and by the time I reached Ecclefechan I had reason enough to be + sorry for the step I had taken. As I was sitting by the fireside o' the + little inn there a man came in who said he was going to Carlisle to hire a + shepherd. I did not like the man, but I was tired and had not plack nor + bawbee, so I e'en asked him for the place. When he heard I was Cumberland + born, and had been among sheep all my life, he was fain enough, and we + soon 'greed about the fee. + </p> + <p> + "He was a harder master than Laban, but he had a daughter who was as + bonnie as Rachel, and I loved the lass wi' my whole soul, and she loved + me. I ne'er thought about being her father's hired man. I was aye Davie + Cargill to mysel', and I had soon enough told Bessie all about my father + and mither and hame. I spoke to her father at last, but he wouldna listen + to me. He just ordered me off his place, and Bessie went wi' me. + </p> + <p> + "I know now that we did wrang, but we thought then that we were right. We + had a few pounds between us and we gaed to Carlisle. But naething went as + it should hae done. I could get nae wark, and Bessie fell into vera bad + health; but she had a brave spirit, and she begged me to leave her in + Carlisle and go my lane to Glasgow. 'For when wark an' siller arena i' one + place, Davie,' she said, 'then they're safe to be in another.' + </p> + <p> + "I swithered lang about leaving her, but a good opportunity came, and + Bessie promised me to go back to her father until I could come after her. + It was July then, and when Christmas came round I had saved money enough, + and I started wi' a blithe heart to Ecclefechan. I hadna any fear o' harm + to my bonnie bit wifie, for she had promised to go to her hame, and I was + sure she would be mair than welcome when she went without me. I didna + expect any letters, because Bessie couldna write, and, indeed, I was poor + enough wi' my pen at that time, and only wrote once to tell her I had good + wark and would be for her a New Year. + </p> + <p> + "But when I went I found that Bessie had gane, and none knew where. I + traced her to Keswick poor-house, where she had a little lad; the matron + said she went away in a very weak condition when the child was three weeks + old, declaring that she was going to her friends. Puir, bonnie, loving + Bessie; that was the last I ever heard o' my wife and bairn." + </p> + <p> + Mysie had left the room, and as she returnee with a little bundle Andrew + was anxiously asking, "What was the lassie's maiden name, Davie?" + </p> + <p> + "Bessie Dunbar, father." + </p> + <p> + "Then this is a wun'erful day; we are blessed and twice blessed, for I + found your wife and bairn, Davie, just where John Sugden found you, 'mang + the Druids' stanes; and the lad has my ain honest name and is weel worthy + o' it." + </p> + <p> + "See here, Davie," and Mysie tenderly touched the poor faded dress and + shawl, and laid the wedding-ring in his palm. As she spoke wee Andrew came + across the yard, walking slowly, reading as he walked. "Look at him, + Davie! He's a bonnie lad, and a gude are; and oh, my ain dear lad, he has + had a' things that thy youth wanted." + </p> + <p> + It pleased the old man no little that, in spite of his father's loving + greeting, wee Andrew stole away to his side. + </p> + <p> + "You see, Davie," he urged in apology, "he's mair at hame like wi' me." + </p> + <p> + And then he drew the child to him, and let his whole heart go out now, + without check or reproach, to "Davie's bairn." + </p> + <p> + "But you have not finished your story, Mr. Cargill," said John, and David + sighed as he answered, + </p> + <p> + "There is naething by the ordinar in it. I went back to the warks I had + got a footing in, the Glencart Iron Warks, and gradually won my way to the + topmost rungs o' the ladder. I am head buyer now, hae a gude share i' the + concern, and i' money matters there's plenty folk waur off than David + Cargill. When I put my father's forgiveness, my mither's love, and my + Bessie's bonnie lad to the lave, I may weel say that 'they are weel guided + that God guides.' A week ago I went into the editor's room o' the Glasgow + Herald,' and the man no being in I lifted a paper and saw in it my + father's message to me. It's sma' credit that I left a' and answered it." + </p> + <p> + "What paper, Mr. Cargill, what paper?" + </p> + <p> + "They ca' it 'The Watchman.' I hae it in my pocket." + </p> + <p> + "I thought so," said John triumphantly. "It's a grand paper; every one + ought to have it." + </p> + <p> + "It is welcome evermore in my house," said Davie. + </p> + <p> + "It means weel, it means weel," said Andrew, with a great stretch of + charity, "but I dinna approve o' its doctrines at a', and—" + </p> + <p> + "It found David for you, Andrew." + </p> + <p> + "Ay, ay, God uses a' kinds o' instruments. 'The Watchman' isna as auld as + the Bible yet, John, and it's ill praising green barley." + </p> + <p> + "Now, Andrew, I think—" + </p> + <p> + "Tut, tut, John, I'se no sit i' Rome and strive wi' the pope; there's + naething ill said, you ken, if it's no ill taken." + </p> + <p> + John smiled tolerantly, and indeed there was no longer time for further + discussion, for the shepherds from the hills and the farmers from the glen + had heard of David's return, and were hurrying to Cargill to see him. + Mysie saw that there would be a goodly company, and the long harvest-table + was brought in and a feast of thanksgiving spread. Conversation in that + house could only set one way, and after all had eaten and David had told + his story again, one old man after another spoke of the dangers they had + encountered and the spiritual foes they had conquered. + </p> + <p> + Whether it was the speaking, or the sympathy of numbers, or some special + influence of the Holy Ghost, I know not; but suddenly Andrew lifted his + noble old head and spoke thus: + </p> + <p> + "Frien's, ye hae some o' you said ill things o' yoursel's, but to the sons + o' God there is nae condemnation; not that I hae been althegither + faultless, but I meant weel, an' the lad was a wilfu' lad, and ye ken what + the wisest o' men said anent such. Just and right has been my walk before + you, but—still—" Then, with a sudden passion, and rising to + his feet, he cried out, "Frien's, I'm a poor sinfu' man, but I'll play no + mair pliskies wi' my conscience. I hae dootless been a hard master, hard + and stern, and loving Sinai far beyond Bethlehem. Hard was I to my lad, + and hard hae I been to the wife o' my bosom, and hard hae I been to my ain + heart. It has been my ain will and my ain way all my life lang. God forgie + me! God forgie me! for this night he has brought my sins to my + remembrance. I hae been your elder for mair than forty years, but I hae + ne'er been worthy to carry his holy vessels. I'll e'en sit i' the lowest + seat henceforward." + </p> + <p> + "Not so," said John. And there was such eager praise, and such warm love + rose from every mouth, that words began to fail, and as the old man sat + down smiling, happier than he had ever been before, song took up the + burden speech laid down; for John started one of those old triumphant + Methodist hymns, and the rafters shook to the melody, and the stars heard + it, and the angels in heaven knew a deeper joy. Singing, the company + departed, and Andrew, standing in the moonlight between David and John, + watched the groups scatter hither and thither, and heard, far up the hills + and down the glen, that sweet, sweet refrain, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Canaan, bright Canaan! + Will you go to the land of Canaan?" +</pre> + <p> + After this David stayed a week at Glenmora, and then it became necessary + for him to return to Glasgow. But wee Andrew was to have a tutor and + remain with his grandparents for some years at least. Andrew himself + determined to "tak a trip" and see Scotland and the wonderful iron works + of which he was never weary of hearing David talk. + </p> + <p> + When he reached Kendal, however, and saw for the first time the Caledonian + Railway and its locomotives, nothing could induce him to go farther. + </p> + <p> + "It's ower like the deil and the place he bides in, Davie," he said, with + a kind of horror. "Fire and smoke and iron bands! I'll no ride at the + deil's tail-end, not e'en to see the land o' the Covenant." + </p> + <p> + So he went back to Glenmora, and was well content when he stood again at + his own door and looked over the bonny braes of Sinverness, its simmering + becks and fruitful vales. "These are the warks o' His hands, Mysie," he + said, reverently lifting his bonnet and looking up to Creffel and away to + Solway, "and you'd ken that, woman, if you had seen Satan as I saw him + rampaging roun' far waur than any roaring lion." + </p> + <p> + After this Andrew never left Sinverness; but, the past unsighed for and + the future sure, passed through + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "——an old age serene and bright, + And lovely as a Lapland night," +</pre> + <p> + until, one summer evening, he gently fell on that sleep which God giveth + his beloved. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "For such Death's portal opens not in gloom, + But its pure crystal, hinged on solid gold, + Shows avenues interminable—shows + Amaranth and palm quivering in sweet accord + Of human mingled with angelic song." +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ONE WRONG STEP. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + "There's few folk ken Ragon Torr as I do, mother. He is better at heart + than thou wad think; indeed he is!" + </p> + <p> + "If better were within, better wad come out, John. He's been drunk or + dovering i' the chimney-corner these past three weeks. Hech! but he'd do + weel i' Fool's Land, where they get half a crown a day for sleeping." + </p> + <p> + "There's nane can hunt a seal or spear a whale like Ragon; thou saw him + theesel', mother, among the last school i' Stromness Bay." + </p> + <p> + "I saw a raving, ranting heathen, wi' the bonnie blue bay a sea o' blood + around him, an' he shouting an' slaying like an old pagan sea-king. + Decent, God-fearing fisher-folk do their needful wark ither gate than yon. + Now there is but one thing for thee to do: thou must break wi' Ragon Torr, + an' that quick an' soon." + </p> + <p> + "Know this, my mother, a friend is to be taken wi' his faults." + </p> + <p> + "Thou knows this, John: I hae forty years mair than thou hast, an' years + ken mair than books. An' wi' a' thy book skill hast thou ne'er read that + 'Evil communications corrupt gude manners'? Mak up thy mind that I shall + tak it vera ill if thou sail again this year wi' that born heathen;" and + with these words Dame Alison Sabay rose up from the stone bench at her + cottage door and went dourly into the houseplace. + </p> + <p> + John stood on the little jetty which ran from the very doorstep into the + bay, and looked thoughtfully over towards the sweet green isle of + Graemsay; but neither the beauty of land or sea, nor the splendor of skies + bright with the rosy banners of the Aurora gave him any answer to the + thoughts which troubled him. "I'll hae to talk it o'er wi' Christine," he + said decidedly, and he also turned into the house. + </p> + <p> + Christine was ten years older than her brother John. She had known much + sorrow, but she had lived through and lived down all her trials and come + out into the peace on the other side. She was sitting by the peat fire + knitting, and softly crooning an old Scotch psalm to the click of her + needles. She answered John's look with a sweet, grave smile, and a slight + nod towards the little round table, upon which there was a plate of smoked + goose and some oaten cake for his supper. + </p> + <p> + "I carena to eat a bite, Christine; this is what I want o' thee: the skiff + is under the window; step into it, an' do thou go on the bay wi' me an + hour." + </p> + <p> + "I havena any mind to go, John. It is nine by the clock, an' to-morrow the + peat is to coil an' the herring to kipper; yes, indeed." + </p> + <p> + "Well an' good. But here is matter o' mair account than peat an' herring. + Wilt thou come?" + </p> + <p> + "At the end I ken weel thou wilt hae thy way. Mother, here is John, an' he + is for my going on the bay wi' him." + </p> + <p> + "Then thou go. If John kept aye as gude company he wouldna be like to + bring my gray hairs wi' sorrow to the grave." + </p> + <p> + John did not answer this remark until they had pushed well off from the + sleeping town, then he replied fretfully, "Yes, what mother says is true + enough; but a man goes into the warld. A' the fingers are not alike, much + less one's friends. How can a' be gude?" + </p> + <p> + "To speak from the heart, John, wha is it?" + </p> + <p> + "Ragon Torr. Thou knows we hae sat i' the same boat an' drawn the same + nets for three years; he is gude an' bad, like ither folk." + </p> + <p> + "Keep gude company, my brother, an' thou wilt aye be counted ane o' them. + When Ragon is gude he is ower gude, and when he is bad he is just beyont + kenning." + </p> + <p> + "Can a man help the kin he comes o'? Have not his forbears done for + centuries the vera same way? Naething takes a Norseman frae his bed or his + cup but some great deed o' danger or profit; but then wha can fight or + wark like them?" + </p> + <p> + "Christ doesna ask a man whether he be Norse or Scot. If Ragon went mair + to the kirk an' less to the change-house, he wouldna need to differ. Were + not our ain folk cattle-lifting Hieland thieves lang after the days o' the + Covenant?" + </p> + <p> + "Christine, ye'll speak nae wrang o' the Sabays. It's an ill bird 'files + its ain nest." + </p> + <p> + "Weel, weel, John! The gude name o' the Sabays is i' thy hands now. But to + speak from the heart, this thing touches thee nearer than Ragon Torr. Thou + did not bring me out to speak only o' him." + </p> + <p> + "Thou art a wise woman, Christine, an' thou art right. It touches Margaret + Fae, an' when it does that, it touches what is dearer to me than life." + </p> + <p> + "I see it not." + </p> + <p> + "Do not Ragon an' I sail i' Peter Fae's boats? Do we not eat at his table, + an' bide round his house during the whole fishing season? If I sail no + more wi' Ragon, I must quit Peter's employ; for he loves Ragon as he loves + no ither lad i' Stromness or Kirkwall. The Norse blood we think little o', + Peter glories in; an' the twa men count thegither o'er their glasses the + races o' the Vikings, an' their ain generations up to Snorro an' Thorso." + </p> + <p> + "Is there no ither master but Peter Fae? ask theesel' that question, + John." + </p> + <p> + "I hae done that, Christine. Plenty o' masters, but nane o' them hae + Margaret for a daughter. Christine, I love Margaret, an' she loves me + weel. Thou hast loved theesel', my sister." + </p> + <p> + "I ken that, John," she said tenderly; "I hae loved, therefore I hae got + beyont doots, an' learned something holier than my ain way. Thou trust + Margaret now. Thou say 'Yes' to thy mother, an' fear not." + </p> + <p> + "Christine thou speaks hard words." + </p> + <p> + "Was it to speak easy anes thou brought me here? An' if I said, 'I counsel + thee to tak thy ain will i' the matter,' wad my counsel mak bad gude, or + wrang right? Paul Calder's fleet sails i' twa days; seek a place i' his + boats." + </p> + <p> + "Then I shall see next to naught o' Margaret, an' Ragon will see her every + day." + </p> + <p> + "If Margaret loves thee, that can do thee nae harm." + </p> + <p> + "But her father favors Ragon, an' of me he thinks nae mair than o' the + nets, or aught else that finds his boats for sea." + </p> + <p> + "Well an' good; but no talking can alter facts. Thou must now choose + atween thy mother an' Margaret Fae, atween right an' wrang. God doesna + leave that choice i' the dark; thy way may be narrow an' unpleasant, but + it is clear enough. Dost thou fear to walk i' it?" + </p> + <p> + "There hae been words mair than plenty, Christine. Let us go hame." + </p> + <p> + Silently the little boat drifted across the smooth bay, and silently the + brother and sister stood a moment looking up the empty, flagged street of + the sleeping town. The strange light, which was neither gloaming nor + dawning, but a mixture of both, the waving boreal banners, the queer + houses, gray with the storms of centuries, the brown undulating heaths, + and the phosphorescent sea, made a strangely solemn picture which sank + deep into their hearts. After a pause, Christine went into the house, but + John sat down on the stone bench to think over the alternatives before + him. + </p> + <p> + Now the power of training up a child in the way it should go asserted + itself. It became at once a fortification against self-will. John never + had positively disobeyed his mother's explicit commands; he found it + impossible to do so. He must offer his services to Paul Calder in the + morning, and try to trust Margaret Fae's love for him. + </p> + <p> + He had determined now to do right, but he did not do it very pleasantly—it + is a rare soul that grows sweeter in disappointments. Both mother and + sister knew from John's stern, silent ways that he had chosen the path of + duty, and they expected that he would make it a valley of Baca. This Dame + Alison accepted as in some sort her desert. "I ought to hae forbid the lad + three years syne," she said regretfully; "aft ill an' sorrow come o' sich + sinfu' putting aff. There's nae half-way house atween right an' wrang." + </p> + <p> + Certainly the determination involved some unpleasant explanations to John. + He must first see old Peter Fae and withdraw himself from his service. He + found him busy in loading a small vessel with smoked geese and kippered + fish, and he was apparently in a very great passion. Before John could + mention his own matters, Peter burst into a torrent of invectives against + another of his sailors, who, he said, had given some information to the + Excise which had cost him a whole cargo of Dutch specialties. The culprit + was leaning against a hogshead, and was listening to Peter's intemperate + words with a very evil smile. + </p> + <p> + "How much did ye sell yoursel' for, Sandy Beg? It took the son of a + Hieland robber like you to tell tales of a honest man's cargo. It was an + ill day when the Scots cam to Orkney, I trow." + </p> + <p> + "She'll hae petter right to say tat same 'fore lang time." And Sandy's + face was dark with a subdued passion that Peter might have known to be + dangerous, but which he continued to aggravate by contemptuous expressions + regarding Scotchmen in general. + </p> + <p> + This John Sabay was in no mood to bear; he very soon took offence at + Peter's sweeping abuse, and said he would relieve him at any rate of one + Scot. "He didna care to sail again wi' such a crowd as Peter gathered + round him." + </p> + <p> + It was a very unadvised speech. Ragon lifted it at once, and in the words + which followed John unavoidably found himself associated with Sandy Beg, a + man whose character was of the lowest order. And he had meant to be so + temperate, and to part with both Peter and Ragon on the best terms + possible. How weak are all our resolutions! John turned away from Peter's + store conscious that he had given full sway to all the irritation and + disappointment of his feelings, and that he had spoken as violently as + either Peter, Ragon, or even the half-brutal Sandy Beg. Indeed, Sandy had + said very little; but the malignant look with which he regarded Peter, + John could never forget. + </p> + <p> + This was not his only annoyance. Paul Calder's boats were fully manned, + and the others had already left for Brassey's Sound. The Sabays were not + rich; a few weeks of idleness would make the long Orkney winter a dreary + prospect. Christine and his mother sat from morning to night braiding + straw into the once famous Orkney Tuscans, and he went to the peat-moss to + cut a good stock of winter fuel; but his earnings in money were small and + precarious, and he was so anxious that Christine's constant cheerfulness + hurt him. + </p> + <p> + Sandy Beg had indeed said something of an offer he could make "if + shentlemans wanted goot wages wi' ta chance of a lucky bit for themsel's; + foive kuineas ta month an' ta affsets. Oigh! oigh!" But John had met the + offer with such scorn and anger that Sandy had thought it worth while to + bestow one of his most wicked looks upon him. The fact was, Sandy felt + half grateful to John for his apparent partisanship, and John indignantly + resented any disposition to put him in the same boat with a man so + generally suspected and disliked. + </p> + <p> + "It might be a come-down," he said, "for a gude sailor an' fisher to coil + peats and do days' darg, but it was honest labor; an', please God, he'd + never do that i' the week that wad hinder him fra going to the kirk on + Sabbath." + </p> + <p> + "Oigh! she'll jist please hersel'; she'll pe owing ta Beg naething by ta + next new moon." And with a mocking laugh Sandy loitered away towards the + seashore. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + Just after this interview a little lad put a note in John's hand from + Margaret Fae. It only asked him to be on Brogar Bridge at eight o'clock + that night. Now Brogar Bridge was not a spot that any Orcadian cared to + visit at such an hour. In the pagan temple whose remains stood there it + was said pale ghosts of white-robed priests still offered up shadowy human + sacrifices, and though John's faith was firm and sure, superstitions are + beyond reasoning with, and he recalled the eerie, weird aspect of the grim + stones with an unavoidable apprehension. What could Margaret want with him + in such a place and at an hour so near that at which Peter usually went + home from his shop? He had never seen Margaret's writing, and he half + suspected Sandy Beg had more to do with the appointment than she had; but + he was too anxious to justify himself in Margaret's eyes to let any fears + or doubts prevent him from keeping the tryst. + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely reached the Stones of Stennis when he saw her leaning + against one of them. The strange western light was over her thoughtful + face. She seemed to have become a part of the still and solemn landscape. + John had always loved her with a species of reverence; to-night he felt + almost afraid of her beauty and the power she had over him. She was a true + Scandinavian, with the tall, slender, and rather haughty form which marks + Orcadian and Zetland women. Her hair was perhaps a little too fair and + cold, and yet it made a noble setting to the large, finely-featured, + tranquil face. + </p> + <p> + She put out her hand as John approached, and said, "Was it well that thou + shouldst quarrel with my father? I thought that thou didst love me." + </p> + <p> + Then John poured out his whole heart—his love for her, his mother's + demand of him, his quarrel with Ragon and Peter and Sandy Beg. "It has + been an ill time, Margaret," he said, "and thou hast been long in + comforting me." + </p> + <p> + Well, Margaret had plenty of reasons for her delay and plenty of comfort + for her lover. Naturally slow of pulse and speech, she had been long + coming to a conclusion; but, having satisfied herself of its justice, she + was likely to be immovable in it. She gave John her hand frankly and + lovingly, and promised, in poverty or wealth, in weal or woe, to stand + truly by his side. It was not a very hopeful troth-plighting, but they + were both sure of the foundations of their love, and both regarded the + promise as solemnly binding. + </p> + <p> + Then Margaret told John that she had heard that evening that the captain + of the Wick steamer wanted a mate, and the rough Pentland Frith being well + known to John, she hoped, if he made immediate application, he would be + accepted. If he was, John declared his intention of at once seeing Peter + and asking his consent to their engagement. In the meantime the Bridge of + Brogar was to be their tryst, when tryst was possible. Peter's summer + dwelling lay not far from it, and it was Margaret's habit to watch for his + boat and walk up from the beach to the house with him. She would always + walk over first to Brogar, and if John could meet her there that would be + well; if not, she would understand that it was out of the way of duty, and + be content. + </p> + <p> + John fortunately secured the mate's place. Before he could tell Margaret + this she heard her father speak well of him to the captain. "There is nae + better sailor, nor better lad, for that matter," said Peter. "I like none + that he wad hang roun' my bonnie Marg'et; but then, a cat may look at a + king without it being high treason, I wot." + </p> + <p> + A week afterwards Peter thought differently. When John told him honestly + how matters stood between him and Margaret he was more angry than when + Sandy Beg swore away his whole Dutch cargo. He would listen to neither + love nor reason, and positively forbid him to hold any further intercourse + with his daughter. John had expected this, and was not greatly + discouraged. He had Margaret's promise. Youth is hopeful, and they could + wait; for it never entered their minds absolutely to disobey the old man. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime there was a kind of peacemaking between Ragon and John. + The good Dominie Sinclair had met them both one day on the beach, and + insisted on their forgiving and shaking hands. Neither of them were sorry + to do so. Men who have shared the dangers of the deep-sea fishing and the + stormy Northern Ocean together cannot look upon each other as mere parts + of a bargain. There was, too, a wild valor and a wonderful power in + emergencies belonging to Ragon that had always dazzled John's more + cautious nature. In some respects, he thought Ragon Torr the greatest + sailor that left Stromness harbor, and Ragon was willing enough to admit + that John "was a fine fellow," and to give his hand at the dominie's + direction. + </p> + <p> + Alas! the good man's peacemaking was of short duration. As soon as Peter + told the young Norse sailor of John's offer for Margaret's hand, Ragon's + passive good-will turned to active dislike and bitter jealousy. For, + though he had taken little trouble to please Margaret, he had come to look + upon her as his future wife. He knew that Peter wished it so, and he now + imagined that it was also the only thing on earth he cared for. + </p> + <p> + Thus, though John was getting good wages, he was not happy. It was rarely + he got a word with Margaret, and Peter and Ragon were only too ready to + speak. It became daily more and more difficult to avoid an open quarrel + with them, and, indeed, on several occasions sharp, cruel words, that hurt + like wounds, had passed between them on the public streets and quays. + </p> + <p> + Thus Stromness, that used to be so pleasant to him, was changing fast. He + knew not how it was that people so readily believed him in the wrong. In + Wick, too, he had been troubled with Sandy Beg, and a kind of nameless + dread possessed him about the man; he could not get rid of it, even after + he had heard that Sandy had sailed in a whaling ship for the Arctic seas. + </p> + <p> + Thus things went on until the end of July. John was engaged now until the + steamer stopped running in September, and the little sum of ready money + necessary for the winter's comfort was assured. Christine sat singing and + knitting, or singing and braiding straw, and Dame Alison went up and down + her cottage with a glad heart. They knew little of John's anxieties. + Christine had listened sympathizingly to his trouble about Margaret, and + said, "Thou wait an' trust; John dear, an' at the end a' things will be + well." Even Ragon's ill-will and Peter's ill words had not greatly + frightened them—"The wrath o' man shall praise Him," read old + Alison, with just a touch of spiritual satisfaction, "an' the rest o' the + wrath he will restrain." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + It was a Saturday night in the beginning of August, and John was at home + until the following Monday. He dressed himself and went out towards + Brogar, and Christine watched him far over the western moor, and blessed + him as he went. He had not seen Margaret for many days, but he had a + feeling to-night that she would be able to keep her tryst. And there, + standing amid the rushes on the lakeside, he found her. They had so much + to say to each other that Margaret forgot her father's return, and delayed + so long that she thought it best to go straight home, instead of walking + down the beach to meet him. + </p> + <p> + He generally left Stromness about half-past eight, and his supper was laid + for nine o'clock. But this night nine passed, and he did not come; and + though the delay could be accounted for in various ways, she had a dim but + anxious forecasting of calamity in her heart. The atmosphere of the little + parlor grew sorrowful and heavy, the lamp did not seem to light it, her + father's chair had a deserted, lonely aspect, the house was strangely + silent; in fifteen minutes she had forgotten how happy she had been, and + wandered to and from the door like some soul in an uneasy dream. + </p> + <p> + All at once she heard the far-away shouting of angry and alarmed voices, + and to her sensitive ears her lover's and her father's names were mingled. + It was her nature to act slowly; for a few moments she could not decide + what was to be done. The first thought was the servants. There were only + two, Hacon Flett and Gerda Vedder. Gerda had gone to bed, Hacon was not on + the place. As she gathered her energies together she began to walk rapidly + over the springy heath towards the white sands of the beach. Her father, + if he was coming, would come that way. She was angry with herself for the + <i>if</i>. Of course he was coming. What was there to prevent it? She told + herself, Nothing, and the next moment looked up and saw two men coming + towards her, and in their arms a figure which she knew instinctively was + her father's. + </p> + <p> + She slowly retraced her steps, set open the gate and the door, and waited + for the grief that was coming to her. But however slow her reasoning + faculties, her soul knew in a moment what it needed. It was but a little + prayer said with trembling lips and fainting heart; but no prayer loses + its way. Straight to the heart of Christ it went. And the answer was there + and the strength waiting when Ragon and Hacon brought in the bleeding, + dying old man, and laid him down upon his parlor floor. + </p> + <p> + Ragon said but one word, "Stabbed!" and then, turning to Hacon, bid him + ride for life and death into Stromness for a doctor. Most sailors of these + islands know a little rude surgery, and Ragon stayed beside his friend, + doing what he could to relieve the worst symptoms. Margaret, white and + still, went hither and thither, bringing whatever Ragon wanted, and + fearing, she knew not why, to ask any questions. + </p> + <p> + With the doctor came the dominie and two of the town bailies. There was + little need of the doctor; Peter Fae's life was ebbing rapidly away with + every moment of time. There was but little time now for whatever had yet + to be done. The dominie stooped first to his ear, and in a few solemn + words bid him lay himself at the foot of the cross. "Thou'lt never perish + there, Peter," he said; and the dying man seemed to catch something of the + comfort of such an assurance. + </p> + <p> + Then Bailie Inkster said, "Peter Fae, before God an' his minister—before + twa o' the town bailies an' thy ain daughter Margaret, an' thy friend + Ragon Torr, an' thy servants Hacon Flett an' Gerda Vedder, thou art now to + say what man stabbed thee." + </p> + <p> + Peter made one desperate effort, a wild, passionate gleam shot from the + suddenly-opened eyes, and he cried out in a voice terrible in its + despairing anger, "<i>John Sabay! John Sabay—stabb-ed—me! + Indeed—he—did</i>!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, forgive him, man! forgive him! Dinna think o' that now, Peter! Cling + to the cross—cling to the cross, man! Nane ever perished that only + won to the foot o' it." Then the pleading words were whispered down into + fast-sealing ears, and the doctor quietly led away a poor heart-stricken + girl, who was too shocked to weep and too humbled and wretched to tell her + sorrow to any one but God. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + The bailies, after hearing the deposition, immediately repaired to John + Sabay's cottage. It was Saturday night, and no warrant could now be got, + but the murderer must be secured. No two men bent on such an errand ever + found it more difficult to execute. The little family had sat later than + usual. John had always news they were eager to hear—of tourists and + strangers he had seen in Wick, or of the people the steamer had brought to + Kirkwall. + </p> + <p> + He was particularly cheerful this evening; his interview with Margaret had + been hopeful and pleasant, and Christine had given the houseplace and the + humble supper-table quite a festival look. They had sat so long over the + meal that when the bailies entered John was only then reading the regular + portion for the evening exercise. All were a little amazed at the visit, + but no one thought for a moment of interrupting the Scripture; and the two + men sat down and listened attentively while John finished the chapter. + </p> + <p> + Bailie Tulloch then rose and went towards the dame. He was a far-off + cousin of the Sabays, and, though not on the best of terms with them, his + relationship was considered to impose the duty particularly on him. + </p> + <p> + "Gude-e'en, if thou comes on a gude errand," said old Dame Alison, + suspiciously; "but that's no thy custom, bailie." + </p> + <p> + "I came, dame, to ask John anent Peter Fae." + </p> + <p> + The dame laughed pleasantly. "If thou had asked him anent Margaret Fae, he + could tell thee more about it." + </p> + <p> + "This is nae laughing matter, dame. Peter Fae has been murdered—yes, + murdered! An' he said, ere he died, that John Sabay did the deed." + </p> + <p> + "Then Peter Fae died wi' a lie on his lips—tell them that, John," + and the old woman's face was almost majestic in its defiance and anger. + </p> + <p> + "I hae not seen Peter Fae for a week," said John. "God knows that, bailie. + I wad be the vera last man to hurt a hair o' his gray head; why he is + Margaret's father!" + </p> + <p> + "Still, John, though we hae nae warrant to hold thee, we are beholden to + do sae; an' thou maun come wi' us," said Bailie Inkster. + </p> + <p> + "Wrang has nae warrant at ony time, an' ye will no touch my lad," said + Alison, rising and standing before her son. + </p> + <p> + "Come, dame, keep a still tongue." + </p> + <p> + "My tongue's no under thy belt, Tulloch; but it's weel kenned that since + thou wranged us thou ne'er liked us." + </p> + <p> + "Mother, mother, dinna fash theesel'. It's naught at a' but a mistake; an' + I'll gae wi' Bailie Inkster, if he's feared to tak my word." + </p> + <p> + "I could tak thy word fain enough, John—" + </p> + <p> + "But the thing isna possible, Inkster. Besides, if he were missing Monday + morn, I, being i' some sort a relation, wad be under suspicion o' helping + him awa." + </p> + <p> + "Naebody wad e'er suspect thee o' a helping or mercifu' deed, Tulloch. + Indeed na!" + </p> + <p> + "Tak care, dame; thou art admitting it wad be a mercifu' deed. I heard + Peter Fae say that John Sabay stabbed him, an' Ragon Torr and Hacon Flett + saw John, as I understan' the matter." + </p> + <p> + "Mother," said John, "do thou talk to nane but God. Thou wilt hae to lead + the prayer theesel' to-night; dinna forget me. I'm as innocent o' this + matter as Christine is; mak up thy mind on that." + </p> + <p> + "God go wi' thee, John. A' the men i' Orkney can do nae mair than they may + against thee." + </p> + <p> + "It's an unco grief an' shame to me," said Tulloch, "but the Sabays hae + aye been a thorn i' the flesh to me, an' John's the last o' them, the last + o' them!" + </p> + <p> + "Thou art makin' thy count without Providence, Tulloch. There's mair + Sabays than Tullochs; for there's Ane for them that counts far beyont an' + above a' that can be against them. Now, thou step aff my honest + hearthstane—there is mair room for thee without than within." + </p> + <p> + Then John held his mother's and sister's hands a moment, and there was + such <i>virtue</i> in the clasp, and such light and trust in their faces, + that it was impossible for him not to catch hope from them. Suddenly + Bailie Tulloch noticed that John was in his Sabbath-day clothes. In itself + this was not remarkable on a Saturday night. Most of the people kept this + evening as a kind of preparation for the Holy Day, and the best clothing + and the festival meal were very general. But just then it struck the + bailies as worth inquiring about. + </p> + <p> + "Where are thy warking-claes, John—the uniform, I mean, o' that + steamship company thou sails for—and why hast na them on thee?" + </p> + <p> + "I had a visit to mak, an' I put on my best to mak it in. The ithers are + i' my room." + </p> + <p> + "Get them, Christine." + </p> + <p> + Christine returned in a few minutes pale-faced and empty-handed. "They are + not there, John, nor yet i' thy kist." + </p> + <p> + "I thought sae." + </p> + <p> + "Then God help me, sister! I know not where they are." + </p> + <p> + Even Bailie Inkster looked doubtful and troubled at this circumstance. + Silence, cold and suspicious, fell upon them, and poor John went away + half-bereft of all the comfort his mother's trust and Christine's look had + given him. + </p> + <p> + The next day being Sabbath, no one felt at liberty to discuss the subject; + but as the little groups passed one another on their way to church their + solemn looks and their doleful shakes of the head testified to its + presence in their thoughts. The dominie indeed, knowing how nearly + impossible it would be for them not to think their own thoughts this + Lord's day, deemed it best to guide those thoughts to charity. He begged + every one to be kind to all in deep affliction, and to think no evil until + it was positively known who the guilty person was. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, in spite of the almost overwhelming evidence against John Sabay, + there was a strong disposition to believe him innocent. "If ye believe a' + ye hear, ye may eat a' ye see," said Geordie Sweyn. "Maybe John Sabay + killed old Peter Fae, but every maybe has a may-not-be." And to this + remark there were more nods of approval than shakes of dissent. + </p> + <p> + But affairs, even with this gleam of light, were dark enough to the + sorrowful family. John's wages had stopped, and the winter fuel was not + yet all cut. A lawyer had to be procured, and they must mortgage their + little cottage to do it; and although ten days had passed, Margaret Fae + had not shown, either by word or deed, what was her opinion regarding + John's guilt or innocence. + </p> + <p> + But Margaret, as before said, was naturally slow in all her movements, so + slow that even Scotch caution had begun to call her cruel or careless. But + this was a great injustice. She had weighed carefully in her own mind + everything against John, and put beside it his own letter to her and her + intimate knowledge of his character, and then solemnly sat down in God's + presence to take such counsel as he should put into her heart. After many + prayerful, waiting days she reached a conclusion which was satisfactory to + herself; and she then put away from her every doubt of John's innocence, + and resolved on the course to be pursued. + </p> + <p> + In the first place she would need money to clear the guiltless and to seek + the guilty, and she resolved to continue her father's business. She had + assisted him so long with his accounts that his methods were quite + familiar to her; all she needed was some one to handle the rough goods, + and stand between her and the rude sailors with whom the business was + mainly conducted. + </p> + <p> + Who was this to be? Ragon Torr? She was sure Ragon would have been her + father's choice. He had taken all charge of the funeral, and had since + hung round the house, ready at any moment to do her service. But Ragon + would testify against John Sabay, and she had besides an unaccountable + antipathy to his having any nearer relation with her. "I'll ask Geordie + Sweyn," she said, after a long consultation with her own slow but sure + reasoning powers; "he'll keep the skippers an' farmers i' awe o' him; an' + he's just as honest as any ither man." + </p> + <p> + So Geordie was sent for and the proposal made and accepted. "Thou wilt + surely be true to me, Geordie?" + </p> + <p> + "As sure as death, Miss Margaret;" and when he gave her his great brawny + hand on it, she knew her affairs in that direction were safe. + </p> + <p> + Next morning the shop was opened as usual, and Geordie Sweyn stood in + Peter Fae's place. The arrangement had been finally made so rapidly that + it had taken all Stromness by surprise. But no one said anything against + it; many believed it to be wisely done, and those who did not, hardly + cared to express dissatisfaction with a man whose personal prowess and + ready hand were so well known. + </p> + <p> + The same day Christine received a very sisterly letter from Margaret, + begging her to come and talk matters over with her. There were such + obvious reasons why Margaret could not go to Christine, that the latter + readily complied with the request; and such was the influence that this + calm, cool, earnest girl had over the elder woman, that she not only + prevailed upon her to accept money to fee the lawyer in John's defence, + but also whatever was necessary for their comfort during the approaching + winter. Thus Christine and Margaret mutually strengthened each other, and + both cottage and prison were always the better for every meeting. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + But soon the summer passed away, and the storms and snows of winter swept + over the lonely island. There would be no court until December to try + John, and his imprisonment in Kirkwall jail grew every day more dreary. + But no storms kept Christine long away from him. Over almost impassable + roads and mosses she made her way on the little ponies of the country, + which had to perform a constant steeple-chase over the bogs and chasms. + </p> + <p> + All things may be borne when they are sure; and every one who loved John + was glad when at last he could have a fair hearing. Nothing however was in + his favor. The bailies and the murdered man's servants, even the dominie + and his daughter could tell but one tale. "Peter Fae had declared with his + last breath that John Sabay had stabbed him." The prosecution also brought + forward strong evidence to show that very bitter words had passed, a few + days before the murder, between the prisoner and the murdered man. + </p> + <p> + In the sifting of this evidence other points were brought out, still more + convincing. Hacon Flett said that he was walking to Stromness by the beach + to meet his sweetheart, when he heard the cry of murder, and in the + gloaming light saw John Sabay distinctly running across the moor. When + asked how he knew certainly that it was John, he said that he knew him by + his peculiar dress, its bright buttons, and the glimmer of gold braid on + his cap. He said also, in a very decided manner, that John Sabay passed + Ragon Torr so closely that he supposed they had spoken. + </p> + <p> + Then Ragon being put upon his oath, and asked solemnly to declare who was + the man that had thus passed him, tremblingly answered, + </p> + <p> + "<i>John Sabay!</i>" + </p> + <p> + John gave him such a look as might well haunt a guilty soul through all + eternity; and old Dame Alison, roused by a sense of intolerable wrong, + cried out, + </p> + <p> + "Know this, there's a day coming that will show the black heart; but + traitors' words ne'er yet hurt the honest cause." + </p> + <p> + "Peace, woman!" said an officer of the court, not unkindly. + </p> + <p> + "Weel, then, God speak for me! an' my thoughts are free; if I daurna say, + I may think." + </p> + <p> + In defence Margaret Fae swore that she had been with John on Brogar Bridge + until nearly time to meet her father, and that John then wore a black + broadcloth suit and a high hat; furthermore, that she believed it utterly + impossible for him to have gone home, changed his clothes, and then + reached the scene of the murder at the time Hacon Flett and Ragon Torr + swore to his appearance there. + </p> + <p> + But watches were very uncommon then; no one of the witnesses had any very + distinct idea of the time; some of them varied as much as an hour in their + estimate. It was also suggested by the prosecution that John probably had + the other suit secreted near the scene of the murder. Certain it was that + he had not been able either to produce it or to account for its mysterious + disappearance. + </p> + <p> + The probability of Sandy Beg being the murderer was then advanced; but + Sandy was known to have sailed in a whaling vessel before the murder, and + no one had seen him in Stromness since his departure for Wick after his + dismissal from Peter Fae's service. + </p> + <p> + No one? Yes, some one had seen him. That fatal night, as Ragon Torr was + crossing the moor to Peter's house—he having some news of a very + particular vessel to give—he heard the cry of "Murder," and he heard + Hacon Flett call out, "I know thee, John Sabay. Thou hast stabbed my + master!" and he instantly put himself in the way of the flying man. Then + he knew at once that it was Sandy Beg in John Sabay's clothes. The two men + looked a moment in each other's face, and Sandy saw in Ragon's something + that made him say, + </p> + <p> + "She'll pat Sandy safe ta night, an' that will mak her shure o' ta lass + she's seeking far." + </p> + <p> + There was no time for parley; Ragon's evil nature was strongest, and he + answered, "There is a cellar below my house, thou knows it weel." + </p> + <p> + Indeed, most of the houses in Stromness had underground passages, and + places of concealment used for smuggling purposes, and Ragon's lonely + house was a favorite rendezvous. The vessel whose arrival he had been + going to inform Peter of was a craft not likely to come into Stromness + with all her cargo. + </p> + <p> + Towards morning Ragon had managed to see Sandy and send him out to her + with such a message as insured her rapid disappearance. Sandy had also + with him a sum of money which he promised to use in transporting himself + at once to India, where he had a cousin in the forty-second Highland + regiment. + </p> + <p> + Ragon had not at first intended to positively swear away his friend's + life; he had been driven to it, not only by Margaret's growing antipathy + to him and her decided interest in John's case and family, but also by + that mysterious power of events which enable the devil to forge the whole + chain that binds a man when the first link is given him. But the word once + said, he adhered positively to it, and even asserted it with quite + unnecessary vehemence and persistence. + </p> + <p> + After such testimony there was but one verdict possible. John Sabay was + declared guilty of murder, and sentenced to death. But there was still the + same strange and unreasonable belief in his innocence, and the judge, with + a peculiar stretch of clemency, ordered the sentence to be suspended until + he could recommend the prisoner to his majesty's mercy. + </p> + <p> + A remarkable change now came over Dame Alison. Her anger, her sense of + wrong, her impatience, were over. She had come now to where she could do + nothing else but trust implicitly in God; and her mind, being thus stayed, + was kept in a strange exultant kind of perfect peace. Lost confidence? Not + a bit of it! Both Christine and her mother had reached a point where they + knew + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "That right is right, since God is God, + And right the day must win; + To doubt would be disloyalty, + To falter would be sin." +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + Slowly the weary winter passed away. And just as spring was opening there + began to be talk of Ragon Torr's going away. Margaret continued to refuse + his addresses with a scorn he found it ill to bear; and he noticed that + many of his old acquaintances dropped away from him. There is a distinct + atmosphere about every man, and the atmosphere about Ragon people began to + avoid. No one could have given a very clear reason for doing so; one man + did not ask another why; but the fact needed no reasoning about, it was + there. + </p> + <p> + One day, when Paul Calder was making up his spring cargoes, Ragon asked + for a boat, and being a skilful sailor, he was accepted. But no sooner was + the thing known, than Paul had to seek another crew. + </p> + <p> + "What was the matter?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing; they did not care to sail with Ragon Torr, that was all." + </p> + <p> + This circumstance annoyed Ragon very much. He went home quite determined + to leave Stromness at once and for ever. Indeed he had been longing to do + so for many weeks, but had stayed partly out of bravado, and partly + because there were few opportunities of getting away during the winter. + </p> + <p> + He went home and shut himself in his own room, and began to count his + hoarded gold. While thus employed, there was a stir or movement under his + feet which he quite understood. Some one was in the secret cellar, and was + coming up. He turned hastily round, and there was Sandy Beg. + </p> + <p> + "Thou scoundrel!" and he fairly gnashed his teeth at the intruder, "what + dost thou want here?" + </p> + <p> + "She'll be wanting money an' help." + </p> + <p> + Badly enough Sandy wanted both; and a dreadful story he told. He had + indeed engaged himself at Wick for a whaling voyage, but at the last + moment had changed his mind and deserted. For somewhere among the wilds of + Rhiconich in Sutherland he had a mother, a wild, superstitious, + half-heathen Highland woman, and he wanted to see her. Coming back to the + coast, after his visit, he had stopped a night at a little wayside inn, + and hearing some drovers talking of their gold in Gallic, a language which + he well understood, he had followed them into the wild pass of Gualon, and + there shot them from behind a rock. For this murder he had been tracked, + and was now so closely pursued that he had bribed with all the gold he had + a passing fishing-smack to drop him at Stromness during the night. + </p> + <p> + "She'll gae awa now ta some ither place; 'teet will she! An' she's hungry—an' + unco dry;" all of which Sandy emphasized by a desperate and very evil + look. + </p> + <p> + The man was not to be trifled with, and Ragon knew that he was in his + power. If Sandy was taken, he would confess all, and Ragon knew well that + in such case transportation for life and hard labor would be his lot. + Other considerations pressed him heavily—the shame, the loss, the + scorn of Margaret, the triumph of all his ill-wishers. No, he had gone too + far to retreat. + </p> + <p> + He fed the villain, gave him a suit of his own clothes, and #50, and saw + him put off to sea. Sandy promised to keep well out in the bay, until some + vessel going North to Zetland or Iceland, or some Dutch skipper bound for + Amsterdam, took him up. All the next day Ragon was in misery, but + nightfall came and he had heard nothing of Sandy, though several craft had + come into port. If another day got over he would feel safe; but he told + himself that he was in a gradually narrowing circle, and that the sooner + he leaped outside of it the better. + </p> + <p> + When he reached home the old couple who hung about the place, and who had + learned to see nothing and to hear nothing, came to him and voluntarily + offered a remark. + </p> + <p> + "Queer folk an' strange folk have been here, an' ta'en awa some claes out + o' the cellar." + </p> + <p> + Ragon asked no questions. He knew what clothes they were—that suit + of John Sabay's in which Sandy Beg had killed Peter Fae, and the rags + which Sandy had a few hours before exchanged for one of his own + sailing-suits. He needed no one to tell him what had happened. Sandy had + undoubtedly bespoke the very vessel containing the officers in search of + him, and had confessed all, as he said he would. The men were probably at + this moment looking for him. + </p> + <p> + He lifted the gold prepared for any such emergency, and, loosening his + boat, pulled for life and death towards Mayness Isle. Once in the rapid + "race" that divides it and Olla from the ocean, he knew no boat would dare + to follow him. While yet a mile from it he saw that he was rapidly pursued + by a four-oared boat. Now all his wild Norse nature asserted itself. He + forgot everything but that he was eluding his pursuers, and as the chase + grew hotter, closer, more exciting, his enthusiasm carried him far beyond + all prudence. + </p> + <p> + He began to shout or chant to his wild efforts some old Norse death-song, + and just as they gained on him he shot into the "race" and defied them. + Oars were useless there, and they watched him fling them far away and + stand up with outstretched arms in the little skiff. The waves tossed it + hither and thither, the boiling, racing flood hurried it with terrific + force towards the ocean. The tall, massive figure swayed like a reed in a + tempest, and suddenly the half despairing, half defying song was lost in + the roar of the bleak, green surges. All knew then what had happened. + </p> + <p> + "Let me die the death o' the righteous," murmured one old man, piously + veiling his eyes with his bonnet; and then the boat turned and went + silently back to Stromness. + </p> + <p> + Sandy Beg was in Kirkwall jail. He had made a clean breast of all his + crimes, and measures were rapidly taken for John Sabay's enlargement and + justification. When he came out of prison Christine and Margaret were + waiting for him, and it was to Margaret's comfortable home he was taken to + see his mother. "For we are ane household now, John," she said tenderly, + "an' Christine an' mother will ne'er leave me any mair." + </p> + <p> + Sandy's trial came on at the summer term. He was convicted on his own + confession, and sentenced to suffer the penalty of his crime upon the spot + where he stabbed Peter Fae. For some time he sulkily rejected all John's + efforts to mitigate his present condition, or to prepare him for his + future. But at last the tender spot in his heart was found. John + discovered his affection for his half-savage mother, and promised to + provide for all her necessities. + </p> + <p> + "It's only ta poun' o' taa, an' ta bit cabin ta shelter her she'll want at + a'," but the tears fell heavily on the red, hairy hands; "an' she'll na + tell her fat ill outsent cam to puir Sandy." + </p> + <p> + "Thou kens I will gie her a' she needs, an' if she chooses to come to + Orkney—" + </p> + <p> + "Na, na, she wullna leave ta Hieland hills for naught at a'." + </p> + <p> + "Then she shall hae a siller crown for every month o' the year, Sandy." + </p> + <p> + The poor, rude creature hardly knew how to say a "thanks;" but John saw it + in his glistening eyes and heard it in the softly-muttered words, "She was + ta only are tat e'er caret for Santy Beg." + </p> + <p> + It was a solemn day in Stromness when he went to the gallows. The bells + tolled backward, the stores were all closed, and there were prayers both + in public and private for the dying criminal. But few dared to look upon + the awful expiation, and John spent the hour in such deep communion with + God and his own soul that its influence walked with him to the end of + life. + </p> + <p> + And when his own sons were grown up to youths, one bound for the sea and + the other for Marischal College, Aberdeen, he took them aside and told + them this story, adding, + </p> + <p> + "An' know this, my lads: the shame an' the sorrow cam a' o' ane thing—I + made light o' my mother's counsel, an' thought I could do what nane hae + ever done, gather mysel' with the deil's journeymen, an' yet escape the + wages o' sin. Lads! lads! there's nae half-way house atween right and + wrang; know that." + </p> + <p> + "But, my father," said Hamish, the younger of the two, "thou did at the + last obey thy mother." + </p> + <p> + "Ay, ay, Hamish; but mak up thy mind to this: it isna enough that a man + rins a gude race; he maun also <i>start at the right time</i>. This is + what I say to thee, Hamish, an' to thee, Donald: fear God, an' ne'er + lightly heed a gude mother's advice. It's weel wi' the lads that carry a + mother's blessing through the warld wi' them." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LILE DAVIE. + </h2> + <p> + In Yorkshire and Lancashire the word "lile" means "little," but in the + Cumberland dales it has a far wider and nobler definition. There it is a + term of honor, of endearment, of trust, and of approbation. David Denton + won the pleasant little prefix before he was ten years old. When he saved + little Willy Sabay out of the cold waters of Thirlmere, the villagers + dubbed him "Lile Davie." When he took a flogging to spare the crippled lad + of Farmer Grimsby, men and women said proudly, "He were a lile lad;" and + when he gave up his rare half-holiday to help the widow Gates glean, they + had still no higher word of praise than "kind lile Davie." + </p> + <p> + However, it often happens that a prophet has no honor among his own + people, and David was the black sheep of the miserly household of Denton + Farm. It consisted of old Christopher Denton, his three sons, Matthew, + Sam, and David, and his daughter Jennie. They had the reputation of being + "people well-to-do," but they were not liked among the Cumberland + "states-men," who had small sympathy for their niggardly hospitality and + petty deeds of injustice. + </p> + <p> + One night in early autumn Christopher was sitting at the great black oak + table counting over the proceeds of the Kendal market, and Matt and Sam + looked greedily on. There was some dispute about the wool and the number + of sheep, and Matt said angrily, "There's summat got to be done about + Davie. He's just a clish-ma-saunter, lying among the ling wi' a book in + his hand the lee-long day. It is just miff-maff and nonsense letting him + go any longer to the schoolmaster. I am fair jagged out wi' his ways." + </p> + <p> + "That's so," said Sam. + </p> + <p> + "Then why don't you gie the lad a licking, and make him mind the sheep + better? I saw him last Saturday playing sogers down at Thirlston with a + score or more of idle lads like himsel'." The old man spoke irritably, and + looked round for the culprit. "I'll lay thee a penny he's at the same game + now. Gie him a licking when he comes in, son Matt." + </p> + <p> + "Nay, but Matt wont," said Jennie Denton, with a quiet decision. She stood + at her big wheel, spinning busily, though it was nine o'clock; and though + her words were few and quiet, the men knew from her face and manner that + Davie's licking would not be easily accomplished. In fact, Jennie + habitually stood between Davie and his father and brothers. She had nursed + him through a motherless babyhood, and had always sympathized in his eager + efforts to rise above the sordid life that encompassed him. It was Jennie + who had got him the grudging permission to go in the evening to the + village schoolmaster for some book-learning. But peculiar circumstances + had favored her in this matter, for neither the old man nor his sons could + read or write, and they had begun to find this, in their changed position, + and in the rapid growth of general information, a serious drawback in + business matters. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, as Davie could not be spared in the day, the schoolmaster + agreed for a few shillings a quarter to teach him in the evening. This + arrangement altered the lad's whole life. He soon mastered the simple + branches he had been sent to acquire, and then master and pupil far + outstepped old Christopher's programme, and in the long snowy nights, and + in the balmy summer ones, pored with glowing cheeks over old histories and + wonderful lives of great soldiers and sailors. + </p> + <p> + In fact, David Denton, like most good sons, had a great deal of his mother + in him, and she had been the daughter of a long line of brave Westmoreland + troopers. The inherited tendencies which had passed over the elder boys + asserted themselves with threefold force in this last child of a dying + woman. And among the sheepcotes in the hills he felt that he was the son + of the men who had defied Cromwell on the banks of the Kent and followed + Prince Charlie to Preston. + </p> + <p> + But the stern discipline of a Cumberland states-man's family is not easily + broken. Long after David had made up his mind to be a soldier he continued + to bear the cuffs and sneers and drudgery that fell to him, watching + eagerly for some opportunity of securing his father's permission. But of + this there was little hope. His knowledge of writing and accounts had + become of service, and his wish to go into the world and desert the great + cause of the Denton economies was an unheard-of piece of treason and + ingratitude. + </p> + <p> + David ventured to say that he "had taught Jennie to write and count, and + she was willing to do his work." + </p> + <p> + The ignorant, loutish brothers scorned the idea of "women-folk meddling + wi' their 'counts and wool," and, "besides," as Matt argued, "Davie's + going would necessitate the hiring of two shepherds; no hired man would do + more than half of what folk did for their ain." + </p> + <p> + These disputes grew more frequent and more angry, and when Davie had added + to all his other faults the unpardonable one of falling in love with the + schoolmaster's niece, there was felt to be no hope for the lad. The + Dentons had no poor relations; they regarded them as the one thing <i>not</i> + needful, and they concluded it was better to give Davie a commission and + send him away. + </p> + <p> + Poor Jennie did all the mourning for the lad; his father and brothers were + in the midst of a new experiment for making wool water-proof, and pretty + Mary Butterworth did not love David as David wished her to love him. It + was Jennie only who hung weeping on his neck and watched him walk proudly + and sorrowfully away over the hills into the wide, wide world beyond. + </p> + <p> + Then for many, many long years no more was heard of "Lile Davie Denton." + The old schoolmaster died and Christopher followed him. But the Denton + brothers remained together. However, when men make saving money the sole + end of their existence, their life soon becomes as uninteresting as the + multiplication table, and people ceased to care about the Denton farm, + especially as Jennie married a wealthy squire over the mountains, and left + her brothers to work out alone their new devices and economies. + </p> + <p> + Jennie's marriage was a happy one, but she did not forget her brother. + There was in Esthwaite Grange a young man who bore his name and who was + preparing for a like career. And often Jennie Esthwaite told to the lads + and lasses around her knees the story of their "lile uncle," whom every + one but his own kin had loved, and who had gone away to the Indies and + never come back again. "Lile Davie" was the one bit of romance in + Esthwaite Grange. + </p> + <p> + Jennie's brothers had never been across the "fells" that divided Denton + from Esthwaite; therefore, one morning, twenty-seven years after Davie's + departure, she was astonished to see Matt coming slowly down the Esthwaite + side. But she met him with hearty kindness, and after he had been rested + and refreshed he took a letter from his pocket and said, "Jennie, this + came from Davie six months syne, but I thought then it would be seeking + trouble to answer it." + </p> + <p> + "Why, Matt, this letter is directed to me! How dared you open and keep + it?" + </p> + <p> + "Dared, indeed! That's a nice way for a woman to speak to her eldest + brother!' Read it, and then you'll see why I kept it from you." + </p> + <p> + Poor Jennie's eyes filled fuller at every line. He was sick and wounded + and coming home to die, and wanted to see his old home and friends once + more. + </p> + <p> + "O Matt! Matt!" she cried; "how cruel, how shameful, not to answer this + appeal." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I did it for the best; but it seems I have made a mistake. Sam and + I both thought an ailing body dovering round the hearthstone and doorstone + was not to be thought of—and nobody to do a hand's turn but old + Elsie, who is nearly blind—and Davie never was one to do a decent + hand job, let by it was herding sheep, and that it was not like he'd be + fit for; so we just agreed to let the matter lie where it was." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, it was a cruel shame, Matt." + </p> + <p> + "Well, it was a mistake; for yesterday Sam went to Kendall, and there, in + the Stramon-gate, he met Tom Philipson, who is just home from India. And + what does Tom say but, 'Have you seen the general yet?' and, 'Great man is + Gen. Denton,' and, 'Is it true that he is going to buy the Derwent + estate?' and, 'Wont the Indian Government miss Gen. Denton!' Sam wasn't + going to let Tom see how the land lay, and Tom went off saying that Sam + had no call to be so pesky proud; that it wasn't him who had conquered the + Mahrattas and taken the Ghiznee Pass." + </p> + <p> + Jennie was crying bitterly, and saying softly to herself, "O my brave + laddie! O my bonnie lile Davie!" + </p> + <p> + "Hush, woman! No good comes of crying. Write now as soon as you like, and + the sooner the better." + </p> + <p> + In a very few hours Jennie had acted on this advice, and, though the + writing and spelling were wonderful, the poor sick general, nursing + himself at the Bath waters, felt the love that spoke in every word. He had + not expected much from his brothers; it was Jennie and Jennie's bairns he + wanted to see. He was soon afterwards an honored guest in Esthwaite + Grange, and the handsome old soldier, riding slowly among the lovely + dales, surrounded by his nephews and nieces, became a well-known sight to + the villages around. + </p> + <p> + Many in Thirlston remembered him, and none of his old companions found + themselves forgotten. Nor did he neglect his brothers. These cautious men + had become of late years manufacturers, and it was said were growing + fabulously rich. They had learned the value of the low coppice woods on + their fell-side, and had started a bobbin-mill which Sam superintended, + while Matt was on constant duty at the great steam-mill on Milloch-Force, + where he spun his own wools into blankets and serges. + </p> + <p> + The men were not insensible to the honor of their brother's career; they + made great capital of it privately. But they were also intensely + dissatisfied at the reckless way in which he spent his wealth. Young David + Esthwaite had joined a crack regiment with his uncle's introduction and at + his uncle's charges, and Jennie and Mary Esthwaite had been what the + brothers considered extravagantly dowered in order that they might marry + two poor clergymen whom they had set their hearts on. + </p> + <p> + "It is just sinful, giving women that much good gold," said Matt angrily: + "and here we are needing it to keep a great business afloat." + </p> + <p> + It was the first time Matt had dared to hint that the mill under his care + was not making money, and he was terribly shocked when Sam made a similar + confession. In fact, the brothers, with all their cleverness and industry, + were so ignorant that they were necessarily at the mercy of those they + employed, and they had fallen into roguish hands. Sam proposed that David + should be asked to look over their affairs and tell them where the leakage + was: "He was always a lile-hearted chap, and I'd trust him, Matt, up hill + and down dale, I would." + </p> + <p> + But Matt objected to this plan. He said David must be taken through the + mills and the most made of everything, and then in a week or two + afterwards be offered a partnership; and Matt, being the eldest, carried + the day. A great festival was arranged, everything was seen to the best + advantage, and David was exceedingly interested. He lingered with a + strange fascination among the steam-looms, and Matt saw the bait had + taken, for as they walked back together to the old homestead David said, + "You were ever a careful man, Matt, but it must take a deal of money—you + understand, brother—if you need at any time—I hope I don't + presume." + </p> + <p> + "Certainly not. Yes, we are doing a big business—a very good + business indeed; perhaps when you are stronger you may like to join us." + </p> + <p> + "I sha'n't get stronger, Matt—so I spoke now." + </p> + <p> + Sam, in his anxiety, thought Matt had been too prudent; he would have + accepted Davie's offer at once; but Matt was sure that by his plan they + would finally get all the general's money into their hands. However, the + very clever always find some quantity that they have failed to take into + account. After this long day at the mills General Denton had a severe + relapse, and it was soon evident that his work was nearly finished. + </p> + <p> + "But you must not fret, Jennie dear," he said cheerfully; "I am indeed + younger in years than you, but then I have lived a hundred times as long. + What a stirring, eventful life I have had! I must have lived a cycle among + these hills to have evened it; and most of my comrades are already gone." + </p> + <p> + One day, at the very last, he said, "Jennie, there is one bequest in my + will may astonish you, but it is all right. I went to see her a month ago. + She is a widow now with a lot of little lads around her. And I loved her, + Jennie—never loved any woman but her. Poor Mary! She has had a hard + time; I have tried to make things easier." + </p> + <p> + "You had always a lile heart, Davie; you could do no wrong to any one." + </p> + <p> + "I hope not. I—hope—not." And with these words and a pleasant + smile the general answered some call that he alone heard, and trusting in + his Saviour, passed confidently + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "The quicks and drift that fill the rift + Between this world and heaven." +</pre> + <p> + His will, written in the kindest spirit, caused a deal of angry feeling; + for it was shown by it that after his visit to the Denton Mills he had + revoked a bequest to the brothers of #20,000, because, as he explicitly + said, "My dear brothers do not need it;" and this #20,000 he left to Mary + Butterworth Pierson, "who is poor and delicate, and does sorely need it." + And the rest of his property he divided between Jennie and Jennie's + bairns. + </p> + <p> + In the first excitement of their disappointment and ruin, Sam, who dreaded + his brother's anger, and who yet longed for some sympathetic word, + revealed to Jennie and her husband the plan Matt had laid, and how + signally it had failed. + </p> + <p> + "I told him, squire, I did for sure, to be plain and honest with Davie. + Davie was always a lile fellow, and he would have helped us out of + trouble. Oh, dear! oh, dear! that #20,000 would just have put a' things + right." + </p> + <p> + "A straight line, lad, is always the shortest line in business and morals, + as well as in geometry; and I have aye found that to be true in my + dealings is to be wise. Lying serves no one but the devil, as ever I made + out." + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Scottish sketches, by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCOTTISH SKETCHES *** + +***** This file should be named 14494-h.htm or 14494-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/4/9/14494/ + +Etext produced by Ted Garvin, Amy and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading +Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Scottish sketches + +Author: Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +Release Date: December 28, 2004 [EBook #14494] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCOTTISH SKETCHES *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Amy and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading +Team + + + + + + +SHORT STORY + +Scottish Sketches + +By +AMELIA E. BARR + + +New York +Dodd, Mead and Company +1898 + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1883, +BY +AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. + + + + +CONTENTS + +CRAWFORD'S SAIR STRAIT 7 + +JAMES BLACKIE'S REVENGE 101 + +FACING HIS ENEMY 163 + +ANDREW CARGILL'S CONFESSION 241 + +ONE WRONG STEP 267 + +LILE DAVIE 309 + + + + +Crawford's Sair Strait. + + + + +CRAWFORD'S SAIR STRAIT. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Alexander Crawford sat reading a book which he studied frequently with +a profound interest. Not the Bible: that volume had indeed its place +of honor in the room, but the book Crawford read was a smaller one; it +was stoutly bound and secured by a brass lock, and it was all in +manuscript. It was his private ledger, and it contained his bank +account. Its contents seemed to give him much solid satisfaction; and +when at last he locked the volume and replaced it in his secretary, it +was with that careful respect which he considered due to the +representative of so many thousand pounds. + +He was in a placid mood, and strangely inclined to retrospection. +Thoughtfully fingering the key which locked up the record of his +wealth, he walked to the window and looked out. It was a dreary +prospect of brown moor and gray sea, but Crawford loved it. The bare +land and the barren mountains was the country of the Crawfords. He had +a fixed idea that it always had been theirs, and whenever he told +himself--as he did this night--that so many acres of old Scotland were +actually his own, he was aggressively a Scotchman. + +"It is a bonnie bit o' land," he murmured, "and I hae done as my +father Laird Archibald told me. If we should meet in another warld +I'll be able to gie a good account o' Crawford and Traquare. It is +thirty years to-night since he gave me the ring off his finger, and +said, 'Alexander, I am going the way o' all flesh; be a good man, and +_grip tight_.' I hae done as he bid me; there is L80,000 in the +Bank o' Scotland, and every mortgage lifted. I am vera weel pleased +wi' mysel' to-night. I hae been a good holder o' Crawford and +Traquare." + +His self-complacent reflections were cut short by the entrance of his +daughter. She stood beside him, and laid her hand upon his arm with a +caressing gesture. No other living creature durst have taken that +liberty with him; but to Crawford his daughter Helen was a being apart +from common humanity. She was small, but very lovely, with something +almost Puritanical in her dainty, precise dress and carefully snooded +golden hair. + +"Father!" + +"Helen, my bird." + +"Colin is coming home. I have just had a letter from him. He has taken +high honors in Glasgow. We'll both be proud of Colin, father." + +"What has he done?" + +"He has written a prize poem in Latin and Greek, and he is second in +mathematics." + +"Latin and Greek! Poor ghostlike languages that hae put off flesh and +blood lang syne. Poetry! Warse than nonsense! David and Solomon hae +gien us such sacred poetry as is good and necessary; and for sinfu' +love verses and such vanities, if Scotland must hae them, Robert Burns +is mair than enough. As to mathematics, there's naething against them. +A study that is founded on figures is to be depended upon; it has nae +flights and fancies. You ken what you are doing wi' figures. When is +this clever fellow to be here?" + +"He is coming by the afternoon packet to-morrow. We must send the +carriage to meet it, for Colin is bringing a stranger with him. I came +to ask you if I must have the best guest-room made ready." + +"Wha for?" + +"He is an English gentleman, from London, father." + +"And you would put an Englishman in the room where the twa last +Stuarts slept? I'll not hear tell o' it. I'm not the man to lift a +quarrel my fathers dropped, but I'll hae no English body in Prince +Charlie's room. Mind that, noo! What is the man's name?" + +"Mr. George Selwyn." + +"George Selwyn! There's nae Scotch Selwyns that I ken o'. He'll be +Saxon altogether. Put him in the East room." + +Crawford was not pleased at his son bringing any visitor. In the first +place, he had important plans to discuss and carry out, and he was +impatient of further delay. In the second, he was intensely jealous of +Helen. Every young man was a probable suitor, and he had quite decided +that Farquharson of Blair was the proper husband for her. Crawford and +Blair had stood shoulder to shoulder in every national quarrel, and a +marriage would put the two estates almost in a ring fence. + +But he went the next day to meet the young men. He had not seen his +son for three years, and the lad was an object very near and dear to +his heart. He loved him tenderly as his son, he respected him highly +as the future heir of Crawford and Traquare. The Crawfords were a very +handsome race; he was anxious that this, their thirteenth +representative, should be worthy, even physically, of his ancestors. +He drew a long sigh of gratification as young Colin, with open hands, +came up to him. The future laird was a noble-looking fellow, a dark, +swarthy Highlandman, with glowing eyes, and a frame which promised in +a few years to fill up splendidly. + +His companion was singularly unlike him. Old Crawford had judged +rightly. He was a pure Saxon, and showed it in his clear, fresh +complexion, pale brown hair, and clear, wide-open blue eyes. But there +was something about this young man which struck a deeper and wider +sympathy than race--he had a heart beating for all humanity. Crawford +looked at him physically only, and he decided at once, "There is no +fear of Helen." He told himself that young Farquharson was six inches +taller and every way a far "prettier man." Helen was not of this +opinion. No hero is so fascinating to a woman as the man mentally and +spiritually above her, and whom she must love from a distance; and if +Crawford could have known how dangerous were those walks over the +springy heather and through the still pine woods, Mr. Selwyn would +have taken them far more frequently alone than he did. + +But Crawford had other things to employ his attention at that time, +and indeed the young English clergyman was far beyond his mental and +spiritual horizon; he could not judge him fairly. So these young +people walked and rode and sailed together, and Selwyn talked like an +apostle of the wrongs that were to be righted and the poor perishing +souls that were to be redeemed. The spiritual warfare in which he was +enlisted had taken possession of him, and he spoke with the martial +enthusiasm of a young soldier buckling on his armor. + +Helen and Colin listened in glowing silence, Helen showing her +sympathy by her flushing cheeks and wet eyes, and Colin by the +impatient way in which he struck down with his stick the thistles by +the path side, as if they were the demons of sin and ignorance and +dirt Selwyn was warring against. But after three weeks of this +intercourse Crawford became sensible of some change in the atmosphere +of his home. When Selwyn first arrived, and Crawford learned that he +was a clergyman in orders, he had, out of respect to the office, +delegated to him the conduct of family worship. Gradually Selwyn had +begun to illustrate the gospel text with short, earnest remarks, which +were a revelation of Bible truth to the thoughtful men and women who +heard them. + +The laird's "exercises" had often been slipped away from, excuses had +been frequent, absentees usual; but they came to listen to Selwyn with +an eagerness which irritated him. In our day, the gospel of Christ has +brought forth its last beautiful blossom--the gospel of humanity. Free +schools, free Bibles, Tract and City Missions, Hospitals and Clothing +Societies, loving helps of all kinds are a part of every church +organization. But in the time of which I am writing they were unknown +in country parishes, they struggled even in great cities for a feeble +life. + +The laird and his servants heard some startling truths, and the laird +began to rebel against them. A religion of intellectual faith, and +which had certain well-recognized claims on his pocket, he was willing +to support, and to defend, if need were; but he considered one which +made him on every hand his brother's keeper a dangerously democratic +theology. + +"I'll hae no socialism in my religion, any more than I'll hae it in my +politics, Colin," he said angrily. "And if yon Mr. Selwyn belongs to +what they call the Church o' England, I'm mair set up than ever wi' +the Kirk o' Scotland! God bless her!" + +They were sitting in the room sacred to business and to the memory of +the late Laird Archibald. Colin was accustomed to receive his father's +opinions in silence, and he made no answer to this remark. This time, +however, the laird was not satisfied with the presumed assent of +silence; he asked sharply, "What say ye to that, son Colin?" + +"I say God bless the Kirk of Scotland, father, and I say it the more +heartily because I would like to have a place among those who serve +her." + +"What are ye saying now?" + +"That I should like to be a minister. I suppose you have no +objections." + +"I hae vera great objections. I'll no hear tell o' such a thing. +Ministers canna mak money, and they canna save it. If you should mak +it, that would be an offence to your congregation; if ye should save +it, they would say ye ought to hae gien it to the poor. There will be +nae Dominie Crawford o' my kin, Colin. Will naething but looking down +on the warld from a pulpit sarve you?" + +"I like art, father. I can paint a little, and I love music." + +"Art! Painting! Music! Is the lad gane daft? God has gien to some men +wisdom and understanding, to ithers the art o' playing on the fiddle +and painting pictures. There shall be no painting, fiddling Crawford +among my kin, Colin." + +The young fellow bit his lip, and his eyes flashed dangerously beneath +their dropped lids. But he said calmly enough, + +"What is your own idea, father? I am twenty-two, I ought to be doing a +man's work of some kind." + +"Just sae. That is warld-like talk. Now I'll speak wi' you anent a +grand plan I hae had for a long time." With these words he rose, and +took from his secretary a piece of parchment containing the plan of +the estate. "Sit down, son Colin, and I'll show you your inheritance." +Then he went carefully over every acre of moor and wood, of moss and +water, growing enthusiastic as he pointed out how many sheep could be +grazed on the hills, what shooting and fishing privileges were worth, +etc. "And the best is to come, my lad. There is coal on the estate, +and I am going to open it up, for I hae the ready siller to do it." + +Colin sat silent; his cold, dissenting air irritated the excited laird +very much. + +"What hae ye got to say to a' this, Colin?" he asked proudly, "for +you'll hae the management o' everything with me. Why, my dear son, if +a' goes weel--and it's sure to--we'll be rich enough in a few years to +put in our claim for the old Earldom o' Crawford, and you may tak your +seat in the House o' Peers yet. The old chevalier promised us a +Dukedom," he said sadly, "but I'm feared that will be aboon our +thumb--" + +"Father, what are you going to do with the clansmen? Do you think +Highlandmen who have lived on the mountains are going to dig coal? Do +you imagine that these men, who, until a generation or two ago, never +handled anything but a claymore, and who even now scorn to do aught +but stalk deer or spear salmon, will take a shovel and a pickaxe and +labor as coal-miners? There is not a Crawford among them who would do +it. I would despise him if he did." + +"There is a glimmer o' good sense in what you say, Colin. I dinna +intend any Crawford to work in my coal mine. Little use they would be +there. I'll send to Glasgow for some Irish bodies." + +"And then you will have more fighting than working on the place; and +you'll have to build a Roman-catholic chapel, and have a Roman priest +in Crawford, and you ken whether the Crawfords will thole _that_ or +not." + +"As to the fighting, I'll gie them no chance. I'm going to send the +Crawfords to Canada. I hae thought it all out. The sheilings will do +for the others; the land I want for sheep grazing. They are doing +naething for themsel's, and they are just a burden to me. It will be +better for them to gang to Canada. I'll pay their passage, and I'll +gie them a few pounds each to start them. You must stand by me in this +matter, for they'll hae to go sooner or later." + +"That is a thing I cannot do, father. There is not a Laird of Crawford +that was not nursed on some clanswoman's breast. We are all kin. Do +you think I would like to see Rory and Jean Crawford packed off to +Canada? And there is young Hector, my foster-brother! And old Ailsa, +your own foster-sister! Every Crawford has a right to a bite and a sup +from the Crawford land." + +"That is a' bygane nonsense. Your great-grandfather, if he wanted +cattle or meal, could just take the clan and go and harry some +Southern body out o' them. That is beyond our power, and it's an unca +charge to hae every Crawford looking to you when hunting and fishing +fails. They'll do fine in Canada. There is grand hunting, and if they +want fighting, doubtless there will be Indians. They will hae to go, +and you will hae to stand by me in this matter." + +"It is against my conscience, sir. I had also plans about these poor, +half-civilized, loving kinsmen of ours. You should hear Selwyn talk of +what we might do with them. There is land enough to give all who want +it a few acres, and the rest could be set up with boats and nets as +fishers. They would like that." + +"Nae doubt. But I don't like it, and I wont hae it. Mr. Selwyn may hae +a big parish in London, but the Crawfords arena in his congregation. I +am king and bishop within my ain estate, Colin." Then he rose in a +decided passion and locked up again the precious parchment, and Colin +understood that, for the present, the subject was dismissed. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +At the very time this conversation was in progress, one strangely +dissimilar was being carried on between George Selwyn and Helen +Crawford. They were sitting in the sweet, old-fashioned garden and +Selwyn had been talking of the work so dear to his heart, but a +silence had fallen between them. Then softly and almost hesitatingly +Helen said "Mr. Selwyn, I cannot help in this grand evangel, except +with money and prayers. May I offer you L300? It is entirely my own, +and it lies useless in my desk. Will you take it?" + +"I have no power to refuse it. 'You give it to God, durst I say no?' +But as I do not return at once, you had better send it in a check to +our treasurer." Then he gave her the necessary business directions, +and was writing the address of the treasurer when the laird stopped in +front of them. + +"Helen, you are needed in the house," he said abruptly; and then +turning to Selwyn, he asked him to take a walk up the hill. The young +man complied. He was quite unconscious of the anger in the tone of the +request. For a few yards neither spoke; then the laird, with an +irritable glance at his placid companion, said, "Mr. Selwyn, +fore-speaking saves after-speaking. Helen Crawford is bespoke for +young Farquharson of Blair, and if you have any hopes o' wiving in my +house--" + +"Crawford, thank you for your warning, but I have no thoughts of +marrying any one. Helen Crawford is a pearl among women; but even if I +wanted a wife, she is unfit for my helpmate. When I took my curacy in +the East End of London I counted the cost. Not for the fairest of the +daughters of men would I desert my first love--the Christ-work to +which I have solemnly dedicated my life." + +His voice fell almost to a whisper, but the outward, upward glance of +the inspired eyes completely disconcerted the aggressive old +chieftain. His supposed enemy, in some intangible way, had escaped +him, and he felt keenly his own mistake. He was glad to see Colin +coming; it gave him an opportunity of escaping honorably from a +conversation which had been very humiliating to him. He had a habit +when annoyed of seeking the sea-beach. The chafing, complaining waves +suited his fretful mood, and leaving the young men, he turned to the +sea, taking the hillside with such mighty strides that Selwyn watched +him with admiration and astonishment. + +"Four miles of that walking will bring him home in the most amiable of +moods," said Colin. And perhaps it would, if he had been left to the +sole companionship of nature. But when he was half way home he met +Dominie Tallisker, a man of as lofty a spirit as any Crawford who ever +lived. The two men were close friends, though they seldom met without +disagreeing on some point. + +"Weel met, dominie! Are you going to the Keep?" + +"Just so, I am for an hour's talk wi' that fine young English +clergyman you hae staying wi' you." + +"Tallisker, let me tell you, man, you hae been seen o'er much wi' him +lately. Why, dominie! he is an Episcopal, and an Arminian o' the vera +warst kind." + +"Hout, laird! Arminianism isna a contagious disease. I'll no mair tak +Arminianism from the Rev. George Selwyn than I'll tak Toryism fra +Laird Alexander Crawford. My theology and my politics are far beyond +inoculation. Let me tell you that, laird." + +"Hae ye gotten an argument up wi' him, Tallisker? I would like weel to +hear ye twa at it." + +"Na, na; he isna one o' them that argues. He maks downright +assertions; every one o' them hits a body's conscience like a +sledge-hammer. He said that to me as we walked the moor last night +that didna let me sleep a wink." + +"He is a vera disagreeable young man. What could he say to you? You +have aye done your duty." + +"I thought sae once, Crawford. I taught the bairns their catechism; I +looked weel to the spiritual life o' young and old; I had aye a word +in season for all. But maybe this I ought to hae done, and not left +the other undone." + +"You are talking foolishness, Tallisker, and that's a thing no usual +wi' you." + +"No oftener wi' me nor other folk. But, laird, I feel there must be a +change. I hae gotten my orders, and I am going to obey them. You may +be certain o' that." + +"I didna think I would ever see Dominie Tallisker taking orders from a +disciple o' Arminius--and an Englishman forbye!" + +"I'll tak my orders, Crawford, from any messenger the Lord chooses to +send them by. And I'll do this messenger justice; he laid down no law +to me, he only spak o' the duty laid on his own conscience; but my +conscience said 'Amen' to his--that's about it. There has been a +breath o' the Holy Ghost through the Church o' England lately, and the +dry bones o' its ceremonials are being clothed upon wi' a new and +wonderfu' life." + +"Humff!" said the laird with a scornful laugh as he kicked a pebble +out of his way. + +"There is a great outpouring at Oxford among the young men, and though +I dinna agree wi' them in a' things, I can see that they hae gotten a +revelation." + +"Ou, ay, the young ken a' things. It is aye young men that are for +turning the warld upside down. Naething is good enough for them." + +The dominie took no notice of the petulant interruption. "Laird," he +said excitedly, "it is like a fresh Epiphany, what this young Mr. +Selwyn says--the hungry are fed, the naked clothed, the prisoners +comforted, the puir wee, ragged, ignorant bairns gathered into homes +and schools, and it is the gospel wi' bread and meat and shelter and +schooling in its hand. That was Christ's ain way, you'll admit that. +And while he was talking, my heart burned, and I bethought me of a +night-school for the little herd laddies and lasses. They could study +their lessons on the hillside all day, and I'll gather them for an +hour at night, and gie them a basin o' porridge and milk after their +lessons. And we ought not to send the orphan weans o' the kirk to the +warkhouse; we ought to hae a hame for them, and our sick ought to be +better looked to. There is many another good thing to do, but we'll +begin wi' these, and the rest will follow." + +The laird had listened thus far in speechless indignation. He now +stood still, and said, + +"I'll hae you to understand, Dominie Tallisker, that I am laird o' +Crawford and Traquare, and I'll hae nae such pliskies played in either +o' my clachans." + +"If you are laird, I am dominie. You ken me weel enough to be sure if +this thing is a matter o' conscience to me, neither king nor kaiser +can stop me. I'd snap my fingers in King George's face if he bid me +'stay,' when my conscience said 'go,'" and the dominie accompanied the +threat with that sharp, resonant fillip of the fingers that is a +Scotchman's natural expression of intense excitement of any kind. + +"King George!" cried the laird, in an ungovernable temper, "there is +the whole trouble. If we had only a Charles Stuart on the throne there +would be nane o' this Whiggery." + +"There would be in its place masses, and popish priests, and a few +private torture-chambers, and whiles a Presbyterian heretic or twa +burned at the Grass-market. Whiggery is a grand thing when it keeps +the Scarlet Woman on her ain seven hills. Scotland's hills and braes +can do weel, weel without her." + +This speech gave the laird time to think. It would never do to quarrel +with Tallisker. If he should set himself positively against his scheme +of sending his clan to Canada it would be almost a hopeless one; and +then he loved and respected his friend. His tall, powerful frame and +his dark, handsome face, all aglow with a passionate conviction of +right, and an invincible determination to do it, commanded his +thorough admiration. He clasped his hands behind his back and said +calmly, + +"Tallisker, you'll be sorry enough for your temper erelong. You hae +gien way mair than I did. Ye ken how you feel about it." + +"I feel ashamed o' mysel', laird. You'll no lay the blame o' it to my +office, but to Dugald Tallisker his ain sel'. There's a deal o' +Dugald Tallisker in me yet, laird; and whiles he is o'er much for +Dominie Tallisker." + +They were at the gate by this time, and Crawford held out his hand and +said, + +"Come in, dominie." + +"No; I'll go hame, laird, and gie mysel' a talking to. Tell Mr. Selwyn +I want to see him." + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Alas, how often do Christ's words, "I come not to bring peace, but a +sword," prove true. George Selwyn went away, but the seed he had +dropped in this far-off corner of Scotland did not bring forth +altogether the peaceable fruits of righteousness. In fact, as we have +seen, it had scarcely begun to germinate before the laird and the +dominie felt it to be a root of bitterness between them. For if +Crawford knew anything he knew that Tallisker would never relinquish +his new work, and perhaps if he yielded to any reasonable object +Tallisker would stand by him in his project. + +He did not force the emigration plan upon his notice. The summer was +far advanced; it would be unjustifiable to send the clan to Canada at +the beginning of winter. And, as it happened, the subject was opened +with the dominie in a very favorable manner. They were returning from +the moors one day and met a party of six men. They were evidently +greatly depressed, but they lifted their bonnets readily to the chief. +There was a hopeless, unhappy look about them that was very painful. + +"You have been unsuccessful on the hills, Archie, I fear." + +"There's few red deer left," said the man gloomily. "It used to be +deer and men; it is sheep and dogs now." + +After a painful silence the dominie said, + +"Something ought to be done for those braw fellows. They canna ditch +and delve like an Irish peasant. It would be like harnessing stags in +a plough." + +Then Crawford spoke cautiously of his intention, and to his delight +the dominie approved it. + +"I'll send them out in Read & Murray's best ships. I'll gie each head +o' a family what you think right, Tallisker, and I'll put L100 in your +hands for special cases o' help. And you will speak to the men and +their wives for me, for it is a thing I canna bear to do." + +But the men too listened eagerly to the proposition. They trusted the +dominie, and they were weary of picking up a precarious living in +hunting and fishing, and relying on the chief in emergencies. Their +old feudal love and reverence still remained in a large measure, but +they were quite sensible that everything had changed in their little +world, and that they were out of tune with it. Some few of their +number had made their way to India or Canada, and there was a vague +dissatisfaction which only required a prospect of change to develop. +As time went on, and the laird's plan for opening the coal beds on his +estate got known, the men became impatient to be gone. + +In the early part of March two large ships lay off the coast waiting +for them, and they went in a body to Crawford Keep to bid the chief +"farewell." It was a hard hour, after all, to Crawford. The great +purpose that he had kept before his eyes for years was not at that +moment sufficient. He had dressed himself in his full chieftain's suit +to meet them. The eagle's feather in his Glengary gave to his great +stature the last grace. The tartan and philibeg, the garters at his +knee, the silver buckles at his shoulder, belt, and shoon, the +jewelled mull and dirk, had all to these poor fellows in this last +hour a proud and sad significance. As he stood on the steps to welcome +them, the wind colored his handsome face and blew out the long black +hair which fell curling on his shoulders. + +Whatever they intended to say to him, when they thus saw him with +young Colin by his side they were unable to say. They could only lift +their bonnets in silence. The instincts and traditions of a thousand +years were over them; he was at this moment the father and the chief +of their deepest affection. One by one they advanced to him. He +pressed the hands of all. Some of the older men--companions of his +youth in play and sport--he kissed with a solemn tenderness. They went +away silently as they came, but every heart was full and every eye was +dim. There was a great feast for them in the clachan that night, but +it was a sombre meeting, and the dominie's cheerful words of advice +and comfort formed its gayest feature. + +The next day was calm and clear. The women and children were safely on +board soon after noon, and about four o'clock the long boats left the +shore full of men. Tallisker was in the front one. As they pulled away +he pointed silently to a steep crag on the shingly beach. The chief +stood upon it. He waved his bonnet, and then the long-pent feelings of +the clan found vent in one long, pitiful Gallic lament, _O hon a rie! +O hon a rie!_ For a few moments the boats lay at rest, no man was able +to lift an oar. Suddenly Tallisker's clear, powerful voice touched the +right chord. To the grand, plaintive melody of St. Mary's he began the +125th Psalm, + + "They in the Lord that firmly trust + shall be like Sion hill, + Which at no time can be removed, + but standeth ever still. + + As round about Jerusalem + the mountains stand alway; + The Lord his folk doth compass so + from henceforth and for aye." + +And thus singing together they passed from their old life into a new +one. + +Colin had been indignant and sorrowful over the whole affair. He and +Helen were still young enough to regret the breaking of a tie which +bound them to a life whose romance cast something like a glamour over +the prosaic one of more modern times. Both would, in the +unreasonableness of youthful sympathy, have willingly shared land and +gold with their poor kinsmen; but in this respect Tallisker was with +the laird. + +"It was better," he said, "that the old feudal tie should be severed +even by a thousand leagues of ocean. They were men and not bairns, and +they could feel their ain feet;" and then he smiled as he remembered +how naturally they had taken to self-dependence. For one night, in a +conversation with the oldest men, he said, "Crawfords, ye'll hae to +consider, as soon as you are gathered together in your new hame, the +matter o' a dominie. Your little flock in the wilderness will need a +shepherd, and the proper authorities maun be notified." + +Then an old gray-headed man had answered firmly, "Dominie, we will +elect our ain minister. We hae been heart and soul, every man o' us, +with the Relief Kirk; but it is ill living in Rome and striving wi' +the pope, and sae for the chief's sake and your sake we hae withheld +our testimony. But we ken weel that even in Scotland the Kirk willna +hirple along much farther wi' the State on her back, and in the +wilderness, please God, we'll plant only a Free Kirk." + +The dominie heard the resolve in silence, but to himself he said +softly, "_They'll do! They'll do!_ They'll be a bit upsetting at +first, maybe, but they are queer folk that have nae failings." + +A long parting is a great strain; it was a great relief when the ships +had sailed quite out of sight. The laird with a light heart now turned +to his new plans. No reproachful eyes and unhappy faces were there to +damp his ardor. Everything promised well. The coal seam proved to be +far richer than had been anticipated, and those expert in such matters +said there were undoubted indications of the near presence of iron +ore. Great furnaces began to loom up in Crawford's mental vision, and +to cast splendid lustres across his future fortunes. + +In a month after the departure of the clan, the little clachan of +Traquare had greatly changed. Long rows of brick cottages, ugly and +monotonous beyond description, had taken the place of the more +picturesque sheilings. Men who seemed to measure everything in life +with a two-foot rule were making roads and building jetties for +coal-smacks to lie at. There was constant influx of strange men and +women--men of stunted growth and white faces, and who had an insolent, +swaggering air, intolerably vulgar when contrasted with the Doric +simplicity and quiet gigantic manhood of the mountain shepherds. + +The new workers were, however, mainly Lowland Scotchmen from the +mining districts of Ayrshire. The dominie had set himself positively +against the introduction of a popish element and an alien people; and +in this position he had been warmly upheld by Farquharson and the +neighboring proprietors. As it was, there was an antagonism likely to +give him full employment. The Gael of the mountains regarded these +Lowland "working bodies" with something of that disdain which a rich +and cultivated man feels for kin, not only poor, but of contemptible +nature and associations. The Gael was poor truly, but he held himself +as of gentle birth. He had lived by his sword, or by the care of +cattle, hunting, and fishing. Spades, hammers, and looms belonged to +people of another kind. + +Besides this great social gulf, there were political and religious +ones still wider. That these differences were traditional, rather than +real, made no distinction. Man have always fought as passionately for +an idea as for a fact. But Dominie Tallisker was a man made for great +requirements and great trusts. He took in the position with the eye of +a general. He watched the two classes passing down the same streets as +far apart as if separated by a continent, and he said, with a very +positive look on his face, "These men are brethren and they ought to +dwell in unity; and, God helping Dugald Tallisker, they will do it, +yes, indeed, they will." + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +In a year after the departure of the clan, the clachans of Crawford +and Traquare had lost almost all traces of their old pastoral +character. The coal pit had been opened, and great iron furnaces built +almost at its mouth. Things had gone well with Crawford; the seam had +proved to be unusually rich; and, though the iron had been found, not +on his land, but on the extreme edge of Blair, he was quite satisfied. +Farquharson had struck hands with him over it, and the Blair iron ore +went to the Crawford furnaces to be smelted into pig iron. + +Crawford had grown younger in the ardent life he had been leading. No +one would have taken him to be fifty-five years old. He hardly thought +of the past; he only told himself that he had never been as strong and +clear-headed and full of endurance, and that it was probable he had +yet nearly half a century before him. What could he not accomplish in +that time? + +But in every earthly success there is a Mordecai sitting in its gate, +and Colin was the uncomfortable feature in the laird's splendid hopes. +He had lounged heartlessly to and from the works; the steady, +mechanical routine of the new life oppressed him, and he had a +thorough dislike for the new order of men with whom he had to come in +contact. The young Crawfords had followed him about the hills with an +almost canine affection and admiration. To them he was always "the +young laird." These sturdy Ayrshire and Galloway men had an old +covenanting rebelliousness about them. They disputed even with Dominie +Tallisker on church government; they sang Robert Burns' most +democratic songs in Crawford's very presence. + +Then Colin contrasted them physically with the great fellows he had +been accustomed to see striding over the hills, and he despised the +forms stunted by working in low seams and unhealthy vapors and the +faces white for lack of sunshine and grimy with the all-pervading coal +dust. The giants who toiled in leather masks and leather suits before +the furnaces suited his taste better. When he watched them moving +about amid the din and flames and white-hot metal, he thought of +Vulcan and Mount AEtna, and thus threw over them the enchantments of +the old Roman age. But in their real life the men disappointed him. +They were vulgar and quarrelsome; the poorest Highland gillie had a +vein of poetry in his nature, but these iron-workers were painfully +matter of fact; they could not even understand a courtesy unless it +took the shape of a glass of whiskey. + +It was evident to the laird that the new life was very distasteful to +his heir; it was evident to the dominie that it was developing the +worst sides of Colin's character. Something of this he pointed out to +Helen one morning. Helen and he had lately become great friends, +indeed, they were co-workers together in all the new labors which the +dominie's conscience had set him. The laird had been too busy and +anxious about other matters to interfere as yet with this alliance, +but he promised himself he would do so very soon. Helen Crawford was +not going to nurse sick babies and sew for all the old women in the +clachan much longer. And the night-school! This was particularly +offensive to him. Some of the new men had gone there, and Crawford was +sure he was in some way defrauded by it. He thought it impossible to +work in the day and study an hour at night. In some way he suffered by +it. + +"If they werna in the schoolroom they would be in the Change House," +Tallisker had argued. + +But the laird thought in his heart that the whiskey would be more to +his advantage than the books. Yet he did not like to say so; there was +something in the dominie's face which restrained him. He had opened +the subject in that blustering way which always hides the white +feather somewhere beneath it, and Tallisker had answered with a solemn +severity, + +"Crawford, it seems to be your wark to mak money; it is mine to save +souls. Our roads are sae far apart we arena likely to run against each +other, if we dinna try to." + +"But I don't like the way you are doing your wark; that is all, +dominie." + +"Mammon never did like God's ways. There is a vera old disagreement +between them. A man has a right to consider his ain welfare, Crawford, +but it shouldna be mair than the twa tables o' the law to him." + +Now Tallisker was one of those ministers who bear their great +commission in their faces. There was something almost imperial about +the man when he took his stand by the humblest altar of his duty. +Crawford had intended at this very time to speak positively on the +subject of his own workers to Tallisker. But when he looked at the +dark face, set and solemn and full of an irresistible authority, he +was compelled to keep silence. A dim fear that Tallisker would say +something to him which would make him uncomfortable crept into his +heart. It was better that both the dominie and conscience should be +quiet at present. + +Still he could not refrain from saying, + +"You hae set yoursel' a task you'll ne'er win over, dominie. You could +as easy mak Ben-Cruchan cross the valley and sit down by Ben-Appin as +mak Gael and Lowlander call each other brothers." + +"We are told, Crawford, that mountains may be moved by faith; why not, +then, by love? I am a servant o' God. I dinna think it any presumption +to expect impossibilities." + +Still it must be acknowledged that Tallisker looked on the situation +as a difficult one. The new workers to a man disapproved of the +Established Church of Scotland. Perhaps of all classes of laborers +Scotch colliers are the most theoretically democratic and the most +practically indifferent in matters of religion. Every one of them had +relief and secession arguments ready for use, and they used them +chiefly as an excuse for not attending Tallisker's ministry. When +conscience is used as an excuse, or as a weapon for wounding, it is +amazing how tender it becomes. It pleased these Lowland workers to +assert a religious freedom beyond that of the dominie and the shepherd +Gael around them. And if men wish to quarrel, and can give their +quarrel a religious basis, they secure a tolerance and a respect which +their own characters would not give them. Tallisker might pooh-pooh +sectional or political differences, but he was himself far too +scrupulous to regard with indifference the smallest theological +hesitation. + +One day as he was walking up the clachan pondering these things, he +noticed before him a Highland shepherd driving a flock to the hills. +There was a party of colliers sitting around the Change House; they +were the night-gang, and having had their sleep and their breakfast, +were now smoking and drinking away the few hours left of their rest. +Anything offering the chance of amusement was acceptable, and Jim +Armstrong, a saucy, bullying fellow from the Lonsdale mines, who had +great confidence in his Cumberland wrestling tricks, thought he saw in +the placid indifference of the shepherd a good opportunity for +bravado. + +"Sawnie, ye needna pass the Change House because we are here. We'll no +hurt you, man." + +The shepherd was as one who heard not. + +Then followed an epithet that no Highlander can hear unmoved, and the +man paused and put his hand under his plaid. Tallisker saw the +movement and quickened his steps. The word was repeated, with the +scornful laugh of the group to enforce it. The shepherd called his +dog-- + +"Keeper, you tak the sheep to the Cruchan corrie, and dinna let are o' +them stray." + +The dumb creature looked in his face assentingly, and with a sharp +bark took the flock charge. Then the shepherd walked up to the group, +and Jim Armstrong rose to meet him. + +"Nae dirks," said an old man quietly; "tak your hands like men." + +Before the speech was over they were clinched in a grasp which meant +gigantic strength on one side, and a good deal of practical bruising +science on the other. But before there was an opportunity of testing +the quality of either the dominie was between the men. He threw them +apart like children, and held each of them at arm's length, almost as +a father might separate two fighting schoolboys. The group watching +could not refrain a shout of enthusiasm, and old Tony Musgrave jumped +to his feet and threw his pipe and his cap in the air. + +"Dugald," said the dominie to the shepherd, "go your ways to your +sheep. I'll hae nae fighting in my parish. + +"Jim Armstrong, you thrawart bully you, dinna think you are the only +man that kens Cumberland cantrips. I could fling you mysel' before you +could tell your own name;" and as if to prove his words, he raised an +immense stone, that few men could have lifted, and with apparent ease +flung it over his right shoulder. A shout of astonishment greeted the +exploit, and Tony Musgrave--whose keen, satirical ill-will had +hitherto been Tallisker's greatest annoyance--came frankly forward and +said, "Dominie, you are a guid fellow! Will you tak some beer wi' me?" + +Tallisker did not hesitate a moment. + +"Thank you, Tony. If it be a drink o' good-will, I'll tak it gladly." + +But he was not inclined to prolong the scene; the interference had +been forced upon him. It had been the only way to stop a quarrel which +there would have been no healing if blood had once been shed. Yet he +was keenly alive to the dignity of his office, and resumed it in the +next moment. Indeed, the drinking of the glass of good-will together +was rather a ceremonial than a convivial affair. Perhaps that also was +the best. The men were silent and respectful, and for the first time +lifted their caps with a hearty courtesy to Tallisker when he left +them. + +"Weel! Wonders never cease!" said Jim Armstrong scornfully. "To see +Tony Musgrave hobnobbing wi' a black-coat! The deil must 'a' had a +spasm o' laughing." + +"Let the deil laugh," said Tony, with a snap of his grimy fingers. +Then, after a moment's pause, he added, "Lads, I heard this morning +that the dominie's wheat was spoiling, because he couldna get help to +cut it. I laughed when I heard it; I didna ken the man then. I'm +going to-morrow to cut the dominie's wheat; which o' you will go wi' +me?" + +"I!" and "I!" and "I!" was the hearty response; and so next day +Traquare saw a strange sight--a dozen colliers in a field of wheat, +making a real holiday of cutting the grain and binding the sheaves, so +that before the next Sabbath it had all been brought safely home. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +But during these very days, when the dominie and his parishioners were +drawing a step closer to each other, the laird and his son were +drifting farther apart. Crawford felt keenly that Colin took no +interest in the great enterprises which filled his own life. The fact +was, Colin inherited his mother's, and not his father's temperament. +The late Lady Crawford had been the daughter of a Zetland Udaller, a +pure Scandinavian, a descendant of the old Vikings, and she inherited +from them a poetic imagination and a nature dreamy and inert, though +capable of rousing itself into fits of courage that could dare the +impossible. Colin would have led a forlorn hope or stormed a battery; +but the bare ugliness and monotony of his life at the works fretted +and worried him. + +Tallisker had repeatedly urged a year's foreign travel. But the laird +had been much averse to the plan. France, in his opinion, was a hotbed +of infidelity; Italy, of popery; Germany, of socialistic and +revolutionary doctrines. There was safety only in Scotland. Pondering +these things, he resolved that marriage was the proper means to +"settle" the lad. So he entered into communication with an old friend +respecting his daughter and his daughter's portion; and one night he +laid the result before Colin. + +Colin was indignant. He wanted to marry no woman, and least of all +women, Isabel McLeod. + +"She'll hae L50,000!" said the laird sententiously. + +"I would not sell myself for L50,000." + +"You'd be a vera dear bargain at half the price to any woman, Colin. +And you never saw Isabel. She was here when you were in Glasgow. She +has the bonniest black e'en in Scotland, and hair like a raven's +wing." + +"When I marry, sir, I shall marry a woman like my mother: a woman with +eyes as blue as heaven, and a face like a rose. I'll go, as you did, +to Shetland for her." + +"There isna a house there fit for you to take a wife from, Colin, save +and except the Earl's ain; and his daughter, the Lady Selina, is near +thirty years old." + +"There are my second cousins, Helga and Saxa Vedder." + +Then the laird was sure in his own heart that Tallisker's advice was +best. France and Italy were less to be feared than pretty, portionless +cousins. Colin had better travel a year, and he proposed it. It hurt +him to see how eagerly his heir accepted the offer. However, if the +thing was to be done, it was best done quickly. Letters of credit +suitable to the young laird's fortune were prepared, and in less than +a month he was ready to begin his travels. It had been agreed that he +should remain away one year, and if it seemed desirable, that his stay +might even be lengthened to two. But no one dreamed that advantage +would be taken of this permission. + +"He'll be hamesick ere a twelvemonth, laird," said the dominie; and +the laird answered fretfully, "A twelvemonth is a big slice o' life to +fling awa in far countries." + +The night before Colin left he was walking with his sister on the +moor. A sublime tranquillity was in the still September air. The +evening crimson hung over the hills like a royal mantle. The old +church stood framed in the deepest blue. At that distance the long +waves broke without a sound, and the few sails on the horizon looked +like white flowers at sea. + +"How beautiful is this mansion of our father!" said Helen softly. "One +blushes to be caught worrying in it, and yet, Colin, I fear to have +you go away." + +"Why, my dear?" + +"I have a presentiment that we shall meet no more in this life. Nay, +do not smile; this strange intelligence of sorrow, this sudden +trembling in a soul at rest, is not all a delusion. We shall part +to-morrow, Colin. Oh, darling brother, where shall we meet again?" + +He looked into the fair, tender face and the eager, questioning eyes, +and found himself unable to reply. + +"Remember, Colin! I give you a rendezvous in heaven." + +He clasped her hand tightly, and they walked on in a silence that +Colin remembered often afterwards. Sometimes, in dreams, to the very +end of his life, he took again with Helen that last evening walk, and +his soul leaned and hearkened after hers. "I give you a rendezvous in +heaven!" + +In the morning they had a few more words alone. She was standing +looking out thoughtfully into the garden. "Are you going to London?" +she asked suddenly. + +"Yes." + +"You will call on Mr. Selwyn?" + +"I think so." + +"Tell him we remember him--and try to follow, though afar off, the +example he sets us." + +"Well, you know, Helen, I may not see him. We never were chums. I have +often wondered why I asked him here. It was all done in a moment. I +had thought of asking Walter Napier, and then I asked Selwyn. I have +often thought it would have pleased me better if I had invited +Walter." + +"Sometimes it is permitted to us to do things for the pleasure of +others, rather than our own. I have often thought that God--who +foresaw the changes to take place here--sent Mr. Selwyn with a message +to Dominie Tallisker. The dominie thinks so too. Then how glad you +ought to be that you asked him. He came to prepare for those poor +people who as yet were scattered over Ayrshire and Cumberland. And +this thought comforts me for you, Colin. God knows just where you are +going, dear, and the people you are going to meet, and all the events +that will happen to you." + +The events and situations of life resemble ocean waves--every one is +alike and yet every one is different. It was just so at Crawford Keep +after Colin left it. The usual duties of the day were almost as +regular as the clock, but little things varied them. There were +letters or no letters from Colin; there were little events at the +works or in the village; the dominie called or he did not call. +Occasionally there were visitors connected with the mines or furnaces, +and sometimes there were social evening gatherings of the neighboring +young people, or formal state dinners for the magistrates and +proprietors who were on terms of intimacy with the laird. + +For the first year of Colin's absence, if his letters were not quite +satisfactory, they were condoned. It did not please his father that +Colin seemed to have settled himself so completely in Rome, among +"artists and that kind o' folk," and he was still more angry when +Colin declared his intention of staying away another year. Poor +father! How he had toiled and planned to aggrandize this only son, who +seemed far more delighted with an old coin or an old picture than with +the great works which bore his name. In all manner of ways he had made +it clear to his family that in the dreamy, sensuous atmosphere of +Italian life he remembered the gray earnestness of Scottish life with +a kind of terror. + +Tallisker said, "Give him his way a little longer, laird. To bring him +hame now is no use. People canna thole blue skies for ever; he'll be +wanting the moors and the misty corries and the gray clouds erelong." +So Colin had another year granted him, and his father added thousand +to thousand, and said to his heart wearily many and many a time, "It +is all vexation of spirit." + +At the end of the second year Crawford wrote a most important letter +to his son. There was an opening for the family that might never come +again. All arrangements had been made for Colin to enter the coming +contest for a seat in Parliament. The Marquis of B---- had been spoken +to, and Crawford and he had come to an understanding Crawford did not +give the particulars of the "understanding," but he told Colin that +his "political career was assured." He himself would take care of the +works. Political life was open to his son, and if money and influence +could put him in the House of Peers, money should not be spared. + +The offer was so stupendous, the future it looked forward to so great, +Crawford never doubted Colin's proud, acquiescence. That much he owed +to a long line of glorious ancestors; it was one of the obligations of +noble birth; he would not dare to, neglect it. + +Impatiently he waited Colin's answer. Indeed, he felt sure Colin would +answer such a call in person. He was disappointed when a letter came; +he had not known, till then, how sure he had felt of seeing his son. +And the letter was a simple blow to him. Very respectfully, but very +firmly, the proposition was declined. Colin said he knew little of +parties and cabals, and was certain, at least, that nothing could +induce him to serve under the Marquis of B----. He could not see his +obligations to the dead Crawfords as his father did. He considered his +life his own. It had come to him with certain tastes, which he meant +to improve and gratify, for only in that way was life of any value to +him. + +The laird laid the letter in Tallisker's hands without a word. He was +almost broken-hearted. He had not yet got to that point where +money-making for money's sake was enough. Family aggrandizement and +political ambition are not the loftiest motives of a man's life, but +still they lift money-making a little above the dirty drudgery of mere +accumulation. Hitherto Crawford had worked for an object, and the +object, at least in his own eyes, had dignified the labor. + +In his secret heart he was angry at Colin's calm respectability. A +spendthrift prodigal, wasting his substance in riotous living, would +have been easier to manage than this young man of aesthetic tastes, +whose greatest extravagance was a statuette or a picture. Tallisker, +too, was more uneasy than he would confess. He had hoped that Colin +would answer his father's summons, because he believed now that the +life he was leading was unmanning him. The poetical element in his +character was usurping an undue mastery. He wrote to Colin very +sternly, and told him plainly that a poetic pantheism was not a whit +less sinful than the most vulgar infidelity. + +Still he advised the laird to be patient, and by no means to answer +Colin's letter in a hurry. But only fixed more firmly the angry +father's determination. Colin must come home and fulfil his wish, or +he must time remain away until he returned as master. As his son, he +would know him no more; as the heir of Crawford, he would receive at +intervals such information as pertained to that position. For the old +man was just in his anger; it never seemed possible to him to deprive +Colin of the right of his heritage. To be the 13th Laird of Crawford +was Colin's birthright; he fully recognized his title to the honor, +and, as the future head of the house, rendered him a definite respect. + +Of course a letter written in such a spirit did no good whatever. +Nothing after it could have induced Colin to come home. He wrote and +declined to receive even the allowance due to him as heir of Crawford. +The letter was perfectly respectful, but cruelly cold and polite, and +every word cut the old man like a sword. + +For some weeks he really seemed to lose all interest in life. Then the +result Tallisker feared was arrived at. He let ambition go, and +settled down to the simple toil of accumulation. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +But Crawford had not a miser's nature. His house, his name, his +children were dearer, after all, to him than gold. Hope springs +eternal in the breast; in a little while he had provided himself with +a new motive: he would marry Helen to young Farquharson, and endow her +so royally that Farquharson would gladly take her name. There should +be another house of Crawford of which Helen should be the root. + +Helen had been long accustomed to consider Hugh Farquharson as her +future husband. The young people, if not very eager lovers, were at +least very warm and loyal friends. They had been in no hurry to finish +the arrangement. Farquharson was in the Scot's Greys; it was +understood that at his marriage he should resign his commission, so, +though he greatly admired Helen, he was in no hurry to leave the +delights of metropolitan and military life. + +But suddenly Crawford became urgent for the fulfilment of the +contract, and Helen, seeing how anxious he was, and knowing how sorely +Colin had disappointed him, could no longer plead for a delay. And yet +a strange sadness fell over her; some inexplicable symptoms as to her +health led her to fear she would never be Farquharson's wife; the gay +wedding attire that came from Edinburgh filled her with a still +sorrow; she could not appropriate any part of it as her own. + +One day when the preparations were nearly finished, Tallisker came up +to the Keep. Helen saw at once that he was moved by some intense +feeling, and there was a red spot on his cheeks which she had been +accustomed to associate with the dominie's anger. The laird was +sitting placidly smoking, and drinking toddy. He had been telling +Helen of the grand house he was going to build on the new estate he +had just bought; and he was now calmly considering how to carry out +his plans on the most magnificent scale, for he had firmly determined +there should be neither Keep nor Castle in the North Country as +splendid as the new Crawfords' Home. + +He greeted Tallisker with a peculiar kindness, and held his hand +almost lovingly. His friendship for the dominie--if he had known +it--was a grain of salt in his fast deteriorating life. He did not +notice the dominie's stern preoccupation, he was so full of his own +new plans. He began at once to lay them before his old friend; he had +that very day got the estimates from the Edinburgh architect. + +Tallisker looked at them a moment with a gathering anger. Then he +pushed them passionately away, saying in a voice that was almost a +sob, "I darena look at them, laird; I darena look at them! Do you ken +that there are fourteen cases o' typhus in them colliers' cottages you +built? Do you remember what Mr. Selwyn said about the right o' +laborers to pure air and pure water? I knew he was right then, and +yet, God forgive me! I let you tak your ain way. Six little bits o' +bairns, twa women, and six o' your pit men! You must awa to Athol +instanter for doctors and medicines and brandy and such things as are +needfu'. There isna a minute to lose, laird." + +Helen had risen while he was speaking with a calm determination that +frightened her father. He did not answer Tallisker, he spoke to her: +"Where are you going, Helen?" + +"Down to the village; I can do something till better help is got." + +"Helen Crawford, you'll bide where you are! Sit still, and I'll do +whatever Tallisker bids me." + +Then he turned angrily to the dominie. + +"You are aye bringing me ill tidings. Am I to blame if death comes?" + +"Am I my brother's keeper? It's an auld question, laird. The first +murderer of a' asked it. I'm bound to say you are to blame. When you +gie fever an invite to your cotters' homes, you darena lay the blame +on the Almighty. You should hae built as Mr. Selwyn advised." + +"Dominie, be quiet. I'm no a bairn, to be hectored o'er in this way. +Say what I must do and I'll do it--anything in reason--only Helen. +I'll no hae her leave the Keep; that's as sure as deathe. Sit down, +Helen. Send a' the wine and dainties you like to, but don't you stir a +foot o'er the threshold." + +His anger was, in its way, as authoritative as the dominie's. Helen +did as she was bid, more especially as Tallisker in this seconded the +laird. + +"There is naething she could do in the village that some old crone +could not do better." + +It was a bitterly annoying interruption to Crawford's pleasant dreams +and plans. He got up and went over to the works. He found things very +bad there. Three more of the men had left sick, and there was an +unusual depression in the village. The next day the tidings were +worse. He foresaw that he would have to work the men half time, and +there had never been so many large and peremptory orders on hand. It +was all very unfortunate to him. + +Tallisker's self-reproaches were his own; he resented them, even while +he acknowledged their truth. He wished he had built as Selwyn advised; +he wished Tallisker had urged him more. It was not likely he would +have listened to any urging, but it soothed him to think he would. And +he greatly aggravated the dominie's trouble by saying, + +"Why did ye na mak me do right, Tallisker? You should hae been mair +determined wi' me, dominie." + +During the next six weeks the dominie's efforts were almost +superhuman. He saw every cottage whitewashed; he was nurse and doctor +and cook. The laird saw him carrying wailing babies and holding raving +men in his strong arms. He watched over the sick till the last ray of +hope fled; he buried them tenderly when all was over. The splendor of +the man's humanity had never shown itself until it stood erect and +feared not, while the pestilence that walked in darkness and the +destruction that wasted at noon-day dogged his every step. + +The laird, too, tried to do his duty. Plenty of people are willing to +play the Samaritan without the oil and the twopence, but that was not +Crawford's way. Tallisker's outspoken blame had really made him +tremble at his new responsibilities; he had put his hand liberally in +his pocket to aid the sufferers. Perhaps at the foundation of all lay +one haunting thought--Helen! If he did what he could for others, Helen +would safer. He never audibly admitted that Helen was in any danger, +but--but--if there should be danger, he was, he hoped, paying a ransom +for her safety. + +In six weeks the epidemic appeared to have spent itself. There was a +talk of resuming full hours at the works. Twenty new hands had been +sent for to fill vacant places. Still there was a shadow on the +dominie's face, and he knew himself there was a shadow on his heart. +Was it the still solemnity of death in which he had lately lived so +much? Or was it the shadow of a coming instead of a departing sorrow? + +One afternoon he thought he would go and sit with Helen a little +while. During his close intimacy with the colliers he had learned many +things which would change his methods of working for their welfare; +and of these changes he wished to speak with Helen. She was just going +for a walk on the moor, and he went with her. It was on such a +September evening she had walked last with Colin. As they sauntered +slowly, almost solemnly home, she remembered it. Some impulse far +beyond her control or understanding urged her to say, "Dominie, when I +am gone I leave Colin to you." + +He looked at her with a sudden enlightenment. Her face had for a +moment a far-away death-like predestination over it. His heart sank +like lead as he looked at her. + +"Are you ill, Helen?" + +"I have not been well for two weeks." + +He felt her hands; they were burning with fever. + +"Let us go home," she said, and then she turned and gave one long, +mournful look at the mountains and the sea and the great stretch of +moorland. Tallisker knew in his heart she was bidding farewell to +them. He had no word to say. There are moods of the soul beyond all +human intermeddling. + +The silence was broken by Helen. She pointed to the mountains. "How +steadfast they are, how familiar with forgotten years! How small we +are beside them!" + +"I don't think so," said Tallisker stoutly. "Mountains are naething to +men. How small is Sinai when the man Moses stands upon it!" + +Then they were at the Keep garden. Helen pulled a handful of white and +golden asters, and the laird, who had seen them coming, opened the +door wide to welcome them. Alas! Alas! Though he saw it not, death +entered with them. At midnight there was the old, old cry of despair +and anguish, the hurrying for help, where no help was of avail, the +desolation of a terror creeping hour by hour closer to the +hearthstone. + +The laird was stricken with a stony grief which was deaf to all +consolation. He wandered up and down wringing his hands, and crying +out at intervals like a man in mortal agony. Helen lay in a stupor +while the fever burned her young life away. She muttered constantly +the word "Colin;" and Tallisker, though he had no hope that Colin +would ever reach his sister, wrote for the young laird. + +Just before the last she became clearly, almost radiantly conscious. +She would be alone with her father, and the old man, struggling +bravely with his grief, knelt down beside her. She whispered to him +that there was a paper in the jewel-box on her table. He went and got +it. It was a tiny scrap folded crosswise. "Read it, father, when I am +beyond all pain and grief. I shall trust you, dear." He could only bow +his head upon her hands and weep. + +"Tallisker!" she whispered, and he rose softly and called him. The two +men stood together by her side. + +"Is it well, my daughter?" said the dominie, with a tone of tender +triumph in his voice. "You fear not, Helen, the bonds of death?" + +"I trust in those pierced hands which have broken the bonds of death. +Oh! the unspeakable riches!" + +These were her last words. Tallisker prayed softly as the mystical +gray shadow stole over the fair, tranquil face. It was soon all over. + + "She had outsoared the shadow of our night, + And that unrest which men misname delight." + +The bridal robes were folded away, the bridegroom went back to his +regiment, the heartsore father tried to take up his life again. But it +seemed to him to have been broken in two by the blow; and besides +this, there was a little strip of paper which lay like a load upon his +heart. It was the paper he had taken from Helen's dying fingers, and +it contained her last request: + +"Father, dear, dear father, whatever you intended to give me--I pray +you--give it to God's poor. + +"HELEN." + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The dominie had felt certain that Colin would answer his letter in +person, but after a long silence he received it back again. Colin had +left Rome, and left no trace behind him. The laird knew that Tallisker +had written, and he too had been hoping and expecting. But he received +the news of his son's disappearance without remark. Life for some time +was a dreary weight to him, he scarce felt as if he could lift it +again. Hope after hope had failed him. He had longed so to be a rich +man, had God in his anger granted him his wish? And was no other thing +to prosper with him? All the same he clung to his gold with a deeper +affection. When all other vices are old avarice is still young. As +ambition and other motives died out, avarice usurped their places, and +Tallisker saw with a feeling half angry, and half pitiful, the laird's +life dwindling down to this most contemptible of all aims. He kept his +duty as proprietor constantly before the laird, but he no longer +seemed to care that people should say, "Crawford's men have the best +laborers' cottages in Scotland." + +"I hae made up my mind, Tallisker," said fretfully, "the warld thinks +more o' the who mak money than o' those who gie it awa." Certainly +this change was not a sudden one; for two years after Helen's death it +was coming slowly forward, yet there were often times when Tallisker +hoped that it was but a temptation, and would be finally conquered. +Men do not lose the noble savor of humanity in a moment. Even on the +downward road good angels wait anxiously, and whisper in every better +moment to the lapsing soul, "Return!" + +But there was a seed of bitterness in Crawford's heart, that was +poisoning the man's spiritual life--a little bit of paper, yet it lay +like a great stone over his noblest feelings, and sealed them up as in +a sepulchre. Oh, if some angel would come and roll it away! He had +never told the dominie of Helen's bequest. He did not dare to destroy +the slip of paper, but he hid it in the most secret drawer of his +secretary. He told himself that it was only a dying sentiment in Helen +to wish it, and that it would be a foolish superstition in him to +regard it. Perhaps in those last moments she had not understood what +she was asking. + +For a little while he found relief in this suggestion; then he +remembered that the request must have been dictated before the fever +had conquered her strength or judgment. The words were clearly written +in Helen's neat, precise manner; there was not a hesitating line in +the whole. She had evidently written it with care and consideration. +No one could tell how that slip of paper haunted him. Even in the +darkness of its secret hiding-place his spiritual eyes saw it clearly +day and night. + +To give to the poor all he had intended to give to Helen! He could +not! He could not! He could not do it! Helen could not have known what +she was asking. He had meant, in one way or another, to give her, as +the founder of the new line of Crawfords, at least one hundred +thousand pounds. Was it reasonable to scatter hither and yon such a +large sum, earned, as he told himself pitifully, "by his ain wisdom +and enterprise!" + +The dominie knew nothing of this terrible struggle going on ever in +the man's soul who sat by his side. He saw that Crawford was irritable +and moody, but he laid the blame of it on Colin. Oh, if the lad would +only write, he would go himself and bring him back to his father, +though he should have to seek him at the ends of the earth. But four +years passed away, and the prodigal sent no backward, homeward sign. +Every night, then, the laird looked a moment into the dominie's face, +and always the dominie shook his head. Ah, life has silences that are +far more pathetic than death's. + +One night Crawford said, almost in a whisper, + +"He'll be dead, Tallisker." + +And Tallisker answered promptly, + +"He'll come hame, laird." + +No other words about Colin passed between the two men in four years. +But destiny loves surprises. One night Tallisker laid a letter on the +table. + +"It is for you, laird; read it." + +It was a singular letter to come after so long a silence, and the +laird's anger was almost excusable. + +"Listen, Tallisker; did e'er you hear the like? + +"'DEAR FATHER: I want, for a very laudable purpose, L4,000. It is not +for myself in any way. If you will let me have it, I will trouble you +with the proper explanations. If not, they will not be necessary. I +have heard that you are well. I pray God to continue his mercy to you. + +"'Your dutiful son, + +"'COLIN CRAWFORD.' + +"'Laudable purpose!'" cried the unhappy father, in a passion. "The lad +is altogether too laudable. The letter is an insult, Tallisker. I'll +ne'er forgive him for it. Oh, what a miserable father I am!" + +And the dominie was moved to tears at the sight of his old friend's +bitter anguish. + +Still he asserted that Colin had meant it to be a kind letter. + +"Dinna tak want o' sense for want o' affection laird. The lad is a +conceited prig. He's set up wi' himsel' about something he is going to +do. Let him hae the money. I would show him you can gie as grandly as +he can ask loftily." + +And, somehow, the idea pleased the laird. It was something that Colin +had been obliged to ask him for money at all. He sat down and wrote +out a check for the amount. Then he enclosed it with these words: + +"SON COLIN CRAWFORD: I send you what you desire. I am glad your +prospects are sae laudable; maybe it may enter your heart, some day, +to consider it laudable to keep the Fifth Command. Your sister is +dead. Life is lonely, but I thole it. I want nae explanations. + +"Your father, + +"ALEX. CRAWFORD." + +"What's the address, Tallisker?" + +"Regent's Place, London." + +The answer arrived in due time. It was as proper as a letter could be. +Colin said he was just leaving for America, but did not expect to be +more than six months there. But he never said a word about coming to +Crawford. Tallisker was downright angry at the young man. It was true +his father had told him he did not wish to see him again, but that had +been said under a keen sense of family wrong and of bitter +disappointment. Colin ought to have taken his father's ready response +to his request as an overture of reconciliation. For a moment he was +provoked with both of them. + +"You are a dour lot, you Crawfords; ane o' you is prouder than the +ither." + +"The Crawfords are as God made them, dominie." + +"And some o' them a little warse." + +Yet, after all, it was Colin Tallisker was really angry at. For the +present he had to let his anger lie by. Colin had gone, and given him +no address in America. + +"He is feared I will be telling him his duty, and when he comes back +that is what I shall do, if I go to London to mak him hear me." + +For a moment the laird looked hopefully into the dominie's face, but +the hope was yet so far off he could not grasp it. Yet, in a dim, +unacknowledged way it influenced him. He returned to his money-making +with renewed vigor. It was evident he had let the hope of Colin's +return steal into his heart. And the giving of that L4,000 Tallisker +considered almost a sign of grace. It had not been given from any +particularly noble motive; but any motive, not sinful, roused in +opposition to simple avarice, was a gain. He was quite determined now +to find Colin as soon as he returned from America. + +In rather less than six months there were a few lines from Colin, +saying that the money sent had been applied to the proper purpose, and +had nobly fulfilled it. The laird had said he wanted no explanations, +and Colin gave him none. + +Tallisker read the letter with a half smile. + +"He is just the maist contrary, conceited young man I e'er heard tell +o'. Laird, as he wont come to us, I am going to him." + +The laird said nothing. Any grief is better than a grief not sure. It +would be a relief to know all, even if that "all" were painful. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Tallisker was a man as quick in action as in resolve; the next night +he left for London, it was no light journey in those days for a man of +his years, and who had never in all his life been farther away from +Perthshire than Edinburgh. But he feared nothing. He was going into +the wilderness after his own stray sheep, and he had a conviction that +any path of duty is a safe path. He said little to any one. The people +looked strangely on him. He almost fancied himself to be Christian +going through Vanity Fair. + +He went first to Colin's old address in Regent's Place. He did not +expect to find him there, but it might lead him to the right place. +Number 34 Regent's Place proved to be a very grand house. As he went +up to the door, an open carriage, containing a lady and a child, left +it. A man dressed in the Crawford tartan opened the door. + +"Crawford?" inquired Tallisker, "is he at home?" + +"Yes, he is at home;" and the servant ushered him into, a +carefully-shaded room, where marble statues gleamed in dusk corners +and great flowering plants made the air fresh and cool. It as the +first time Tallisker had ever seen a calla lily and he looked with +wonder and delight at the gleaming flowers. And somehow he thought of +Helen. Colin sat in a great leathern chair reading. He did not lift +his head until the door closed and he was sensible the servant had +left some one behind. Then for a moment he could hardly realize who it +was; but when he did, he came forward with a glad cry. + +"Dominie! O Tallisker!" + +"Just so, Colin, my dear lad. O Colin, you are the warst man I ever +kenned. You had a good share o' original sin to start wi', but what +wi' pride and self-will and ill-will, the old trouble is sairly +increased." + +Colin smiled gravely. "I think you misjudge me, dominie." Then +refreshments were sent for, and the two men sat down for a long mutual +confidence. + +Colin's life had not been uneventful. He told it frankly, without +reserve and without pride. When he quarrelled with his father about +entering Parliament, he left Rome at once, and went to Canada. He had +some idea of joining his lot with his own people there. But he found +them in a state of suffering destitution. They had been unfortunate in +their choice of location, and were enduring an existence barer than +the one they had left, without any of its redeeming features. Colin +gave them all he had, and left them with promises of future aid. + +Then he went to New York. When he arrived, there was an intense +excitement over the struggle then going on in the little republic of +Texas. He found out something about the country; as for the struggle, +it was the old struggle of freedom against papal and priestly +dominion. That was a quarrel for which Scotchmen have always been +ready to draw the sword. It was Scotland's old quarrel in the New +World, and Colin went into it heart and soul. His reward had been an +immense tract of the noble rolling Colorado prairie. Then he +determined to bring the Crawfords down, and plant them in this garden +of the Lord. It was for this end he had written to his father for +L4,000. This sum had sufficed to transplant them to their new home, +and give them a start. He had left them happy and contented, and felt +now that in this matter he had absolved his conscience of all wrong. + +"But you ought to hae told the laird. It was vera ill-considered. It +was his affair more than yours. I like the thing you did, Colin, but I +hate the way you did it. One shouldna be selfish even in a good wark." + +"It was the laird's own fault; he would not let me explain." + +"Colin, are you married?" + +"Yes. I married a Boston lady. I have a son three years old. My wife +was in Texas with me. She had a large fortune of her own." + +"You are a maist respectable man, Colin, but I dinna like it at all. +What are you doing wi' your time? This grand house costs something." + +"I am an artist--a successful one, if that is not also against me." + +"Your father would think sae. Oh, my dear lad, you hae gane far astray +from the old Crawford ways." + +"I cannot help that, dominie. I must live according to my light. I am +sorry about father." + +Then the dominie in the most forcible manner painted the old laird's +hopes and cruel disappointments. There were tears in Colin's eyes as +he reasoned with him. And at this point his own son came into the +room. Perhaps for the first time Colin looked at the lad as the future +heir of Crawford. A strange thrill of family and national pride +stirred his heart. He threw the little fellow shoulder high, and in +that moment regretted that he had flung away the child's chance of +being Earl of Crawford. He understood then something of the anger and +suffering his father had endured, and he put the boy down very +solemnly. For if Colin was anything, he was just; if his father had +been his bitterest enemy, he would, at this moment, have acknowledged +his own aggravation. + +Then Mrs. Crawford came in. She had heard all about the dominie, and +she met him like a daughter. Colin had kept his word. This fair, +sunny-haired, blue-eyed woman was the wife he had dreamed about; and +Tallisker told him he had at any rate done right in that matter. "The +bonnie little Republican," as he called her, queened it over the +dominie from the first hour of their acquaintance. + +He stayed a week in London, and during it visited Colin's studio. He +went there at Colin's urgent request, but with evident reluctance. A +studio to the simple dominie had almost the same worldly flavor as a +theatre. He had many misgivings as they went down Pall Mall, but he +was soon reassured. There was a singular air of repose and quiet in +the large, cool room. And the first picture he cast his eyes upon +reconciled him to Colin's most un-Crawford-like taste. + +It was "The Farewell of the Emigrant Clan." The dominie's knees shook, +and he turned pale with emotion. How had Colin reproduced that scene, +and not only reproduced but idealized it! There were the gray sea and +the gray sky, and the gray granite boulder rocks on which the chief +stood, the waiting ships, and the loaded boats, and he himself in the +prow of the foremost one. He almost felt the dear old hymn thrilling +through the still room. In some way, too, Colin had grasped the +grandest points of his father's character. In this picture the man's +splendid physical beauty seemed in some mysterious way to give +assurance of an equally splendid spiritual nature. + +"If this is making pictures, Colin, I'll no say but what you could +paint a sermon, my dear lad. I hae ne'er seen a picture before." Then +he turned to another, and his swarthy face glowed with an intense +emotion. There was a sudden sense of tightening in his throat, and he +put his hand up and slowly raised his hat. It was Prince Charlie +entering Edinburgh. The handsome, unfortunate youth rode bareheaded +amid the Gordons and the Murrays and a hundred Highland noblemen. The +women had their children shoulder high to see him, the citizens, +bonnets up, were pressing up to his bridle-rein. It stirred Tallisker +like a peal of trumpets. With the tears streaming down his glowing +face, he cried out, + +"How daur ye, sir! You are just the warst rebel between the seas! King +George ought to hang you up at Carlisle-gate. And this is painting! +This is artist's wark! And you choose your subjects wisely, Colin: it +is a gift the angels might be proud o'." He lingered long in the room, +and when he left it, "Prince Charlie" and the "Clan's Farewell" were +his own. They were to go back with him to the manse at Crawford. + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +It was, upon the whole, a wonderful week to Tallisker; he returned +home with the determination that the laird must recall his banished. +He had tried to induce Colin to condone all past grievances, but Colin +had, perhaps wisely, said that he could not go back upon a momentary +impulse. The laird must know all, and accept him just as he was. He +had once been requested not to come home unless he came prepared to +enter into political life. He had refused the alternative then, and he +should refuse it again. The laird must understand these things, or the +quarrel would probably be renewed, perhaps aggravated. + +And Tallisker thought that, in this respect, Colin was right. He would +at any rate hide nothing from the laird, he should know all; and +really he thought he ought to be very grateful that the "all" was so +much better than might have been. + +The laird was not glad. A son brought down to eat the husk of evil +ways, poor, sick, suppliant, would have found a far readier welcome. +He would gladly have gone to meet Colin, even while he was yet a great +way off, only he wanted Colin to be weary and footsore and utterly +dependent on his love. He heard with a grim silence Tallisker's +description of the house in Regent's Place, with its flowers and +books, its statues, pictures, and conservatory. When Tallisker told +him of the condition of the Crawfords in Canada, he was greatly moved. +He was interested and pleased with the Texan struggle. He knew nothing +of Texas, had never heard of the country, but Mexicans, Spaniards, and +the Inquisition were one in his mind. + +"That at least was Crawford-like," he said warmly, when told of +Colin's part in the struggle. + +But the subsequent settlement of the clan there hurt him terribly. "He +should hae told me. He shouldna hae minded what I said in such a case. +I had a right to know. Colin has used me vera hardly about this. Has +he not, Tallisker?" + +"Yes, laird, Colin was vera wrong there. He knows it now." + +"What is he doing in such a grand house? How does he live?" + +"He is an artist--a vera great one, I should say." + +"He paints pictures for a living! He! A Crawford o' Traquare! I'll no +believe it, Tallisker." + +"There's naught to fret about, laird. You'll ken that some day. Then +his wife had money." + +"His wife! Sae he is married. That is o' a piece wi' the rest. Wha is +she?" + +"He married an American--a Boston lady." + +Then the laird's passion was no longer controllable, and he said some +things the dominie was very angry at. + +"Laird," he answered, "Mrs. Colin Crawford is my friend. You'll no +daur to speak any way but respectful o' her in my presence. She is as +good as any Crawford that ever trod the heather. She came o' the +English Hampdens. Whar will ye get better blood than that?" + +"No Hampdens that ever lived--" + +"Whist! Whist, laird! The Crawfords are like a' ither folk; they have +twa legs and twa hands." + +"He should hae married a Scots lass, though she had carried a +milking-pail." + +"Laird, let me tell you there will be nae special heaven for the Gael. +They that want to go to heaven by themsel's arena likely to win there +at a'. You may as well learn to live with ither folk here; you'll hae +to do it to a' eternity." + +"If I get to heaven, Dominie Tallisker, I'll hae special graces for +the place. I'm no going to put mysel' in a blazing passion for you +to-night. Yon London woman has bewitched you. She's wanting to come to +the Keep, I'll warrant." + +"If ye saw the hame she has you wouldna warrant your ain word a minute +longer, laird. And I'm sure I dinna see what she would want to hae twa +Crawfords to guide for. One is mair than enough whiles. It's a wonder +to me how good women put up wi' us at all!" + +"_Humff!_" said the laird scornfully. "Too many words on a spoiled +subject." + +"I must say one mair, though. There is a little lad, a bonnie, brave, +bit fellow, your ain grandson, Crawford." + +"An American Crawford!" And the laird laughed bitterly. "A foreigner! +an alien! a Crawford born in England! Guid-night, Tallisker! We'll +drop the subject, an it please you." + +Tallisker let it drop. He had never expected the laird to give in at +the first cry of "Surrender." But he reflected that the winter was +coming, and that its long nights would give plenty of time for thought +and plenty of opportunities for further advocacy. He wrote constantly +to Colin and his wife, perhaps oftener to Mrs. Crawford than to the +young laird, for she was a woman of great tact and many resources, and +Tallisker believed in her. + +Crawford had said a bitter word about her coming to the Keep, and +Tallisker could not help thinking what a blessing she would be there; +for one of Crawford's great troubles now was the wretchedness of his +household arrangements. The dainty cleanliness and order which had +ruled it during Helen's life were quite departed. The garden was +neglected, and all was disorder and discomfort. Now it is really +wonderful how much of the solid comfort of life depends upon a +well-arranged home, and the home must depend upon some woman. Men may +mar the happiness of a household, but they cannot make it. Women are +the happiness makers. The laird never thought of it in this light, but +he did know that he was very uncomfortable. + +"I canna even get my porridge made right," he said fretfully to the +dominie. + +"You should hae a proper person o'er them ne'er-do-weel servants o' +yours, laird. I ken one that will do you." + +"Wha is she?" + +"A Mrs. Hope." + +"A widow?" + +"No, not a widow, but she is not living with her husband." + +"Then she'll ne'er win into my house, dominie." + +"She has good and sufficient reasons. I uphold her. Do you think I +would sanction aught wrong, laird?" + +No more was said at that time, but a month afterwards Mrs. Hope had +walked into the Keep and taken everything in her clever little hands. +Drunken, thieving, idle servants had been replaced by men and women +thoroughly capable and efficient. The laird's tastes were studied, his +wants anticipated, his home became bright, restful, and quiet. The +woman was young and wonderfully pretty, and Crawford soon began to +watch her with a genuine interest. + +"She'll be ane o' the Hopes o' Beaton," he thought; "she is vera like +them." + +At any rate he improved under her sway, for being thoroughly +comfortable himself, he was inclined to have consideration for others. + +One afternoon, as he came from the works, it began to snow. He turned +aside to the manse to borrow a plaid of Tallisker. He very seldom went +to the manse, but in the keen, driving snow the cheerful fire gleaming +through the window looked very inviting. He thought he would go in and +take a cup of tea with Tallisker. + +"Come awa in, laird," cried old Janet, "come awa in. You are a sight +good for sair e'en. The dominie will be back anon, and I'll gie ye a +drap o' hot tay till he comes." + +So the laird went in, and the first thing he saw was Colin's picture +of "The Clan's Farewell." It moved him to his very heart. He divined +at once whose work it was, and he felt that it was wonderful. It must +be acknowledged, too, that he was greatly pleased with Colin's +conception of himself. + +"I'm no a bad-looking Crawford," he thought complacently; "the lad has +had a vera clear notion o' what he was doing." + +Personal flattery is very subtle and agreeable. Colin rose in his +father's opinion that hour. + +Then he turned to Prince Charlie. How strange is that vein of romantic +loyalty marbling the granite of Scotch character! The common-place man +of coal and iron became in the presence of his ideal prince a feudal +chieftain again. His heart swelled to that pictured face as the great +sea swells to the bending moon. He understood in that moment how his +fathers felt it easy to pin on the white cockade and give up +everything for an impossible loyalty. + +The dominie found him in this mood. He turned back to every-day life +with a sigh. + +"Weel, dominie, you are a man o' taste. When did you begin buying +pictures?" + +"I hae no money for pictures, laird. The artist gave me them." + +"You mean Colin Crawford gave you them." + +"That is what I mean." + +"Weel, I'm free to say Colin kens how to choose grand subjects. I +didna think there was so much in a picture. I wouldna dare to keep +that poor dear prince in my house. I shouldna be worth a bawbee at the +works. It was a wonderfu' wise step, that forbidding o' pictures in +the kirks. I can vera weel see how they would lead to a sinfu' +idolatry." + +"Yes, John Knox kent well the temper o' the metal he had to work. +There's nae greater hero-worshippers than Scots folk. They are aye +making idols for themsel's. Whiles it's Wallace, then it's Bruce or +Prince Charlie; nay, there are decent, pious folk that gie Knox +himsel' a honoring he wouldna thank them for. But, laird, there is a +mair degraded idolatry still--that o' gold. We are just as ready as +ever the Jews were to fall down before a calf, an' it only be a golden +one." + +"Let that subject alane, dominie. It will tak a jury o' rich men to +judge rich men. A poor man isna competent. The rich hae straits the +poor canna fathom." + +And then he saw in light as clear as crystal a slip of paper hid away +in a secret drawer. + +Just at this moment a little lad bairn entered the room; a child with +bright, daring eyes, and a comically haughty, confident manner. He +attracted Crawford's attention at once. + +"What's your name, my wee man?" + +"Alexander is my name." + +"That is my name." + +"It is not," he answered positively; "don't say that any more." + +"Will you hae a sixpence?" + +"Yes, I will. Money is good. It buys sweeties." + +"Whose boy is that, dominie?" + +"Mrs. Hope's. I thought he would annoy you. He is a great pleasure to +me." + +"Let him come up to the Keep whiles. I'll no mind him." + +When he rose to go he stood a moment before each picture, and then +suddenly asked, + +"Whar is young Crawford?" + +"In Rome." + +"A nice place for him to be! He'd be in Babylon, doubtless, if it was +on the face o' the earth." + +When he went home he shut himself in his room and almost stealthily +took out that slip of paper. It had begun to look yellow and faded, +and Crawford had a strange fancy that it had a sad, pitiful +appearance. He held it in his hand a few moments and then put it back +again. It would be the new year soon, and he would decide then. He had +made similar promises often; they always gave him temporary comfort. + +Then gradually another element of pleasure crept into his life--Mrs. +Hope's child. The boy amused him; he never resented his pretty, +authoritative ways; a queer kind of companionship sprang up between +them. It was one of perfect equality every way; an old man easily +becomes a little child. And those who only knew Crawford among coals +and pig iron would have been amazed to see him keeping up a mock +dispute with this baby. + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +One day, getting towards the end of December, the laird awoke in a +singular mood. He had no mind to go to the works, and the weather +promised to give him a good excuse. Over the dreary hills there was a +mournful floating veil of mist. Clouds were flying rapidly in great +masses, and showers streaming through the air in disordered ranks, +driven furiously before a mad wind--a wind that before noon shook the +doors and windows, and drove the bravest birds into hiding. + +The laird wandered restlessly up and down. + +"There is the dominie," cried Mrs. Hope, about one o'clock. "What +brings him here through such a storm?" + +Crawford walked to the door to meet him. He came striding over the +soaking moor with his plaid folded tightly around him and his head +bent before the blast. He was greatly excited. + +"Crawford, come wi' me. The Athol passenger packet is driving before +this wind, and there is a fishing smack in her wake." + +"Gie us some brandy wi' us, Mrs. Hope, and you'll hae fires and +blankets and a' things needfu' in case O' accident, ma'am." He was +putting on his bonnet and plaid as he spoke, and in five minutes the +men were hastening to the seaside. + +It was a deadly coast to be on in a storm with a gale blowing to land. +A long reef of sharp rocks lay all along it, and now the line of +foaming breakers was to any ship a terrible omen of death and +destruction. The packet was almost helpless, and the laird and +Tallisker found a crowd of men waiting the catastrophe that was every +moment imminent. + +"She ought to hae gien hersel' plenty o' sea room," said the laird. He +was half angry to see all the interest centred on the packet. The +little fishing cobble was making, in his opinion, a far more sensible +struggle for existence. She was managing her small resources with +desperate skill. + +"Tallisker," said the laird, "you stay here with these men. Rory and I +are going half a mile up the coast. If the cobble drives on shore, the +current will take a boat as light as she is over the Bogie Rock and +into the surf yonder. There are doubtless three or four honest men in +her, quite as weel worth the saving as those stranger merchant bodies +that will be in the packet." + +So Crawford and Rory hastened to the point they had decided on, and +just as they reached it the boat became unmanageable. The wind took +her in its teeth, shook her a moment or two like a thing of straw and +rags, and then flung her, keel upwards, on the Bogie Rock. Two of the +men were evidently good swimmers; the others were a boy and an old +man. Crawford plunged boldly in after the latter. The waves buffeted +him, and flung him down, and lifted him up, but he was a fine surf +swimmer, and he knew every rock on that dangerous coast. After a hard +struggle, all were brought safe to land. + +Then they walked back to where the packet had been last seen. She had +gone to pieces. A few men waited on the beach, picking up the dead, +and such boxes and packages as were dashed on shore. Only three of all +on board had been rescued, and they had been taken to the Keep for +succor and rest. + +The laird hastened home. He had not felt as young for many years. The +struggle, though one of life and death, had not wearied him like a +day's toil at the works, for it had been a struggle to which the soul +had girded itself gladly, and helped and borne with it the mortal +body. He came in all glowing and glad; a form lay on his own couch +before the fire. The dominie and Mrs. Hope were bending over it. As he +entered, Mrs. Hope sprang forward-- + +"Father!" + +"Eh? Father? What is this?" + +"Father, it is Colin." + +Then he knew it all. Colin stretched out a feeble hand towards him. He +was sorely bruised and hurt, he was white and helpless and death-like. + +"Father!" + +And the father knelt down beside him. Wife and friend walked softly +away. In the solemn moment when these two long-parted souls met again +there was no other love that could inter-meddle. + +"My dear father--forgive me!" + +Then the laird kissed his recovered son, and said tenderly, + +"Son Colin, you are all I have, and all I have is yours." + +"Father, my wife and son." + +Then the old man proudly and fondly kissed Hope Crawford too, and he +clasped the little lad in his arms. He was well pleased that Hope had +thought it worth while to minister to his comfort, and let him learn +how to know her fairly. + +"But it was your doing, Tallisker, I ken it was; it has your mark on +it." And he grasped his old friend's hand with a very hearty grip. + +"Not altogether, laird. Colin had gone to Rome on business, and you +were in sair discomfort, and I just named it to Mrs. Hope. After a' it +was her proposal. Naebody but a woman would hae thought o' such a way +to win round you." + +Perhaps it was well that Colin was sick and very helpless for some +weeks. During them the two men learned to understand and to respect +each other's peculiarities. Crawford himself was wonderfully happy; he +would not let any thought of the past darken his heart. He looked +forward as hopefully as if he were yet on the threshold of life. + +O mystery of life! from what depths proceed thy comforts and thy +lessons! One morning at very early dawn Crawford awoke from a deep +sleep in an indescribable awe. In some vision of the night he had +visited that piteous home which memory builds, and where only in sleep +we walk. Whom had he seen there? What message had he received? This he +never told. He had been "spoken to." + +Tallisker was not the man to smile at any such confidence. He saw no +reason why God's messengers should not meet his children in the +border-land of dreams. Thus he had counselled and visited the +patriarchs and prophets of old. He was a God who changeth not; and if +he had chosen to send Crawford a message in this way, it was doubtless +some special word, for some special duty or sorrow. But he had really +no idea of what Crawford had come to confess to him. + +"Tallisker, I hae been a man in a sair strait for many a year. I hae +not indeed hid the Lord's talent in a napkin, but I hae done a warse +thing; I hae been trading wi' it for my ain proper advantage. O +dominie, I hae been a wretched man through it all. Nane ken better +than I what a hard master the deil is." + +Then he told the dominie of Helen's bequest. He went over all the +arguments with which he had hitherto quieted his conscience, and he +anxiously watched their effect upon Tallisker. He had a hope even yet +that the dominie might think them reasonable. But the table at which +they sat was not less demonstrative than Tallisker's face; for once he +absolutely controlled himself till the story was told. Then he said to +Crawford, + +"I'll no tak any responsibility in a matter between you and your +conscience. If you gie it, gie it without regret and without holding +back. Gie it cheerfully; God loves a cheerful giver. But it isna wi' +me you'll find the wisdom to guide you in this matter. Shut yoursel' +in your ain room, and sit down at the foot o' the cross and think it +out. It is a big sum to gie away, but maybe, in the face o' that +stupendous Sacrifice it willna seem so big. I'll walk up in the +evening, laird; perhaps you will then hae decided what to do." + +Crawford was partly disappointed. He had hoped that Tallisker would in +some way take the burden from him--he had instead sent him to the foot +of the cross. He did not feel as if he dared to neglect the advice; so +he went thoughtfully to his own room and locked the door. Then he took +out his private ledger. Many a page had been written the last ten +years. It was the book of a very rich man. He thought of all his +engagements and plans and hopes, and of how the withdrawal of so large +a sum would affect them. + +Then he took out Helen's last message, and sat down humbly with it +where Tallisker had told him to sit. Suddenly Helen's last words came +back to him, "Oh! the unspeakable riches!" What of? The cross of +Christ--the redemption from eternal death--the promise of eternal +life! Sin is like a nightmare; when we stir under it, we awake. +Crawford sat thinking until his heart burned and softened, and great +tears rolled slowly down his cheeks and dropped upon the paper in his +hands. Then he thought of the richness of his own life--Colin and +Hope, and the already beloved child Alexander--of his happy home, of +the prosperity of his enterprises, of his loyal and loving friend +Tallisker. What a contrast to the Life he had been told to remember! +that pathetic Life that had not where to lay its head, that mysterious +agony in Gethsemane, that sublime death on Calvary, and he cried out, +"O Christ! O Saviour of my soul! all that I have is too little!" + +When Tallisker came in the evening, Hope noticed a strange solemnity +about the man. He, too, had been in the presence of God all day. He +had been praying for his friend. But as soon as he saw Crawford he +knew how the struggle had ended. Quietly they grasped each other's +hand, and the evening meal was taken by Colin's side in pleasant +cheerfulness. After it, when all were still, the laird spoke: + +"Colin and Hope, I hae something I ought to tell you. When your sister +Helen died she asked me to gie her share o' the estate to the poor +children of our Father. I had intended giving Helen L100,000. It is a +big sum, and I hae been in a sair strait about it. What say you, +Colin?" + +"My dear father, I say there is only one way out of that strait. The +money must be given as Helen wished it. Helen was a noble girl. It was +just like her." + +"Ah, Colin, if you could only tell what a burden this bit o' paper has +been to me! I left the great weight at the foot o' the cross this +morning." As he spoke the paper dropped from his fingers and fell upon +the table. Colin lifted it reverently and kissed it. "Father," he +said, "may I keep it now? The day will come when the Crawfords will +think with more pride of it than of any parchment they possess." + +Then there was an appeal to Tallisker about its disposal. "Laird," he +answered, "such a sum must be handled wi' great care. It is not enough +to gie money, it must be gien wisely." But he promised to take on +himself the labor of inquiry into different charities, and the +consideration of what places and objects needed help most. "But, +Crawford," he said, "if you hae any special desire, I think it should +be regarded." + +Then Crawford said he had indeed one. When he was himself young he had +desired greatly to enter the ministry, but his father had laid upon +him a duty to the family and estate which he had accepted instead. + +"Now, dominie," he said, "canna I keep aye a young man in my place?" + +"It is a worthy thought, Crawford." + +So the first portion of Helen's bequest went to Aberdeen University. +This endowment has sent out in Crawford's place many a noble young man +into the harvest-field of the world, and who shall say for how many +centuries it will keep his name green in earth and heaven! The +distribution of the rest does not concern our story. It may safely be +left in Dominie Tallisker's hands. + +Of course, in some measure it altered Crawford's plans. The new house +was abandoned and a wing built to the Keep for Colin's special use. In +this portion the young man indulged freely his poetic, artistic +tastes. And the laird got to like it. He used to tread softly as soon +as his feet entered the large shaded rooms, full of skilful lights and +white gleaming statues. He got to enjoy the hot, scented atmosphere +and rare blossoms of the conservatory, and it became a daily delight +to him to sit an hour in Colin's studio and watch the progress of some +favorite picture. + +But above all his life was made rich by his grandson. Nature, as she +often does, reproduced in the second generation what she had totally +omitted in the first. The boy was his grandfather over again. They +agreed upon every point. It was the laird who taught Alexander to +spear a salmon, and throw a trout-line, and stalk a deer. They had +constant confidences about tackle and guns and snares. They were all +day together on the hills. The works pleased the boy better than his +father's studio. He trotted away with his grandfather gladly to them. +The fires and molten metal, the wheels and hammers and tumult, were +all enchantments to him. He never feared to leap into a collier's +basket and swing down the deep, black shaft. He had also an +appreciative love of money; he knew just how many sixpences he owned, +and though he could give if asked to do so, he always wanted the +dominie to give him a good reason for giving. The child gave him back +again his youth, and a fuller and nobler one than he himself had +known. + +And God was very gracious to him, and lengthened out this second youth +to a green old age. These men of old Gaul had iron constitutions; they +did not begin to think themselves old men until they had turned +fourscore. It was thirty years after Helen's death when Tallisker one +night sent this word to his life-long friend, + +"I hae been called, Crawford; come and see me once more." + +They all went together to the manse. The dominie was in his +ninety-first year, and he was going home. No one could call it dying. +He had no pain. He was going to his last sleep + + "As sweetly as a child, + Whom neither thought disturbs nor care encumbers, + Tired with long play, at close of summer's day + Lies down and slumbers." + +"Good-by, Crawford--for a little while. We'll hae nae tears. I hae +lived joyfully before my God these ninety years; I am going out o' the +sunshine into the sunshine. Crawford, through that sair strait o' +yours you hae set a grand, wide-open door for a weight o' happiness. I +am glad ye didna wait. A good will is a good thing, but a good life is +far better. It is a grand thing to sow your ain good seed. Nae ither +hand could hae done it sae well and sae wisely. Far and wide there are +lads and lasses growing up to call you blessed. This is a thought to +mak death easy, Crawford. Good-night, dears." + +And then "God's finger touched him and he slept." + +Crawford lived but a few weeks longer. After the dominie's death he +simply sat waiting. His darling Alexander came home specially to +brighten these last hours, and in his company he showed almost to the +last hour the true Crawford spirit. + +"Alexander," he would say, "you'll ding for your ain side and the +Crawfords always, but you'll be a good man; there is nae happiness +else, dear. Never rest, my lad, till ye sit where your fathers sat in +the House o' Peers. Stand by the State and the Kirk, and fear God, +Alexander. The lease o' the Cowden Knowes is near out; don't renew it. +Grip tight what ye hae got, but pay every debt as if God wrote the +bill. Remember the poor, dear lad. Charity gies itsel' rich. Riches +mak to themselves wings, but charity clips the wings. The love o' God, +dear, the love o' God--that is the best o' all." + +Yes, he had a sair struggle with his lower nature to the very last, +but he was constantly strengthened by the conviction of a "Power +closer to him than breathing, nearer than hands or feet." Nine weeks +after the dominie's death they found him sitting in his chair, fallen +on that sleep whose waking is eternal day. His death was like +Tallisker's--a perfectly natural one. He had been reading. The Bible +lay open at that grand peroration of St. Paul's on faith, in the +twelfth of Hebrews. The "great cloud of witnesses," "the sin which +doth so easily beset us," "Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our +faith"--these were probably his last earthly thoughts, and with them +he passed into + + "That perfect presence of His face + Which we, for want of words, call heaven." + + + + +James Blackie's Revenge. + + + + +JAMES BLACKIE'S REVENGE. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Few people who have travelled will deny that of all cities Glasgow is +apparently the least romantic. Steeped in wet, white mist, or wrapped +in yellow fog vapor, all gray stone and gray sky, dirty streets, and +sloppy people, it presents none of the features of a show town. Yet it +has great merits; it is enterprising, persevering, intensely national, +and practically religious; and people who do not mind being damp have +every chance to make a good living there. Even the sombre appearance +of the dark gray granite of which it is built is not unsuitable to the +sterling character of its people; for though this stone may be dull +and ugly, there is a natural nobility about it, and it never can be +mean. + +I have said that, as a city, Glasgow is practically religious, and +certainly this was the case something less than half a century ago. +The number of its churches was not more remarkable than the piety and +learning of its clergy; and the "skailing" of their congregations on a +Sabbath afternoon was one of the most impressive sights, of its kind, +in the world. + +My true little story opens with the skailing of the Ramshorn Kirk, a +very favorite place of worship with the well-to-do burghers of the +east end of the city, and it was a peculiarly douce, decent, +solemn-looking crowd that slowly and reverently passed out of its +gates into the absolutely silent streets. For no vehicles of any kind +disturbed the Sabbath stillness, and not until the people had gone +some distance from the house of God did they begin to think their own +thoughts, and with a certain grave reserve put them into words. + +Among the groups who proceeded still farther east, towards the +pleasant houses facing the "Green," one alone was remarkable enough to +have elicited special notice from an observing stranger. It consisted +of an old man and a young girl, evidently his daughter. Both were +strikingly handsome, and the girl was much better dressed than the +majority of women who took the same road. Long before they reached the +Green they were joined by a younger man, whom the elder at once +addressed in a reproving voice. + +"Ye didna pay as much attention to the sermon as it behooved ye to do, +James Blackie; and what for did ye speak to Robert Laird a'most within +'the Gates'?" + +"I only asked if he had heard of the 'Bonnie Bess;' she is overdue +five days, and eight good men in her, not to speak of the cargo." + +"It's no cannie to be aye asking questions. Sit still and the news +will come to ye: forbye, I'm no sure if yon was a lawfu' question; the +Sabbath sun hasna set yet." + +James Blackie mechanically turned to the west, and then slowly let his +glance fall on the lovely face at his side. + +"Christine," he asked softly, "how is all with you?" + +"All is well, James." + +Not another word was spoken until they reached David Cameron's home. +He was carefully reconsidering the sermon--going over every point on +his finger ends, lest he should drop any link of the argument; and +James and Christine were listening to his criticisms and remarks. They +all stopped before a shop over the windows of which was painted, +"David Cameron, Dealer in Fine Teas;" and David, taking a large key +from his pocket, opened the door, and said, + +"Come in and eat wi' us, James; ye ken ye're welcome." + +"Our friendship, Mr. Cameron, is a kind of Montgomery division--all on +one side, nothing on the other; but I am 'so by myself' that I thank +you heartily." + +So David, followed by Christine and James, passed slowly through the +darkened store, with its faint smells of Eastern spices and fragrant +teas, into the little parlor beyond. The early winter night had now +fallen, and the room, having only an outlet into a small court, would +have been dark also but for the red glow of the "covered" fire. David +took the poker and struck the great block of coal, and instantly the +cheerful blaze threw an air of cosey and almost picturesque comfort +over the homelike room. + +The two men sat down beside the fire, spreading their hands to its +warmth, and apparently finding their own thoughts excellent company, +for neither of them spoke or moved until Christine reappeared. She had +divested herself of the handsome black satin and velvet which formed +her kirk suit; but in her long, plain dress of gray winsey, with a +snowy lawn kerchief and cuffs, she looked still more fair and lovable. + +James watched her as she spread the cloth and produced from various +cupboards cold meats and pastries, bread and cakes, and many kinds of +delicate preserves and sweetmeats. Her large, shapely hands among the +gold-and-white china fascinated him, while her calm, noiseless, +unhurried movements induced a feeling of passive repose that it +required an effort to dispel, when she said in a low, even voice, + +"Father, the food is waiting for the blessing." + +It was a silent but by no means an unhappy meal. David was a good man, +and he ate his food graciously and gratefully, dropping now and then a +word of praise or thanks; and James felt it delightful enough to watch +Christine. For James, though he had not yet admitted the fact to his +own heart, loved Christine Cameron as men love only once, with that +deep, pure affection that has perchance a nearer kindred than this +life has hinted of. + +He thought her also exquisitely beautiful, though this opinion would +not have been indorsed by a majority of men. For Christine had one of +those pale, statuesque faces apt to be solemn in repose; its beauty +was tender and twilight, its expression serious and steadfast, and her +clear, spiritual eyes held in them no light of earthly passion. She +had grown up in that little back parlor amid the din and tumult of the +city, under the gray, rainy skies, and surrounded by care and sin, as +a white lily grows out of the dark, damp soil, drawing from the +elements around only sweetness and purity. + +She was very silent this afternoon, but apparently very happy. Indeed, +there was an expression on her face which attracted her father's +attention, and he said, + +"The sermon has pleased thee well, I see, Christine." + +"The sermon was good, but the text was enough, father. I think it over +in my heart, and it leaves a light on all the common things of life." +And she repeated it softly, "O Thou preserver of men, unto Thee shall +all flesh come." + +David lifted his bonnet reverently, and James, who was learned in what +the Scotch pleasantly call "the humanities," added slowly, + + "'But I, the mortal, + Planted so lowly, with death to bless me, + I sorrow no longer.'" + +When people have such subjects of conversation, they talk +moderately--for words are but poor interpreters of emotions whose +sources lie in the depths of eternity. But they were none the less +happy, and James felt as if he had been sitting at one of those tables +which the Lord "prepareth in the wilderness," where the "cup runneth +over" with joy and content. + +Such moments rarely last long; and it is doubtful if we could bear to +keep the soul always to its highest bent. When Christine had sided +away the dishes and put in order the little room, David laid down his +pipe, and said, "The Lord's day being now over, I may speak anent my +ain matters. I had a letter, Christine, on Saturday, from my +brother-in-law, McFarlane. He says young Donald will be in Glasgow +next week." + +"Will he stay here, father?" + +"Na, na; he'll bide wi' the McFarlanes. They are rich folk; but siller +is nae sin--an' it be clean-won siller." + +"Then why did Uncle McFarlane write to you, father?" + +"He wrote concerning the lad's pecuniary matters, Christine. Young +Donald will need gude guiding; and he is my sister Jessie's only +bairn--blood is thicker than water, ye'll allow that--and Donald is o' +gentle blood. I'm no saying that's everything; but it is gude to come +o' a gude kind." + +"The McFarlanes have aye been for the pope and the Stuarts," said +James, a little scornfully. "They were 'out' in the '79'; and they +would pin the white cockade on to-morrow, if there was ever a Stuart +to bid them do it." + +"Maybe they would, James. Hielandmen hae a way o' sticking to auld +friends. There's Camerons I wadna go bail for, if Prince Charlie could +come again; but let that flea stick to the wa'. And the McFarlanes +arena exactly papist noo; the twa last generations hae been +'Piscopals--that's ane step ony way towards the truth. Luther mayna be +John Knox, but they'll win up to him some time, dootless they will." + +"How old is young McFarlane?" asked James. + +"He is turned twenty--a braw lad, his father says. I hae ne'er seen +him, but he's Jessie's bairn, and my heart gaes out to meet him." + +"Why did you not tell me on Saturday, father? I could have spoken for +Maggie Maclean to help me put the house in order." + +"I didna get the letter till the evening post. It was most as good as +Sabbath then. Housecleaning is an unco temptation to women-folk, so I +keepit the news till the Sabbath sun was weel set." + +During this conversation James Blackie's heart had become heavy with +some sad presentiment of trouble, such as arise very naturally in +similar circumstances. As a poet says, + + "Ah, no! it is not all delusion, + That strange intelligence of sorrow + Searching the tranquil heart's seclusion, + Making us quail before the morrow. + 'Tis the farewell of happiness departing, + The sudden tremor of a soul at rest; + The wraith of coming grief upstarting + Within the watchful breast." + +He listened to David Cameron's reminiscences of his bonnie sister +Jessie, and of the love match she had made with the great Highland +chieftain, with an ill-disguised impatience. He had a Lowlander's +scorn for the thriftless, fighting, freebooting traditions of the +Northern clans and a Calvinist's dislike to the Stuarts and the +Stuarts' faith; so that David's unusual emotion was exceedingly and, +perhaps, unreasonably irritating to him. He could not bear to hear him +speak with trembling voice and gleaming eyes of the grand mountains +and the silent corries around Ben-Nevis, the red deer trooping over +the misty steeps, and the brown hinds lying among the green plumes of +fern, and the wren and the thrush lilting in song together. + +"Oh, the bonnie, bonnie Hielands!" cried David with a passionate +affection; "it is always Sabbath up i' the mountains, Christine. I +maun see them once again ere I lay by my pilgrim-staff and shoon for +ever." + +"Then you are not Glasgow born, Mr. Cameron," said James, with the air +of one who finds out something to another's disadvantage. + +"Me! Glasgo' born! Na, na, man! I was born among the mountains o' +Argyle. It was a sair downcome fra them to the Glasgo' pavements. But +I'm saying naething against Glasgo'. I was but thinking o' the days +when I wore the tartan and climbed the hills in the white dawns, and, +kneeling on the top o' Ben Na Keen, saw the sun sink down wi' a smile. +It's little ane sees o' sunrising or sunsetting here, James," and +David sighed heavily and wiped away the tender mist from his sight. + +James looked at the old man with some contempt; he himself had been +born and reared in one or other of the closest and darkest streets of +the city. The memories of his loveless, hard-worked childhood were +bitter to him, and he knew nothing of the joy of a boyhood spent in +the hills and woods. + +"Life is the same everywhere, Mr. Cameron. I dare say there is as much +sin and as much worry and care among the mountains as on the Glasgow +pavements." + +"You may 'daur say' it, James, but that winna mak it true. Even in +this warld our Father's house has many mansions. Gang your way up and +up through thae grand solitudes and ye'll blush to be caught worrying +among them." + +And then in a clear, jubilant voice he broke into the old Scotch +version of the 121st Psalm: + + "I to the hills will lift mine eyes + from whence doth come mine aid; + My safety cometh from the Lord, + who heaven and earth hath made." + +And he sang it to that loveliest of all psalm tunes, Rathiel's "St. +Mary's." It was impossible to resist the faith, the enthusiasm, the +melody. At the second bar Christine's clear, sweet voice joined in, +and at the second line James was making a happy third. + + "Henceforth thy goings out and in + God keep for ever will." + +"Thae twa lines will do for a 'Gude-night,'" said David in the pause +at the end of the psalm, and James rose with a sigh and wrapped his +plaid around him. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +James had gone into the house so happy and hopeful, he left it so +anxious and angry--yes, angry. He knew well that he had no just cause +for anger, but that knowledge only irritated him the more. Souls, as +well as bodies, are subject to malignant diseases, and to-night envy +and jealousy were causing James Blackie more acute suffering than any +attack of fever or contagion. A feeling of dislike towards young +Donald McFarlane had taken possession of his heart; he lay awake to +make a mental picture of the youth, and then he hated the picture he +had made. + +Feverish and miserable, he went next morning to the bank in which he +was employed, and endeavored amid the perplexities of compound +interest to forget the anxieties he had invented for himself. But it +was beyond his power, and he did not pray about them; for the burdens +we bind on our own shoulders we rarely dare to go to God with, and +James might have known from this circumstance alone that his trouble +was no lawful one. He nursed it carefully all day and took it to bed +with him again at night. The next day he had begun to understand how +envy grew to hatred, and hatred to murder. Still he did not go to God +for help, and still he kept ever before his eyes the image of the +youth that he had determined was to be his enemy. + +On Thursday night he could no longer bear his uncertainties. He +dressed himself carefully and went to David Cameron's. David was in +his shop tasting and buying teas, and apparently absorbed in business. +He merely nodded to James, and bid him "walk through." He had no +intention of being less kindly than usual, but James was in such a +suspicious temper that he took his preoccupation for coolness, and so +it was almost with a resentful feeling he opened the half-glass door +dividing the shop from the parlor. + +As his heart had foretold him, there sat the youth whom he had +determined to hate, but his imagination had greatly deceived him with +regard to his appearance. He had thought of Donald only as a "fair, +false Highlander" in tartan, kilt, and philibeg. He found him a tall, +dark youth, richly dressed in the prevailing Southern fashion, and +retaining no badge of his country's costume but the little Glengary +cap with its chieftain's token of an eagle's feather. His manners were +not rude and haughty, as James had decided they would be; they were +singularly frank and pleasant. Gracious and graceful, exceedingly +handsome and light-hearted, he was likely to prove a far more +dangerous rival than even James' jealous heart had anticipated. + +He rose at Christine's introduction, and offered his hand with a +pleasant smile to James. The latter received the courtesy with such +marked aversion that Donald slightly raised his eyebrows ere he +resumed his interrupted conversation with Christine. And now that +James sat down with a determination to look for offences he found +plenty. Christine was sewing, and Donald sat beside her winding and +unwinding her threads, playing with her housewife, or teasingly hiding +her scissors. Christine, half pleased and half annoyed, gradually fell +into Donald's mood, and her still face dimpled into smiles. James very +quickly decided that Donald presumed in a very offensive manner on his +relationship to Christine. + +A little after nine o'clock David, having closed his shop, joined them +in the parlor. He immediately began to question James about the loss +of the "Bonnie Bess," and from that subject they drifted easily into +others of a local business interest. It was very natural that Donald, +being a stranger both to the city and its business, should take no +part in this discourse, and that he should, in consequence, devote +himself to Christine. But James felt it an offence, and rose much +earlier than was his wont to depart. David stayed him, almost +authoritatively: + +"Ye maun stop, baith o' ye lads, and join in my meat and worship. They +are ill visitors that canna sit at ane board and kneel at ane altar." + +For David had seen, through all their drifting talk of ships and +cargoes, the tumult in James' heart, and he did not wish him to go +away in an ungenerous and unjust temper. So both Donald and James +partook of the homely supper of pease brose and butter, oatmeal cakes +and fresh milk, and then read aloud with David and Christine the +verses of the evening Psalm that came to each in turn. James was much +softened by the exercise; so much so that when Donald asked permission +to walk with him as far as their way lay together, he very pleasantly +acceded to the request. And Donald was so bright and unpretentious it +was almost impossible to resist the infectious good temper which +seemed to be his characteristic. + +Still James was very little happier or more restful. He lay awake +again, but this night it was not to fret and fume, but to calmly think +over his position and determine what was best and right to do. For +James still thought of "right," and would have been shocked indeed if +any angel of conscience had revealed to him the lowest depths of his +desires and intentions. In the first place, he saw that David would +tolerate no element of quarrelling and bitterness in his peaceful +home, and that if he would continue to visit there he must preserve +the semblance of friendship for Donald McFarlane. In the second, he +saw that Donald had already made so good his lien upon his uncle's and +cousin's affections that it would be very hard to make them believe +wrong of the lad, even if he should do wrong, though of this James +told himself there would soon be abundance. + +"For the things David will think sinful beyond all measure," he +argued, "will seem but Puritanical severity to him; forbye, he is +rich, gay, handsome, and has little to do with his time, he'll get +well on to Satan's ground before he knows it;" and then some whisper +dim and low in his soul made him blush and pause and defer the +following out of a course which was to begin in such a way. + +So Donald and he fell into the habit of meeting at David's two or +three nights every week, and an apparent friendship sprang up between +them. It was only apparent, however. On Donald's side was that +good-natured indifference that finds it easy enough to say smooth +words, and is not ready to think evil or to take offence; on James' +part a wary watchfulness, assuming the role of superior wisdom, half +admiring and half condemning Donald's youthful spirits and ways. + +David was quite deceived; he dropped at once the authoritative manner +which had marked his displeasure when he perceived James' disposition +to envy and anger; he fell again into his usual pleasant familiar +talks with the young man, for David thought highly of James as of one +likely to do his duty to God and himself. + +In these conversations Donald soon began to take a little share, and +when he chose to do so, evinced a thought and shrewdness which greatly +pleased his uncle; more generally, however, he was at Christine's +side, reading her some poem he had copied, or telling her about some +grand party he had been at. Sometimes James could catch a few words of +reproof addressed in a gentle voice to Donald by Christine; more often +he heard only the murmur of an earnest conversation, or Christine's +low laugh at some amusing incident. + +The little room meanwhile had gradually become a far brighter place. +Donald kept it sweet and bright with his daily offerings of fresh +flowers; the pet canary he had given Christine twittered and sang to +her all the day through. Over Christine herself had come the same +bright change; her still, calm face often dimpled into smiles, her +pale-gold hair was snooded with a pretty ribbon, and her dress a +little richer. Yet, after all, the change was so slight that none but +a lover would have noticed it. But there was not a smile or a shade of +brighter color that James did not see; and he bore it with an +equanimity which used often to astonish himself, though it would not +have done so if he had dared just once to look down into his heart; he +bore it because he knew that Donald was living two lives--one that +Christine saw, and one that she could not even have imagined. + +It was, alas, too true that this gay, good-natured young man, who had +entered the fashionable world without one bad habit, was fast becoming +proficient in all its follies and vices. That kind of negative +goodness which belonged naturally to him, unfortified by strict habits +and strong principles, had not been able to repel the seductions and +temptations that assail young men, rich, handsome, and well-born. +There was an evil triumph in James' heart one night when Donald said +to him, as they walked home after an evening at David's, + +"Mr. Blackie, I wish you could lend me L20. I am in a little trouble, +and I cannot ask Uncle David for more, as I have already overdrawn my +father's allowance." + +James loaned it with an eager willingness, though he was usually very +cautious and careful of every bawbee of his hard-earned money. He knew +it was but the beginning of confidence, and so it proved; in a very +little while Donald had fallen into the habit of going to James in +every emergency, and of making him the confidant of all his youthful +hopes and follies. + +James even schooled himself to listen patiently to Donald's praises of +his cousin Christine. "She is just the wife I shall need when I settle +down in three or four years," Donald would say complacently, "and I +think she loves me. Of course no man is worthy of such a woman, but +when I have seen life a little I mean to try and be so." + +"Umph!" answered James scornfully, "do you suppose, Mr. McFarlane, +that ye'll be fit for a pure lassie like Christine Cameron when you +have played the prodigal and consorted with foolish women, and wasted +your substance in riotous living?" + +And Donald said with an honest blush, "By the memory of my mother, no, +I do not, James. And I am ashamed when I think of Christine's white +soul and the stained love I have to offer it. But women forgive! Oh, +what mothers and wives and sisters there are in this world!" + +"Well, don't try Christine too far, Donald. She is of an old +Covenanting stock; her conscience feels sin afar off. I do not believe +she would marry a bad, worldly man, though it broke her heart to say +'No.' I have known her far longer than you have." + +"Tut, man, I love her! I know her better in an hour than you could do +in a lifetime;" and Donald looked rather contemptuously on the plain +man who was watching him with eyes that might have warned any one more +suspicious or less confident and self-satisfied. + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +The summer brought some changes. Christine went to the seaside for a +few weeks, and Donald went away in Lord Neville's yacht with a party +of gay young men; James and David passed the evenings generally +together. If it was wet, they remained in the shop or parlor; if fine, +they rambled to the "Green," and sitting down by the riverside talked +of business, of Christine, and of Donald. In one of these confidential +rambles James first tried to arouse in David's mind a suspicion as to +his nephew's real character. David himself introduced the subject by +speaking of a letter he had received from Donald. + +"He's wi' the great Earl o' Egremont at present," said David proudly, +for he had all a Scotsman's respect for good birth; "and there is wi' +them young Argyle, and Lord Lovat, and ithers o' the same quality. But +our Donald can cock his bonnet wi' ony o' them; there is na better +blood in Scotland than the McFarlanes'. It taks money though to +foregather wi' nobeelity, and Donald is wanting some. So, James, I'll +gie ye the siller to-night, and ye'll send it through your bank as +early as may be in the morn." + +"Donald wanting money is an old want, Mr. Cameron." + +David glanced quickly at James, and answered almost haughtily, "It's a +common want likewise, James Blackie. But if Donald McFarlane wants +money, he's got kin that can accommodate him, James; wanters arena +always that fortunate." + +"He has got friends likewise, Mr. Cameron; and I am sure I was proud +enough to do him a kindness, and he knows it well." + +"And how much may Donald be owing you, I wonder?" + +"Only a little matter of L20. You see he had got into--" + +"Dinna fash yoursel' wi' explanations, James. Dootless Donald has his +faults; but I may weel wink at his small faults, when I hae sae mony +great faults o' my ain." + +And David's personal accusation sounded so much like a reproof, that +James did not feel it safe to pursue the subject. + +That very night David wrote thus to his nephew: + +"Donald, my dear lad, if thou owest James Blackie L20, pay it +immediate. Lying is the second vice, owing money is the first. I +enclose draft for L70 instead o' L50, as per request." + +That L70 was a large sum in the eyes of the careful Glasgow trader; in +the young Highlander's eyes it seemed but a small sum. He could not +form any conception of the amount of love it represented, nor of the +struggle it had cost David to "gie awa for nae consideration" the +savings of many days, perhaps weeks, of toil and thought. + +In September Christine came back, and towards the end of October, +Donald. He was greatly improved externally by his trip and his +associations--more manly and more handsome--while his manners had +acquired a slight touch of hauteur that both amused and pleased his +uncle. It had been decided that he should remain in Glasgow another +winter, and then select his future profession. But at present Donald +troubled himself little about the future. He had returned to Christine +more in love with the peace and purity of her character than ever; and +besides, his pecuniary embarrassments in Glasgow were such as to +require his personal presence until they were arranged. + +This arrangement greatly troubled him. He had only a certain allowance +from his father--a loving but stern man--who having once decided what +sum was sufficient for a young man in Donald's position, would not, +under any ordinary circumstances, increase it. David Cameron had +already advanced him L70. James Blackie was a resource he did not care +again to apply to. In the meantime he was pressed by small debts on +every hand, and was living among a class of young men whose habits led +him into expenses far beyond his modest income. He began to be very +anxious and miserable. In Christine's presence he was indeed still the +same merry-hearted gentleman; but James saw him in other places, and +he knew from long experience the look of care that drew Donald's +handsome brows together. + +One night, towards the close of this winter, James went to see an old +man who was a broker or trader in bills and money, doing business in +the Cowcaddens. James also did a little of the same business in a +cautious way, and it was some mutual transaction in gold and silver +that took him that dreary, soaking night into such a locality. + +The two men talked for some time in a low and earnest voice, and then +the old man, opening a greasy leather satchel, displayed a quantity of +paper which he had bought. James looked it over with a keen and +practised eye. Suddenly his attitude and expression changed; he read +over and over one piece of paper, and every time he read it he looked +at it more critically and with a greater satisfaction. + +"Andrew Starkie," he said, "where did you buy this?" + +"Weel, James, I bought it o' Laidlaw--Aleck Laidlaw. Ye wadna think a +big tailoring place like that could hae the wind in their faces; but +folks maun hae their bad weather days, ye ken; but it blew me gude, so +I'll ne'er complain. Ye see it is for L89, due in twenty days now, and +I only gied L79 for it--a good name too, nane better." + +"David Cameron! But what would he be owing Laidlaw L89 for clothes +for?" + +"Tut, tut! The claithes were for his nephew. There was some trouble +anent the bill, but the old man gied a note for the amount at last, at +three months. It's due in twenty days now. As he banks wi' your firm, +ye may collect it for me; it will be an easy-made penny or twa." + +"I would like to buy this note. What will you sell it for?" + +"I'm no minded to sell it. What for do ye want it?" + +"Nothing particular. I'll give you L90 for it." + +"If it's worth that to you, it is worth mair. I'm no minded to tak +L90." + +"I'll give you L95." + +"I'm no minded to tak it. It's worth mair to you, I see that. What are +you going to mak by it? I'll sell it for half o' what you are counting +on." "Then you would not make a bawbee. I am going to ware L95 on--on +a bit of revenge. Now will you go shares?" + +"Not I. Revenge in cold blood is the deil's own act. I dinna wark wi' +the deil, when it's a losing job to me." + +"Will you take L95 then?" + +"No. When lads want whistles they maun pay for them." + +"I'll give no more. For why? Because in twenty days you will do my +work for me; then it will cost me nothing, and it will cost you L89, +that is all about it, Starkie." + +Starkie lifted the note which James had flung carelessly down, and his +skinny hands trembled as he fingered it. "This is David Cameron's note +o' hand, and David Cameron is a gude name." + +"Yes, very good. Only that is not David Cameron's writing, it is +a--forgery. Light your pipe with it, Andrew Starkie." + +"His nephew gave it himsel' to Aleck Laidlaw--" + +"I know. And I hate his nephew. He has come between me and Christine +Cameron. Do you see now?" + +"Oh! oh! oh! I see, I see! Well, James, you can have it for L100--as a +favor." + +"I don't want it now. He could not have a harder man to deal with than +you are. You suit me very well." + +"James, such business wont suit me. I can't afford to be brought into +notice. I would rather lose double the money than prosecute any +gentleman in trouble." + +The older man had reasoned right--James dared not risk the note out of +sight, dared not trust to Starkie's prosecution. He longed to have the +bit of paper in his own keeping, and after a wary battle of a full +hour's length Andrew Starkie had his L89 back again, and James had the +note in his pocket-book. + +Through the fog, and through the wind, and through the rain he went, +and he knew nothing, and he felt nothing but that little bit of paper +against his breast. Oh, how greedily he remembered Donald's handsome +looks and stately ways, and all the thousand little words and acts by +which he imagined himself wronged and insulted. Now he had his enemy +beneath his feet, and for several days this thought satisfied him, and +he hid his secret morsel of vengeance and found it sweet--sharply, +bitterly sweet--for even yet conscience pleaded hard with him. + +As he sat counting his columns of figures, every gentle, forgiving +word of Christ came into his heart. He knew well that Donald would +receive his quarterly allowance before the bill was due, and that he +must have relied on this to meet it. He also knew enough of Donald's +affairs to guess something of the emergency that he must have been in +ere he would have yielded to so dangerous an alternative. There were +times when he determined to send for Donald, show him the frightful +danger in which he stood, and then tear the note before his eyes, and +leave its payment to his honor. He even realized the peace which would +flow from such a deed. Nor were these feelings transitory, his better +nature pleaded so hard with him that he walked his room hour after +hour under their influence, and their power over him was such as +delayed all action in the matter for nearly a week. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +At length one morning David Cameron came into the bank, and having +finished his business, walked up to James and said, "I feared ye were +ill, James. Whatna for hae ye stayed awa sae lang? I wanted ye sairly +last night to go o'er wi' me the points in this debate at our kirk. We +are to hae anither session to-night; ye'll come the morn and talk it +o'er wi' me?" + +"I will, Mr. Cameron." + +But James instantly determined to see Christine that night. Her father +would be at the kirk session, and if Donald was there, he thought he +knew how to whisper him away. He meant to have Christine all to +himself for an hour or two, and if he saw any opportunity he would +tell her all. When he got to David's the store was still open, but the +clerk said, "David has just gone," and James, as was his wont, walked +straight to the parlor. + +Donald was there; he had guessed that, because a carriage was in +waiting, and he knew it could belong to no other caller at David +Cameron's. And never had Donald roused in him such an intense +antagonism. He was going to some National Celebration, and he stood +beside Christine in all the splendid picturesque pomp of the McFarlane +tartans. He was holding Christine's hand, and she stood as a white +lily in the glow and color of his dark beauty. Perhaps both of them +felt James' entrance inopportune. At any rate they received him +coldly, Donald drew Christine a little apart, said a few whispered +words to her, and lifting his bonnet slightly to James, he went away. + +In the few minutes of this unfortunate meeting the devil entered into +James' heart. Even Christine was struck with the new look on his face. +It was haughty, malicious, and triumphant, and he leaned against the +high oaken chimney-piece in a defiant way that annoyed Christine, +though she could not analyze it. + +"Sit down, James," she said with a touch of authority--for his +attitude had unconsciously put her on the defensive. "Donald has gone +to the Caledonian club; there is to be a grand gathering of Highland +gentlemen there to-night." + +"_Gentlemen!_" + +"Well, yes, _gentlemen!_ And there will be none there more worthy the +name than our Donald." + +"The rest of them are much to be scorned at, then." + +"James, James, that speech was little like you. Sit down and come to +yourself; I am sure you are not so mean as to grudge Donald the rights +of his good birth." + +"Donald McFarlane shall have all the rights he has worked for; and +when he gets his just payment he will be in Glasgow jail." + +"James, you are ill. You have not been here for a week, and you look +so unlike yourself. I know you must be ill. Will you let me send for +our doctor?" And she approached him kindly, and looked with anxious +scrutiny into his face. + +He put her gently away, and said in a thick, rapid voice, + +"Christine, I came to-night to tell you that Donald McFarlane is +unworthy to come into your presence--he has forged your father's +name." + +"James, you are mad, or ill, what you say is just impossible!" + +"I am neither mad nor ill. I will prove it, if you wish." + +At these words every trace of sympathy or feeling vanished from her +face; and she said in a low, hoarse whisper, + +"You cannot prove it. I would not believe such a thing possible." + +Then with a pitiless particularity he went over all the events +relating to the note, and held it out for her to examine the +signature. + +"Is that David Cameron's writing?" he cried; "did you ever see such a +weak imitation? The man is a fool as well as a villain." + +Christine gazed blankly at the witness of her cousin's guilt, and +James, carried away with the wicked impetuosity of his passionate +accusations of Donald's life, did not see the fair face set in white +despair and the eyes close wearily, as with a piteous cry she fell +prostrate at his feet. + +Ah, how short was his triumph! When he saw the ruin that his words had +made he shrieked aloud in his terror and agony. Help was at hand, and +doctors were quickly brought, but she had received a shock from which +it seemed impossible to revive her. David was brought home, and knelt +in speechless distress by the side of his insensible child, but no +hope lightened the long, terrible night, and when the reaction came in +the morning, it came in the form of fever and delirium. + +Questioned closely by David, James admitted nothing but that while +talking to him about Donald McFarlane she had fallen at his feet, and +Donald could only say that he had that evening told her he was going +to Edinburgh in two weeks, to study law with his cousin, and that he +had asked her to be his wife. + +This acknowledgement bound David and Donald in a closer communion of +sorrow. James and his sufferings were scarcely noticed. Yet, probably +of all that unhappy company, he suffered the most. He loved Christine +with a far deeper affection than Donald had ever dreamed of. He would +have given his life for hers, and yet he had, perhaps, been her +murderer. How he hated Donald in those days! What love and remorse +tortured him! And what availed it that he had bought the power to ruin +the man he hated? He was afraid to use it. If Christine lived, and he +did use it, she would never forgive him; if she died, he would be her +murderer. + +But the business of life cannot be delayed for its sorrows. David must +wait in his shop, and James must be at the bank; and in two weeks +Donald had to leave for Edinburgh, though Christine was lying in a +silent, broken-hearted apathy, so close to the very shoal of Time that +none dared say, "She will live another day." + +How James despised Donald for leaving her at all; he desired nothing +beyond the permission to sit by her side, and watch and aid the slow +struggle of life back from the shores and shades of death. + +It was almost the end of summer before she was able to resume her +place in the household, but long before that she had asked to see +James. The interview took place one Sabbath afternoon while David was +at church. Christine had been lifted to a couch, but she was unable to +move, and even speech was exhausting and difficult to her. James knelt +down by her side, and, weeping bitterly, said, + +"O Christine, forgive me!" + +She smiled faintly. + +"You--have--not--used--yonder--paper,--James?" + +"Oh, no, no." + +"It--would--kill--me. You--would--not--kill--me?" + +"I would die to make you strong again." + +"Don't--hurt--Donald. Forgive--for--Christ's--sake,--James!" + +Poor James! It was hard for him to see that still Donald was her first +thought, and, looking on the wreck of Christine's youth and beauty, it +was still harder not to hate him worse than ever. + +Nor did the temptation to do so grow less with time. He had to listen +every evening to David's praises of his nephew: how "he had been +entered wi' Advocate Scott, and was going to be a grand lawyer," or +how he had been to some great man's house and won all hearts with his +handsome face and witty tongue. Or, perhaps, he would be shown some +rich token of his love that had come for Christine; or David would +say, "There's the 'Edinbro' News,' James; it cam fra Donald this morn; +tak it hame wi' you. You're welcome." And James feared not to take it, +feared to show the slightest dislike to Donald, lest David's anger at +it should provoke him to say what was in his heart, and Christine only +be the sufferer. + +One cold night in early winter, James, as was his wont now, went to +spend the evening in talking with David and in watching Christine. +That was really all it was; for, though she had resumed her house +duties, she took little part in conversation. She had always been +inclined to silence, but now a faint smile and a "Yes" or "No" were +her usual response, even to her father's remarks. This night he found +David out, and he hesitated whether to trouble Christine or not. He +stood for a moment in the open door and looked at her. She was sitting +by the table with a little Testament open in her hand; but she was +rather musing on what she had been reading than continuing her +occupation. + +"Christine!" + +"James!" + +"May I come in?" + +"Yes, surely." + +"I hear your father has gone to a town-meeting." + +"Yes." + +"And he is to be made a bailie." + +"Yes." + +"I am very glad. It will greatly please him, and there is no citizen +more worthy of the honor." + +"I think so also." + +"Shall I disturb you if I wait to see him?" + +"No, James; sit down." + +Then Christine laid aside her book and took her sewing, and James sat +thinking how he could best introduce the subject ever near his heart. +He felt that there was much to say in his own behalf, if he only knew +how to begin. Christine opened the subject for him. She laid down her +work and went and stood before the fire at his side. The faintest +shadow of color was in her face, and her eyes were unspeakably sad and +anxious. He could not bear their eager, searching gaze, and dropped +his own. + +"James, have you destroyed yonder paper?" + +"Nay, Christine; I am too poor a man to throw away so much hard-won +gold. I am keeping it until I can see Mr. McFarlane and quietly +collect my own." + +"You will never use it in any way against him?" + +"Will you ever marry him? Tell me that." + +"O sir!" she cried indignantly, "you want to make a bargain with my +poor heart. Hear, then. If Donald wants me to marry him I'll never +cast him off. Do you think God will cast him off for one fault? You +dare not say it." + +"I do not say but what God will pardon. But we are human beings; we +are not near to God yet." + +"But we ought to be trying to get near him; and oh, James, you never +had so grand a chance. See the pitiful face of Christ looking down on +you from the cross. If that face should turn away from you, James--if +it should!" + +"You ask a hard thing of me, Christine." + +"Yes, I do." + +"But if you will only try and love me--" + +"Stop, James! I will make no bargain in a matter of right and wrong. +If for Christ's sake, who has forgiven you so much, you can forgive +Donald, for Christ's dear sake do it. If not, I will set no earthly +love before it. Do your worst. God can find out a way. I'll trust +him." + +"Christine! dear Christine!" + +"Hush! I am Donald's promised wife. May God speak to you for me. I am +very sad and weary. Good-night." + +James did not wait for David's return. He went back to his own +lodging, and, taking the note out of his pocket-book, spread it before +him. His first thought was that he had wared L89 on his enemy's fine +clothes, and James loved gold and hated foppish, extravagant dress; +his next that he had saved Andrew Starkie L89, and he knew the old +usurer was quietly laughing at his folly. But worse than all was the +alternative he saw as the result of his sinful purchase: if he used it +to gratify his personal hatred, he deeply wounded, perhaps killed, his +dearest love and his oldest friend. Hour after hour he sat with the +note before him. His good angel stood at his side and wooed him to +mercy. There was a fire burning in the grate, and twice he held the +paper over it, and twice turned away from his better self. + +The watchman was calling "half-past two o'clock," when, cold and weary +with his mental struggle, he rose and went to his desk. There was a +secret hiding-place behind a drawer there, in which he kept papers +relating to his transactions with Andrew Starkie, and he put it among +them. "I'll leave it to its chance," he muttered; "a fire might come +and burn it up some day. If it is God's will to save Donald, he could +so order it, and I am fully insured against pecuniary loss." He did +not at that moment see how presumptuously he was throwing his own +responsibility on God; he did not indeed want to see anything but some +plausible way of avoiding a road too steep for a heart weighed down +with earthly passion to dare. + +Then weeks and months drifted away in the calm regular routine of +David's life. But though there were no outward changes, there was a +very important inward one. About sixteen months after Donald's +departure he returned to visit Christine. James, at Christine's urgent +request, absented himself during this visit; but when he next called +at David's, he perceived at once that all was not as had been +anticipated. David had little to say about him; Christine looked paler +and sadder than ever. Neither quite understood why. There had been no +visible break with Donald, but both father and daughter felt that he +had drifted far away from them and their humble, pious life. Donald +had lost the child's heart he had brought with him from the mountains; +he was ambitious of honors, and eager after worldly pleasures and +advantages. He had become more gravely handsome, and he talked more +sensibly to David; but David liked him less. + +After this visit there sprang up a new hope in James' heart, and he +waited and watched, though often with very angry feelings; for he was +sure that Donald was gradually deserting Christine. + +She grew daily more sad and silent; it was evident she was suffering. +The little Testament lay now always with her work, and he noticed that +she frequently laid aside her sewing and read it earnestly, even while +David and he were quietly talking at the fireside. + +One Sabbath, two years after Donald's departure, James met David +coming out of church alone. He could only say, "I hope Christine is +well." + +"Had she been well, she had been wi' me; thou kens that, James." + +"I might have done so. Christine is never absent from God's house when +it is open." + +"It is a good plan, James; for when they who go regular to God's house +are forced to stay away, God himself asks after them. I hae no doubt +but what Christine has been visited." + +They walked on in silence until David's house was in sight. "I'm no +caring for any company earth can gie me the night, James; but the morn +I hae something to tell you I canna speak anent to-day." + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +The next day David came into the bank about noon, and said, "Come wi' +me to McLellan's, James, and hae a mutton pie, it's near by +lunch-time." While they were eating it David said, "Donald McFarlane +is to be wedded next month. He's making a grand marriage." + +James bit his lip, but said nothing. + +"He's spoken for Miss Margaret Napier; her father was ane o' the Lords +o' Session; she's his sole heiress, and that will mean L50,000, foreby +the bonnie place and lands o' Ellenshawe." + +"And Christine?" + +"Dinna look that way, man. Christine is content; she kens weel enough +she isna like her cousin." + +"God be thanked she is not. Go away from me, David Cameron, or I shall +say words that will make more suffering than you can dream off. Go +away, man." + +David was shocked and grieved at his companion's passion. "James," he +said solemnly, "dinna mak a fool o' yoursel'. I hae long seen your +ill-will at Donald. Let it go. Donald's aboon your thumb now, and the +anger o' a poor man aye falls on himsel'." + +"For God's sake don't tempt me farther. You little know what I could +do if I had the ill heart to do it." + +"Ow! ay!" said David scornfully, "if the poor cat had only wings it +would extirpate the race of sparrows from the world; but when the +wings arena there, James lad, it is just as weel to mak no boast o' +them." + +James had leaned his head in his hands, and was whispering, +"Christine! Christine! Christine!" in a rapid inaudible voice. He took +no notice of David's remark, and David was instantly sorry for it. +"The puir lad is just sorrowful wi' love for Christine, and that's nae +sin that I can see," he thought. "James," he said kindly, "I am sorry +enough to grieve you. Come as soon as you can like to do it. You'll be +welcome." + +James slightly nodded his head, but did not move; and David left him +alone in the little boarded room where they had eaten. In a few +minutes he collected himself, and, like one dazed, walked back to his +place in the bank. Never had its hours seemed so long, never had the +noise and traffic, the tramping of feet, and the banging of doors +seemed so intolerable. As early as possible he was at David's, and +David, with that fine instinct that a kind heart teaches, said as he +entered, "Gude evening, James. Gae awa ben and keep Christine company. +I'm that busy that I'll no shut up for half an hour yet." + +James found Christine in her usual place. The hearth had been freshly +swept, the fire blazed brightly, and she sat before it with her white +seam in her hand. She raised her eyes at James' entrance, and +smilingly nodded to a vacant chair near her. He took it silently. +Christine seemed annoyed at his silence in a little while, and asked, +"Why don't you speak, James? Have you nothing to say?" + +"A great deal, Christine. What now do you think of Donald McFarlane?" + +"I think well of Donald." + +"And of his marriage also?" + +"Certainly I do. When he was here I saw how unfit I was to be his +wife. I told him so, and bid him seek a mate more suitable to his +position and prospects." + +"Do you think it right to let yonder lady wed such a man with her eyes +shut?" + +"Are you going to open them?" Her face was sad and mournful, and she +laid her hand gently on James' shoulder. + +"I think it is my duty, Christine." + +"Think again, James. Be sure it is your duty before you go on such an +errand. See if you dare kneel down and ask God to bless you in this +duty." + +"Christine, you treat me very hardly. You know how I love you, and you +use your power over me unmercifully." + +"No, no, James, I only want you to keep yourself out of the power of +Satan. If indeed I have any share in your heart, do not wrong me by +giving Satan a place there also. Let me at least respect you, James." + +Christine had never spoken in this way before to him; the majesty and +purity of her character lifted him insensibly to higher thoughts, her +gentleness soothed and comforted him. When David came in he found them +talking in a calm, cheerful tone, and the evening that followed was +one of the pleasantest he could remember. Yet James understood that +Christine trusted in his forbearance, and he had no heart to grieve +her, especially as she did her best to reward him by striving to make +his visits to her father unusually happy. + +So Donald married Miss Napier, and the newspapers were full of the +bridegroom's beauty and talents, and the bride's high lineage and +great possessions. After this Donald and Donald's affairs seemed to +very little trouble David's humble household. His marriage put him far +away from Christine's thoughts, for her delicate conscience would have +regarded it as a great sin to remember with any feeling of love +another woman's affianced husband; and when the struggle became one +between right and wrong, it was ended for Christine. David seldom +named him, and so Donald McFarlane gradually passed out of the lives +he had so sorely troubled. + +Slowly but surely James continued to prosper; he rose to be cashier in +the bank, and he won a calm but certain place in Christine's regard. +She had never quite recovered the shock of her long illness; she was +still very frail, and easily exhausted by the least fatigue or +excitement. But in James' eyes she was perfect; he was always at his +best in her presence, and he was a very proud and happy man when, +after eight years' patient waiting and wooing, he won from her the +promise to be his wife; for he knew that with Christine the promise +meant all that it ought to mean. + +The marriage made few changes in her peaceful life. James left the +bank, put his savings in David's business, and became his partner. But +they continued to live in the same house, and year after year passed +away in that happy calm which leaves no records, and has no fate days +for the future to date from. + +Sometimes a letter, a newspaper, or some public event, would bring +back the memory of the gay, handsome lad that had once made so bright +the little back parlor. Such strays from Donald's present life were +always pleasant ones. In ten years he had made great strides forward. +Every one had a good word for him. His legal skill was quoted as +authority, his charities were munificent, his name unblemished by a +single mean deed. + +Had James forgotten? No, indeed. Donald's success only deepened his +hatred of him. Even the silence he was compelled to keep on the +subject intensified the feeling. Once after his marriage he attempted +to discuss the subject with Christine, but the scene had been so +painful he had never attempted it again; and David was swift and +positive to dismiss any unfavorable allusion to Donald. Once, on +reading that "Advocate McFarlane had joined the Free Kirk of Scotland +on open confession of faith," James flung down the paper and said +pointedly, "I wonder whether he confessed his wrong-doing before his +faith or not." + +"There's nane sae weel shod, James, that they mayna slip," answered +David, with a stern face. "He has united wi' Dr. Buchan's +kirk--there's nane taken into that fellowship unworthily, as far as +man can judge." + +"He would be a wise minister that got at all Advocate McFarlane's +sins, I am thinking." + +"Dinna say all ye think, James. They walk too fair for earth that +naebody can find fault wi'." + +So James nursed the evil passion in his own heart; indeed, he had +nursed it so long that he could not of himself resign it, and in all +his prayers--and he did pray frequently, and often sincerely--he never +named this subject to God, never once asked for his counsel or help in +the matter. + +Twelve years after his marriage with Christine David died, died as he +had often wished to die, very suddenly. He was well at noon; at night +he had put on the garments of eternal Sabbath. He had but a few +moments of consciousness in which to bid farewell to his children. +"Christine," he said cheerfully, "we'll no be lang parted, dear +lassie;" and to James a few words on his affairs, and then almost with +his last breath, "James, heed what I say: 'Blessed are the merciful, +for they shall--obtain mercy.'" + +There seemed to have been some prophetic sense in David's parting +words to his daughter, for soon after his death she began to fail +rapidly. What James suffered as he saw it only those can tell who have +watched their beloved slowly dying, and hoped against hope day after +day and week after week. Perhaps the hardest part was the knowledge +that she had never recovered the health she had previous to the +terrible shock which his revelation of Donald's guilt had been to her. +He forgot his own share in the shock and threw the whole blame of her +early decay on Donald. "And if she dies," he kept saying in his angry +heart, "I will make him suffer for it." + +And Christine was drawing very near to death, though even when she was +confined to her room and bed James would not believe it. And it was at +this time that Donald came once more to Glasgow. There was a very +exciting general election for a new Parliament, and Donald stood for +the Conservative party in the city of Glasgow. Nothing could have so +speedily ripened James' evil purpose. Should a forger represent his +native city? Should he see the murderer of his Christine win honor +upon honor, when he had but to speak and place him among thieves? + +During the struggle he worked frantically to defeat him--and failed. +That night he came home like a man possessed by some malicious, +ungovernable spirit of hell. He would not go to Christine's room, for +he was afraid she would discover his purpose in his face, and win him +from it. For now he had sworn to himself that he would only wait until +the congratulatory dinner. He could get an invitation to it. All the +bailies and the great men of the city would be there. The newspaper +reporters would be there. His triumph would be complete. Donald would +doubtless make a great speech, and after it _he_ would say his few +words. + +Then he thought of Christine. But she did not move him now, for she +was never likely to hear of it. She was confined to her bed; she read +nothing but her Bible; she saw no one but her nurse. He would charge +the nurse, and he would keep all papers and letters from her. He +thought of nothing now but the near gratification of a revengeful +purpose for which he had waited twenty years. Oh, how sweet it seemed +to him! + +The dinner was to be in a week, and during the next few days he was +like a man in a bad dream. He neglected his business, and wandered +restlessly about the house, and looked so fierce and haggard that +Christine began to notice, to watch, and to fear. She knew that Donald +was in the city, and her heart told her that it was his presence only +that could so alter her husband; and she poured it out in strong +supplications for strength and wisdom to avert the calamity she felt +approaching. + +That night her nurse became sick and could not remain with her, and +James, half reluctantly, took her place, for he feared Christine's +influence now. She would ask him to read the Bible, to pray with her; +she might talk to him of death and heaven; she might name Donald, and +extract some promise from him. And he was determined now that nothing +should move him. So he pretended great weariness, drew a large chair +to her bedside, and said, + +"I shall try and sleep a while, darling; if you need me you have only +to speak." + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +He was more weary than he knew, and ere he was aware he fell asleep--a +restless, wretched sleep, that made him glad when the half-oblivion +was over. Christine, however, was apparently at rest, and he soon +relapsed into the same dark, haunted state of unconsciousness. +Suddenly he began to mutter and moan, and then to speak with a hoarse, +whispered rapidity that had in it something frightful and unearthly. +But Christine listened with wide-open eyes, and heard with sickening +terror the whole wicked plot. It fell from his half-open lips over and +over in every detail; and over and over he laughed low and terribly at +the coming shame of the hated Donald. + +She had not walked alone for weeks, nor indeed been out of her room +for months, but she must go now; and she never doubted her strength. +As if she had been a spirit, she slipped out of bed, walked rapidly +and noiselessly into the long-unfamiliar parlor. A rushlight was +burning, and the key of the old desk was always in it. Nothing +valuable was kept there, and people unacquainted with the secret of +the hidden drawer would have looked in vain for the entrance to it. +Christine had known it for years, but her wifely honor had held it +more sacred than locks or keys could have done. She was aware only +that James kept some private matter of importance there, and she would +as readily have robbed her husband's purse as have spied into things +of which he did not speak to her. + +Now, however, all mere thoughts of courtesy or honor must yield before +the alternative in which James and Donald stood. She reached the desk, +drew out the concealing drawer, pushed aside the slide, and touched +the paper. There were other papers there, but something taught her at +once the right one. To take it and close the desk was but the work of +a moment, then back she flew as swiftly and noiselessly as a spirit +with the condemning evidence tightly clasped in her hand. + +James was still muttering and moaning in his troubled sleep, and with +the consciousness of her success all her unnatural strength passed +away. She could hardly secrete it in her bosom ere she fell into a +semi-conscious lethargy, through which she heard with terror her +husband's low, weird laughter and whispered curses. + +At length the day for the dinner came. James had procured an +invitation, and he made unusual personal preparations for it. He was +conscious that he was going to do a very mean action, but he would +look as well as possible in the act. He had even his apology for it +ready; he would say that "as long as it was a private wrong he had +borne the loss patiently for twenty years, but that the public welfare +demanded honest men, men above reproach, and he could no longer feel +it his duty," etc., etc. + +After he was dressed he bid Christine "Good-by." + +"He would only stay an hour," he said, "and he must needs go, as +Donald was her kin." + +Then he went to the desk, and with hands trembling in their eagerness +sought the bill. It was not there. _Impossible!_ He looked +again--again more carefully--could not believe his eyes, and looked +again and again. It was really gone. If the visible hand of God had +struck him, he could not have felt it more consciously. He +mechanically closed the desk and sat down like one stunned. Cain might +have felt as James did when God asked him, "Where is thy brother?" He +did not think of prayer. No "God be merciful to me a sinner" came as +yet from his dry, white lips. The fountains of his heart seemed dry as +dust. The anger of God weighed him down till + + "He felt as one + Who, waking after some strange, fevered dream, + Sees a dim land and things unspeakable, + And comes to know at last that it is hell." + +Meantime Christine was lying with folded hands, praying for him. She +knew what an agony he was going through, and ceaselessly with pure +supplications she prayed for his forgiveness. About midnight one came +and told him his wife wanted to see him. He rose with a wretched sigh, +and looked at the clock. He had sat there six hours. He had thought +over everything, over and over--the certainty that the paper was +there, the fact that no other paper had been touched, and that no +human being but Christine knew of the secret place. These things +shocked him beyond expression. It was to his mind a visible assertion +of the divine prerogative; he had really heard God say to him, +"Vengeance is mine." The lesson that in these materialistic days we +would reason away, James humbly accepted. His religious feelings were, +after all, his deepest feelings, and in those six hours he had so +palpably felt the frown of his angry Heavenly Father that he had quite +forgotten his poor, puny wrath at Donald McFarlane. + +As he slowly walked up stairs to Christine he determined to make to +her a full confession of the deed he had meditated. But when he +reached her bedside he saw that she was nearly dead. She smiled +faintly and said, + +"Send all away, James. I must speak alone with you, dear; we are going +to part, my husband." + +Then he knelt down by her side and held her cold hands, and the +gracious tears welled up in his hot eyes, and he covered them with the +blessed rain. + +"O James, how you have suffered--since six o'clock." + +"You know then, Christine! I would weep tears of blood over my sin. O +dear, dear wife, take no shameful memory of me into eternity with +you." + +"See how I trust you, James. Here is poor, weak Donald's note. I know +now you will never use it against him. What if your six hours were +lengthened out through life--through eternity? I ask no promise from +you now, dear." + +"But I give it. Before God I give it, with all my heart. My sin has +found me out this night. How has God borne with me all these years? +Oh, how great is his mercy!" + +Then Christine told him how he had revealed his wicked plot, and how +wonderful strength had been given her to defeat it; and the two souls, +amid their parting sighs and tears, knew each other as they had never +done through all their years of life. + +For a week James remained in his own room. Then Christine was laid +beside her father, and the shop was reopened, and the household +returned to its ways. But James was not seen in house or shop, and the +neighbors said, + +"Kirsty Cameron has had a wearisome sickness, and nae doobt her +gudeman was needing a rest. Dootless he has gane to the Hielands a +bit." + +But it was not northward James Blackie went. It was south; south past +the bonnie Cumberland Hills and the great manufacturing towns of +Lancashire and the rich valleys of Yorkshire; southward until he +stopped at last in London. Even then, though he was weary and sick and +the night had fallen, he did not rest. He took a carriage and drove at +once to a fashionable mansion in Baker street. The servant looked +curiously at him and felt half inclined to be insolent to such a +visitor. + +"Take that card to your master at once," he said in a voice whose +authority could not be disputed, and the man went. + +His master was lying on a sofa in a luxuriously-furnished room, +playing with a lovely girl about four years old, and listening +meanwhile to an enthusiastic account of a cricket match that two boys +of about twelve and fourteen years were giving him. He was a +strikingly handsome man, in the prime of life, with a thoroughly happy +expression. He took James' card in a careless fashion, listened to the +end of his sons' story, and then looked at it. Instantly his manner +changed; he stood up, and said promptly, + +"Go away now, Miss Margaret, and you also, Angus and David; I have an +old friend to see." Then to the servant, "Bring the gentleman here at +once." + +When he heard James' step he went to meet him with open hand; but +James said, + +"Not just yet, Mr. McFarlane; hear what I have to say. Then if you +offer your hand I will take it." + +"Christine is dead?" + +"Dead, dead." + +They sat down opposite each other, and James did not spare himself. +From his discovery of the note in old Starkie's possession until the +death of Christine, he confessed everything. Donald sat with downcast +eyes, quite silent. Once or twice his fierce Highland blood surged +into his face, and his hand stole mechanically to the place where his +dirk had once been, but the motion was as transitory as a thought. +When James had finished he sat with compressed lips for a few moments, +quite unable to control his speech; but at length he slowly said, + +"I wish I had known all this before; it would have saved much sin and +suffering. You said that my indifference at first angered you. I must +correct this. I was not indifferent. No one can tell what suffering +that one cowardly act cost me. But before the bill fell due I went +frankly to Uncle David and confessed all my sin. What passed between +us you may guess; but he forgave me freely and fully, as I trust God +did also. Hence there was no cause for its memory to darken life." + +"I always thought Christine had told her father," muttered James. + +"Nay, but I told him myself. He said he would trace the note, and I +have no doubt he knew it was in your keeping from the first." + +Then James took it from his pocket-book. + +"There it is, Mr. McFarlane. Christine gave it back to me the hour she +died. I promised her to bring it to you and tell you all." + +"Christine's soul was a white rose without a thorn. I count it an +honor to have known and loved her. But the paper is yours, Mr. +Blackie, unless I may pay for it." + +"O man, man! what money could pay for it? I would not dare to sell it +for the whole world! Take it, I pray you." + +"I will not. Do as you wish with it, James, I can trust you." + +Then James walked towards the table. There were wax lights burning on +it, and he held it in the flame and watched it slowly consume away to +ashes. The silence was so intense that they heard each other +breathing, and the expression on James' face was so rapt and noble +that even Donald's stately beauty was for the moment less attractive. +Then he walked towards Donald and said, + +"Now give me your hand, McFarlane, and I'll take it gladly." + +And that was a handclasp that meant to both men what no words could +have expressed. + +"Farewell, McFarlane; our ways in this world lie far apart; but when +we come to die it will comfort both of us to remember this meeting. +God be with you!" + +"And with you also, James. Farewell." + +Then James went back to his store and his shadowed household life. And +people said he looked happier than ever he had done, and pitied him +for his sick wife, and supposed he felt it a happy release to be rid +of her. So wrongly does the world, which knows nothing of our real +life, judge us. + +You may see his gravestone in Glasgow Necropolis to-day, and people +will tell you that he was a great philanthropist, and gave away a +noble fortune to the sick and the ignorant; and you will probably +wonder to see only beneath his name the solemn text, "Vengeance is +mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." + + + + +Facing His Enemy. + + + + +FACING HIS ENEMY. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Forty years ago there stood in the lower part of the city of Glasgow a +large, plain building which was to hundreds of very intelligent +Scotchmen almost sacred ground. It stood among warehouses and +factories, and in a very unfashionable quarter; but for all that, it +was Dr. William Morrison's kirk. And Dr. Morrison was in every respect +a remarkable man--a Scotchman with the old Hebrew fervor and +sublimity, who accepted the extremest tenets of his creed with a deep +religious faith, and scorned to trim or moderate them in order to suit +what he called "a sinfu' latitudinarian age." + +Such a man readily found among the solid burghers of Glasgow a large +"following" of a very serious kind, douce, dour men, whose +strongly-marked features looked as if they had been chiselled out of +their native granite--men who settled themselves with a grave kind of +enjoyment to listen to a full hour's sermon, and who watched every +point their minister made with a critical acumen that seemed more +fitting to a synod of divines than a congregation of weavers and +traders. + +A prominent man in this remarkable church was Deacon John Callendar. +He had been one of its first members, and it was everything to his +heart that Jerusalem is to the Jew, or Mecca to the Mohammedan. He +believed his minister to be the best and wisest of men, though he was +by no means inclined to allow himself a lazy confidence in this +security. It was the special duty of deacons to keep a strict watch +over doctrinal points, and though he had never had occasion to dissent +in thirty years' scrutiny, he still kept the watch. + +In the temporal affairs of the church it had been different. There was +no definite creed for guidance in these matters, and eight or ten men +with strong, rugged wills about L, _s_., _d_., each thinking highly of +his own discretion in monetary affairs, and rather indifferently of +the minister's gifts in this direction, were not likely to have always +harmonious sessions. + +They had had a decidedly inharmonious one early in January of 184-, +and Deacon Callendar had spoken his mind with his usual blunt +directness. He had been a good deal nettled at the minister's +attitude, for, instead of seconding his propositions, Dr. Morrison had +sat with a faraway, indifferent look, as if the pending discussion was +entirely out of his range of interest. John could have borne +contradiction better. An argument would have gratified him. But to +have the speech and statistics which he had so carefully prepared fall +on the minister's ear without provoking any response was a great trial +of his patience. He was inwardly very angry, though outwardly very +calm; but Dr. Morrison knew well what a tumult was beneath the dour +still face of the deacon as he rose from his chair, put on his plaid, +and pulled his bonnet over his brows. + +"John," he said kindly, "you are a wise man, and I aye thought so. It +takes a Christian to lead passion by the bridle. A Turk is a placid +gentleman, John, but he cannot do it." + +"Ou, ay! doubtless! There is talk o' the Turk and the Pope, but it is +my neighbors that trouble me the maist, minister. Good-night to ye +all. If ye vote to-night you can e'en count my vote wi' Dr. +Morrison's; it will be as sensible and warld-like as any o' the lave." + +With this parting reflection he went out. It had begun to snow, and +the still, white solitude made him ashamed of his temper. He looked up +at the quiet heavens above him, then at the quiet street before him, +and muttered with a spice of satisfaction, "Speaking comes by nature, +and silence by understanding. I am thankfu' now I let Deacon Strang +hae the last word. I'm saying naught against Strang; he may gie good +counsel, but they'll be fools that tak it." + +"Uncle!" + +"Hout, Davie! Whatna for are you here?" + +"It began to snow, and I thought you would be the better of your cloak +and umbrella. You seem vexed, uncle." + +"Vexed? Ay. The minister is the maist contrary o' mortals. He kens +naething about church government, and he treats gude siller as if it +wasna worth the counting; but he's a gude man, and a great man, Davie, +and folk canna serve the altar and be money-changers too. I ought to +keep that i' mind. It's Deacon Strang, and no the minister." + +"Well, uncle, you must just thole it; you know what the New Testament +says?" + +"Ay, ay; I ken it says if a man be struck on one cheek, he must turn +the other; but, Davie, let me tell you that the man who gets the first +blow generally deserves the second. It is gude Christian law no to +permit the first stroke. That is my interpretation o' the matter." + +"I never thought of that." + +"Young folk don't think o' everything." + +There was something in the tone of this last remark which seemed to +fit best into silence, and David Callendar had a particular reason for +not further irritating his uncle. The two men without any other remark +reached the large, handsome house in Blytheswood Square which was +their home. Its warmth and comfort had an immediate effect on the +deacon. He looked pleasantly at the blazing fire and the table on the +hearthrug, with its basket of oaten cakes, its pitcher of cream, and +its whiskey-bottle and toddy glasses. The little brass kettle was +simmering before the fire, his slippers were invitingly warm, his +loose coat lying over the back of his soft, ample chair, and just as +he had put them on, and sank down with a sigh of content, a bright old +lady entered with a spicy dish of kippered salmon. + +"I thought I wad bring ye a bit relish wi' your toddy, deacon. Talking +is hungry wark. I think a man might find easier pleasuring than going +to a kirk session through a snowstorm." + +"A man might, Jenny. They'd suit women-folk wonderfu'; there's plenty +o' talk and little wark." + +"Then I dinna see ony call to mak a change, deacon." + +"Now, Jenny, you've had the last word, sae ye can go to bed wi' an +easy mind. And, Jenny, woman, dinna let your quarrel wi' Maggie +Launder come between you and honest sleep. I think that will settle +her," he observed with a pawky smile, as his housekeeper shut the door +with unnecessary haste. + +Half an hour afterwards, David, mixing another glass of toddy, drew +his chair closer to the fire, and said, "Uncle John, I want to speak +to you." + +"Speak on, laddie;" but David noticed that even with the permission, +cautious curves settled round his uncle's eyes, and his face assumed +that business-like immobility which defied his scrutiny. + +"I have had a very serious talk with Robert Leslie; he is thinking of +buying Alexander Hastie out." + +"Why not think o' buying out Robert Napier, or Gavin Campbell, or +Clydeside Woolen Works? A body might as weel think o' a thousand +spindles as think o' fifty." + +"But he means business. An aunt, who has lately died in Galloway, has +left him L2,000." + +"That isna capital enough to run Sandy Hastie's mill." + +"He wants me to join him." + +"And how will that help matters? Twa thousand pounds added to Davie +Callendar will be just L2,000." + +"I felt sure you would lend me L2,000; and in that case it would be a +great chance for me. I am very anxious to be--" + +"Your ain maister." + +"Not that altogether, uncle, although you know well the Callendars +come of a kind that do not like to serve. I want to have a chance to +make money." + +"How much of your salary have you saved?" + +"I have never tried to save anything yet, uncle, but I am going to +begin." + +The old man sat silent for a few moments, and then said, "I wont do +it, Davie." + +"It is only L2,000, Uncle John." + +"_Only_ L2,000! Hear the lad! Did ye ever mak L2,000? Did ye ever save +L2,000? When ye hae done that ye'll ne'er put in the adverb, Davie. +_Only L2,000, indeed!_" + +"I thought you loved me, uncle." + +"I love no human creature better than you. Whatna for should I not +love you? You are the only thing left to me o' the bonnie brave +brother who wrapped his colors round him in the Afghan Pass, the +brave-hearted lad who died fighting twenty to one. And you are whiles +sae like him that I'm tempted--na, na, that is a' byganes. I will not +let you hae the L2,000, that is the business in hand." + +"What for?" + +"If you will hear the truth, that second glass o' whiskey is reason +plenty. I hae taken my ane glass every night for forty years, and I +hae ne'er made the ane twa, except New Year's tide." + +"That is fair nonsense, Uncle John. There are plenty of men whom you +trust for more than L2,000 who can take four glasses for their +nightcap always." + +"That may be; I'm no denying it; but what is lawfu' in some men is +sinfu' in others." + +"I do not see that at all." + +"Do you mind last summer, when we were up in Argyleshire, how your +cousin, Roy Callendar, walked, with ne'er the wink o' an eyelash, on a +mantel-shelf hanging over a three-hundred-feet precipice? Roy had the +trained eyesight and the steady nerve which made it lawfu' for him; +for you or me it had been suicide--naething less sinfu'. Three or four +glasses o' whiskey are safer for some men than twa for you. I hae been +feeling it my duty to tell you this for some time. Never look sae +glum, Davie, or I'll be thinking it is my siller and no mysel' you +were caring for the night when ye thought o' my cloak and umbrella." + +The young man rose in a perfect blaze of passion. + +"Sit down, sit down," said his uncle. "One would think you were your +grandfather, Evan Callendar, and that some English red-coat had trod +on your tartan. Hout! What's the use o' a temper like that to folk wha +hae taken to the spindle instead o' the claymore?" + +"I am a Callendar for all that." + +"Sae am I, sae am I, and vera proud o' it fore-bye. We are a' kin, +Davie; blood is thicker than water, and we wont quarrel." + +David put down his unfinished glass of toddy. He could not trust +himself to discuss the matter any farther, but as he left the room he +paused, with the open door in his hand, and said, + +"If you are afraid I am going to be a drunkard, why did you not care +for the fear before it became a question of L2,000? And if I ever do +become one, remember this, Uncle John--you mixed my first glass for +me!" + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +A positive blow could hardly have stunned John Callendar as this +accusation did. He could not have answered it, even if he had had an +opportunity, and the shock was the greater that it brought with it a +sudden sense of responsibility, yea, even guilt. At first the feeling +was one of anger at this sudden charge of conscience. He began to +excuse himself; he was not to blame if other people could not do but +they must o'erdo; then to assure himself that, being God's child, +there could be no condemnation in the matter to him. But his heart was +too tender and honest to find rest in such apologies, and close upon +his anger at the lad crowded a host of loving memories that would not +be put away. + +David's father had been very dear to him. He recalled his younger +brother in a score of tender situations: the schoolhouse in which they +had studied cheek to cheek over one book; the little stream in which +they had paddled and fished on holidays, the fir-wood, the misty +corries, and the heathery mountains of Argyle; above all, he +remembered the last time that he had ever seen the bright young face +marching at the head of his company down Buchanan street on his way to +India. David's mother was a still tenderer memory, and John +Callendar's eyes grew misty as his heart forced him to recall that +dark, wintry afternoon when she had brought David to him, and he had +solemnly promised to be a father to the lad. It was the last promise +between them; three weeks afterwards he stood at her grave's side. +Time is said to dim such memories as these. It never does. After many +years some sudden event recalls the great crises of any life with all +the vividness of their first occurrence. + +Confused as these memories were, they blended with an equal confusion +of feelings. Love, anger, regret, fear, perplexity, condemnation, +excuse, followed close on each other, and John's mind, though +remarkably clear and acute, was one trained rather to the +consideration of things point by point than to the catching of the +proper clew in a mental labyrinth. After an hour's miserable +uncertainty he was still in doubt what to do. The one point of comfort +he had been able to reach was the hope that David had gone straight to +Jenny with his grievance. "And though women-folk arena much as +counsellors," thought John, "they are wonderfu' comforters; and Jenny +will ne'er hear tell o' his leaving the house; sae there will be time +to put right what is wrong." + +But though David had always hitherto, when lessons were hard or +lassies scornful, gone with his troubles to the faithful Jenny, he did +not do so at this time. He did not even bid her "Good-night," and +there was such a look on his face that she considered it prudent not +to challenge the omission. + +"It will be either money or marriage," she thought. "If it be money, +the deacon has mair than is good for him to hae; if it be marriage, it +will be Isabel Strang, and that the deacon wont like. But it is his +ain wife Davie is choosing, and I am for letting the lad hae the lass +he likes best." + +Jenny had come to these conclusions in ten minutes, but she waited +patiently for an hour before she interrupted her master. Then the +clock struck midnight, and she felt herself aggrieved. "Deacon," she +said sharply, "ye should mak the day day and the night night, and ye +would if ye had a three weeks' ironing to do the morn. It has chappit +twelve, sir." + +"Jenny, I'm not sleeplike to-night. There hae been ill words between +David and me." + +"And I am mair than astonished at ye, deacon. Ye are auld enough to +ken that ill words canna be wiped out wi' a sponge. Our Davie isna an +ordinar lad; he can be trusted where the lave would need a watcher. Ye +ken that, deacon, for he is your ain bringing up." + +"But, Jenny, L2,000 for his share o' Hastie's mill! Surely ye didna +encourage the lad in such an idea?" + +"Oh, sae it's money," thought Jenny. "What is L2,000 to you, deacon? +Why should you be sparing and saving money to die wi'? The lad isna a +fool." + +"I dinna approve o' the partner that is seeking him, Jenny. I hae +heard things anent Robert Leslie that I dinna approve of; far from +it." + +"Hae ye _seen_ anything wrong?" + +"I canna say I hae." + +"Trust to your eyes, deacon; they believe themselves, and your ears +believe other people; ye ken which is best. His father was a decent +body." + +"Ay, ay; but Alexander Leslie was different from his son Robert. He +was a canny, cautious man, who could ding for his ain side, and who +always stood by the kirk. Robert left Dr. Morrison's soon after his +father died. The doctor was too narrow for Robert Leslie. Robert +Leslie has wonderfu' broad ideas about religion now. Jenny, I dinna +like the men who are their ain Bibles and ministers." + +"But there are good folk outside Dr. Morrison's kirk, deacon, surely." + +"We'll trust so, surely, we'll trust so, Jenny; but a man wi' broad +notions about religion soon gets broad notions about business and all +other things. Why, Jenny, I hae heard that Robert Leslie once spoke o' +the house o' John Callendar & Co. as 'old fogyish!'" + +"That's no hanging matter, deacon, and ye must see that the world is +moving." + +"Maybe, maybe; but I'se never help it to move except in the safe, +narrow road. Ye ken the Garloch mill-stream? It is narrow enough for a +good rider to leap, but it is deep, and it does its wark weel summer +and winter. They can break down the banks, woman, and let it spread +all over the meadow; bonnie enough it will look, but the mill-clapper +would soon stop. Now there's just sae much power, spiritual or +temporal, in any man; spread it out, and it is shallow and no to be +depended on for any purpose whatever. But narrow the channel, Jenny, +narrow the channel, and it is a driving force." + +"Ye are getting awa from the main subject, deacon. It is the L2,000, +and ye had best mak up your mind to gie it to Davie. Then ye can gang +awa to your bed and tak your rest." + +"You talk like a--like a woman. It is easy to gie other folks' siller +awa. I hae worked for my siller." + +"Your siller, deacon? Ye hae naught but a life use o' it. Ye canna +take it awa wi' ye. Ye can leave it to the ane you like best, but that +vera person may scatter it to the four corners o' the earth. And why +not? Money was made round that it might roll. It is little good yours +is doing lying in the Clyde Trust." + +"Jenny Callendar, you are my ain cousin four times removed, and you +hae a kind o' right to speak your mind in my house; but you hae said +enough, woman. It isna a question of money only; there are ither +things troubling me mair than that. But women are but one-sided +arguers. Good-night to you." + +He turned to the fire and sat down, but after a few moments of the +same restless, confused deliberation, he rose and went to his Bible. +It lay open upon its stand, and John put his hand lovingly, reverently +upon the pages. He had no glasses on, and he could not see a letter, +but he did not need to. + +"It is my Father's word," he whispered; and, standing humbly before +it, he recalled passage after passage, until a great calm fell upon +him. Then he said, + +"I will lay me down and sleep now; maybe I'll see clearer in the +morning light." + +Almost as soon as he opened his eyes in the morning there was a tap at +his door, and the gay, strong voice he loved so dearly asked, + +"Can I come in, Uncle John?" + +"Come in, Davie." + +"Uncle, I was wrong last night, and I cannot be happy with any shadow +between us two." + +Scotchmen are not demonstrative, and John only winked his eyes and +straightened out his mouth; but the grip of the old and young hand +said what no words could have said half so eloquently. Then the old +man remarked in a business-like way, + +"I hae been thinking, Davie, I would go and look o'er Hastie's +affairs, and if I like the look o' them I'll buy the whole concern out +for you. Partners are kittle cattle. Ye will hae to bear their +shortcomings as well as your ain. Tak my advice, Davie; rule your +youth well, and your age will rule itsel'." + +"Uncle, you forget that Robert Leslie is in treaty with Hastie. It +would be the height of dishonor to interfere with his bargain. You +have always told me never to put my finger in another man's bargain. +Let us say no more on the subject. I have another plan now. If it +succeeds, well and good; if not, there are chances behind this one." + +John fervently hoped there would be no more to say on this subject, +and when day after day went by without any reference to Hastie or +Robert Leslie, John Callendar felt much relieved. David also had +limited himself to one glass of toddy at night, and this unspoken +confession and reformation was a great consolation to the old man. He +said to himself that the evil he dreaded had gone by his door, and he +was rather complacent over the bold stand he had taken. + +That day, as he was slowly walking through the Exchange, pondering a +proposal for Virginia goods, Deacon Strang accosted him. "Callendar, a +good day to ye; I congratulate ye on the new firm o' Callendar & +Leslie. They are brave lads, and like enough--if a' goes weel--to do +weel." + +John did not allow an eyelash to betray his surprise and chagrin. "Ah, +Strang!" he answered, "the Callendars are a big clan, and we are a' +kin; sae, if you tak to congratulating me on every Callendar whose +name ye see aboon a doorstep, you'll hae mair business on hand than +you'll ken how to manage. A good day to you!" But Deacon Callendar +went up Great George street that day with a heavy, angry heart. His +nephew opened the door for him. "Uncle John, I have been looking all +over for you. I have something to tell you." + +"Fiddler's news, Davie. I hae heard it already. Sae you hae struck +hands wi' Robert Leslie after a', eh?" + +"He had my promise, uncle, before I spoke to you. I could not break +it." + +"H'm! Where did you get the L2,000?" + +"I borrowed it." + +"Then I hope 'the party' looked weel into the business." + +"They did not. It was loaned to me on my simple representation." + +"'Simple representation!' Vera simple! It was some woman, dootless." + +"It was my mother's aunt, Lady Brith." + +"Ou, ay! I kent it. Weel, when a bargain is made, wish it good luck; +sae, Jenny, put a partridge before the fire, and bring up a bottle O' +Madeira." + +It was not however a lively meal. John was too proud and hurt to ask +for information, and David too much chilled by his reserve to +volunteer it. The wine, being an unusual beverage to John, made him +sleepy; and when David said he had to meet Robert Leslie at nine +o'clock, John made no objection and no remark. But when Jenny came in +to cover up the fire for the night, she found him sitting before it, +rubbing his hands in a very unhappy manner. + +"Cousin," he said fretfully, "there is a new firm in Glasgo' to-day." + +"I hae heard tell o' it. God send it prosperity." + +"It isna likely, Jenny; auld Lady Brith's money to start it! The +godless auld woman! If Davie taks her advice, he's a gane lad." + +"Then, deacon, it's your ain fault. Whatna for did ye not gie him the +L2,000?" + +"Just hear the woman! It taks women and lads to talk o' L2,000 as if +it were picked up on the planestanes." + +"If ye had loaned it, deacon, ye would hae had the right to spier into +things, and gie the lad advice. He maun tak his advice where he taks +his money. Ye flung that chance o' guiding Davie to the four winds. +And let me tell ye, Cousin Callendar, ye hae far too tight a grip on +this warld's goods. The money is only loaned to you to put out at +interest for the Master. It ought to be building kirks and +schoolhouses, and sending Bibles to the far ends o' the earth. When +you are asked what ye did wi' it, how will you like to answer, 'I hid +it safely awa, Lord, in the Clyde Trust and in Andrew Fleming's +bank!'" + +"That will do, woman. Now you hae made me dissatisfied wi' my guiding +o' Davie, and meeserable anent my bank account, ye may gang to your +bed; you'll doobtless sleep weel on the thought." + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +However, sometimes things are not so ill as they look. The new firm +obtained favor, and even old, cautious men began to do a little +business with it. For Robert introduced some new machinery, and the +work it did was allowed, after considerable suspicion, to be "vera +satisfactory." A sudden emergency had also discovered to David that he +possessed singularly original ideas in designing patterns; and he set +himself with enthusiasm to that part of the business. Two years +afterwards came the Great Fair of 1851, and Callendar & Leslie took a +first prize for their rugs, both design and workmanship being +honorably mentioned. + +Their success seemed now assured. Orders came in so fast that the mill +worked day and night to fill them; and David was so gay and happy that +John could hardly help rejoicing with him. Indeed, he was very proud +of his nephew, and even inclined to give Robert a little cautious +kindness. The winter of 1851 was a very prosperous one, but the spring +brought an unlooked-for change. + +One evening David came home to dinner in a mood which Jenny +characterized as "_thrawart_." He barely answered her greeting, and +shut his room-door with a bang. He did not want any dinner, and he +wanted to be let alone. John looked troubled at this behavior. Jenny +said, "It is some lass in the matter; naething else could mak a +sensible lad like Davie act sae child-like and silly." And Jennie was +right. Towards nine o'clock David came to the parlor and sat down +beside his uncle. He said he had been "greatly annoyed." + +"Annoyances are as certain as the multiplication table," John remarked +quietly, "and ye ought to expect them--all the mair after a long run +o' prosperity." + +"But no man likes to be refused by the girl he loves." + +"Eh? Refused, say ye? Wha has refused you?" + +"Isabel Strang. I have loved her, as you and Jenny know, since we went +to school together, and I was sure that she loved me. Two days ago I +had some business with Deacon Strang, and when it was finished I spoke +to him anent Isabel. He made me no answer then, one way or the other, +but told me he would have a talk with Isabel, and I might call on him +this afternoon. When I did so he said he felt obligated to refuse my +offer." + +"Weel?" + +"That is all." + +"Nonsense! Hae you seen Isabel hersel'?" + +"She went to Edinburgh last night." + +"And if you were your uncle, lad, you would hae been in Edinburgh too +by this time. Your uncle would not stay refused twenty-four hours, if +he thought the lass loved him. Tut, tut, you ought to hae left at +once; that would hae been mair like a Callendar than ganging to your +ain room to sit out a scorning. There is a train at ten o'clock +to-night; you hae time to catch it if ye dinna lose a minute, and if +you come back wi' Mrs. David Callendar, I'll gie her a warm welcome +for your sake." + +The old man's face was aglow, and in his excitement he had risen to +his feet with the very air of one whom no circumstances could depress +or embarrass. David caught his mood and his suggestion, and in five +minutes he was on his way to the railway depot. The thing was done so +quickly that reflection had formed no part of it. But when Jenny heard +the front-door clash impatiently after David, she surmised some +imprudence, and hastened to see what was the matter. John told her the +"affront" David had received, and looked eagerly into the strong, +kindly face for an assurance that he had acted with becoming +promptitude and sympathy. Jenny shook her head gravely, and regarded +the deacon with a look of pitying disapproval. "To think," she said, +"of twa men trying to sort a love affair, when there was a woman +within call to seek counsel o'." + +"But we couldna hae done better, Jenny." + +"Ye couldna hae done warse, deacon. Once the lad asked ye for money, +and ye wouldna trust him wi' it; and now ye are in sic a hurry to send +him after a wife that he maun neither eat nor sleep. Ye ken which is +the maist dangerous. And you, wi' a' your years, to play into auld +Strang's hand sae glibly! Deacon, ye hae made a nice mess o' it. Dinna +ye see that Strang knew you twa fiery Hielandmen would never tak +'No,' and he sent Isabel awa on purpose for our Davie to run after her. +He kens weel they will be sure to marry, but he'll say now that his +daughter disobeyed him; sae he'll get off giving her a bawbee o' her +fortune, and he'll save a' the plenishing and the wedding expenses. +Deacon, I'm ashamed o' you. Sending a love-sick lad on sic a fool's +errand. And mair, I'm not going to hae Isabel Strang, or Isabel +Callendar here. A young woman wi' bridish ways dawdling about the +house, I canna, and I willna stand. You'll hae to choose atween Deacon +Strang's daughter and your auld cousin, Jenny Callendar." + +John had no answer ready, and indeed Jenny gave him no time to make +one: she went off with a sob in her voice, and left the impulsive old +matchmaker very unhappy indeed. For he had an unmitigated sense of +having acted most imprudently, and moreover, a shrewd suspicion that +Jenny's analysis of Deacon Strang's tactics was a correct one. For the +first time in many a year, a great tide of hot, passionate anger swept +away every other feeling. He longed to meet Strang face to face, and +with an hereditary and quite involuntary instinct he put his hand to +the place where his forefathers had always carried their dirks. The +action terrified and partly calmed him. "My God!" he exclaimed, +"forgive thy servant. I hae been guilty in my heart o' murder." + +He was very penitent, but still, as he mused the fire burned; and he +gave vent to his feelings in odd, disjointed sentences thrown up from +the very bottom of his heart, as lava is thrown up by the +irrepressible eruption: "Wha shall deliver a man from his ancestors? +Black Evan Callendar was never much nearer murder than I hae been this +night, only for the grace of God, which put the temptation and the +opportunity sae far apart. I'll hae Strang under my thumb yet. God +forgie me! what hae I got to do wi' sorting my ain wrongs? What for +couldna Davie like some other lass? It's as easy to graft on a good +stock as an ill one. I doobt I hae done wrong. I am in a sair swither. +The righteous dinna always see the right way. I maun e'en to my Psalms +again. It is a wonderfu' comfort that King David was just a weak, +sinfu' mortal like mysel'." So he went again to those pathetic, +self-accusing laments of the royal singer, and found in them, as he +always had done, words for all the great depths of his sin and fear, +his hopes and his faith. + +In the morning one thing was clear to him; David must have his own +house now--David must leave him. He could not help but acknowledge +that he helped on this consummation, and it was with something of the +feeling of a man doing a just penance that he went to look at a +furnished house, whose owner was going to the south of France with a +sick daughter. The place was pretty, and handsomely furnished, and +John paid down the year's rent. So when David returned with his young +bride, he assumed at once the dignity and the cares of a householder. + +Jenny was much offended at the marriage of David. She had looked +forward to this event as desirable and probable, but she supposed it +would have come with solemn religious rites and domestic feasting, and +with a great gathering in Blytheswood Square of all the Callendar +clan. That it had been "a wedding in a corner," as she contemptuously +called it, was a great disappointment to her. But, woman-like, she +visited it on her own sex. It was all Isabel's fault, and from the +very first day of the return of the new couple she assumed an air of +commiseration for the young husband, and always spoke of him as "poor +Davie." + +This annoyed John, and after his visits to David's house he was +perhaps unnecessarily eloquent concerning the happiness of the young +people. Jenny received all such information with a dissenting silence. +She always spoke of Isabel as "Mistress David," and when John reminded +her that David's wife was "Mistress Callendar," she said, "It was weel +kent that there were plenty o' folk called Callendar that werna +Callendars for a' that." And it soon became evident to her womanly +keen-sightedness that John did not always return from his visits to +David and Isabel in the most happy of humors. He was frequently too +silent and thoughtful for a perfectly satisfied man; but whatever his +fears were, he kept them in his own bosom. They were evidently as yet +so light that hope frequently banished them altogether; and when at +length David had a son and called it after his uncle, the old man +enjoyed a real springtime of renewed youth and pleasure. Jenny was +partly reconciled also, for the happy parents treated her with special +attention, and she began to feel that perhaps David's marriage might +turn out better than she had looked for. + +Two years after this event Deacon Strang became reconciled to his +daughter, and as a proof of it gave her a large mansion situated in +the rapidly-growing "West End." It had come into his possession at a +bargain in some of the mysterious ways of his trade; but it was, by +the very reason of its great size, quite unsuitable for a young +manufacturer like David. Indeed, it proved to be a most unfortunate +gift in many ways. + +"It will cost L5,000 to furnish it," said John fretfully, "and that +Davie can ill afford--few men could; but Isabel has set her heart on +it." + +"And she'll hae her will, deacon. Ye could put L5,000 in the business +though, or ye could furnish for them." + +"My way o' furnishing wouldna suit them; and as for putting back money +that David is set on wasting, I'll no do it. It is a poor well, Jenny, +into which you must put water. If David's business wont stand his +drafts on it, the sooner he finds it out the better." + +So the fine house was finely furnished; but that was only the +beginning of expenses. Isabel now wanted dress to suit her new +surroundings, and servants to keep the numerous rooms clean. Then she +wanted all her friends and acquaintances to see her splendid +belongings, so that erelong David found his home turned into a +fashionable gathering-place. Lunches, dinners, and balls followed +each other quickly, and the result of all this visiting was that +Isabel had long lists of calls to make every day, and that she finally +persuaded David that it would be cheaper to buy their own carriage +than to pay so much hire to livery-stables. + +These changes did not take place all at once, nor without much +disputing. John Callendar opposed every one of them step by step till +opposition was useless. David only submitted to them in order to +purchase for himself a delusive peace during the few hours he could +afford to be in his fine home; for his increased expenditure was not a +thing he could bear lightly. Every extra hundred pounds involved extra +planning and work and risks. He gradually lost all the cheerful +buoyancy of manner and the brightness of countenance that had been +always part and parcel of David Callendar. A look of care and +weariness was on his face, and his habits and hours lost all their +former regularity. It had once been possible to tell the time of day +by the return home of the two Callendars. Now no one could have done +that with David. He stayed out late at night; he stayed out all night +long. He told Isabel the mill needed him, and she either believed him +or pretended to do so. + +So that after the first winter of her fashionable existence she +generally "entertained" alone. "Mr. Callendar had gone to Stirling, or +up to the Highlands to buy wool," or, "he was so busy money-making she +could not get him to recognize the claims of society." And society +cared not a pin's point whether he presided or not at the expensive +entertainments given in his name. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +But things did not come to this pass all at once; few men take the +steps towards ruin so rapidly as to be themselves alarmed by it. It +was nearly seven years after his marriage when the fact that he was in +dangerously embarrassed circumstances forced itself suddenly on +David's mind. I say "suddenly" here, because the consummation of evil +that has been long preparing comes at last in a moment; a string +holding a picture gets weaker and weaker through weeks of tension, and +then breaks. A calamity through nights and days moves slowly towards +us step by step, and then some hour it has come. So it was with +David's business. It had often lately been in tight places, but +something had always happened to relieve him. One day, however, there +was absolutely no relief but in borrowing money, and David went to his +uncle again. + +It was a painful thing for him to do; not that they had any quarrel, +though sometimes David thought a quarrel would be better than the +scant and almost sad intercourse their once tender love had fallen +into. By some strange mental sympathy, hardly sufficiently recognized +by us, John was thinking of his nephew when he entered. He greeted him +kindly, and pulled a chair close, so that David might sit beside him. +He listened sympathizingly to his cares, and looked mournfully into +the unhappy face so dear to him; then he took his bank-book and wrote +out a check for double the amount asked. + +The young man was astonished; the tears sprang to his eyes, and he +said, "Uncle, this is very good of you. I wish I could tell you how +grateful I am." + +"Davie, sit a moment, you dear lad. I hae a word to say to ye. I hear +tell that my lad is drinking far mair than is good either for himsel' +or his business. My lad, I care little for the business; let it go, if +its anxieties are driving thee to whiskey. David, remember what thou +accused me of, yonder night, when this weary mill was first spoken of; +and then think how I suffer every time I hear tell o' thee being the +warse o' liquor. And Jenny is greeting her heart out about thee. And +there is thy sick wife, and three bonnie bit bairns." + +"Did Isabel tell you this?" + +"How can she help complaining? She is vera ill, and she sees little o' +thee, David, she says." + +"Yes, she is ill. She took cold at Provost Allison's ball, and she has +dwined away ever since. That is true. And the house is neglected and +the servants do their own will both with it and the poor children. I +have been very wretched, Uncle John, lately, and I am afraid I have +drunk more than I ought to have done. Robert and I do not hit together +as we used to; he is always fault-finding, and ever since that visit +from his cousin who is settled in America he has been dissatisfied and +heartless. His cousin has made himself a rich man in ten years there; +and Robert says we shall ne'er make money here till we are too old to +enjoy it." + +"I heard tell, too, that Robert has been speculating in railway stock. +Such reports, true or false, hurt you, David. Prudent men dinna like +to trust speculators." + +"I think the report is true; but then it is out of his private savings +he speculates." + +"Davie, gie me your word that you wont touch a drop o' whiskey for a +week--just for a week." + +"I cannot do it, uncle. I should be sure to break it. I don't want to +tell you a lie." + +"O Davie, Davie! Will you try, then?" + +"I'll try, uncle. Ask Jenny to go and see the children." + +"'Deed she shall go; she'll be fain to do it. Let them come and stay +wi' me till their mother is mair able to look after them." + +Jenny heard the story that night with a dour face. She could have said +some very bitter things about Deacon Strang's daughter, but in +consideration of her sickness she forbore. The next morning she went +to David's house and had a talk with Isabel. The poor woman was so ill +that Jenny had no heart to scold her; she only gave the house "a good +sorting," did what she could for Isabel's comfort, and took back with +her the children and their nurse. It was at her suggestion John saw +David the next day, and offered to send Isabel to the mild climate of +Devonshire. "She'll die if she stays in Glasgo' through the winter," +he urged, and David consented. Then, as David could not leave his +business, John himself took the poor woman to Torbay, and no one but +she and God ever knew how tenderly he cared for her, and how solemnly +he tried to prepare her for the great change he saw approaching. She +had not thought of death before, but when they parted he knew she had +understood him, for weeping bitterly, she said, "You will take care of +the children, Uncle John? I fear I shall see them no more." + +"I will, Isabel. While I live I will." + +"And, O uncle, poor David! I have not been a good wife to him. +Whatever happens, think of that and judge him mercifully. It is my +fault, uncle, my fault, my fault! God forgive me!" + +"Nae, nae, lassie; I am far from innocent mysel';" and with these +mournful accusations they parted for ever. + +For Isabel's sickness suddenly assumed an alarming character, and her +dissolution was so rapid that John had scarcely got back to Glasgow +ere David was sent for to see his wife die. He came back a bereaved +and very wretched man; the great house was dismantled and sold, and he +went home once more to Blytheswood Square. + +But he could not go back to his old innocent life and self; and the +change only revealed to John how terribly far astray his nephew had +gone. And even Isabel's death had no reforming influence on him; it +only roused regrets and self-reproaches, which made liquor all the +more necessary to him. Then the breaking up of the house entailed much +bargain-making, all of which was unfortunately cemented with glasses +of whiskey toddy. Still his uncle had some new element of hope on +which to work. David's home was now near enough to his place of +business to afford no excuse for remaining away all night. The +children were not to be hid away in some upper room; John was +determined they should be at the table and on the hearthstone; and +surely their father would respect their innocence and keep himself +sober for their sakes. + +"It is the highest earthly motive I can gie him," argued the anxious +old man, "and he has aye had grace enough to keep out o' my sight when +he wasna himsel'; he'll ne'er let wee John and Flora and Davie see him +when the whiskey is aboon the will and the wit--that's no to be +believed." + +And for a time it seemed as if John's tactics would prevail. There +were many evenings when they were very happy. The children made so gay +the quiet old parlor, and David learning to know his own boys and +girl, was astonished at their childish beauty and intelligence. Often +John could not bear to break up the pleasant evening time, and David +and he would sit softly talking in the firelight, with little John +musing quietly between them, and Flora asleep on her uncle's lap. Then +Jenny would come gently in and out and say tenderly, "Hadna the bairns +better come awa to their beds?" and the old man would answer, "Bide a +bit, Jenny, woman," for he thought every such hour was building up a +counter influence against the snare of strong drink. + +But there is no voice in human nature that can say authoritatively, +"_Return!_" David felt all the sweet influences with which he was +surrounded, but, it must be admitted, they were sometimes an +irritation to him. His business troubles, and his disagreements with +his partner, were increasing rapidly; for Robert--whose hopes were set +on America--was urging him to close the mill before their liabilities +were any larger. He refused to believe longer in the future making +good what they had lost; and certainly it was uphill work for David to +struggle against accumulating bills, and a partner whose heart was not +with him. + +One night at the close of the year, David did not come home to dinner, +and John and the children ate it alone. He was very anxious, and he +had not much heart to talk; but he kept the two eldest with him until +little Flora's head dropped, heavy with sleep, on his breast. Then a +sudden thought seemed to strike him, and he sent them, almost +hurriedly, away. He had scarcely done so when there was a shuffling +noise in the hall, the parlor-door was flung open with a jar, and +David staggered towards him--_drunk_! + +In a moment, John's natural temper conquered him; he jumped to his +feet, and said passionately, "How daur ye, sir? Get out o' my house, +you sinfu' lad!" Then, with a great cry he smote his hands together +and bowed his head upon them, weeping slow, heavy drops, that came +each with a separate pang. His agony touched David, though he scarcely +comprehended it. Not all at once is the tender conscience seared, and +the tender heart hardened. + +"Uncle," he said in a maudlin, hesitating way, which it would be a sin +to imitate--"Uncle John, I'm not drunk, I'm in trouble; I'm in +trouble, Uncle John. Don't cry about me. I'm not worth it." + +Then he sank down upon the sofa, and, after a few more incoherent +apologies, dropped into a deep sleep. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +John sat and looked at his fallen idol with a vacant, tear-stained +face. He tried to pray a few words at intervals, but he was not yet +able to gird up his soul and wrestle with this grief. When Jenny came +in she was shocked at the gray, wretched look with which her master +pointed to the shameful figure on the sofa. Nevertheless, she went +gently to it, raised the fallen head to the pillow, and then went and +got a blanket to cover the sleeper, muttering, + +"Poor fellow! There's nae need to let him get a pleurisy, ony gate. +Whatna for did ye no tell me, deacon? Then I could hae made him a cup +o' warm tea." + +She spoke as if she was angry, not at David, but at John; and, though +it was only the natural instinct of a woman defending what she dearly +loved, John gave it a different meaning, and it added to his +suffering. + +"You are right, Jenny, woman," he said humbly, "it is my fault. I +mixed his first glass for him." + +"Vera weel. Somebody aye mixes the first glass. Somebody mixed your +first glass. That is a bygane, and there is nae use at a' speiring +after it. How is the lad to be saved? That is the question now." + +"O Jenny, then you dare to hope for his salvation?" + +"I would think it far mair sinfu' to despair o' it. The Father has twa +kinds o' sons, deacon. Ye are ane like the elder brother; ye hae +'served him many years and transgressed not at any time his +commandment;' but this dear lad is his younger son--still his son, +mind ye--and he'll win hame again to his Father's house. What for not? +He's the bairn o' many prayers. Gae awa to your ain room, deacon; I'll +keep the watch wi' him. He'd rather see me nor you when he comes to +himsel'." + +Alas! the watch begun that night was one Jenny had very often to keep +afterwards. David's troubles gathered closer and closer round him, and +the more trouble he had the deeper he drank. Within a month after that +first shameful homecoming the firm of Callendar & Leslie went into +sequestration. John felt the humiliation of this downcome in a far +keener way than David did. His own business record was a stainless +one; his word was as good as gold on Glasgow Exchange; the house of +John Callendar & Co. was synonymous with commercial integrity. The +prudent burghers who were his nephew's creditors were far from +satisfied with the risks David and Robert Leslie had taken, and they +did not scruple to call them by words which hurt John Callendar's +honor like a sword-thrust. He did not doubt that many blamed him for +not interfering in his nephew's extravagant business methods; and he +could not explain to these people how peculiarly he was situated with +regard to David's affairs; nor, indeed, would many of them have +understood the fine delicacy which had dictated John's course. + +It was a wretched summer every way. The accountant who had charge of +David's affairs was in no hurry to close up a profitable engagement, +and the creditors, having once accepted the probable loss, did not +think it worth while to deny themselves their seaside or Highland +trips to attend meetings relating to Callendar & Leslie. So there was +little progress made in the settlement of affairs all summer, and +David was literally out of employment. His uncle's and his children's +presence was a reproach to him, and Robert and he only irritated each +other with mutual reproaches. Before autumn brought back manufacturers +and merchants to their factories and offices David had sunk still +lower. He did not come home any more when he felt that he had drunk +too much. He had found out houses where such a condition was the +natural and the most acceptable one--houses whose doors are near to +the gates of hell. + +This knowledge shocked John inexpressibly, and in the depth of his +horror and grief he craved some human sympathy. + +"I must go and see Dr. Morrison," he said one night to Jenny. + +"And you'll do right, deacon; the grip o' his hand and the shining o' +his eyes in yours will do you good; forbye, you ken weel you arena fit +to guide yoursel', let alane Davie. You are too angry, and angry men +tell many a lie to themsel's." + +There is often something luminous in the face of a good man, and Dr. +Morrison had this peculiarity in a remarkable degree. His face seemed +to radiate light; moreover, he was a man anointed with the oil of +gladness above his fellows, and John no sooner felt the glow of that +radiant countenance on him than his heart leaped up to welcome it. + +"Doctor," he said, choking back his sorrow, "doctor, I'm fain to see +you." + +"John, sit down. What is it, John?" + +"It's David, minister." + +And then John slowly, and weighing every word so as to be sure he +neither over-stated nor under-stated the case, opened up his whole +heart's sorrow. + +"I hae suffered deeply, minister; I didna think life could be such a +tragedy." + +"A tragedy indeed, John, but a tragedy with an angel audience. Think +of that. Paul says 'we are a spectacle unto men and angels.' Mind how +you play your part. What is David doing now?" + +"Nothing. His affairs are still unsettled." + +"But that wont do, John. Men learn to do ill by doing what is next to +it--nothing. Without some duty life cannot hold itself erect. If a man +has no regular calling he is an unhappy man and a cross man, and I +think prayers should be offered up for his wife and children and a' +who have to live with him. Take David into your own employ at once." + +"O minister, that I canna do! My office has aye had God-fearing, +steady men in it, and I canna, and--" + +"'And that day Jesus was guest in the house of a man that was a +sinner.' John, can't you take a sinner as a servant into your office?" + +"I'll try it, minister." + +"And, John, it will be a hard thing to do, but you must watch David +constantly. You must follow him to his drinking-haunts and take him +home; if need be, you must follow him to warse places and take him +home. You must watch him as if all depended on your vigilance, and you +must pray for him as if nothing depended on it. You hae to conquer on +your knees before you go into the world to fight your battle, John. +But think, man, what a warfare is set before you--the saving of an +immortal soul! And I'm your friend and helper in the matter; the lad +is one o' my stray lambs; he belongs to my fold. Go your ways in God's +strength, John, for this grief o' yours shall be crowned with +consolation." + +It is impossible to say how this conference strengthened John +Callendar. Naturally a very choleric man, he controlled himself into a +great patience with his erring nephew. He watched for him like a +father; nay, more like a mother's was the thoughtful tenderness of his +care. And David was often so touched by the love and forbearance shown +him, that he made passionate acknowledgments of his sin and earnest +efforts to conquer it. Sometimes for a week together he abstained +entirely, though during these intervals of reason he was very trying. +His remorse, his shame, his physical suffering, were so great that he +needed the most patient tenderness; and yet he frequently resented +this tenderness in a moody, sullen way that was a shocking contrast to +his once bright and affectionate manner. + +So things went on until the close of the year. By that time the +affairs of the broken firm had been thoroughly investigated, and it +was found that its liabilities were nearly L20,000 above its assets. +Suddenly, however, bundle wools took an enormous rise, and as the +stock of "Callendar & Leslie" was mainly of this kind, they were +pushed on the market, and sold at a rate which reduced the firm's +debts to about L17,000. This piece of good fortune only irritated +David; he was sure now that if Robert had continued the fight they +would have been in a position to clear themselves. Still, whatever +credit was due the transaction was frankly given to David. It was his +commercial instinct that had divined the opportunity and seized it, +and a short item in the "Glasgow Herald" spoke in a cautiously +flattering way of the affair. + +Both John and David were greatly pleased at the circumstance. David +also had been perfectly sober during the few days he had this stroke +of business in hand, and the public acknowledgment of his service to +the firm's creditors was particularly flattering to him. He came down +to breakfast that morning as he had not come for months. It was a +glimpse of the old Davie back again, and John was as happy as a child +in the vision. Into his heart came at once Dr. Morrison's assertion +that David must have some regular duty to keep his life erect. It was +evident that the obligation of a trust had a controlling influence +over him. + +"David," he said cheerfully, "you must hae nearly done wi' that first +venture o' yours. The next will hae to redeem it; that is all about +it. Everything is possible to a man under forty years auld." + +"We have our final meeting this afternoon, uncle. I shall lock the +doors for ever to-night." + +"And your debts are na as much as you expected." + +"They will not be over L17,000, and they may be considerably less. I +hope to make another sale this morning. There are yet three thousand +bundles in the stock." + +"David, I shall put L20,000 in your ain name and for your ain use, +whatever that use may be, in the Western Bank this morning. I think +you'll do the best thing you can do to set your name clear again. If +you are my boy you will." + +"Uncle John, you cannot really mean that I may pay every shilling I +owe, and go back on the Exchange with a white name? O uncle, if you +should mean this, what a man you would make of me!" + +"It is just what I mean to do, Davie. Is na all that I have yours and +your children's? But oh, I thank God that you hae still a heart that +counts honor more than gold. David, after this I wont let go one o' +the hopes I have ever had for you." + +"You need not, uncle. Please God, and with his help, I will make every +one of them good." + +And he meant to do it. He never had felt more certain of himself or +more hopeful for the future than when he went out that morning. He +touched nothing all day, and as the short, dark afternoon closed in, +he went cheerfully towards the mill, with his new check-book in his +pocket and the assurance in his heart that in a few hours he could +stand up among his fellow-citizens free from the stain of debt. + +His short speech at the final meeting was so frank and manly, and so +just and honorable to his uncle, that it roused a quiet but deep +enthusiasm. Many of the older men had to wipe the mist from their +glasses, and the heaviest creditor stood up and took David's hand, +saying, "Gentlemen, I hae made money, and I hae saved money, and I hae +had money left me; but I never made, nor saved, nor got money that +gave me such honest pleasure as this siller I hae found in twa honest +men's hearts. Let's hae in the toddy and drink to the twa Callendars." + +Alas! alas! how often is it our friends from whom we ought to pray to +be preserved. The man meant kindly; he was a good man, he was a +God-fearing man, and even while he was setting temptation before his +poor, weak brother, he was thinking "that money so clean and fair and +unexpected should be given to some holy purpose." But the best of us +are the slaves of habit and chronic thoughtlessness. All his life he +had signalled every happy event by a libation of toddy; everybody else +did the same; and although he knew David's weakness, he did not think +of it in connection with that wisest of all prayers, "Lead us not into +temptation." + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +David ought to have left then, but he did not; and when his uncle's +health was given, and the glass of steaming whiskey stood before him, +he raised it to his lips and drank. It was easy to drink the second +glass and the third, and so on. The men fell into reminiscence and +song, and no one knew how many glasses were mixed; and even when they +stood at the door they turned back for "a thimbleful o' raw speerit to +keep out the cold," for it had begun to snow, and there was a chill, +wet, east wind. + +Then they went; and when their forms were lost in the misty gloom, and +even their voices had died away, David turned back to put out the +lights, and lock the mill-door for the last time. Suddenly it struck +him that he had not seen Robert Leslie for an hour at least, and while +he was wondering about it in a vague, drunken way, Robert came out of +an inner room, white with scornful anger, and in a most quarrelsome +mood. + +"You have made a nice fool of yoursel', David Callendar! Flinging awa +so much gude gold for a speech and a glass o' whiskey! Ugh!" + +"You may think so, Robert. The Leslies have always been 'rievers and +thievers;' but the Callendars are of another stock." + +"The Callendars are like ither folk--good and bad, and mostly bad. +Money, not honor, rules the warld in these days; and when folk have +turned spinners, what is the use o' talking about honor! Profit is a +word more fitting." + +"I count mysel' no less a Callendar than my great-grandfather, Evan +Callendar, who led the last hopeless charge on Culloden. If I am a +spinner, I'll never be the first to smirch the roll o' my house with +debt and dishonesty, if I can help it." + +"Fair nonsense! The height of nonsense! Your ancestors indeed! Mules +make a great to-do about their ancestors having been horses!" + +David retorted with hot sarcasm on the freebooting Leslies, and their +kin the Armstrongs and Kennedys; and to Scotchmen this is the very +sorest side of a quarrel. They can forgive a bitter word against +themselves perhaps, but against their clan, or their dead, it is an +unpardonable offence. And certainly Robert had an unfair advantage; he +was in a cool, wicked temper of envy and covetousness. He could have +struck himself for not having foreseen that old John Callendar would +be sure to clear the name of dishonor, and thus let David and his +L20,000 slip out of his control. + +David had drunk enough to excite all the hereditary fight in his +nature, and not enough to dull the anger and remorse he felt for +having drunk anything at all. The dreary, damp atmosphere and the +cold, sloppy turf of Glasgow Green might have brought them back to the +ordinary cares and troubles of every-day life, but it did not. This +grim oasis in the very centre of the hardest and bitterest existences +was now deserted. The dull, heavy swash of the dirty Clyde and the +distant hum of the sorrowful voices of humanity in the adjacent +streets hardly touched the sharp, cutting accents of the two +quarrelling men. No human ears heard them, and no human eyes saw the +uplifted hands and the sway and fall of Robert Leslie upon the smutty +and half melted snow, except David's. + +Yes; David saw him fall, and heard with a strange terror the peculiar +thud and the long moan that followed it. It sobered him at once and +completely. The shock was frightful. He stood for a moment looking at +the upturned face, and then with a fearful horror he stooped and +touched it. There was no response to either entreaties or movement, +and David was sure after five minutes' efforts there never would be. +Then his children, his uncle, his own life, pressed upon him like a +surging crowd. His rapid mind took in the situation at once. There was +no proof. Nobody had seen them leave together. Robert had certainly +left the company an hour before it scattered; none of them could know +that he was waiting in that inner room. With a rapid step he took his +way through Kent street into a region where he was quite unknown, and +by a circuitous route reached the foot of Great George street. + +He arrived at home about eight o'clock. John had had his dinner, and +the younger children had gone to bed. Little John sat opposite him on +the hearthrug, but the old man and the child were both lost in +thought. David's face at once terrified his uncle. + +"Johnnie," he said, with a weary pathos in his voice, "your father +wants to see me alane. You had best say 'Gude-night,' my wee man." + +The child kissed his uncle, and after a glance into his father's face +went quietly out. His little heart had divined that he "must not +disturb papa." David's eyes followed him with an almost overmastering +grief and love, but when John said sternly, "Now, David Callendar, +what is it this time?" he answered with a sullen despair, + +"It is the last trouble I can bring you. I have killed Robert Leslie!" + +The old man uttered a cry of horror, and stood looking at his nephew +as if he doubted his sanity. + +"I am not going to excuse mysel', sir. Robert said some aggravating +things, and he struck me first; but that is neither here nor there. I +struck him and he fell. I think he hit his head in falling; but it was +dark and stormy, I could not see. I don't excuse mysel' at all. I am +as wicked and lost as a man can be. Just help me awa, Uncle John, and +I will trouble you no more for ever." + +"Where hae you left Robert?" + +"Where he fell, about 300 yards above Rutherglen Bridge." + +"You are a maist unmerciful man! I ne'er liked Robert, but had he been +my bitterest enemy I would hae got him help if there was a chance for +life, and if not, I would hae sought a shelter for his corpse." + +Then he walked to the parlor door, locked it, and put the key in his +pocket. + +"As for helping you awa, sir, I'll ne'er do it, ne'er; you hae sinned, +and you'll pay the penalty, as a man should do." + +"Uncle, have mercy on me." + +"Justice has a voice as weel as mercy. O waly, waly!" cried the +wretched old man, going back to the pathetic Gaelic of his childhood, +"O waly, waly! to think o' the sin and the shame o' it. Plenty o' +Callendars hae died before their time, but it has been wi' their faces +to their foes and their claymores in their hands. O Davie, Davie! my +lad, my lad! My Davie!" + +His agony shook him as a great wind shakes the tree-tops, and David +stood watching him in a misery still keener and more hopeless. For a +few moments neither spoke. Then John rose wearily and said, + +"I'll go with you, David, to the proper place. Justice must be +done--yes, yes, it is just and right." + +Then he lifted up his eyes, and clasping his hands, cried out, + +"But, O my heavenly Father, be merciful, be merciful, for love is the +fulfilling of the law. Come, David, we hae delayed o'er long." + +"Where are you going, uncle?" + +"You ken where weel enough." + +"Dear uncle, be merciful. At least let us go see Dr. Morrison first. +Whatever he says I will do." + +"I'll do that; I'll be glad to do that; maybe he'll find me a road out +o' this sair, sair strait. God help us all, for vain is the help o' +man." + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +When they entered Dr. Morrison's house the doctor entered with them. +He was wet through, and his swarthy face was in a glow of excitement. +A stranger was with him, and this stranger he hastily took into a room +behind the parlor, and then he came back to his visitors. + +"Well, John, what is the matter?" + +"Murder. Murder is the matter, doctor," and with a strange, quiet +precision he went over David's confession, for David had quite broken +down and was sobbing with all the abandon of a little child. During +the recital the minister's face was wonderful in its changes of +expression, but at the last a kind of adoring hopefulness was the most +decided. + +"John," he said, "what were you going to do wi' that sorrowfu' lad?" + +"I was going to gie him up to justice, minister, as it was right and +just to do; but first we must see about--about the body." + +"That has, without doot, been already cared for. On the warst o' +nights there are plenty o' folk passing o'er Glasgow Green after the +tea-hour. It is David we must care for now. Why should we gie him up +to the law? Not but what 'the law is good, if a man use it lawfully.' +But see how the lad is weeping. Dinna mak yoursel' hard to a broken +heart, deacon. God himsel' has promised to listen to it. You must go +back hame and leave him wi' me. And, John," he said, with an air of +triumph, as they stood at the door together, with the snow blowing in +their uplifted faces, "John, my dear old brother John, go hame and +bless God; for, I tell you, this thing shall turn out to be a great +salvation." + +So John went home, praying as he went, and conscious of a strange +hopefulness in the midst of his grief. The minister turned back to the +sobbing criminal, and touching him gently, said, + +"Davie, my son, come wi' me." + +David rose hopelessly and followed him. They went into the room where +they had seen the minister take the stranger who had entered the house +with them. The stranger was still there, and as they entered he came +gently and on tiptoe to meet them. + +"Dr. Fleming," said the minister, "this is David Callendar, your +patient's late partner in business; he wishes to be the poor man's +nurse, and indeed, sir, I ken no one fitter for the duty." + +So Dr. Fleming took David's hand, and then in a low voice gave him +directions for the night's watch, though David, in the sudden hope and +relief that had come to him, could scarcely comprehend them. Then the +physician went, and the minister and David sat by the bedside alone. +Robert lay in the very similitude and presence of death, unconscious +both of his sufferings and his friends. Congestion of the brain had +set in, and life was only revealed by the faintest pulsations, and by +the appliances for relief which medical skill thought it worth while +to make. + +"'And sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death,'" said the +doctor solemnly. "David, there is your work." + +"God knows how patiently and willingly I'll do it, minister. Poor +Robert, I never meant to harm him." + +"Now listen to me, and wonder at God's merciful ways. Auld Deacon +Galbraith, who lives just beyond Rutherglen Bridge, sent me word this +afternoon that he had gotten a summons from his Lord, and he would +like to see my face ance mair before he went awa for ever. He has been +my right hand in the kirk, and I loved him weel. Sae I went to bid him +a short Gude-by--for we'll meet again in a few years at the maist--and +I found him sae glad and solemnly happy within sight o' the heavenly +shore, that I tarried wi' him a few hours, and we ate and drank his +last sacrament together. He dropped my hand wi' a smile at half-past +six o'clock, and after comforting his wife and children a bit I turned +my face hameward. But I was in that mood that I didna care to sit i' a +crowded omnibus, and I wanted to be moving wi' my thoughts. The +falling snow and the deserted Green seemed good to me, and I walked on +thinking o'er again the deacon's last utterances, for they were wise +and good even beyond the man's nature. That is how I came across +Robert Leslie. I thought he was dead, but I carried him in my arms to +the House o' the Humane Society, which, you ken, isna one hundred +yards from where Robert fell. The officer there said he wasna dead, +sae I brought him here and went for the physician you spoke to. Now, +Davie, it is needless for me to say mair. You ken what I expect o' +you. You'll get no whiskey in this house, not a drop o' it. If the +sick man needs anything o' that kind, I shall gie it wi' my ain hand; +and you wont leave this house, David, until I see whether Robert is to +live or die. You must gie me your word o' honor for that." + +"Minister, pray what is my word worth?" + +"Everything it promises, David Callendar. I would trust your word +afore I'd trust a couple o' constables, for a' that's come and gane." + +"Thank you, thank you, doctor! You shall not trust, and be deceived. I +solemnly promise you to do my best for Robert, and not to leave your +house until I have your permission." + +The next morning Dr. Morrison was at John Callendar's before he sat +down to breakfast. He had the morning paper with him, and he pointed +out a paragraph which ran thus: "Robert Leslie, of the late firm of +Callendar & Leslie, was found by the Rev. Dr. Morrison in an +unconscious condition on the Green last night about seven o'clock. It +is supposed the young gentleman slipped and fell, and in the fall +struck his head, as congestion of the brain has taken place. He lies +at Dr. Morrison's house, and is being carefully nursed by his late +partner, though there is but little hope of his recovery." + +"Minister, it wasna you surely wha concocted this lie?" + +"Nobody has told a lie, John. Don't be overrighteous, man; there is an +unreasonableness o' virtue that savors o' pride. I really thought +Robert had had an accident, until you told me the truth o' the matter. +The people at the Humane Society did the same; sae did Dr. Fleming. I +suppose some reporter got the information from one o' the latter +sources. But if Robert gets well, we may let it stand; and if he +doesna get well, I shall seek counsel o' God before I take a step +farther. In the meantime David is doing his first duty in nursing him; +and David will stay in my house till I see whether it be a case o' +murder or not." + +For three weeks there was but the barest possibility of Robert's +recovery. But his youth and fine constitution, aided by the skill of +his physician and the unremitting care of his nurse, were at length, +through God's mercy, permitted to gain a slight advantage. The +discipline of that three weeks was a salutary though a terrible one to +David. Sometimes it became almost intolerable; but always, when it +reached this point, Dr. Morrison seemed, by some fine spiritual +instinct, to discover the danger and hasten to his assistance. Life +has silences more pathetic than death's; and the stillness of that +darkened room, with its white prostrate figure, was a stillness in +which David heard many voices he never would have heard in the crying +out of the noisy world. + +What they said to him about his wasted youth and talents, and about +his neglected Saviour, only his own heart knew. But he must have +suffered very much, for, at the end of a month, he looked like a man +who had himself walked through the valley and shadow of death. About +this time Dr. Morrison began to drop in for an hour or two every +evening; sometimes he took his cup of tea with the young men, and then +he always talked with David on passing events in such a way as to +interest without fatiguing the sick man. His first visit of this kind +was marked by a very affecting scene. He stood a moment looking at +Robert and then taking David's hand, he laid it in Robert's. But the +young men had come to a perfect reconciliation one midnight when the +first gleam of consciousness visited the sick man, and Dr. Morrison +was delighted to see them grasp each other with a smile, while David +stooped and lovingly touched his friend's brow. + +"Doctor, it was my fault," whispered Robert. "If I die, remember that. +I did my best to anger Davie, and I struck him first. I deserved all I +have had to suffer." + +After this, however, Robert recovered rapidly, and in two months he +was quite well. + +"David," said the minister to him one morning, "your trial is nearly +over. I have a message from Captain Laird to Robert Leslie. Laird +sails to-night; his ship has dropped down the river a mile, and Robert +must leave when the tide serves; that will be at five o'clock." + +For Robert had shrunk from going again into his Glasgow life, and had +determined to sail with his friend Laird at once for New York. There +was no one he loved more dearly than David and Dr. Morrison, and with +them his converse had been constant and very happy and hopeful. He +wished to leave his old life with this conclusion to it unmingled with +any other memories. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +So that evening the three men went in a coach to the Broomilaw +together. A boat and two watermen were in waiting at the bridge-stair, +and though the evening was wet and chilly they all embarked. No one +spoke. The black waters washed and heaved beneath them, the myriad +lights shone vaguely through the clammy mist and steady drizzle, and +the roar of the city blended with the stroke of the oars and the +patter of the rain. Only when they lay under the hull of a large ship +was the silence broken. But it was broken by a blessing. + +"God bless you, Robert! The Lord Jesus, our Redeemer, make you a gude +man," said Dr. Morrison fervently, and David whispered a few broken +words in his friend's ear. Then Captain Laird's voice was heard, and +in a moment or two more they saw by the light of a lifted lantern +Robert's white face in the middle of a group on deck. + +"Farewell!" he shouted feebly, and Dr. Morrison answered it with a +lusty, "God speed you, Robert! God speed the good ship and all on +board of her!" + +So they went silently back again, and stepped into the muddy, +dreamlike, misty streets, wet through and quite weary with emotion. + +"Now gude-night, David. Your uncle is waiting dinner for you. I hae +learned to love you vera much." + +"Is there anything I can do, doctor, to show you how much I love and +respect you?" + +"You can be a good man, and you can let me see you every Sabbath in +your place at kirk. Heaven's gate stands wide open on the Sabbath day, +David; sae it is a grand time to offer your petitions." + +Yes, the good old uncle was waiting, but with that fine instinct which +is born of a true love he had felt that David would like no fuss made +about his return. He met him as if he had only been a few hours away, +and he had so tutored Jenny that she only betrayed her joy by a look +which David and she understood well. + +"The little folks," said John, "have a' gane to their beds; the day +has been that wet and wearisome that they were glad to gae to sleep +and forget a' about it." + +David sat down in his old place, and the two men talked of the Russian +war and the probable storming of the Alamo. Then John took his usual +after-dinner nap, and David went up stairs with Jenny and kissed his +children, and said a few words to them and to the old woman, which +made them all very happy. + +When he returned to the parlor his uncle was still sleeping, and he +could see how weary and worn he had become. + +"So patient, so generous, so honorable, so considerate for my +feelings," said the young man to himself. "I should be an ingrate +indeed if I did not, as soon as he wakes, say what I know he is so +anxious to hear." + +With the thought John opened his eyes, and David nodded and smiled +back to him. How alert and gladly he roused himself! How cheerily he +said, + +"Why, Davie, I hae been sleeping, I doot. Hech, but it is gude to see +you, lad." + +"Please God, uncle, it shall always be gude to see me. Can you give me +some advice to-night?" "I'll be mair than glad to do it." + +"Tell me frankly, Uncle John, what you think I ought to do. I saw +Robert off to America to-night. Shall I follow him?" + +"Davie, mind what I say. In the vera place where a man loses what he +values, there he should look to find it again. You hae lost your good +name in Glasgow; stay in Glasgow and find it again." + +"I will stay here then. What shall I do?" + +"You'll go back to your old place, and to your old business." + +"But I heard that Deacon Strang had bought the looms and the lease." + +"He bought them for me, for us, I mean. I will tell you how that came +about. One day when I was cross, and sair put out wi' your affairs, +Davie, Dr. Morrison came into my office. I'm feared I wasna glad to +see him; and though I was ceevil enough, the wise man read me like a +book. 'John,' says he, 'I am not come to ask you for siller to-day, +nor am I come to reprove you for staying awa from the service o' God +twice lately. I am come to tell you that you will hae the grandest +opportunity to-day, to be, not only a man, but a Christ-man. If you +let the opportunity slip by you, I shall feel sairly troubled about +it.' + +"Then he was gone before I could say, 'What is it?' and I wondered and +wondered all day what he could hae meant. But just before I was ready +to say, 'Mr. MacFarlane, lock the safe,' in walks Deacon Strang. He +looked vera downcast and shamefaced, and says he, 'Callendar, you can +tak your revenge on me to-morrow, for a' I hae said and done against +you for thirty years. You hold twa notes o' mine, and I canna meet +them. You'll hae to protest and post them to-morrow, and that will +ruin me and break my heart.' + +"David, I had to walk to the window and hide my face till I could +master mysel', I was that astonished. Then I called out, 'Mr. +MacFarlane, you hae two notes o' Deacon Strang's, bring them to me.' +When he did sae, I said, 'Well, deacon, we a' o' us hae our ain +fashes. How long time do you want, and we'll renew these bits o' +paper?' + +"And the thing was done, Davie, and done that pleasantly that it made +me feel twenty years younger. We shook hands when we parted, and as we +did sae, the deacon said, 'Is there aught I can do to pleasure you or +David?' and a' at once it struck me about the sales o' the looms and +lease. Sae I said, 'Yes, deacon, there is something you can do, and +I'll be vera much obligated to you for the same. Davie is sae tied +down wi' Robert's illness, will you go to the sale o' Callendar & +Leslie's looms and lease, and buy them for me? You'll get them on +better terms than I will.' And he did get them on excellent terms, +Davie; sae your mill is just as you left it--for Bailie Nicol, wha +took it at the accountant's valuation, never opened it at all. And you +hae twenty months' rent paid in advance, and you hae something in the +bank I expect." + +"I have L3,600, uncle." + +"Now, I'll be your partner this time. I'll put in the business L4,000, +but I'll hae it run on a solid foundation, however small that +foundation may be. I'll hae no risks taken that are dishonest risks; +I'll hae a broad mark made between enterprise and speculation; and +above a', I'll hae the right to examine the books, and see how things +are going on, whenever I wish to do sae. We will start no more looms +than our capital will work, and we'll ask credit from no one." + +"Uncle John, there is not another man in the world so generous and +unselfish as you are." + +"There are plenty as good men in every congregation o' the Lord; if +there wasna they would scatter in no time. Then you are willing, are +you? Gie me your hand, Davie. I shall look to you to do your best for +baith o' us." + +"I have not drunk a drop for two months, uncle. I never intend to +drink again." + +"I hae given it up mysel'," said the old man, with an affected +indifference that was pathetic in its self-abnegation. "I thought twa +going a warfare together might do better than ane alone. Ye ken Christ +sent out the disciples by twa and twa. And, Davie, when you are hard +beset, just utter the name of Christ down in your heart, and see how +much harder it is to sin." + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +The arrangement had been a very pleasant one, every way, but somehow +John did not feel as if David had as much outside help as he needed. +The young man was not imaginative; an ideal, however high, was a far +less real thing to David than to old John. He pondered during many +sleepless hours the advisability of having David sign the pledge. +David had always refused to do it hitherto. He had a keen sense of +shame in breaking a verbal promise on this subject; but he had an +almost superstitious feeling regarding the obligation of anything he +put his name to; and this very feeling made John hesitate to press the +matter. For, he argued, and not unwisely, "if David should break this +written obligation, his condition would seem to himself irremediable, +and he would become quite reckless." + +In the morning this anxiety was solved. When John came down to +breakfast, he found David walking about the room with a newspaper in +his hand, and in a fever heat of martial enthusiasm. "Uncle," he +cried, "O Uncle John, such glorious news! The Alamo is taken. Colin +Campbell and his Highlanders were first at the ramparts, and Roy and +Hector Callendar were with them. Listen?" and he threw the passion and +fervor of all his military instincts into the glowing words which +told, how in a storm of fire and shot, Sir Colin and his Highland +regiment had pushed up the hill; and how when the Life Guards were +struggling to reach their side, the brave old commander turned round +and shouted, "We'll hae nane but Hieland bonnets here!" "O Uncle John, +what would I not have given to have marched with Roy and Hector behind +him? With such a leader I would not turn my back on any foe." + +"David, you have a far harder fight before you, and a far grander +Captain." + +"Uncle, uncle, if I could see my foe; if I could meet him face to face +in a real fight; but he steals into my heart, even by my nostrils, and +unmans me, before I am aware." + +John rang the bell sharply, and when Jenny came, he amazed her by +saying, "Bring me here from the cellar three bottles of whiskey." He +spoke so curt and determined that for once Jenny only wondered, and +obeyed. + +"That will do, my woman." Then he turned to David, and putting one +bottle on the table said, "There is your foe! Face your enemy, sir! +Sit down before him morning, noon, and night. Dare him to master you! +Put this bottle on the table in your ain room; carry this in your hand +to your office, and stand it before your eyes upon your desk. If you +want a foe to face and to conquer, a foe that you can see and touch, +here is one mighty enough to stir the bravest soul. And, if you turn +your back on him you are a coward; a mean, poor-hearted coward, sir. +And there ne'er was a coward yet, o' the Callendar blood, nor o' the +Campbell line! Your Captain is nane less than the Son o' God. Hear +what he says to you! 'To him that overcometh! To him that overcometh!' +O Davie, you ken the rest!" and the old man was so lifted out of and +above himself, that his face shone and his keen gray eyes scintillated +with a light that no market-place ever saw in them. + +David caught the holy enthusiasm; he seized the idea like a visible +hand of God for his help. The black bottle became to him the +materialization of all his crime and misery. It was a foe he could +see, and touch, and defy. It seemed to mock him, to tempt him, to beg +him just to open the cork, if only to test the strength of his +resolutions. + +Thank God he never did it. He faced his enemy the first thing in the +morning and the last thing at night. He kept him in sight through the +temptations of a business day. He faced him most steadily in the +solitude of his own room. There, indeed, his most dangerous struggles +took place, and one night John heard him after two hours of restless +hurried walking up and down, throw open his window, and dash the +bottle upon the pavement beneath it. That was the last of his hard +struggles; the bottle which replaced the one flung beyond his reach +stands to-day where it has stood for nearly a quarter of a century, +and David feels now no more inclination to open it than if it +contained strychnine. + +This is no fancy story. It is a fact. It is the true history of a +soul's struggle, and I write it--God knows I do--in the strong hope +that some brave fellow, who is mastered by a foe that steals upon him +in the guise of good fellowship, or pleasure, or hospitality, may +locate his enemy, and then face and conquer him in the name of Him who +delivers his people from their sins. I do not say that all natures +could do this. Some may find safety and final victory in flight, or in +hiding from their foe; but I believe that the majority of souls would +rise to a warfare in which the enemy was confronting them to face and +fight, and would conquer. + +I have little more to say of David Callendar. It was the story of his +fall and his redemption I intended to write. But we cannot separate +our spiritual and mortal life; they are the warp and woof which we +weave together for eternity. Therefore David's struggle, though a +palpable one in some respects, was, after all, an intensely spiritual +one; for it was in the constant recognition of Christ as the Captain +of his salvation, and in the constant use of such spiritual aids as +his Bible and his minister gave him, that he was enabled to fight a +good fight and to come off more than conqueror in a contest wherein so +many strive and fail. + +David's reformation had also a very sensible influence on his business +prosperity. He has won back again now all, and far more than all, he +lost, and in all good and great works for the welfare of humanity +David Callendar is a willing worker and a noble giver. The new firm of +John and David Callendar acquired a world-wide reputation. It is still +John and David Callendar, for when the dear old deacon died he left +his interest in it to David's eldest son, a pious, steady young fellow +for whom nobody ever mixed a first glass. But God was very kind to +John in allowing him to see the full harvest of his tender love, his +patience, and his unselfishness. Out of his large fortune he left a +noble endowment for a church and college in his native town, making +only two requests concerning its management: first, that no whiskey +should ever go within the college walls: second, that all the children +in the town might have a holiday on the anniversary of his death; +"for," said he, "I have aye loved children, and I would fain connect +the happiness of childhood with the peace o' the dead." + +Dr. Morrison lived long enough to assist in filling in the grave of +his old friend and helper, but attained unto the beginning of peace +and glory soon afterwards. And I have often pictured to myself the +meeting of those two upon the hills of God. The minister anticipated +it, though upon his dying bed his great soul forgot all +individualities, and thought only of the church universal, and his +last glowing words were, "For Jerusalem that is above is free, which +is the mother of us all." + +Robert Leslie has done well in America, and no man is a more warm and +earnest advocate of "the faith once delivered to the saints." I read a +little speech of his some time ago at the dedication of a church, and +it greatly pleased me. + +"Many things," he said, "have doubtless been improved in this age, for +man's works are progressive and require improvement; but who," he +asked, "can improve the sunshine and the flowers, the wheat and the +corn? And who will give us anything worthy to take the place of the +religion of our fathers and mothers? And what teachers have come +comparable to Christ, to David, Isaiah, and Paul?" + +Jenny only died a year ago. She brought up David's children admirably, +and saw, to her great delight, the marriage of Flora and young Captain +Callendar. For it had long been her wish to go back to Argyleshire +"among her ain folk and die among the mountains," and this marriage +satisfied all her longings. One evening they found her sitting in her +open door with her face turned towards the cloud-cleaving hills. Her +knitting had fallen upon her lap, her earthly work was done for ever, +and she had put on the garments of the eternal Sabbath. But there was +a wonderful smile on her simple, kindly face. Soul and body had parted +with a smile. Oh, how happy are those whom the Master finds waiting +for him, and who, when he calls, pass gently away! + + "Up to the golden citadel they fare, + And as they go their limbs grow full of might; + And One awaits them at the topmost stair, + One whom they had not seen, but knew at sight." + + + + +Andrew Cargill's Confession. + + + + +ANDREW CARGILL'S CONFESSION. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Between Sinverness and Creffel lies the valley of Glenmora. +Sca Fells and Soutra Fells guard it on each hand, and the long, +treacherous sweep of Solway Frith is its outlet. It is a region of +hills and moors, inhabited by a people of singular gravity and +simplicity of character, a pastoral people, who in its solemn high +places have learned how to interpret the voices of winds and +watersand to devoutly love their God. + +Most of them are of the purest Saxon origin; but here and there one +meets the massive features and the blue bonnet of the Lowland Scots, +descendants of those stern Covenanters who from the coasts of Galloway +and Dumfries sought refuge in the strength of these lonely hills. They +are easily distinguished, and are very proud of their descent from +this race whom + + "God anointed with his odorous oil + To wrestle, not to reign." + +Thirty years ago their leader and elder was Andrew Cargill, a man of +the same lineage as that famous Donald Cargill who was the Boanerges +of the Covenant, and who suffered martyrdom for his faith at the town +of Queensferry. Andrew never forgot this fact, and the stern, just, +uncompromising spirit of the old Protester still lived in him. He was +a man well-to-do in the world, and his comfortable stone house was one +of the best known in the vale of Glenmora. + +People who live amid grand scenery are not generally sensitive to it, +but Andrew was. The adoring spirit in which he stood one autumn +evening at his own door was a very common mood with him. He looked +over the moors carpeted with golden brown, and the hills covered with +sheep and cattle, at the towering crags, more like clouds at sunset +than things of solid land, at the children among the heather picking +bilberries, at the deep, clear, purple mist that filled the valley, +not hindering the view, but giving everything a strangely solemn +aspect, and his face relaxed into something very like a smile as he +said, "It is the wark o' my Father's hand, and praised be his name." + +He stood at his own open door looking at these things, and inside his +wife Mysie was laying the supper-board with haver bread and cheese and +milk. A bright fire blazed on the wide hearth, and half a dozen +sheep-dogs spread out their white breasts to the heat. Great settles +of carved oak, bedded deep with fleeces of long wool, were on the +sides of the fireplace, and from every wall racks of spotless deal, +filled with crockery and pewter, reflected the shifting blaze. + +Suddenly he stepped out and looked anxiously towards the horizon on +all sides. "Mysie, woman," said he, "there is a storm coming up from +old Solway; I maun e'en gae and fauld the ewes wi' their young +lammies. Come awa', Keeper and Sandy." + +The dogs selected rose at once and followed Andrew with right +good-will. Mysie watched them a moment; but the great clouds of mist +rolling down from the mountains soon hid the stalwart figure in its +bonnet and plaid from view, and gave to the dogs' fitful barks a +distant, muffled sound. So she went in and sat down upon the settle, +folding her hands listlessly on her lap, and letting the smile fall +from her face as a mask might fall. Oh, what a sad face it was then! + +She sat thus in a very trance of sorrow until the tears dropped +heavily and slowly down, and her lips began to move in broken +supplications. Evidently these brought her the comfort she sought, for +erelong she rose, saying softly to herself, "The lost bit o' siller +was found, and the strayed sheep was come up wi', and the prodigal won +hame again, and dootless, dootless, my ain dear lad will no be lost +sight o'." + +By this time the storm had broken, but Mysie was not uneasy. Andrew +knew the hills like his own ingle, and she could tell to within five +minutes how long it would take him to go to the fauld and back. But +when it was ten minutes past his time Mysie stood anxiously in the +open door and listened. Her ears, trained to almost supernatural +quickness, soon detected above the winds and rain a sound of +footsteps. She called a wise old sheep-dog and bid him listen. The +creature held his head a moment to the ground, looked at her +affirmatively, and at her command went to seek his master. + +In a few moments she heard Andrew's peculiar "hallo!" and the joyful +barking of the dog, and knew that all was right. Yet she could not go +in; she felt that something unusual had happened, and stood waiting +for whatever was coming. It was a poor, little, half-drowned baby. +Andrew took it from under his plaid, and laid it in her arms, saying, + +"I maun go now and look after the mither. I'll need to yoke the cart +for her; she's past walking, and I'm sair feared she's past living; +but you'll save the bit bairn, Mysie, nae doot; for God disna smite +aften wi' baith hands." + +"Where is she, Andrew?" + +"'Mang the Druids' stanes, Mysie, and that's an ill place for a +Christian woman to die. God forbid it!" he muttered, as he lit a +lantern and went rapidly to the stable; "an evil place! under the vera +altar-stane o' Satan. God stay the parting soul till it can hear a +word o' his great mercy!" + +With such a motive to prompt him, Andrew was not long in reaching the +ruins of the old Druidical temple. Under a raised flat stone, which +made a kind of shelter, a woman was lying. She was now insensible, and +Andrew lifted her carefully into the cart. Perhaps it was some +satisfaction to him that she did not actually die within such +unhallowed precincts; but the poor creature herself was beyond such +care. When she had seen her child in Mysie's arms, and comprehended +Mysie's assurance that she would care for it, all anxiety slipped away +from her. Andrew strove hard to make her understand the awful +situation in which she was; but the girl lay smiling, with upturned +eyes, as if she was glad to be relieved of the burden of living. + +"You hae done your duty, gudeman," at length said Mysie, "and now you +may leave the puir bit lassie to me; I'll dootless find a word o' +comfort to say to her." + +"But I'm feared, I am awfu' feared, woman, that she is but a prodigal +and an--" + +"Hush, gudeman! There is mercy for the prodigal daughter as weel as +for the prodigal son;" and at these words Andrew went out with a dark, +stern face, while she turned with a new and stronger tenderness to the +dying woman. + +"God is love," she whispered; "if you hae done aught wrang, there's +the open grave o' Jesus, dearie; just bury your wrang-doing there." +She was answered with a happy smile. "And your little lad is my lad +fra this hour, dearie!" The dying lips parted, and Mysie knew they had +spoken a blessing for her. + +Nothing was found upon the woman that could identify her, nothing +except a cruel letter, which evidently came from the girl's father; +but even in this there was neither date nor locality named. It had no +term of endearment to commence with, and was signed simply, "John +Dunbar." Two things were, however, proven by it: that the woman's +given name was Bessie, and that by her marriage she had cut herself +off from her home and her father's affection. + +So she was laid by stranger hands within that doorless house in the +which God sometimes mercifully puts his weary ones to sleep. Mysie +took the child to her heart at once, and Andrew was not long able to +resist the little lad's beauty and winning ways. The neighbors began +to call him "wee Andrew;" and the old man grew to love his namesake +with a strangely tender affection. + +Sometimes there was indeed a bitter feeling in Mysie's heart, as she +saw how gentle he was with this child and remembered how stern and +strict he had been with their own lad. She did not understand that the +one was in reality the result of the other, the acknowledgement of his +fault, and the touching effort to atone, in some way, for it. + +One night, when wee Andrew was about seven years old, this wrong +struck her in a manner peculiarly painful. Andrew had made a most +extraordinary journey, even as far as Penrith. A large manufactory had +been begun there, and a sudden demand for his long staple of white +wool had sprung up. Moreover, he had had a prosperous journey, and +brought back with him two books for the boy, AEsop's Fables and +Robinson Crusoe. + +When Mysie saw them, her heart swelled beyond control. She remembered +a day when her own son Davie had begged for these very books and been +refused with hard rebukes. She remembered the old man's bitter words +and the child's bitter tears; but she did not reflect that the present +concession was the result of the former refusal, nor yet that the +books were much easier got and the money more plentiful than thirty +years previous. When wee Andrew ran away with his treasures to the +Druids' stones, Mysie went into the shippen, and did her milking to +some very sad thoughts. + +She was poisoning her heart with her own tears. When she returned to +the "houseplace" and saw the child bending with rapt, earnest face +over the books, she could not avoid murmuring that the son of a +strange woman should be sitting happy in Cargill spence, and her own +dear lad a banished wanderer. She had come to a point when rebellion +would be easy for her. Andrew saw a look on her face that amazed and +troubled him: and yet when she sat so hopelessly down before the fire, +and without fear or apology + + "Let the tears downfa'," + +he had no heart to reprove her. Nay, he asked with a very unusual +concern, "What's the matter, Mysie, woman?" + +"I want to see Davie, and die, gudeman!" + +"You'll no dare to speak o' dying, wife, until the Lord gies you +occasion; and Davie maun drink as he's brewed." + +"Nay, gudeman, but you brewed for him; the lad is drinking the cup you +mixed wi' your ain hands." + +"I did my duty by him." + +"He had ower muckle o' your duty, and ower little o' your indulgence. +If Davie was wrang, ither folk werena right. Every fault has its +forefault." + +Andrew looked in amazement at this woman, who for thirty and more +years had never before dared to oppose his wishes, and to whom his +word had been law. + +"Davie's wrang-doing was weel kent, gude-wife; he hasted to sin like a +moth to a candle." + +"It's weel that our faults arena written i' our faces." + +"I hae fallen on evil days, Mysie; saxty years syne wives and bairns +werena sae contrarie." + +"There was gude and bad then, as now, gudeman." + +Mysie's face had a dour, determined look that no one had ever seen on +it before. Andrew began to feel irritated at her. "What do you want, +woman?" he said sternly. + +"I want my bairn, Andrew Cargill." + +"Your bairn is i' some far-awa country, squandering his share o' +Paradise wi' publicans and sinners." + +"I hope not, I hope not; if it werena for this hope my heart would +break;" and then all the barriers that education and habit had built +were suddenly overthrown as by an earthquake, and Mysie cried out +passionately, "I want my bairn, Andrew Cargill! the bonnie bairn that +lay on my bosom, and was dandled on my knees, and sobbed out his +sorrows i' my arms. I want the bairn you were aye girding and +grumbling at! that got the rod for this, and the hard word and the +black look for that! My bonnie Davie, wha ne'er had a playtime nor a +story-book! O gudeman, I want my bairn! I want my bairn!" + +The repressed passion and sorrow of ten long years had found an outlet +and would not be controlled. Andrew laid down his pipe in amazement +and terror, and for a moment he feared his wife had lost her senses. +He had a tender heart beneath his stern, grave manner, and his first +impulse was just to take the sobbing mother to his breast and promise +her all she asked. But he did not do it the first moment, and he could +not the second. Yet he did rise and go to her, and in his awkward way +try to comfort her. "Dinna greet that way, Mysie, woman," he said; "if +I hae done amiss, I'll mak amends." + +That was a great thing for Andrew Cargill to say; Mysie hardly knew +how to believe it. Such a confession was a kind of miracle, for she +judged things by results and was not given to any consideration of the +events that led up to them. She could not know, and did not suspect, +that all the bitter truths she had spoken had been gradually forcing +themselves on her husband's mind. She did not know that wee Andrew's +happy face over his story-books, and his eager claim for sympathy, had +been an accusation and a reproach which the old man had already humbly +and sorrowfully accepted. Therefore his confession and his promise +were a wonder to the woman, who had never before dared to admit that +it was possible Andrew Cargill should do wrong in his own household. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The confidence that came after this plain speaking was very sweet and +comforting to both, although in their isolation and ignorance they +knew not what steps to take in order to find Davie. Ten years had +elapsed since he had hung for one heart-breaking moment on his +mother's neck, and bid, as he told her, a farewell for ever to the +miserable scenes of his hard, bare childhood. Mysie had not been able +to make herself believe that he was very wrong; dancing at pretty Mary +Halliday's bridal and singing two or three love-songs did not seem to +the fond mother such awful transgressions as the stern, strict +Covenanter really believed them to be, though even Mysie was willing +to allow that Davie, in being beguiled into such sinful folly, "had +made a sair tumble." + +However, Davie and his father had both said things that neither could +win over, and the lad had gone proudly down the hill with but a few +shillings in his pocket. Since then there had been ten years of +anxious, longing grief that had remained unconfessed until this night. +Now the hearts of both yearned for their lost son. But how should they +find him? Andrew read nothing but his Bible and almanac; he had no +conception of the world beyond Kendal and Keswick. He could scarcely +imagine David going beyond these places, or, at any rate, the coast of +Scotland. Should he make a pilgrimage round about all those parts? + +Mysie shook her head. She thought Andrew had better go to Keswick and +see the Methodist preacher there. She had heard they travelled all +over the world, and if so, it was more than likely they had seen Davie +Cargill; "at ony rate, he would gie advice worth speiring after." + +Andrew had but a light opinion of Methodists, and had never been +inside the little chapel at Sinverness; but Mysie's advice, he +allowed, "had a savor o' sense in it," and so the next day he rode +over to Keswick and opened his heart to John Sugden, the +superintendent of the Derwent Circuit. He had assured himself on the +road that he would only tell John just as much as was necessary for +his quest; but he was quite unable to resist the preacher's hearty +sympathy. There never were two men more unlike than Andrew Cargill and +John Sugden, and yet they loved each other at once. + +"He is a son o' consolation, and dootless ane o' God's chosen," said +Andrew to Mysie on his return. + +"He is a far nobler old fellow than he thinks he is," said John to his +wife when he told her of Andrew's visit. + +John had advised advertising for Davie in "The Watchman;" for John +really thought this organ of the Methodist creed was the greatest +paper in existence, and honestly believed that if Davie was anywhere +in the civilized world "The Watchman" would find him out. He was so +sure of it that both Mysie and Andrew caught his hopeful tone, and +began to tell each other what should be done when Davie came home. + +Poor Mysie was now doubly kind to wee Andrew. She accused herself +bitterly of "grudging the bit lammie his story-books," and persuaded +her husband to bring back from Keswick for the child the "Pilgrim's +Progress" and "The Young Christian." John Sugden, too, visited them +often, not only staying at Cargill during his regular appointments, +but often riding over to take a day's recreation with the old +Cameronian. True, they disputed the whole time. John said very +positive things and Andrew very contemptuous ones; but as they each +kept their own opinions intact, and were quite sure of their grounds +for doing so, no words that were uttered ever slackened the grip of +their hands at parting. + +One day, as John was on the way to Cargill, he perceived a man sitting +among the Druids' stones. The stranger was a pleasant fellow, and +after a few words with the preacher he proposed that they should ride +to Sinverness together. John soon got to talking of Andrew and his +lost son, and the stranger became greatly interested. He said he +should like to go up to Andrew's and get a description of Davie, +adding that he travelled far and wide, and might happen to come across +him. + +The old man met them at the door. + +"My sight fails, John," he said, "but I'd hae kent your step i' a +thousand. You too are welcome, sir, though I ken you not, and doubly +welcome if you bring God's blessing wi' you." + +The stranger lifted his hat, and Andrew led the way into the house. +John had been expected, for haver bread and potted shrimps were on the +table, and he helped himself without ceremony, taking up at the same +time their last argument just where he had dropped it at the gate of +the lower croft. But it had a singular interruption. The sheep-dogs +who had been quietly sleeping under the settle began to be strangely +uneasy. Keeper could scarcely be kept down, even by Andrew's command, +and Sandy bounded towards the stranger with low, rapid barks that made +John lose the sense of the argument in a new thought. But before he +could frame it into words Mysie came in. + +"See here, John," she cried, and then she stopped and looked with +wide-open eyes at the man coming towards her. With one long, thrilling +cry she threw herself into his arms. + +"Mother! mother! darling mother, forgive me!" + +John had instantly gone to Andrew's side, but Andrew had risen at once +to the occasion. "I'm no a woman to skirl or swoon," he said, almost +petulantly, "and it's right and fit the lad should gie his mither the +first greeting." + +But he stretched out both hands, and his cheeks were flushed and his +eyes full when Davie flung himself on his knees beside him. + +"My lad! my ain dear lad!" he cried, "I'll see nae better day than +this until I see His face." + +No one can tell the joy of that hour. The cheese curds were left in +the dairy and the wool was left at the wheel, and Mysie forget her +household, and Andrew forgot his argument, and the preacher at last +said, + +"You shall tell us, Davie, what the Lord has done for you since you +left your father's house." + +"He has been gude to me, vera gude. I had a broad Scot's tongue in my +head, and I determined to go northward. I had little siller and I had +to walk, and by the time I reached Ecclefechan I had reason enough to +be sorry for the step I had taken. As I was sitting by the fireside o' +the little inn there a man came in who said he was going to Carlisle +to hire a shepherd. I did not like the man, but I was tired and had +not plack nor bawbee, so I e'en asked him for the place. When he heard +I was Cumberland born, and had been among sheep all my life, he was +fain enough, and we soon 'greed about the fee. + +"He was a harder master than Laban, but he had a daughter who was as +bonnie as Rachel, and I loved the lass wi' my whole soul, and she +loved me. I ne'er thought about being her father's hired man. I was +aye Davie Cargill to mysel', and I had soon enough told Bessie all +about my father and mither and hame. I spoke to her father at last, +but he wouldna listen to me. He just ordered me off his place, and +Bessie went wi' me. + +"I know now that we did wrang, but we thought then that we were right. +We had a few pounds between us and we gaed to Carlisle. But naething +went as it should hae done. I could get nae wark, and Bessie fell into +vera bad health; but she had a brave spirit, and she begged me to +leave her in Carlisle and go my lane to Glasgow. 'For when wark an' +siller arena i' one place, Davie,' she said, 'then they're safe to be +in another.' + +"I swithered lang about leaving her, but a good opportunity came, and +Bessie promised me to go back to her father until I could come after +her. It was July then, and when Christmas came round I had saved money +enough, and I started wi' a blithe heart to Ecclefechan. I hadna any +fear o' harm to my bonnie bit wifie, for she had promised to go to her +hame, and I was sure she would be mair than welcome when she went +without me. I didna expect any letters, because Bessie couldna write, +and, indeed, I was poor enough wi' my pen at that time, and only wrote +once to tell her I had good wark and would be for her a New Year. + +"But when I went I found that Bessie had gane, and none knew where. I +traced her to Keswick poor-house, where she had a little lad; the +matron said she went away in a very weak condition when the child was +three weeks old, declaring that she was going to her friends. Puir, +bonnie, loving Bessie; that was the last I ever heard o' my wife and +bairn." + +Mysie had left the room, and as she returnee with a little bundle +Andrew was anxiously asking, "What was the lassie's maiden name, +Davie?" + +"Bessie Dunbar, father." + +"Then this is a wun'erful day; we are blessed and twice blessed, for I +found your wife and bairn, Davie, just where John Sugden found you, +'mang the Druids' stanes; and the lad has my ain honest name and is +weel worthy o' it." + +"See here, Davie," and Mysie tenderly touched the poor faded dress and +shawl, and laid the wedding-ring in his palm. As she spoke wee Andrew +came across the yard, walking slowly, reading as he walked. "Look at +him, Davie! He's a bonnie lad, and a gude are; and oh, my ain dear +lad, he has had a' things that thy youth wanted." + +It pleased the old man no little that, in spite of his father's loving +greeting, wee Andrew stole away to his side. + +"You see, Davie," he urged in apology, "he's mair at hame like wi' +me." + +And then he drew the child to him, and let his whole heart go out now, +without check or reproach, to "Davie's bairn." + +"But you have not finished your story, Mr. Cargill," said John, and +David sighed as he answered, + +"There is naething by the ordinar in it. I went back to the warks I +had got a footing in, the Glencart Iron Warks, and gradually won my +way to the topmost rungs o' the ladder. I am head buyer now, hae a +gude share i' the concern, and i' money matters there's plenty folk +waur off than David Cargill. When I put my father's forgiveness, my +mither's love, and my Bessie's bonnie lad to the lave, I may weel say +that 'they are weel guided that God guides.' A week ago I went into +the editor's room o' the Glasgow Herald,' and the man no being in I +lifted a paper and saw in it my father's message to me. It's sma' +credit that I left a' and answered it." + +"What paper, Mr. Cargill, what paper?" + +"They ca' it 'The Watchman.' I hae it in my pocket." + +"I thought so," said John triumphantly. "It's a grand paper; every one +ought to have it." + +"It is welcome evermore in my house," said Davie. + +"It means weel, it means weel," said Andrew, with a great stretch of +charity, "but I dinna approve o' its doctrines at a', and--" + +"It found David for you, Andrew." + +"Ay, ay, God uses a' kinds o' instruments. 'The Watchman' isna as auld +as the Bible yet, John, and it's ill praising green barley." + +"Now, Andrew, I think--" + +"Tut, tut, John, I'se no sit i' Rome and strive wi' the pope; there's +naething ill said, you ken, if it's no ill taken." + +John smiled tolerantly, and indeed there was no longer time for +further discussion, for the shepherds from the hills and the farmers +from the glen had heard of David's return, and were hurrying to +Cargill to see him. Mysie saw that there would be a goodly company, +and the long harvest-table was brought in and a feast of +thanksgiving spread. Conversation in that house could only set one +way, and after all had eaten and David had told his story again, one +old man after another spoke of the dangers they had encountered and +the spiritual foes they had conquered. + +Whether it was the speaking, or the sympathy of numbers, or some +special influence of the Holy Ghost, I know not; but suddenly Andrew +lifted his noble old head and spoke thus: + +"Frien's, ye hae some o' you said ill things o' yoursel's, but to the +sons o' God there is nae condemnation; not that I hae been althegither +faultless, but I meant weel, an' the lad was a wilfu' lad, and ye ken +what the wisest o' men said anent such. Just and right has been my +walk before you, but--still--" Then, with a sudden passion, and rising +to his feet, he cried out, "Frien's, I'm a poor sinfu' man, but I'll +play no mair pliskies wi' my conscience. I hae dootless been a hard +master, hard and stern, and loving Sinai far beyond Bethlehem. Hard +was I to my lad, and hard hae I been to the wife o' my bosom, and hard +hae I been to my ain heart. It has been my ain will and my ain way all +my life lang. God forgie me! God forgie me! for this night he has +brought my sins to my remembrance. I hae been your elder for mair than +forty years, but I hae ne'er been worthy to carry his holy vessels. +I'll e'en sit i' the lowest seat henceforward." + +"Not so," said John. And there was such eager praise, and such warm +love rose from every mouth, that words began to fail, and as the old +man sat down smiling, happier than he had ever been before, song took +up the burden speech laid down; for John started one of those old +triumphant Methodist hymns, and the rafters shook to the melody, and +the stars heard it, and the angels in heaven knew a deeper joy. +Singing, the company departed, and Andrew, standing in the moonlight +between David and John, watched the groups scatter hither and thither, +and heard, far up the hills and down the glen, that sweet, sweet +refrain, + + "Canaan, bright Canaan! + Will you go to the land of Canaan?" + +After this David stayed a week at Glenmora, and then it became +necessary for him to return to Glasgow. But wee Andrew was to have a +tutor and remain with his grandparents for some years at least. Andrew +himself determined to "tak a trip" and see Scotland and the wonderful +iron works of which he was never weary of hearing David talk. + +When he reached Kendal, however, and saw for the first time the +Caledonian Railway and its locomotives, nothing could induce him to go +farther. + +"It's ower like the deil and the place he bides in, Davie," he said, +with a kind of horror. "Fire and smoke and iron bands! I'll no ride at +the deil's tail-end, not e'en to see the land o' the Covenant." + +So he went back to Glenmora, and was well content when he stood again +at his own door and looked over the bonny braes of Sinverness, its +simmering becks and fruitful vales. "These are the warks o' His hands, +Mysie," he said, reverently lifting his bonnet and looking up to +Creffel and away to Solway, "and you'd ken that, woman, if you had +seen Satan as I saw him rampaging roun' far waur than any roaring +lion." + +After this Andrew never left Sinverness; but, the past unsighed for +and the future sure, passed through + + "----an old age serene and bright, + And lovely as a Lapland night," + +until, one summer evening, he gently fell on that sleep which God +giveth his beloved. + + "For such Death's portal opens not in gloom, + But its pure crystal, hinged on solid gold, + Shows avenues interminable--shows + Amaranth and palm quivering in sweet accord + Of human mingled with angelic song." + + + + +One Wrong Step. + + + + +ONE WRONG STEP. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +"There's few folk ken Ragon Torr as I do, mother. He is better at +heart than thou wad think; indeed he is!" + +"If better were within, better wad come out, John. He's been drunk or +dovering i' the chimney-corner these past three weeks. Hech! but he'd +do weel i' Fool's Land, where they get half a crown a day for +sleeping." + +"There's nane can hunt a seal or spear a whale like Ragon; thou saw +him theesel', mother, among the last school i' Stromness Bay." + +"I saw a raving, ranting heathen, wi' the bonnie blue bay a sea o' +blood around him, an' he shouting an' slaying like an old pagan +sea-king. Decent, God-fearing fisher-folk do their needful wark ither +gate than yon. Now there is but one thing for thee to do: thou must +break wi' Ragon Torr, an' that quick an' soon." + +"Know this, my mother, a friend is to be taken wi' his faults." + +"Thou knows this, John: I hae forty years mair than thou hast, an' +years ken mair than books. An' wi' a' thy book skill hast thou ne'er +read that 'Evil communications corrupt gude manners'? Mak up thy mind +that I shall tak it vera ill if thou sail again this year wi' that +born heathen;" and with these words Dame Alison Sabay rose up from the +stone bench at her cottage door and went dourly into the houseplace. + +John stood on the little jetty which ran from the very doorstep into +the bay, and looked thoughtfully over towards the sweet green isle of +Graemsay; but neither the beauty of land or sea, nor the splendor of +skies bright with the rosy banners of the Aurora gave him any answer +to the thoughts which troubled him. "I'll hae to talk it o'er wi' +Christine," he said decidedly, and he also turned into the house. + +Christine was ten years older than her brother John. She had known +much sorrow, but she had lived through and lived down all her trials +and come out into the peace on the other side. She was sitting by the +peat fire knitting, and softly crooning an old Scotch psalm to the +click of her needles. She answered John's look with a sweet, grave +smile, and a slight nod towards the little round table, upon which +there was a plate of smoked goose and some oaten cake for his supper. + +"I carena to eat a bite, Christine; this is what I want o' thee: the +skiff is under the window; step into it, an' do thou go on the bay wi' +me an hour." + +"I havena any mind to go, John. It is nine by the clock, an' to-morrow +the peat is to coil an' the herring to kipper; yes, indeed." + +"Well an' good. But here is matter o' mair account than peat an' +herring. Wilt thou come?" + +"At the end I ken weel thou wilt hae thy way. Mother, here is John, +an' he is for my going on the bay wi' him." + +"Then thou go. If John kept aye as gude company he wouldna be like to +bring my gray hairs wi' sorrow to the grave." + +John did not answer this remark until they had pushed well off from +the sleeping town, then he replied fretfully, "Yes, what mother says +is true enough; but a man goes into the warld. A' the fingers are not +alike, much less one's friends. How can a' be gude?" + +"To speak from the heart, John, wha is it?" + +"Ragon Torr. Thou knows we hae sat i' the same boat an' drawn the same +nets for three years; he is gude an' bad, like ither folk." + +"Keep gude company, my brother, an' thou wilt aye be counted ane o' +them. When Ragon is gude he is ower gude, and when he is bad he is +just beyont kenning." + +"Can a man help the kin he comes o'? Have not his forbears done for +centuries the vera same way? Naething takes a Norseman frae his bed or +his cup but some great deed o' danger or profit; but then wha can +fight or wark like them?" + +"Christ doesna ask a man whether he be Norse or Scot. If Ragon went +mair to the kirk an' less to the change-house, he wouldna need to +differ. Were not our ain folk cattle-lifting Hieland thieves lang +after the days o' the Covenant?" + +"Christine, ye'll speak nae wrang o' the Sabays. It's an ill bird +'files its ain nest." + +"Weel, weel, John! The gude name o' the Sabays is i' thy hands now. +But to speak from the heart, this thing touches thee nearer than Ragon +Torr. Thou did not bring me out to speak only o' him." + +"Thou art a wise woman, Christine, an' thou art right. It touches +Margaret Fae, an' when it does that, it touches what is dearer to me +than life." + +"I see it not." + +"Do not Ragon an' I sail i' Peter Fae's boats? Do we not eat at his +table, an' bide round his house during the whole fishing season? If I +sail no more wi' Ragon, I must quit Peter's employ; for he loves Ragon +as he loves no ither lad i' Stromness or Kirkwall. The Norse blood we +think little o', Peter glories in; an' the twa men count thegither +o'er their glasses the races o' the Vikings, an' their ain generations +up to Snorro an' Thorso." + +"Is there no ither master but Peter Fae? ask theesel' that question, +John." + +"I hae done that, Christine. Plenty o' masters, but nane o' them hae +Margaret for a daughter. Christine, I love Margaret, an' she loves me +weel. Thou hast loved theesel', my sister." + +"I ken that, John," she said tenderly; "I hae loved, therefore I hae +got beyont doots, an' learned something holier than my ain way. Thou +trust Margaret now. Thou say 'Yes' to thy mother, an' fear not." + +"Christine thou speaks hard words." + +"Was it to speak easy anes thou brought me here? An' if I said, 'I +counsel thee to tak thy ain will i' the matter,' wad my counsel mak +bad gude, or wrang right? Paul Calder's fleet sails i' twa days; seek +a place i' his boats." + +"Then I shall see next to naught o' Margaret, an' Ragon will see her +every day." + +"If Margaret loves thee, that can do thee nae harm." + +"But her father favors Ragon, an' of me he thinks nae mair than o' the +nets, or aught else that finds his boats for sea." + +"Well an' good; but no talking can alter facts. Thou must now choose +atween thy mother an' Margaret Fae, atween right an' wrang. God doesna +leave that choice i' the dark; thy way may be narrow an' unpleasant, +but it is clear enough. Dost thou fear to walk i' it?" + +"There hae been words mair than plenty, Christine. Let us go hame." + +Silently the little boat drifted across the smooth bay, and silently +the brother and sister stood a moment looking up the empty, flagged +street of the sleeping town. The strange light, which was neither +gloaming nor dawning, but a mixture of both, the waving boreal +banners, the queer houses, gray with the storms of centuries, the +brown undulating heaths, and the phosphorescent sea, made a strangely +solemn picture which sank deep into their hearts. After a pause, +Christine went into the house, but John sat down on the stone bench to +think over the alternatives before him. + +Now the power of training up a child in the way it should go asserted +itself. It became at once a fortification against self-will. John +never had positively disobeyed his mother's explicit commands; he +found it impossible to do so. He must offer his services to Paul +Calder in the morning, and try to trust Margaret Fae's love for him. + +He had determined now to do right, but he did not do it very +pleasantly--it is a rare soul that grows sweeter in disappointments. +Both mother and sister knew from John's stern, silent ways that he had +chosen the path of duty, and they expected that he would make it a +valley of Baca. This Dame Alison accepted as in some sort her desert. +"I ought to hae forbid the lad three years syne," she said +regretfully; "aft ill an' sorrow come o' sich sinfu' putting aff. +There's nae half-way house atween right an' wrang." + +Certainly the determination involved some unpleasant explanations to +John. He must first see old Peter Fae and withdraw himself from his +service. He found him busy in loading a small vessel with smoked geese +and kippered fish, and he was apparently in a very great passion. +Before John could mention his own matters, Peter burst into a torrent +of invectives against another of his sailors, who, he said, had given +some information to the Excise which had cost him a whole cargo of +Dutch specialties. The culprit was leaning against a hogshead, and was +listening to Peter's intemperate words with a very evil smile. + +"How much did ye sell yoursel' for, Sandy Beg? It took the son of a +Hieland robber like you to tell tales of a honest man's cargo. It was +an ill day when the Scots cam to Orkney, I trow." + +"She'll hae petter right to say tat same 'fore lang time." And Sandy's +face was dark with a subdued passion that Peter might have known to be +dangerous, but which he continued to aggravate by contemptuous +expressions regarding Scotchmen in general. + +This John Sabay was in no mood to bear; he very soon took offence at +Peter's sweeping abuse, and said he would relieve him at any rate of +one Scot. "He didna care to sail again wi' such a crowd as Peter +gathered round him." + +It was a very unadvised speech. Ragon lifted it at once, and in the +words which followed John unavoidably found himself associated with +Sandy Beg, a man whose character was of the lowest order. And he had +meant to be so temperate, and to part with both Peter and Ragon on the +best terms possible. How weak are all our resolutions! John turned +away from Peter's store conscious that he had given full sway to all +the irritation and disappointment of his feelings, and that he had +spoken as violently as either Peter, Ragon, or even the half-brutal +Sandy Beg. Indeed, Sandy had said very little; but the malignant look +with which he regarded Peter, John could never forget. + +This was not his only annoyance. Paul Calder's boats were fully +manned, and the others had already left for Brassey's Sound. The +Sabays were not rich; a few weeks of idleness would make the long +Orkney winter a dreary prospect. Christine and his mother sat from +morning to night braiding straw into the once famous Orkney Tuscans, +and he went to the peat-moss to cut a good stock of winter fuel; but +his earnings in money were small and precarious, and he was so anxious +that Christine's constant cheerfulness hurt him. + +Sandy Beg had indeed said something of an offer he could make "if +shentlemans wanted goot wages wi' ta chance of a lucky bit for +themsel's; foive kuineas ta month an' ta affsets. Oigh! oigh!" But +John had met the offer with such scorn and anger that Sandy had +thought it worth while to bestow one of his most wicked looks upon +him. The fact was, Sandy felt half grateful to John for his apparent +partisanship, and John indignantly resented any disposition to put him +in the same boat with a man so generally suspected and disliked. + +"It might be a come-down," he said, "for a gude sailor an' fisher to +coil peats and do days' darg, but it was honest labor; an', please +God, he'd never do that i' the week that wad hinder him fra going to +the kirk on Sabbath." + +"Oigh! she'll jist please hersel'; she'll pe owing ta Beg naething by +ta next new moon." And with a mocking laugh Sandy loitered away +towards the seashore. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Just after this interview a little lad put a note in John's hand from +Margaret Fae. It only asked him to be on Brogar Bridge at eight +o'clock that night. Now Brogar Bridge was not a spot that any Orcadian +cared to visit at such an hour. In the pagan temple whose remains +stood there it was said pale ghosts of white-robed priests still +offered up shadowy human sacrifices, and though John's faith was firm +and sure, superstitions are beyond reasoning with, and he recalled the +eerie, weird aspect of the grim stones with an unavoidable +apprehension. What could Margaret want with him in such a place and at +an hour so near that at which Peter usually went home from his shop? +He had never seen Margaret's writing, and he half suspected Sandy Beg +had more to do with the appointment than she had; but he was too +anxious to justify himself in Margaret's eyes to let any fears or +doubts prevent him from keeping the tryst. + +He had scarcely reached the Stones of Stennis when he saw her leaning +against one of them. The strange western light was over her thoughtful +face. She seemed to have become a part of the still and solemn +landscape. John had always loved her with a species of reverence; +to-night he felt almost afraid of her beauty and the power she had +over him. She was a true Scandinavian, with the tall, slender, and +rather haughty form which marks Orcadian and Zetland women. Her hair +was perhaps a little too fair and cold, and yet it made a noble +setting to the large, finely-featured, tranquil face. + +She put out her hand as John approached, and said, "Was it well that +thou shouldst quarrel with my father? I thought that thou didst love +me." + +Then John poured out his whole heart--his love for her, his mother's +demand of him, his quarrel with Ragon and Peter and Sandy Beg. "It has +been an ill time, Margaret," he said, "and thou hast been long in +comforting me." + +Well, Margaret had plenty of reasons for her delay and plenty of +comfort for her lover. Naturally slow of pulse and speech, she had +been long coming to a conclusion; but, having satisfied herself of its +justice, she was likely to be immovable in it. She gave John her hand +frankly and lovingly, and promised, in poverty or wealth, in weal or +woe, to stand truly by his side. It was not a very hopeful +troth-plighting, but they were both sure of the foundations of their +love, and both regarded the promise as solemnly binding. + +Then Margaret told John that she had heard that evening that the +captain of the Wick steamer wanted a mate, and the rough Pentland +Frith being well known to John, she hoped, if he made immediate +application, he would be accepted. If he was, John declared his +intention of at once seeing Peter and asking his consent to their +engagement. In the meantime the Bridge of Brogar was to be their +tryst, when tryst was possible. Peter's summer dwelling lay not far +from it, and it was Margaret's habit to watch for his boat and walk up +from the beach to the house with him. She would always walk over first +to Brogar, and if John could meet her there that would be well; if +not, she would understand that it was out of the way of duty, and be +content. + +John fortunately secured the mate's place. Before he could tell +Margaret this she heard her father speak well of him to the captain. +"There is nae better sailor, nor better lad, for that matter," said +Peter. "I like none that he wad hang roun' my bonnie Marg'et; but +then, a cat may look at a king without it being high treason, I wot." + +A week afterwards Peter thought differently. When John told him +honestly how matters stood between him and Margaret he was more angry +than when Sandy Beg swore away his whole Dutch cargo. He would listen +to neither love nor reason, and positively forbid him to hold any +further intercourse with his daughter. John had expected this, and was +not greatly discouraged. He had Margaret's promise. Youth is hopeful, +and they could wait; for it never entered their minds absolutely to +disobey the old man. + +In the meantime there was a kind of peacemaking between Ragon and +John. The good Dominie Sinclair had met them both one day on the +beach, and insisted on their forgiving and shaking hands. Neither of +them were sorry to do so. Men who have shared the dangers of the +deep-sea fishing and the stormy Northern Ocean together cannot look +upon each other as mere parts of a bargain. There was, too, a wild +valor and a wonderful power in emergencies belonging to Ragon that had +always dazzled John's more cautious nature. In some respects, he +thought Ragon Torr the greatest sailor that left Stromness harbor, and +Ragon was willing enough to admit that John "was a fine fellow," and +to give his hand at the dominie's direction. + +Alas! the good man's peacemaking was of short duration. As soon as +Peter told the young Norse sailor of John's offer for Margaret's hand, +Ragon's passive good-will turned to active dislike and bitter +jealousy. For, though he had taken little trouble to please Margaret, +he had come to look upon her as his future wife. He knew that Peter +wished it so, and he now imagined that it was also the only thing on +earth he cared for. + +Thus, though John was getting good wages, he was not happy. It was +rarely he got a word with Margaret, and Peter and Ragon were only too +ready to speak. It became daily more and more difficult to avoid an +open quarrel with them, and, indeed, on several occasions sharp, cruel +words, that hurt like wounds, had passed between them on the public +streets and quays. + +Thus Stromness, that used to be so pleasant to him, was changing fast. +He knew not how it was that people so readily believed him in the +wrong. In Wick, too, he had been troubled with Sandy Beg, and a kind +of nameless dread possessed him about the man; he could not get rid of +it, even after he had heard that Sandy had sailed in a whaling ship +for the Arctic seas. + +Thus things went on until the end of July. John was engaged now until +the steamer stopped running in September, and the little sum of ready +money necessary for the winter's comfort was assured. Christine sat +singing and knitting, or singing and braiding straw, and Dame Alison +went up and down her cottage with a glad heart. They knew little of +John's anxieties. Christine had listened sympathizingly to his trouble +about Margaret, and said, "Thou wait an' trust; John dear, an' at the +end a' things will be well." Even Ragon's ill-will and Peter's ill +words had not greatly frightened them--"The wrath o' man shall praise +Him," read old Alison, with just a touch of spiritual satisfaction, +"an' the rest o' the wrath he will restrain." + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +It was a Saturday night in the beginning of August, and John was at +home until the following Monday. He dressed himself and went out +towards Brogar, and Christine watched him far over the western moor, +and blessed him as he went. He had not seen Margaret for many days, +but he had a feeling to-night that she would be able to keep her +tryst. And there, standing amid the rushes on the lakeside, he found +her. They had so much to say to each other that Margaret forgot her +father's return, and delayed so long that she thought it best to go +straight home, instead of walking down the beach to meet him. + +He generally left Stromness about half-past eight, and his supper was +laid for nine o'clock. But this night nine passed, and he did not +come; and though the delay could be accounted for in various ways, she +had a dim but anxious forecasting of calamity in her heart. The +atmosphere of the little parlor grew sorrowful and heavy, the lamp did +not seem to light it, her father's chair had a deserted, lonely +aspect, the house was strangely silent; in fifteen minutes she had +forgotten how happy she had been, and wandered to and from the door +like some soul in an uneasy dream. + +All at once she heard the far-away shouting of angry and alarmed +voices, and to her sensitive ears her lover's and her father's names +were mingled. It was her nature to act slowly; for a few moments she +could not decide what was to be done. The first thought was the +servants. There were only two, Hacon Flett and Gerda Vedder. Gerda had +gone to bed, Hacon was not on the place. As she gathered her energies +together she began to walk rapidly over the springy heath towards the +white sands of the beach. Her father, if he was coming, would come +that way. She was angry with herself for the _if_. Of course he was +coming. What was there to prevent it? She told herself, Nothing, and +the next moment looked up and saw two men coming towards her, and in +their arms a figure which she knew instinctively was her father's. + +She slowly retraced her steps, set open the gate and the door, and +waited for the grief that was coming to her. But however slow her +reasoning faculties, her soul knew in a moment what it needed. It was +but a little prayer said with trembling lips and fainting heart; but +no prayer loses its way. Straight to the heart of Christ it went. And +the answer was there and the strength waiting when Ragon and Hacon +brought in the bleeding, dying old man, and laid him down upon his +parlor floor. + +Ragon said but one word, "Stabbed!" and then, turning to Hacon, bid +him ride for life and death into Stromness for a doctor. Most sailors +of these islands know a little rude surgery, and Ragon stayed beside +his friend, doing what he could to relieve the worst symptoms. +Margaret, white and still, went hither and thither, bringing whatever +Ragon wanted, and fearing, she knew not why, to ask any questions. + +With the doctor came the dominie and two of the town bailies. There +was little need of the doctor; Peter Fae's life was ebbing rapidly +away with every moment of time. There was but little time now for +whatever had yet to be done. The dominie stooped first to his ear, and +in a few solemn words bid him lay himself at the foot of the cross. +"Thou'lt never perish there, Peter," he said; and the dying man seemed +to catch something of the comfort of such an assurance. + +Then Bailie Inkster said, "Peter Fae, before God an' his +minister--before twa o' the town bailies an' thy ain daughter +Margaret, an' thy friend Ragon Torr, an' thy servants Hacon Flett an' +Gerda Vedder, thou art now to say what man stabbed thee." + +Peter made one desperate effort, a wild, passionate gleam shot from +the suddenly-opened eyes, and he cried out in a voice terrible in its +despairing anger, "_John Sabay! John Sabay--stabb-ed--me! +Indeed--he--did_!" + +"Oh, forgive him, man! forgive him! Dinna think o' that now, Peter! +Cling to the cross--cling to the cross, man! Nane ever perished that +only won to the foot o' it." Then the pleading words were whispered +down into fast-sealing ears, and the doctor quietly led away a poor +heart-stricken girl, who was too shocked to weep and too humbled and +wretched to tell her sorrow to any one but God. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +The bailies, after hearing the deposition, immediately repaired to +John Sabay's cottage. It was Saturday night, and no warrant could now +be got, but the murderer must be secured. No two men bent on such an +errand ever found it more difficult to execute. The little family had +sat later than usual. John had always news they were eager to hear--of +tourists and strangers he had seen in Wick, or of the people the +steamer had brought to Kirkwall. + +He was particularly cheerful this evening; his interview with Margaret +had been hopeful and pleasant, and Christine had given the houseplace +and the humble supper-table quite a festival look. They had sat so +long over the meal that when the bailies entered John was only then +reading the regular portion for the evening exercise. All were a +little amazed at the visit, but no one thought for a moment of +interrupting the Scripture; and the two men sat down and listened +attentively while John finished the chapter. + +Bailie Tulloch then rose and went towards the dame. He was a far-off +cousin of the Sabays, and, though not on the best of terms with them, +his relationship was considered to impose the duty particularly on +him. + +"Gude-e'en, if thou comes on a gude errand," said old Dame Alison, +suspiciously; "but that's no thy custom, bailie." + +"I came, dame, to ask John anent Peter Fae." + +The dame laughed pleasantly. "If thou had asked him anent Margaret +Fae, he could tell thee more about it." + +"This is nae laughing matter, dame. Peter Fae has been murdered--yes, +murdered! An' he said, ere he died, that John Sabay did the deed." + +"Then Peter Fae died wi' a lie on his lips--tell them that, John," and +the old woman's face was almost majestic in its defiance and anger. + +"I hae not seen Peter Fae for a week," said John. "God knows that, +bailie. I wad be the vera last man to hurt a hair o' his gray head; +why he is Margaret's father!" + +"Still, John, though we hae nae warrant to hold thee, we are beholden +to do sae; an' thou maun come wi' us," said Bailie Inkster. + +"Wrang has nae warrant at ony time, an' ye will no touch my lad," said +Alison, rising and standing before her son. + +"Come, dame, keep a still tongue." + +"My tongue's no under thy belt, Tulloch; but it's weel kenned that +since thou wranged us thou ne'er liked us." + +"Mother, mother, dinna fash theesel'. It's naught at a' but a mistake; +an' I'll gae wi' Bailie Inkster, if he's feared to tak my word." + +"I could tak thy word fain enough, John--" + +"But the thing isna possible, Inkster. Besides, if he were missing +Monday morn, I, being i' some sort a relation, wad be under suspicion +o' helping him awa." + +"Naebody wad e'er suspect thee o' a helping or mercifu' deed, Tulloch. +Indeed na!" + +"Tak care, dame; thou art admitting it wad be a mercifu' deed. I heard +Peter Fae say that John Sabay stabbed him, an' Ragon Torr and Hacon +Flett saw John, as I understan' the matter." + +"Mother," said John, "do thou talk to nane but God. Thou wilt hae to +lead the prayer theesel' to-night; dinna forget me. I'm as innocent o' +this matter as Christine is; mak up thy mind on that." + +"God go wi' thee, John. A' the men i' Orkney can do nae mair than they +may against thee." + +"It's an unco grief an' shame to me," said Tulloch, "but the Sabays +hae aye been a thorn i' the flesh to me, an' John's the last o' them, +the last o' them!" + +"Thou art makin' thy count without Providence, Tulloch. There's mair +Sabays than Tullochs; for there's Ane for them that counts far beyont +an' above a' that can be against them. Now, thou step aff my honest +hearthstane--there is mair room for thee without than within." + +Then John held his mother's and sister's hands a moment, and there was +such _virtue_ in the clasp, and such light and trust in their faces, +that it was impossible for him not to catch hope from them. Suddenly +Bailie Tulloch noticed that John was in his Sabbath-day clothes. In +itself this was not remarkable on a Saturday night. Most of the people +kept this evening as a kind of preparation for the Holy Day, and the +best clothing and the festival meal were very general. But just then +it struck the bailies as worth inquiring about. + +"Where are thy warking-claes, John--the uniform, I mean, o' that +steamship company thou sails for--and why hast na them on thee?" + +"I had a visit to mak, an' I put on my best to mak it in. The ithers +are i' my room." + +"Get them, Christine." + +Christine returned in a few minutes pale-faced and empty-handed. "They +are not there, John, nor yet i' thy kist." + +"I thought sae." + +"Then God help me, sister! I know not where they are." + +Even Bailie Inkster looked doubtful and troubled at this circumstance. +Silence, cold and suspicious, fell upon them, and poor John went away +half-bereft of all the comfort his mother's trust and Christine's look +had given him. + +The next day being Sabbath, no one felt at liberty to discuss the +subject; but as the little groups passed one another on their way to +church their solemn looks and their doleful shakes of the head +testified to its presence in their thoughts. The dominie indeed, +knowing how nearly impossible it would be for them not to think their +own thoughts this Lord's day, deemed it best to guide those thoughts +to charity. He begged every one to be kind to all in deep affliction, +and to think no evil until it was positively known who the guilty +person was. + +Indeed, in spite of the almost overwhelming evidence against John +Sabay, there was a strong disposition to believe him innocent. "If ye +believe a' ye hear, ye may eat a' ye see," said Geordie Sweyn. "Maybe +John Sabay killed old Peter Fae, but every maybe has a may-not-be." +And to this remark there were more nods of approval than shakes of +dissent. + +But affairs, even with this gleam of light, were dark enough to the +sorrowful family. John's wages had stopped, and the winter fuel was +not yet all cut. A lawyer had to be procured, and they must mortgage +their little cottage to do it; and although ten days had passed, +Margaret Fae had not shown, either by word or deed, what was her +opinion regarding John's guilt or innocence. + +But Margaret, as before said, was naturally slow in all her movements, +so slow that even Scotch caution had begun to call her cruel or +careless. But this was a great injustice. She had weighed carefully in +her own mind everything against John, and put beside it his own letter +to her and her intimate knowledge of his character, and then solemnly +sat down in God's presence to take such counsel as he should put into +her heart. After many prayerful, waiting days she reached a conclusion +which was satisfactory to herself; and she then put away from her +every doubt of John's innocence, and resolved on the course to be +pursued. + +In the first place she would need money to clear the guiltless and to +seek the guilty, and she resolved to continue her father's business. +She had assisted him so long with his accounts that his methods were +quite familiar to her; all she needed was some one to handle the rough +goods, and stand between her and the rude sailors with whom the +business was mainly conducted. + +Who was this to be? Ragon Torr? She was sure Ragon would have been her +father's choice. He had taken all charge of the funeral, and had since +hung round the house, ready at any moment to do her service. But Ragon +would testify against John Sabay, and she had besides an unaccountable +antipathy to his having any nearer relation with her. "I'll ask +Geordie Sweyn," she said, after a long consultation with her own slow +but sure reasoning powers; "he'll keep the skippers an' farmers i' awe +o' him; an' he's just as honest as any ither man." + +So Geordie was sent for and the proposal made and accepted. "Thou wilt +surely be true to me, Geordie?" + +"As sure as death, Miss Margaret;" and when he gave her his great +brawny hand on it, she knew her affairs in that direction were safe. + +Next morning the shop was opened as usual, and Geordie Sweyn stood in +Peter Fae's place. The arrangement had been finally made so rapidly +that it had taken all Stromness by surprise. But no one said anything +against it; many believed it to be wisely done, and those who did not, +hardly cared to express dissatisfaction with a man whose personal +prowess and ready hand were so well known. + +The same day Christine received a very sisterly letter from Margaret, +begging her to come and talk matters over with her. There were such +obvious reasons why Margaret could not go to Christine, that the +latter readily complied with the request; and such was the influence +that this calm, cool, earnest girl had over the elder woman, that she +not only prevailed upon her to accept money to fee the lawyer in +John's defence, but also whatever was necessary for their comfort +during the approaching winter. Thus Christine and Margaret mutually +strengthened each other, and both cottage and prison were always the +better for every meeting. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +But soon the summer passed away, and the storms and snows of winter +swept over the lonely island. There would be no court until December +to try John, and his imprisonment in Kirkwall jail grew every day more +dreary. But no storms kept Christine long away from him. Over almost +impassable roads and mosses she made her way on the little ponies of +the country, which had to perform a constant steeple-chase over the +bogs and chasms. + +All things may be borne when they are sure; and every one who loved +John was glad when at last he could have a fair hearing. Nothing +however was in his favor. The bailies and the murdered man's servants, +even the dominie and his daughter could tell but one tale. "Peter Fae +had declared with his last breath that John Sabay had stabbed him." +The prosecution also brought forward strong evidence to show that very +bitter words had passed, a few days before the murder, between the +prisoner and the murdered man. + +In the sifting of this evidence other points were brought out, still +more convincing. Hacon Flett said that he was walking to Stromness by +the beach to meet his sweetheart, when he heard the cry of murder, and +in the gloaming light saw John Sabay distinctly running across the +moor. When asked how he knew certainly that it was John, he said that +he knew him by his peculiar dress, its bright buttons, and the glimmer +of gold braid on his cap. He said also, in a very decided manner, that +John Sabay passed Ragon Torr so closely that he supposed they had +spoken. + +Then Ragon being put upon his oath, and asked solemnly to declare who +was the man that had thus passed him, tremblingly answered, + +"_John Sabay!_" + +John gave him such a look as might well haunt a guilty soul through +all eternity; and old Dame Alison, roused by a sense of intolerable +wrong, cried out, + +"Know this, there's a day coming that will show the black heart; but +traitors' words ne'er yet hurt the honest cause." + +"Peace, woman!" said an officer of the court, not unkindly. + +"Weel, then, God speak for me! an' my thoughts are free; if I daurna +say, I may think." + +In defence Margaret Fae swore that she had been with John on Brogar +Bridge until nearly time to meet her father, and that John then wore a +black broadcloth suit and a high hat; furthermore, that she believed +it utterly impossible for him to have gone home, changed his clothes, +and then reached the scene of the murder at the time Hacon Flett and +Ragon Torr swore to his appearance there. + +But watches were very uncommon then; no one of the witnesses had any +very distinct idea of the time; some of them varied as much as an hour +in their estimate. It was also suggested by the prosecution that John +probably had the other suit secreted near the scene of the murder. +Certain it was that he had not been able either to produce it or to +account for its mysterious disappearance. + +The probability of Sandy Beg being the murderer was then advanced; but +Sandy was known to have sailed in a whaling vessel before the murder, +and no one had seen him in Stromness since his departure for Wick +after his dismissal from Peter Fae's service. + +No one? Yes, some one had seen him. That fatal night, as Ragon Torr +was crossing the moor to Peter's house--he having some news of a very +particular vessel to give--he heard the cry of "Murder," and he heard +Hacon Flett call out, "I know thee, John Sabay. Thou hast stabbed my +master!" and he instantly put himself in the way of the flying man. +Then he knew at once that it was Sandy Beg in John Sabay's clothes. +The two men looked a moment in each other's face, and Sandy saw in +Ragon's something that made him say, + +"She'll pat Sandy safe ta night, an' that will mak her shure o' ta +lass she's seeking far." + +There was no time for parley; Ragon's evil nature was strongest, and +he answered, "There is a cellar below my house, thou knows it weel." + +Indeed, most of the houses in Stromness had underground passages, and +places of concealment used for smuggling purposes, and Ragon's lonely +house was a favorite rendezvous. The vessel whose arrival he had been +going to inform Peter of was a craft not likely to come into Stromness +with all her cargo. + +Towards morning Ragon had managed to see Sandy and send him out to her +with such a message as insured her rapid disappearance. Sandy had also +with him a sum of money which he promised to use in transporting +himself at once to India, where he had a cousin in the forty-second +Highland regiment. + +Ragon had not at first intended to positively swear away his friend's +life; he had been driven to it, not only by Margaret's growing +antipathy to him and her decided interest in John's case and family, +but also by that mysterious power of events which enable the devil to +forge the whole chain that binds a man when the first link is given +him. But the word once said, he adhered positively to it, and even +asserted it with quite unnecessary vehemence and persistence. + +After such testimony there was but one verdict possible. John Sabay +was declared guilty of murder, and sentenced to death. But there was +still the same strange and unreasonable belief in his innocence, and +the judge, with a peculiar stretch of clemency, ordered the sentence +to be suspended until he could recommend the prisoner to his majesty's +mercy. + +A remarkable change now came over Dame Alison. Her anger, her sense of +wrong, her impatience, were over. She had come now to where she could +do nothing else but trust implicitly in God; and her mind, being thus +stayed, was kept in a strange exultant kind of perfect peace. Lost +confidence? Not a bit of it! Both Christine and her mother had reached +a point where they knew + + "That right is right, since God is God, + And right the day must win; + To doubt would be disloyalty, + To falter would be sin." + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Slowly the weary winter passed away. And just as spring was opening +there began to be talk of Ragon Torr's going away. Margaret continued +to refuse his addresses with a scorn he found it ill to bear; and he +noticed that many of his old acquaintances dropped away from him. +There is a distinct atmosphere about every man, and the atmosphere +about Ragon people began to avoid. No one could have given a very +clear reason for doing so; one man did not ask another why; but the +fact needed no reasoning about, it was there. + +One day, when Paul Calder was making up his spring cargoes, Ragon +asked for a boat, and being a skilful sailor, he was accepted. But no +sooner was the thing known, than Paul had to seek another crew. + +"What was the matter?" + +"Nothing; they did not care to sail with Ragon Torr, that was all." + +This circumstance annoyed Ragon very much. He went home quite +determined to leave Stromness at once and for ever. Indeed he had been +longing to do so for many weeks, but had stayed partly out of bravado, +and partly because there were few opportunities of getting away during +the winter. + +He went home and shut himself in his own room, and began to count his +hoarded gold. While thus employed, there was a stir or movement under +his feet which he quite understood. Some one was in the secret cellar, +and was coming up. He turned hastily round, and there was Sandy Beg. + +"Thou scoundrel!" and he fairly gnashed his teeth at the intruder, +"what dost thou want here?" + +"She'll be wanting money an' help." + +Badly enough Sandy wanted both; and a dreadful story he told. He had +indeed engaged himself at Wick for a whaling voyage, but at the last +moment had changed his mind and deserted. For somewhere among the +wilds of Rhiconich in Sutherland he had a mother, a wild, +superstitious, half-heathen Highland woman, and he wanted to see her. +Coming back to the coast, after his visit, he had stopped a night at a +little wayside inn, and hearing some drovers talking of their gold in +Gallic, a language which he well understood, he had followed them into +the wild pass of Gualon, and there shot them from behind a rock. For +this murder he had been tracked, and was now so closely pursued that +he had bribed with all the gold he had a passing fishing-smack to drop +him at Stromness during the night. + +"She'll gae awa now ta some ither place; 'teet will she! An' she's +hungry--an' unco dry;" all of which Sandy emphasized by a desperate +and very evil look. + +The man was not to be trifled with, and Ragon knew that he was in his +power. If Sandy was taken, he would confess all, and Ragon knew well +that in such case transportation for life and hard labor would be his +lot. Other considerations pressed him heavily--the shame, the loss, +the scorn of Margaret, the triumph of all his ill-wishers. No, he had +gone too far to retreat. + +He fed the villain, gave him a suit of his own clothes, and L50, and +saw him put off to sea. Sandy promised to keep well out in the bay, +until some vessel going North to Zetland or Iceland, or some Dutch +skipper bound for Amsterdam, took him up. All the next day Ragon was +in misery, but nightfall came and he had heard nothing of Sandy, +though several craft had come into port. If another day got over he +would feel safe; but he told himself that he was in a gradually +narrowing circle, and that the sooner he leaped outside of it the +better. + +When he reached home the old couple who hung about the place, and who +had learned to see nothing and to hear nothing, came to him and +voluntarily offered a remark. + +"Queer folk an' strange folk have been here, an' ta'en awa some claes +out o' the cellar." + +Ragon asked no questions. He knew what clothes they were--that suit of +John Sabay's in which Sandy Beg had killed Peter Fae, and the rags +which Sandy had a few hours before exchanged for one of his own +sailing-suits. He needed no one to tell him what had happened. Sandy +had undoubtedly bespoke the very vessel containing the officers in +search of him, and had confessed all, as he said he would. The men +were probably at this moment looking for him. + +He lifted the gold prepared for any such emergency, and, loosening his +boat, pulled for life and death towards Mayness Isle. Once in the +rapid "race" that divides it and Olla from the ocean, he knew no boat +would dare to follow him. While yet a mile from it he saw that he was +rapidly pursued by a four-oared boat. Now all his wild Norse nature +asserted itself. He forgot everything but that he was eluding his +pursuers, and as the chase grew hotter, closer, more exciting, his +enthusiasm carried him far beyond all prudence. + +He began to shout or chant to his wild efforts some old Norse +death-song, and just as they gained on him he shot into the "race" and +defied them. Oars were useless there, and they watched him fling them +far away and stand up with outstretched arms in the little skiff. The +waves tossed it hither and thither, the boiling, racing flood hurried +it with terrific force towards the ocean. The tall, massive figure +swayed like a reed in a tempest, and suddenly the half despairing, +half defying song was lost in the roar of the bleak, green surges. All +knew then what had happened. + +"Let me die the death o' the righteous," murmured one old man, piously +veiling his eyes with his bonnet; and then the boat turned and went +silently back to Stromness. + +Sandy Beg was in Kirkwall jail. He had made a clean breast of all his +crimes, and measures were rapidly taken for John Sabay's enlargement +and justification. When he came out of prison Christine and Margaret +were waiting for him, and it was to Margaret's comfortable home he was +taken to see his mother. "For we are ane household now, John," she +said tenderly, "an' Christine an' mother will ne'er leave me any +mair." + +Sandy's trial came on at the summer term. He was convicted on his own +confession, and sentenced to suffer the penalty of his crime upon the +spot where he stabbed Peter Fae. For some time he sulkily rejected all +John's efforts to mitigate his present condition, or to prepare him +for his future. But at last the tender spot in his heart was found. +John discovered his affection for his half-savage mother, and promised +to provide for all her necessities. + +"It's only ta poun' o' taa, an' ta bit cabin ta shelter her she'll +want at a'," but the tears fell heavily on the red, hairy hands; "an' +she'll na tell her fat ill outsent cam to puir Sandy." + +"Thou kens I will gie her a' she needs, an' if she chooses to come to +Orkney--" + +"Na, na, she wullna leave ta Hieland hills for naught at a'." + +"Then she shall hae a siller crown for every month o' the year, +Sandy." + +The poor, rude creature hardly knew how to say a "thanks;" but John +saw it in his glistening eyes and heard it in the softly-muttered +words, "She was ta only are tat e'er caret for Santy Beg." + +It was a solemn day in Stromness when he went to the gallows. The +bells tolled backward, the stores were all closed, and there were +prayers both in public and private for the dying criminal. But few +dared to look upon the awful expiation, and John spent the hour in +such deep communion with God and his own soul that its influence +walked with him to the end of life. + +And when his own sons were grown up to youths, one bound for the sea +and the other for Marischal College, Aberdeen, he took them aside and +told them this story, adding, + +"An' know this, my lads: the shame an' the sorrow cam a' o' ane +thing--I made light o' my mother's counsel, an' thought I could do +what nane hae ever done, gather mysel' with the deil's journeymen, an' +yet escape the wages o' sin. Lads! lads! there's nae half-way house +atween right and wrang; know that." + +"But, my father," said Hamish, the younger of the two, "thou did at +the last obey thy mother." + +"Ay, ay, Hamish; but mak up thy mind to this: it isna enough that a +man rins a gude race; he maun also _start at the right time_. This is +what I say to thee, Hamish, an' to thee, Donald: fear God, an' ne'er +lightly heed a gude mother's advice. It's weel wi' the lads that carry +a mother's blessing through the warld wi' them." + + + + +Lile Davie. + + + + +LILE DAVIE. + + +In Yorkshire and Lancashire the word "lile" means "little," but in the +Cumberland dales it has a far wider and nobler definition. There it is +a term of honor, of endearment, of trust, and of approbation. David +Denton won the pleasant little prefix before he was ten years old. +When he saved little Willy Sabay out of the cold waters of Thirlmere, +the villagers dubbed him "Lile Davie." When he took a flogging to +spare the crippled lad of Farmer Grimsby, men and women said proudly, +"He were a lile lad;" and when he gave up his rare half-holiday to +help the widow Gates glean, they had still no higher word of praise +than "kind lile Davie." + +However, it often happens that a prophet has no honor among his own +people, and David was the black sheep of the miserly household of +Denton Farm. It consisted of old Christopher Denton, his three sons, +Matthew, Sam, and David, and his daughter Jennie. They had the +reputation of being "people well-to-do," but they were not liked among +the Cumberland "states-men," who had small sympathy for their +niggardly hospitality and petty deeds of injustice. + +One night in early autumn Christopher was sitting at the great black +oak table counting over the proceeds of the Kendal market, and Matt +and Sam looked greedily on. There was some dispute about the wool and +the number of sheep, and Matt said angrily, "There's summat got to be +done about Davie. He's just a clish-ma-saunter, lying among the ling +wi' a book in his hand the lee-long day. It is just miff-maff and +nonsense letting him go any longer to the schoolmaster. I am fair +jagged out wi' his ways." + +"That's so," said Sam. + +"Then why don't you gie the lad a licking, and make him mind the sheep +better? I saw him last Saturday playing sogers down at Thirlston with +a score or more of idle lads like himsel'." The old man spoke +irritably, and looked round for the culprit. "I'll lay thee a penny +he's at the same game now. Gie him a licking when he comes in, son +Matt." + +"Nay, but Matt wont," said Jennie Denton, with a quiet decision. She +stood at her big wheel, spinning busily, though it was nine o'clock; +and though her words were few and quiet, the men knew from her face +and manner that Davie's licking would not be easily accomplished. In +fact, Jennie habitually stood between Davie and his father and +brothers. She had nursed him through a motherless babyhood, and had +always sympathized in his eager efforts to rise above the sordid life +that encompassed him. It was Jennie who had got him the grudging +permission to go in the evening to the village schoolmaster for some +book-learning. But peculiar circumstances had favored her in this +matter, for neither the old man nor his sons could read or write, and +they had begun to find this, in their changed position, and in the +rapid growth of general information, a serious drawback in business +matters. + +Therefore, as Davie could not be spared in the day, the schoolmaster +agreed for a few shillings a quarter to teach him in the evening. This +arrangement altered the lad's whole life. He soon mastered the simple +branches he had been sent to acquire, and then master and pupil far +outstepped old Christopher's programme, and in the long snowy nights, +and in the balmy summer ones, pored with glowing cheeks over old +histories and wonderful lives of great soldiers and sailors. + +In fact, David Denton, like most good sons, had a great deal of his +mother in him, and she had been the daughter of a long line of brave +Westmoreland troopers. The inherited tendencies which had passed over +the elder boys asserted themselves with threefold force in this last +child of a dying woman. And among the sheepcotes in the hills he felt +that he was the son of the men who had defied Cromwell on the banks of +the Kent and followed Prince Charlie to Preston. + +But the stern discipline of a Cumberland states-man's family is not +easily broken. Long after David had made up his mind to be a soldier +he continued to bear the cuffs and sneers and drudgery that fell to +him, watching eagerly for some opportunity of securing his father's +permission. But of this there was little hope. His knowledge of +writing and accounts had become of service, and his wish to go into +the world and desert the great cause of the Denton economies was an +unheard-of piece of treason and ingratitude. + +David ventured to say that he "had taught Jennie to write and count, +and she was willing to do his work." + +The ignorant, loutish brothers scorned the idea of "women-folk +meddling wi' their 'counts and wool," and, "besides," as Matt argued, +"Davie's going would necessitate the hiring of two shepherds; no hired +man would do more than half of what folk did for their ain." + +These disputes grew more frequent and more angry, and when Davie had +added to all his other faults the unpardonable one of falling in love +with the schoolmaster's niece, there was felt to be no hope for the +lad. The Dentons had no poor relations; they regarded them as the one +thing _not_ needful, and they concluded it was better to give Davie a +commission and send him away. + +Poor Jennie did all the mourning for the lad; his father and brothers +were in the midst of a new experiment for making wool water-proof, and +pretty Mary Butterworth did not love David as David wished her to love +him. It was Jennie only who hung weeping on his neck and watched him +walk proudly and sorrowfully away over the hills into the wide, wide +world beyond. + +Then for many, many long years no more was heard of "Lile Davie +Denton." The old schoolmaster died and Christopher followed him. But +the Denton brothers remained together. However, when men make saving +money the sole end of their existence, their life soon becomes as +uninteresting as the multiplication table, and people ceased to care +about the Denton farm, especially as Jennie married a wealthy squire +over the mountains, and left her brothers to work out alone their new +devices and economies. + +Jennie's marriage was a happy one, but she did not forget her brother. +There was in Esthwaite Grange a young man who bore his name and who +was preparing for a like career. And often Jennie Esthwaite told to +the lads and lasses around her knees the story of their "lile uncle," +whom every one but his own kin had loved, and who had gone away to the +Indies and never come back again. "Lile Davie" was the one bit of +romance in Esthwaite Grange. + +Jennie's brothers had never been across the "fells" that divided +Denton from Esthwaite; therefore, one morning, twenty-seven years +after Davie's departure, she was astonished to see Matt coming slowly +down the Esthwaite side. But she met him with hearty kindness, and +after he had been rested and refreshed he took a letter from his +pocket and said, "Jennie, this came from Davie six months syne, but I +thought then it would be seeking trouble to answer it." + +"Why, Matt, this letter is directed to me! How dared you open and keep +it?" + +"Dared, indeed! That's a nice way for a woman to speak to her eldest +brother!' Read it, and then you'll see why I kept it from you." + +Poor Jennie's eyes filled fuller at every line. He was sick and +wounded and coming home to die, and wanted to see his old home and +friends once more. + +"O Matt! Matt!" she cried; "how cruel, how shameful, not to answer +this appeal." + +"Well, I did it for the best; but it seems I have made a mistake. Sam +and I both thought an ailing body dovering round the hearthstone and +doorstone was not to be thought of--and nobody to do a hand's turn but +old Elsie, who is nearly blind--and Davie never was one to do a decent +hand job, let by it was herding sheep, and that it was not like he'd +be fit for; so we just agreed to let the matter lie where it was." + +"Oh, it was a cruel shame, Matt." + +"Well, it was a mistake; for yesterday Sam went to Kendall, and there, +in the Stramon-gate, he met Tom Philipson, who is just home from +India. And what does Tom say but, 'Have you seen the general yet?' +and, 'Great man is Gen. Denton,' and, 'Is it true that he is going to +buy the Derwent estate?' and, 'Wont the Indian Government miss Gen. +Denton!' Sam wasn't going to let Tom see how the land lay, and Tom +went off saying that Sam had no call to be so pesky proud; that it +wasn't him who had conquered the Mahrattas and taken the Ghiznee +Pass." + +Jennie was crying bitterly, and saying softly to herself, "O my brave +laddie! O my bonnie lile Davie!" + +"Hush, woman! No good comes of crying. Write now as soon as you like, +and the sooner the better." + +In a very few hours Jennie had acted on this advice, and, though the +writing and spelling were wonderful, the poor sick general, nursing +himself at the Bath waters, felt the love that spoke in every word. He +had not expected much from his brothers; it was Jennie and Jennie's +bairns he wanted to see. He was soon afterwards an honored guest in +Esthwaite Grange, and the handsome old soldier, riding slowly among +the lovely dales, surrounded by his nephews and nieces, became a +well-known sight to the villages around. + +Many in Thirlston remembered him, and none of his old companions found +themselves forgotten. Nor did he neglect his brothers. These cautious +men had become of late years manufacturers, and it was said were +growing fabulously rich. They had learned the value of the low coppice +woods on their fell-side, and had started a bobbin-mill which Sam +superintended, while Matt was on constant duty at the great steam-mill +on Milloch-Force, where he spun his own wools into blankets and +serges. + +The men were not insensible to the honor of their brother's career; +they made great capital of it privately. But they were also intensely +dissatisfied at the reckless way in which he spent his wealth. Young +David Esthwaite had joined a crack regiment with his uncle's +introduction and at his uncle's charges, and Jennie and Mary Esthwaite +had been what the brothers considered extravagantly dowered in order +that they might marry two poor clergymen whom they had set their +hearts on. + +"It is just sinful, giving women that much good gold," said Matt +angrily: "and here we are needing it to keep a great business afloat." + +It was the first time Matt had dared to hint that the mill under his +care was not making money, and he was terribly shocked when Sam made a +similar confession. In fact, the brothers, with all their cleverness +and industry, were so ignorant that they were necessarily at the mercy +of those they employed, and they had fallen into roguish hands. Sam +proposed that David should be asked to look over their affairs and +tell them where the leakage was: "He was always a lile-hearted chap, +and I'd trust him, Matt, up hill and down dale, I would." + +But Matt objected to this plan. He said David must be taken through +the mills and the most made of everything, and then in a week or two +afterwards be offered a partnership; and Matt, being the eldest, +carried the day. A great festival was arranged, everything was seen to +the best advantage, and David was exceedingly interested. He lingered +with a strange fascination among the steam-looms, and Matt saw the +bait had taken, for as they walked back together to the old homestead +David said, "You were ever a careful man, Matt, but it must take a +deal of money--you understand, brother--if you need at any time--I +hope I don't presume." + +"Certainly not. Yes, we are doing a big business--a very good business +indeed; perhaps when you are stronger you may like to join us." + +"I sha'n't get stronger, Matt--so I spoke now." + +Sam, in his anxiety, thought Matt had been too prudent; he would have +accepted Davie's offer at once; but Matt was sure that by his plan +they would finally get all the general's money into their hands. +However, the very clever always find some quantity that they have +failed to take into account. After this long day at the mills General +Denton had a severe relapse, and it was soon evident that his work was +nearly finished. + +"But you must not fret, Jennie dear," he said cheerfully; "I am indeed +younger in years than you, but then I have lived a hundred times as +long. What a stirring, eventful life I have had! I must have lived a +cycle among these hills to have evened it; and most of my comrades are +already gone." + +One day, at the very last, he said, "Jennie, there is one bequest in +my will may astonish you, but it is all right. I went to see her a +month ago. She is a widow now with a lot of little lads around her. +And I loved her, Jennie--never loved any woman but her. Poor Mary! She +has had a hard time; I have tried to make things easier." + +"You had always a lile heart, Davie; you could do no wrong to any +one." + +"I hope not. I--hope--not." And with these words and a pleasant smile +the general answered some call that he alone heard, and trusting in +his Saviour, passed confidently + + "The quicks and drift that fill the rift + Between this world and heaven." + +His will, written in the kindest spirit, caused a deal of angry +feeling; for it was shown by it that after his visit to the Denton +Mills he had revoked a bequest to the brothers of L20,000, because, as +he explicitly said, "My dear brothers do not need it;" and this +L20,000 he left to Mary Butterworth Pierson, "who is poor and +delicate, and does sorely need it." And the rest of his property he +divided between Jennie and Jennie's bairns. + +In the first excitement of their disappointment and ruin, Sam, who +dreaded his brother's anger, and who yet longed for some sympathetic +word, revealed to Jennie and her husband the plan Matt had laid, and +how signally it had failed. + +"I told him, squire, I did for sure, to be plain and honest with +Davie. Davie was always a lile fellow, and he would have helped us out +of trouble. Oh, dear! oh, dear! that L20,000 would just have put a' +things right." + +"A straight line, lad, is always the shortest line in business and +morals, as well as in geometry; and I have aye found that to be true +in my dealings is to be wise. Lying serves no one but the devil, as +ever I made out." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Scottish sketches, by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCOTTISH SKETCHES *** + +***** This file should be named 14494.txt or 14494.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/4/9/14494/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Amy and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading +Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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