CORNELL 
 UNIVERSITY 
 .LIBRARY 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE mcOME 
 OF THE SAGE''ENfib%MENT 
 FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE 
 
PR 4967.W2 "°™"""""'^ ""'""'^ 
 Warlock o' Glenwarlock.A homely romance. 
 
 3 1924 01 '3 520 170" 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013520170 
 
cqSmo conducted her to the stable." 
 
WARLOCK 
 
 O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 A HOMELY ROMANCE. 
 
 BY 
 
 George MacDonald, 
 
 author of "annals of a quiet neighborhood," "a sea 
 
 board parish," etc. 
 
 BOSTON 
 D LOTHROP COMPANY 
 
 Franklin and Hawley Streets 
 
Copyright, iSgj, 
 
 RV 
 D. LOTHKOP AND COMPANY 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTUt. 
 
 I — Castle Warlock . 
 
 Paob. 
 
 7 
 
 2 — The Kitchen 
 
 19 
 
 3 — The Drawing-room 
 
 4 — An Afternoon Sleep 
 
 5 — The School . 
 
 32 
 43 
 5' 
 
 6 — Grannie's Cottage 
 
 60 
 
 7 — Dreams 
 
 70 
 
 8 — Home 
 
 . . 89 
 
 9 — The Student .... 
 
 97 
 
 lo — Peter Simon .... 
 
 112 
 
 II — The new Schooling 
 
 120 
 
 12 — Grannie's Ghost Story . 
 
 130 
 
 13 — The Storm-Guest . . . . 
 
 • 143 
 
 14 — The Castle Inn . 
 
 . 161 
 
 15— That Night .... 
 
 16 — Through the Day . 
 
 17 — That same Night , , . , 
 
 . 181 
 
 200 
 
 . 244 
 
IV. 
 
 Contents, 
 
 18 — A Winter Idyl 
 
 19 — An " Interlunar Cave " 
 
 20 — Catch yer Naig 
 
 21 — The Watchmaker . 
 
 22 — That Luminous Night 
 
 23 — At College . 
 
 24 — A Tutorship . 
 25 — The Gardener 
 
 26 — Lost and Found 
 
 27 — A Transformation , 
 
 28 —The Story of the Knight 
 
 Truth 
 
 29 — New Experience . 
 
 30 — Charles Jermyn, M. D. 
 
 31 — Cosmo and the Doctor 
 
 32 — The Naiad 
 
 33 — The Garden-House 
 
 34 — Catch your Horse . 
 35— Pull his Tail . 
 
 36 — The thick Darkness 
 
 37 — The Dawn 
 
 38 — The Shadow of Death 
 
 39 — The Labourer 
 
 40 — The Schoolmaster . 
 
 41 — Grannie and the Stick 
 42 — Obstruction . 
 
 43 — Grizzle's Rights 
 
 44 — Another Harvest . 
 
 who 
 
 spoke the 
 
45 — The final Conflict 
 
 
 
 V. 
 
 552 
 
 46 — A Rest .... 
 
 
 
 562 
 
 47 — Help .... 
 
 
 
 580 
 
 48 — A common Miracle 
 
 
 
 ' 592 
 
 49 — Defiance 
 
 
 
 ■ 597 
 
 50 — Discovery and Confession 
 
 
 
 60s 
 
 51 — It is Naught saith the Buyer 
 
 
 
 61S 
 
 52 — An old Story . 
 
 
 
 627 
 
 53 — A small Discovery. 
 
 
 
 632 
 
 54 — A greater Discovery 
 
 
 
 640 
 
 55 — A great Discovery . 
 
 
 
 646 
 
 56 — Mr. Burns 
 
 
 
 656 
 
 57 — Too Sure comes too late 
 
 
 
 662 
 
 58 — A little Life well rounded 
 
 
 
 666 
 
 59 — A Breaking Up 
 
 
 
 673 
 
 60 — Repose 
 
 
 
 685 
 
 61 —The third Harvest 
 
 
 
 691 
 
 62 — A Duet, Trio, and Quartette . 
 
 
 
 698 
 
M'arlock o' Glenwarlock. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CASTLE WARLOCK. 
 
 A rough, wild glen it was, to which, far back in 
 times unknown to its annals, the family had given its 
 name, taking in return no small portion of its history, 
 and a good deal of the character of its individuals. 
 It lay in the debatable land between highlands and 
 lowlands ; most of its inhabitants spoke both Scotch 
 and Gaelic ; and there was often to be found in them 
 a notable mingling of the chief characteristics of the 
 widely differing Celt and Teuton. The country pro- 
 duced more barley than wheat, more oats than barley, 
 more heather than oats, more boulders than trees, 
 and more snow than anything. It was a solitary, 
 thinly peopled region, mostly of bare hills, and par- 
 tially cultivated glens, each with its small stream, on 
 the banks of which grew here and there a silver birch, 
 
 7 
 
WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 a mountain ash, or an alder tree, but with nothing 
 capable of giving much shade or shelter, save cliffy 
 banks and big stones. From many a spot you might 
 look in all directions and not see a sign of human or 
 any other habitation. Even then however, you might, 
 to be sure, most likely smell the perfume — to some 
 nostrils it is nothing less than perfume — of a peat 
 fire, although you might be long in finding out whence 
 it came ; for the houses, if indeed the dwellings could 
 be called houses, were often so hard to be distin- 
 guished from the ground on which they were built, 
 that except the smoke of fresh peats were coming 
 pretty freely fjom the wide-mouthed chimney, it re- 
 quired an experienced eye to discover the human 
 nest. The valleys that opened northward produced 
 little ; there the snow might some years be seen lying 
 on patches of oats yet green, destined now only for 
 fodder ; but where the valley ran east and west, and 
 any tolerable ground looked to the south, there things 
 put on a different aspect. There the graceful oats 
 would wave and rustle in the ripening wind, and in 
 the small gardens would lurk a few cherished straw- 
 berries, while potatoes and peas would be tolerably 
 plentiful in their season. 
 
 Upon a natural terrace in such a slope to the south, 
 stood Castle Warlock. But it turned no smiling face 
 to the region whence came the warmth and the growth. 
 A more grim, repellant, unlovely building would be 
 hard to find ; and yet, from its extreme simplicity, its 
 utter indifference to its own looks, its repose, its 
 weight, and its gray historical consciousness, no one 
 who loved houses would have thought of calling it 
 
CASTLE WARLOCK. 
 
 Ugly. It was like the hard-featured face of a Scotch 
 matron, suggesting no end of story, of life, of char- 
 acter : she holds a defensive if not defiant face to the 
 world, but within she is warm, tending carefully the 
 fires of life. Summer and winter the chimneys of 
 that desolate-looking house smoked ; for though the 
 country was inclement, and the people that lived in it 
 were poor, the great, sullen, almost unhappy-looking 
 hills held clasped to their bare cold bosoms, exposed 
 to all the bitterness of freezing winds and summer 
 hail, the warmth of household centuries : their peat- 
 bogs were the store-closets and wine-cellars of the 
 sun, for the hoarded elixir of physical life. And al- 
 though the walls of the castle, as it was called, were 
 so thick that in winter they kept the warmth generated 
 within them from wandering out and being lost on the 
 awful wastes of homeless hillside and moor, they also 
 prevented the brief summer heat of the wayfaring sun 
 from entering with freedom, and hence the fires were 
 needful in the summer days as well — at least at the 
 time my story commences, for then, as generally, there 
 were elderly and aged people in the house, who had 
 to help their souls to keep their bodies warm. 
 
 The house was very old. It had been built for 
 more kinds of shelter than need to be thought of in 
 our days. For the enemies of our ancestors were not 
 only the cold, and the fierce wind, and the rain, and 
 the snow ; they were men also — enemies harder to 
 keep out than the raging storm or the creeping frost. 
 Hence the more hospitable a house could be, the less 
 must it look what it was : it must wear its face 
 haughty, and turn its smiles inward. The house of 
 
WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Glenwarlock, as it was also sometimes called, con- 
 sisted of three massive, narrow, tall blocks of build- 
 ing, which showed little connection with each other 
 beyond juxtaposition, two of them standing end to end, 
 with but a few feet of space between, and the third at 
 right angles to the two. In the two which stood end 
 to end, and were originally the principal parts, 
 hardly any windows w'ere to be seen on the side that 
 looked out into the valley ; while in the third, which, 
 though looking much of the same age, was of later 
 build, were more windows, but none in the lowest 
 story. Narrow as were these buildings, and four 
 stories high, they had a solid, ponderous look, suggest- 
 ing a thickness of the walls such as to leave little of 
 a hollow within for the indwellers — like great marine 
 shells for a small mollusk. On the other side was a 
 kind of a court, completed by the stables and cow- 
 houses, and towards this court were most of the win- 
 dows — many of them for size more like those in the 
 cottages around, than suggestive of a house built by 
 the lords of the soil. The court was now merely 
 that of a farmyard. 
 
 There must have been at one time outer defences 
 to the castle, but they were no longer to be distin- 
 guished by the inexperienced eye ; and indeed the 
 windowless walls of the house itself seemed strong 
 enough to repel any attack without artillery — except 
 indeed the assailants had got into the court. There 
 were however some signs of the windows there having 
 been enlarged if not increased at a later period. 
 
 In the block that stood angle-wise to the rest, was 
 the kitchen, the door of which opened immediately on 
 
CASTLE WARLOCK. 
 
 the court; and behind the kitchen, in that part 
 which had no windows to the valley, was the milk-cel- 
 lar, as they called the dairy, and places for household 
 storage. A rough causeway ran along the foot of the 
 walls, connecting the doors in the different blocks. 
 Of these, the kitchen door for the most part stood 
 open : sometimes the snow would be coming fast 
 down the wide chimney, with little soft hisses in the 
 fire, and the business of the house going on without 
 a thought of closing it, though from it you could not 
 have seen across the yard for the falling flakes. 
 
 But when my story opens, the summer held the old 
 house and the older hills in its embrace. The sun 
 was pouring torrents of light and heat into the valley, 
 and the slopes of it were covered with green. The 
 bees were about, contenting themselves with the flow- 
 ers, while the heather was getting ready its bloom for 
 them, and a boy of fourteen was sitting in a little gar- 
 den that lay like a dropped belt of beauty about the 
 feet of the grim old walls. This was on the other side 
 — that to the south, parting the house from the slope 
 where the corn began — now with the ear half-formed. 
 The boy sat on a big stone, which once must have 
 had some part in the house itself, or its defences, 
 but which he had never known except as a seat for 
 himself. His back leaned against the hoary wall, 
 and he was in truth meditating, although he did not 
 look as if he were. He was already more than an 
 incipient philosopher, though he could not yet have 
 put into recognizable shape the thought that was now 
 passing through his mind. The bees were the pri- 
 mary but not the main subject of it. It came thus : 
 
WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 he thought how glad the bees would be when their 
 crop of heather was ripe ; then he thought how they 
 preferred the heather to the flowers ; then, that the 
 one must taste nicer to them than the other ; and last 
 awoke the question whether their taste of sweet was 
 the same as his. " For," said he, " if their honey 
 is sweet to them with the same sweetness with which 
 it is sweet to me, then there is something in the 
 make of the bee that's the same with the make of 
 me ; and perhaps then a man might some day, if 
 he wanted, try the taste of being a bee all out for 
 a little while." But to see him, nobody would have 
 thought he was doing anything but basking in the 
 sun. The scents of the flowers all about his feet 
 came and went on the eddies of the air, paying my 
 lord many a visit in his antechamber, his brain ; 
 the windy noises of the insects, the watery noises 
 of the pigeons, the noises from the poultry yard, 
 the song of the mountain river, visited him also 
 through the portals of his ears ; but at the moment, 
 the boy seemed lost in the mere fundamental satis- 
 faction of existence. 
 
 Neither, although broad summer was on the earth, 
 and all the hill-tops, and as much of the valleys as 
 their shadows did not hide, were bathed in sunlight, 
 although the country was his native land, .and he 
 loved it with the love of his country's poets, was 
 the consciousness of the boy free from a certain 
 strange kind of trouble connected with, if not re- 
 sulting from the landscape before him. A Celt 
 through many of his ancestors, and his mother in 
 particular, his soul, full of undefined emotion, was 
 
CASTLE WARLOCK. 13 
 
 aware of an ever recurring impulse to song, ever 
 checked and broken, ever thrown back upon itself. 
 There were a few books in the house, amongst them 
 < certain volumes of verse — a copy of Cowly, whose 
 notable invocation of Light he had instinctively blun- 
 dered upon ; one of Milton ; the translated Ossian ; 
 Thomson's Seasons — with a few more ; and from 
 the reading of these, among other results, had arisen 
 this — that, in the midst of his enjoyment of the 
 world around him, he found himself every now and 
 then sighing after a lovelier nature than that before 
 his eyes. There he read of mountains, if not wilder, 
 yet loftier and more savage than his own, of skies 
 more glorious, of forests of such trees as he knew 
 only from one or two old engravings in the house, on 
 which he looked with a strange, inexplicable reverence : 
 he would sometimes wake weeping from a dream of 
 mountains, or of tossing waters. Once with his 
 waking eyes he saw a mist afar off, between the hills 
 that ramparted the horizon, grow rosy after the sun 
 was down, and his heart filled as with the joy of a 
 new discovery. Around him, it is true, the waters 
 rushed well from their hills, but their banks had 
 little beauty. Not merely did the want of trees dis- 
 tress him, but the nature of their channel ; most of 
 them, instead of rushing through rocks, cut their 
 way only through beds of rough gravel, and their bare 
 surroundings were desolate without grandeur — al- 
 most mean to eyes that had not yet pierced to the 
 soul of them. Nor had he yet learned to admire 
 the lucent brown of the bog waters. There seemed 
 to be in the boy a strain of some race used to a 
 
14 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 richer home ; and yet all the time the frozen regions 
 of the north drew his fancy tenfold more than Italy 
 or Egypt. 
 
 His name was Cosmo, a name brought from Italy 
 by one of the line who had sold his sword and fought 
 for strangers. Not a few of the younger branches of 
 the family had followed the same evil profession, 
 and taken foreign pay — chiefly from poverty and 
 prejudice combined, but not a little in some cases 
 from the inborn love of fighting that seems to char- 
 acterize the Celt. The last soldier of them had 
 served the East India Company both by sea and 
 land : tradition more than hinted that he had 
 chiefly served himself. Since then the heads of the 
 house had been peaceful farmers of their own land, 
 contriving to draw what to many farmers nowadays 
 would seem but a scanty subsistence from an estate 
 which had dwindled to the twentieth part of what it 
 had been a few centuries before, though even then 
 it could never have made its proprietor rich in any- 
 thing but the devotion of his retainers. 
 
 Growing too hot between the sun and the wall, 
 Cosmo rose, and passing to the other side of the 
 hov.se beyond the court-yard, and crossing a certain 
 heave of grass, came upon one unfailing delight in 
 his lot — a preacher whose voice, inarticulate, it is 
 true, had, ever since he was born, been at most times 
 louder in his ear than any other. It was a mountain 
 stream, which, through a channel of rock, such as 
 nearly satisfied his most fastidious fancy, went roar- 
 ing, rushing, and sometimes thundering, with an 
 arrow-like, foamy swiftness, down to the river in 
 
'-'^% ■ CASTLE WARLOCK.. . 15 
 
 the glen beltiw. The rocks were very dark, and the 
 foam stood out brilliant against them. From the hill 
 top above, it came, sloping steep from far. When 
 you looked up, it seemed to come flowing from the 
 horizon itself, and when you looked down, it. seemed 
 to have suddenly found it could no more return to the 
 upper regions it had left too high behind it, and in 
 disgust to shoot headlong to the abyss. There was 
 not much water in it now, but plenty to make a joy- 
 ous white rush through the deep-worn brown of the 
 rock: in the autumn and spring it came down glori- 
 ously, dark and fierce, as if it sought the very centre, 
 wild with greed after an absolute rest. 
 
 The boy stood and gazed, as was his custom. Al- 
 ways he would seek this endless water when he grew 
 weary, when the things about him put on their too 
 ordinary look. Let the aspect of this be what it 
 might, it seemed still inspired and sent forth by some 
 essence of mystery and endless possibility. There 
 was in him an unusual combination of the power to 
 read the hieroglyphic internal aspect of things, and 
 the scientific nature that bows before fact. He knew 
 that the stream was in its second stage when it rose 
 from the earth and rushed past the house, that it was 
 gathered first from the great ocean, through millions 
 of smallest ducts, up to the reservoirs of the sky, 
 thence to descend in snows and rains, and wander 
 down and up through the veins of the earth ; but the 
 sense of its mystery had not hitherto begun to with- 
 draw. Happily for him, the poetic nature was not 
 merely predominant in him, but dominant, sending 
 it.self. a cervadine: spirit, through the science that else 
 
^ ■ • = = : -^ ■ . . -ife- , ■- 
 
 1 6 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 would have stifled him. Accepting fact, he found 
 nothing in its outward relations by which a man can 
 live, any more than by bread ; but this poetic nature, 
 illuminating it as with the polarized ray, revealed 
 therein more life and richer hope. All this was as 
 yet however as indefinite as it v»as operative in him, 
 and I am telling of him what he could not have told 
 of himself. 
 
 He stood gazing now in a different mood from any 
 that had come to him before : he had begun to find 
 out something fresh about this same stream, and the 
 life in his own heart to which it served as a revealing 
 phantasm. He recognized that what in the stream 
 had drawn him from earliest childhood, with an infi- 
 nite pleasure, was the vague sense, for a long time an 
 ever growing one, of its mystery — the form the 
 infinite first takes to the simplest and liveliest hearts. 
 It was because it was always flowing that he loved 
 it, because it could not stop : whence it came was 
 utterly unknown to him, and he did not care to know. 
 And when at length he learned that it came flowing 
 out of the dark hard earth, the mystery only grew. 
 He imagined a wondrous cavity below in black rock, 
 where it gathered and gathered, nobody could think 
 how — not coming from anywhere else, but beginning 
 just there, and nowhere beyond. When, later on, he 
 had to shift its source, and carry it back to the great 
 sky, it was no less marvellous, and more lovely ; it 
 was a closer binding together of the gentle earth and 
 the awful withdrawing heavens. These were a region 
 of endless hopes, and ever recurrent despairs : that his 
 beloved, an earthly finite thing, should rise there, was 
 
CASTLE WARLOCK. 17 
 
 added joy, and gave a mighty hope with respect to 
 the unlinown and appalling. But from the sky, he 
 was sent back to the earth in further pursuit ; for, 
 whence came the rain, his books told him, but from 
 the sea ? That sea he had read of, though never yet 
 beheld, and he knew it was magnificent in its might ; 
 gladly would he have hailed it as an intermediate 
 betwixt the sky and the earth — so to have the sky 
 come first ! but, alas ! the ocean came first in order. 
 And then, worse and worse ! how was the ocean fed 
 but from his loved torrent ? . How was the sky fed 
 but from the sea ? How was the dark fountain fed 
 but from the sky ? How was the torrent fed but from 
 the fountain ? As he sat in the hot garden, with his 
 back against the old gray wall, the nest of his fami- 
 ly for countless generations, with the scent of the 
 flowers in his nostrils, and the sound of the bees in 
 his ears, it had begun to dawn upon him that he had 
 lost the stream of his childhood, the mysterious^ 
 infinite idea of endless, inexplicable, original birth,' 
 of outflowing because of essential existence within ! 
 There was no production any more, nothing but a 
 mere rushing around, like the ring-sea of Saturn, in 
 a never ending circle of formal change ! Like a 
 great dish, the mighty ocean was skimmed in parti- 
 cles invisible, which were gathered aloft into sponges 
 all water and no sponge ; and from this, through 
 many an airy, many an earthy channel, deflowered 
 of its mystery, his ancient, self-producing fountain to 
 a holy merry river, was fed — only fed! He grew 
 very sad, and well he might. Moved by the spring 
 
l8 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 eternal in himself, of which the love in his heart was 
 but a river-shape, he turned away from the deathened 
 stream, and without knowing why, sought the human 
 elements about the place. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE KITCHEN. 
 
 He entered the wide kitchen, paved with large 
 slabs of slate. One brilliant gray-blue spot of sun- 
 light lay on the floor. It came through a small win- 
 dow to the east, and made the peat-fire glow red by 
 the contrast. Over the fire, from a great chain, hung 
 a three-legged pot, in which something was slowly 
 cooking. Between the fire and the sun-spot lay a cat, 
 content with fate and the world. At the corner of 
 the fire sat an old lady, in a chair high-backed, thick- 
 padded, and covered with striped stuff. She had 
 her back to the window that looked into the court, 
 and was knitting without regarding her needles. 
 This was Cosmo's grandmother. The daughter of a 
 small laird in the next parish, she had started in life 
 with an overweening sense of her own importance 
 through that of her family, nor had she lived long 
 enough to get rid of it. I fancy she had clung to it 
 the more that from the time of her marriage nothing 
 Jiad seemed to go well with the family into which she 
 
WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 had married. She and her husband had struggled 
 and striven, but to no seeming purpose ; poverty had 
 drawn its meshes closer and closer around them. 
 They had but one son, the present laird, and he had 
 succeeded to an estate yet smaller and more heavily 
 encumbered. To all appearance he must leave it to 
 Cosmo, if indeed he left it, in no better condition. 
 From the growing fear of its final loss, he loved the 
 place more than any of his ancestors had loved it, and 
 his attachment to it had descended yet stronger to his 
 son. 
 
 But although Cosmo the elder wrestled and fought 
 against encroaching poverty, and with little success, 
 he had never forgot small rights in anxiety to be rid 
 of large claims. What man could he did to keep 
 his poverty from bearing hard on his dependents, and 
 never master or landlord was more beloved. Such 
 being his character and the condition of his affairs, it 
 is not very surprising that he should have 'passed 
 middle age before thinking seriously of marriage. 
 Nor did he then fall in love, in the ordinary sense of 
 the phrase ; he reflected with himself that it would be 
 cowardice so far to fear poverty as to run the boat of 
 the Warlocks aground, and leave the scrag end of a 
 property and a history without a man to take them up, 
 and possibly bear them on to redemption ; for' who 
 could tell what life might be in the stock yet ! Any- 
 how, it would be better to leave an heir to talce the 
 remnant in charge, and at least carry the nam^a gen- 
 eration farther, even should it be into yet deeper povr 
 ertythan hitherto. A Warlock ' could face his fate. 
 Thereupon, with a sense of the fitness of things not 
 
THE KITCHEN. 
 
 always manifested on such occasions, he had paid his 
 addresses to a woman of five and thirty, the daughter 
 of the last clergyman of the parish, and had by her 
 been accepted with little hesitation. She was a capa- 
 ble and brave woman, and, fully informed of the state 
 of his affairs, married him in the hope of doing some- 
 thing to help him out of his difficulties. A few 
 pounds she had saved up, and a trifle her mother had 
 left her, she placed unreservedly at his disposal, and 
 he in his abounding honesty spent it on his creditors, 
 bettering things for a time, and, which was of much 
 more consequence, greatly relieving his mind, and 
 giving the life in him a fresh start. His marriage 
 was of infinitely more salvation to the laird than if it 
 had set him free from all his worldly embarrassments, 
 for it set him growing again — and that is the only 
 final path out of oppression. 
 
 Whatever were the feelings with which he took his 
 wife home, they were at least those of a gentleman; 
 and it were a good thing indeed, if, at the end of five 
 years, the love of most pairs who marry for love were 
 equal to that of Cosmo Warlock to his middle-aged 
 wife; and now that she was gone, his reverence for 
 her memory was something surpassing. From the 
 day almost of his marriage the miseries of life 
 lost half their bitterness, nor had it returned at her 
 death. Instinctively he felt that outsiders, those even 
 who respected him as an honest man, believed that, 
 somehow or other, they could only conjecture how, he 
 must be' to blame for the circumstances he was in — 
 either this, or providence did not take care of the just 
 man. Such was virtually the unuttered conclusion of 
 
WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 many, who nevertheless imagined they understood 
 the Book of Job, and who would have counted 
 Warlock's rare honesty, pride or fastidiousness or un- 
 justifiable free-handedness. Hence they came to 
 think and speak of him as a poor creature, and soon 
 the man, through the keen sensitiveness of his nature, 
 became aware of the fact. But to his sense of the 
 misprision of neighbours and friends, came the faith 
 and indignant confidence of his wife like the closing 
 and binding up and mollifying of a wound with oint- 
 ment. The man was of a far finer nature than any 
 of those who thus judged him, of whom some would 
 doubtless have got out of their diflJculties sooner than 
 he — only he was more honorable in debt than they 
 were out of it. A woman of strong sense, with an 
 undeveloped stratum of poetry in the heart of it, his 
 wife was able to appreciate the finer elements of his 
 nature ; and she let him see very plainly that she did. 
 This was strength and a lifting up of the head to the 
 husband, who in his youth had been oppressed by the 
 positiveness, and in his manhood by the opposition, 
 of his mother, whom the neighbours regarded as a 
 woman of strength and faculty. And now, although, 
 all his life since, he had had to fight the wolf as con- 
 stantly as ever, things, even after his wife's death, 
 continued very different from what they had been be- 
 fore he married her; his existence looked a far more 
 acceptable thing seen through the regard of his wife 
 than through that of his neighbours. They had been 
 five years married before she brought him an heir to 
 his poverty, and she lived five years more to train 
 Sim — then, after a short illness, departed, and left 
 
THE KITCHEN. 
 
 23 
 
 the now aging man virtually alone with his little 
 child, coruscating spark of fresh vitality amidst the 
 ancient surroundings. This was the Cosmo who now, 
 somewhat sore at heart from the result of his cogita- 
 tions, entered the kitchen in search of his kind. 
 
 Another woman was sitting on a three-legged stool, 
 just inside the door, paring potatoes — throwing each, 
 as she cut off what the old lady, watching, judged a 
 paring far too thick, into a bowl of water. She 
 looked nearly as old as her mistress, though she was 
 really ten years younger. She had come with the 
 late mistress from her father's house, and had always 
 taken, and still took her part against the opposing 
 faction — namely the grandmother. 
 
 A second seat — not over easy, but comfortable 
 enough, being simply a wide arm-chair of elm, with a 
 cushion covered in horse-hair, stood at the opposite 
 corner of the fire. This was the laird's seat, at the 
 moment, as generally all the morning till dinner- 
 time, empty : Cosmo, not once looking up, walked 
 straight to it, diagonally across the floor, and seated 
 himself like one verily lost in thought. Now and 
 then, as she peeled. Grizzle would cast a keen glance 
 at him out of her bright blue eyes, round whose fire 
 the wrinkles had gathered like ashes : those eyes 
 were sweet and pleasant, and the expression of her 
 face was one of lovely devotion ; but otherwise she 
 was far from beautiful. She gave a grim smile to 
 herself every time she glanced up at him from her 
 potatoes, as much as to say she knew well enough 
 what he was thinking, though no one else did. " He'll 
 be a man yet ! " she said to herself. 
 
24 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 The old lady also now and then looked over he 
 stocking at the boy, where he sat with his back to thi 
 white deal dresser, ornate with homeliest dishes. 
 
 " It'll be lang or ye fill that chair, Cossie, my man 1 " 
 she said at length, — but not with the smile of play, 
 rather with the look of admonition, as if it was the 
 boy's first duty to grow in breadth in order to fill the 
 chair, and restore the symmetry of the world. 
 
 Cosmo glanced up, but did not speak, and pres- 
 ently was lost again in the thoughts from which his 
 grandmother had roused him as one is roused by a jolt 
 on the road. 
 
 " What are you dreaming about, Cossie ? " she said 
 again, in a tone wavering but imperative. 
 
 Her speech was that of a gentlewoman of the old 
 time, when the highest born in Scotland spoke Scotch. 
 
 Not yet did Cosmo reply. Reverie does not agree 
 well with manners, but it would besides have been 
 hard for him to answer the old lady's question — not 
 that he did not know something at least of what was 
 going on in his mind, but that, he knew instinc- 
 tively, it would have sounded in her ears no hair better 
 than the jabber of Jule Sandy. 
 
 " Mph ! " she said, offended at his silence ; " Ye'll 
 hae to learn manners afore ye're laird o' Glenwarlock, 
 young Cosmo ! " 
 
 A shadow of indignation passed over Grizzle's 
 rippled, rather than wrinkled face, but she said noth- 
 ing. There was a time to speak and a time to be 
 silent ; nor was Grizzle indebted to Solomon, but to 
 her own experience and practice, for the wisdom of 
 the saw. Only the pared potatoes spl.a,§h^ed Iguder 
 
THE KITCHEN. 35 
 
 in the water as they fell. And the old lady knew as 
 well what that meant, as if the splashes had been ar- 
 ticulate sounds from the mouth of the old partisan. 
 
 The boy rose, and coming forward, rather like one 
 walking in his sleep, stood up before his grand- 
 mother, and said, 
 
 " What was ye sayin', gran'mamma ? " 
 
 " I was sayin' what ye wadna hearken till, an 
 that's enouch," she answered, willing to show of- 
 fence. 
 
 " Say 't again, gran'mamma, if you please. I 
 wasna noticin'." 
 
 " Na ! Is' warran' ye frae noticin' ! There ye 
 winna gang, whaur yer ain fule fancy does na lead 
 the w'y. Cosmo, by gie ower muckle tether to 
 wull thoucht, an' someday ye'll be laid i' the dub, 
 followin' what has naither sense intil't, nor this 
 warl's gude. — What was ye thinkin' aboot the noo ? 
 — Tell me that, an' Is' lat ye gang." 
 
 "I was thinkin' aboot the burnie, gran'mamma." 
 
 "It wad be tellin' ye to lat the burnie rin, an' 
 stick to yer buik, laddie ! " 
 
 ' "The burnie wull rin, gran'mamma, and the buik 
 'ill bide," said Cosmo, perhaps not very clearly 
 understanding himself. 
 
 "Ye're gettin' on to be a man, noo," said his 
 grandmother, heedless of the word of his defence, 
 "an' ye maun learn to put awa' bairnly things. 
 There's a heap depen'in' upo' ye, Cosmo. Ye'll 
 be the fift o' the name i' the family, an' I'm feart 
 ye may be the last. It's but sma' honour, laddie, 
 to ony man tp be the last ; an' gien ye dinna gaither 
 
2 6 WARLOCK b' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 the wit ye hae, and du the best ye can, ye winna 
 lang be laird o' Glenwarlock. Gien it wasna for 
 Grizzie there, wha has no richt to owerhear the 
 affairs o' the family, I micht think the time had 
 come for enlichtenin' ye upo' things it's no shuita- 
 ble ye should gang ignorant o'. But we'll put it 
 aff till a m'air convenient sizzon, atween oor ain 
 twa lanes.'' 
 
 " An' a mair convanient spokesman, I houp, my 
 leddy," said Grizzie, deeply offended. 
 
 " An' wha sud that be ? " rejoined her mistress. 
 
 " Ow, wha but the laird himsel' ? " answered 
 Grizzie, "Wha's to come atween father an' son 
 wi' licht upo' family-affairs ? No even the mistress 
 hersel' wad hae prezhunt upo' that ? " 
 
 " Keep your own place, Grizzie," said the old lady 
 with dignity. 
 
 And Grizzie, who had gone farther in the cause 
 of propriety, than propriety itself could justify, held 
 her peace. Only the potatoes splashed yet louder 
 in the bowl. Her mistress sat grimly silent, for 
 though she had had the last word and had been 
 obeyed, she was rebuked in herself. Cosmo, judg- 
 ing the specialty of the interview over, turned and 
 went back to his father's chair ; but just as he was 
 seating himself in it, his father appeared in the 
 doorway. 
 
 The form was that of a tall, thin man, a little bent 
 at the knees and bowed in the back, who yet car- 
 ried himself with no small dignity, cloaked in an 
 air of general apology — as if he would have said, 
 "I am sorry my way is not yours, for I see very 
 
THE KITCHEN. 
 
 27 
 
 well how wrong you must think it." He wore large 
 strong shoes — I think a description should begin 
 with the feet rather than the head — fit for boggy 
 land ; blue, ribbed, woollen stockings ; knee-breeches 
 of some home-made stuff : all the coarser cloth 
 they wore, and they wore little else, was shorn from 
 their own sheep, and spun, woven, and made at 
 home ; an old blue dress coat with bright buttons ; 
 a drab waistcoat which had once been yellow ; and 
 to crown all, a red woollen nightcap, hanging down 
 on one side with a tassel. 
 
 " Weel, Grizzle ! " he said, in a gentle, rather sad 
 voice, as if the days of his mourning were not yet 
 ended, " I'm ower sune the day ! " 
 
 He never passed Grizzle without greeting her, 
 and Grizzle's devotion to him was like that of slave 
 and sister mingled. 
 
 " Na, laird," she answered, " ye can never be 
 ower sune for yer ain fowk, though ye may be for 
 yer ain stamack. The taties winna be lang bilin' 
 the day. They're some sma'." 
 
 "That's because you pare them so much, Grizzie," 
 said the grandmother. 
 
 Grizzie vouchsafed no reply. 
 
 The moment young Cosmo saw whose shadow 
 darkened the doorway, he rose in haste, and stand- 
 ing with his hand upon the arm of the chair, waited 
 for his father to seat himself in it. The laird ac- 
 knowledged his attention with a smile, sat down, 
 and looked like the last sitter grown suddenly old. 
 He put out his hand to the boy across the low arm 
 of the chair, and the boy laid his hand in his father's, 
 
28 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 and so they remained, neither saying a word. The 
 laird leaned back, and sat resting. All were silent. 
 
 Notwithstanding the oddity of his dress, no one 
 who had any knowledge of humanity could have 
 failed to see in Cosmo Warlock, the elder, a high bred 
 gentleman. His face was small, and the skin of it 
 was puckered into wrinkles innumerable ; his mouth 
 was sweet, but he had lost his teeth, and the lips had 
 fallen in ; his chin, however, was large and strong ; 
 while his blue eyes looked out from under his narrow 
 high forehead with a softly piercing glance of great 
 gentleness and benignity. A little gray hair clustered 
 about his temples and the back of his head — the red 
 nightcap hid the rest. There was three days' growth 
 of gray beard on his chin, for now that fie had nobody, 
 he would say, he had not the heart to shave every 
 morning. 
 
 For some time he sat looking straight before him, 
 smiling to his mother's hands as they knitted, sTie 
 casting on him now and then a look that seemed to 
 express the consciousness of blame for not having 
 made a better job of him, or for having given him too 
 much to do in the care of himself. For neither did 
 his mother believe in him farther than that he had the 
 best possible intentions in what he did, or did not do. 
 At the same time she never doubted he was more of 
 a man than ever his son would be, seeing they had 
 such different mothers. 
 
 " Grizzle," said the laird, " hae ye a drappy o' soor 
 milk? I'm some dry." 
 
 " Ay, that hae I, sir ! " answered Grizzle with alac- 
 rity, and rising went into the darker region behind 
 
THE KITCHEN. 
 
 29 
 
 the kitchen, whence presently she emerged with a 
 white basin full of rich milk — half cream, it was in- 
 deed. Without explanation or apology she handed it 
 to her master, who received and drank it off. 
 
 " Hoots, woman ! " he said, " ye wad hae me a 
 shargar {a skin-and-bone calf) ! That's no soor milk ! " 
 
 " I'm vexed it's no to yer taste, laird ! " returned 
 Grizzie coolly, " but I hae nane better." 
 
 " Ye tejlt me ye had soor milk, " said the laird — 
 without a particle of offence, rather in the tone of 
 apology for having by mistake made away with some- 
 thing too good for him. 
 
 " Weel, laird," replied Grizzie, " it's naething but the 
 guidman's milk ; an' gien ye dinna ken what's guid 
 for ye at your time o' life, it's weel there sud be an- 
 ither 'at does. What has a man o' your 'ears to du 
 drinkin' soor milk — eneuch to turn a' soor thegither 
 i' the inside o' ye ! It's true I win' ye weel a sma' 
 bairn i' my leddy's airms — 
 
 " Ye may weel du that ! " interrupted her mistress. 
 
 " I wasna weel intil my teens, though, my leddy ! " 
 returned Grizzie. " An' I'm sure," she added, in re- 
 venge for the insinuation as to her age, " it wad ill be- 
 come ony wuman to grudge a man o' the laird's 
 stan'in a drap o' the best milk in 's ain cellar ! " 
 
 " Who spoke of refusing it to him ? " said his 
 mother. 
 
 " Ye spak yersel' Sic an' siclike," answered Griz- 
 zie. 
 
 " Hoots, Grizzie ! baud yer tongue, my wuman," 
 said the laird, in the gentlest tone, yet with reproof in 
 !.t. " Ye ken weel it's no my mother wad grudge me 
 
30 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK 
 
 the milk ye wad gie me. It was but my'sel' 'at didna 
 think mysel' worthy o' that same, seein' it's no a week 
 yet sin' bonny Hawkie dee'd ! " 
 
 " An' wad ye hae the Lord's anintit depen' upo' 
 Hawkie? " cried Grizzie with indignation. 
 
 The contest went no farther, and Grizzie had had 
 the best of it, as none knew better than she. In a 
 minute or two the laird rose and went out, and Cosmo 
 went with him. 
 
 Before Cosmo's mother died, old Mrs. Warlock 
 would have been indignant at the idea of sitting in the 
 kitchen, but things had combined to bring her to it. 
 She found herself very lonely seated in state in the 
 drawing-room, where, as there was no longer a daugh- 
 ter-in-law to go and come, she learned little or noth- 
 ing of what was doing about the place, and where few 
 that called cared to seek her out, for she had never 
 been a favourite with the humbler neighbours. Also, 
 as time went on, and the sight of money grew rarer and 
 rarer, it became more desirable to economize light in 
 the winter. They had not come to that with firing, 
 for, as long as there were horses and intervals of less 
 labour on the farm, peats were always to be had — 
 though at the same time, the drawing-room could not 
 be made so warm as the kitchen. But for light, even 
 for train-oil to be burned in the simplest of lamps, 
 money had to be paid — and money was of all ordi- 
 nary things the seldomest seen' at Castle Warlock. 
 From these operative causes it came by degrees, that 
 one winter, for the sake of company, of warmth, of 
 economy, Mistress Warlock had her chair carried to 
 the kitchen ; and the thing once done, it easily and 
 
THE KITCHEN. 31 
 
 naturally grew to a custom, and extended itself to the 
 summer as well ; for she who had ceased to stand on 
 ceremony in the winter, could hardly without addi- 
 tional loss of dignity reascend her pedestal only be- 
 cause it was summer again. To the laird it was a 
 matter of no consequence where he sat, ate, or slept. 
 When his wife was alive, wherever she was, that was 
 the place for him ; when she was gone, all places were 
 the same to him. There was, besides, that in the dis- 
 position of the man which tended to the homely: — 
 any one who imagines that in the least synonymous 
 with the coarse, or discourteous, or unrefined, has 
 yet to understand the essentials of good breeding. 
 Hence it came that the other rooms of the house were 
 by degrees almost neglected. Both the dining-room 
 and drawing-room grew very cold, cold as with the 
 coldness of what is dead ; and though he slept in the 
 same part of the house by choice, not often did the 
 young laird enter either. But he had concerning 
 them, the latter in particular, a notion of vastness and 
 grandeur ; and along with that, a vague sense of sanc- 
 tity, which it is not quite easy to define or account for. 
 It seems however to have the same root with all ven- 
 eration for place — for if there were not a natural in- 
 clination to venerate place, would any external reason 
 make men capable of it? I think we shall come at 
 length to feel all places, as all times and all spaces, 
 venerable, because they are the outcome of the eter- 
 nal nature and the eternal thought. When we have 
 God, all is holy, and we are at home. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE DRAWING-ROOM. 
 
 As soon as they were out of the kitchen-door, the 
 boy pushed his hand into his fatlier's; the father 
 grasped it, and without a word spoken, they walked 
 on together. Tliey would often be half a day together 
 without a word passing between them. To be near, 
 each to the other, seemed enough for each. 
 
 Cosmo had thought his father was going somewhere 
 about the farm, to see how things were getting on ; 
 but, instead of crossing to the other side of the court, 
 where lay the sheds and stables, etc., or leaving it by 
 the gate, the laird turned to the left, and led the way 
 to the next block of building, where he stopped at a 
 door at the farther end of the front of it. It was a 
 heavy oak door, studded with great broad iron knobs, 
 arranged in angular patterns. It was set deep in the 
 thick wall, but there were signs of there having been 
 a second, doubtless still stronger, flush with the ex- 
 ternal surface, for the great hooks of the hinges re- 
 mained, with the deep hole in the stone on the 
 32 
 
THE DRAWING-ROOM. 33 
 
 opposite side for the bolt. The key was in the lock, 
 for, except to open the windows, and do other neces- 
 sary pieces of occasional tendance, it was seldom 
 anybody entered the place, and Grizzie generally 
 turned the key, and left it in the lock. She would 
 have been indignant at the assertion, but I am posi- 
 tive it was not always taken out at night. In this 
 part of the castle were the dining and drawing 
 rooms, and immediately over the latter, a state bed- 
 room in which nobody had slept for many years. 
 
 It was into a narrow passage, no wider than itself, 
 the door led. From this passage a good-sized hall 
 opened to the left — very barely furnished, but with a 
 huge fireplace, and a great old table, that often had 
 feasted jubilant companies. The walls were only 
 plastered, and were stained with damp. Against them 
 were fixed a few mouldering heads of wild animals — 
 the stag and the fox and the otter — one ancient 
 wolf's-head also, wherever that had been killed. But 
 it was not into this room the laird led his son. The 
 passage ended in a stone stair that went up between 
 containing walls. It was much worn, and had so 
 little head-room that the laird could not ascend with- 
 out stooping. Cosmo was short enough as yet to go 
 erect, but it gave him always a feeling of imprison- 
 ment and choking, a brief agony of the imagination, 
 to pass through the narrow curve, though he did so 
 at least twice every day. It was the oldest-looking 
 thing about the place — that staircase. 
 
 At the top of it, the laird turned to the right, and 
 lifted the latch — all the doors were latched — of a 
 dark-looking door. It screaked dismally as it opened. 
 
34 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 He entered and undid a shutter, letting an abiding 
 flash of the ever young light of the summer day into 
 the ancient room. It was long since Cosmo had 
 been in it before. The aspect of it affected him like 
 a withered wall-flower. 
 
 It was a well-furnished room. A lady with taste 
 must at one time at least have presided in it — but 
 then withering does so much for beauty — and that 
 not of stuffs and things only ! The furniture of it 
 was very modern compared with the house, but not 
 much of it was younger than the last James, or 
 Queen Anne, and it had all a stately old-maidish look. 
 Such venerable rooms have been described, and 
 painted, and put on the stage, and dreamed about, 
 tens of thousands of times, yet they always draw me 
 afresh as if they were as young as the new children 
 who keep the world from growing old. They haunt 
 me, and if I miss them in heaven, I shall have one 
 given me. On the floor was an old, old carpet, won- 
 drously darned and skilfully patched, with all its 
 colours faded into a sweet faint ghost-like harmony. 
 Several spider-legged, inlaid tables stood about the 
 room, but most of the chairs were of a sturdier make, 
 one or two of rich carved work of India, no doubt a 
 great rarity when first brought to Glenwarlock. The 
 walls had once had colour, but it was so retiring and 
 indistinct in the little light that came through the 
 one small deep-set window whose shutter had been 
 opened, that you could not have said what it was. 
 There were three or four cabinets — one of them old 
 Japanese ; and on a table a case of gorgeous hum- 
 ming birds. The scarlet cloth that covered the 
 
THE DRAWING-ROOM. 
 
 35 
 
 table was faded to a dirty orange, but the birds were 
 almost as bright as when they darted like live jewels 
 through the tropical sunlight. Exquisite as they were 
 however, they had not for the boy half the interest of 
 a faded old fire-screen, lovehly worked in silks, by 
 hands to him unknown, long ago returned to the 
 earth of which they were fashioned. A variety of 
 nick-nacks and ornaments, not a few of which would 
 have been of value in the eyes of a connoisseur, 
 crowded the chimney-piece — ^ which stood over an 
 iron grate with bulging bars, and a tall brass fender. 
 How still and solemn-quiet it all was in the middle of 
 the great triumphant sunny day — like some far- 
 down hollow in a rock, the matrix of a gem ! It 
 looked a.s if it had done with life — as much done 
 with life as if it v\'ere a room in Egyptian rock, yet 
 was it full of the memories of keenest life, and 
 Cosmo knew there was treasure upon treasure of 
 wonder and curiosity hid in those cabinets, some of 
 which he had seen, and more he would like to see. 
 But it was not to show him any of these that his 
 father had now brought him to the room. 
 
 Not once yielding the right hand of the boy which 
 was clasped to and in his own, the laird closed the 
 door of the room, and advancing the whole length 
 of it, stopped at a sofa covered with a rich brocade, 
 and seating himself thereon, slowly, and with a kind 
 of care, drew him between his thin knees, and be- 
 gan to talk to him. Now there was this difference 
 between the relation of these two and that of most 
 fathers and sons, that, thus taken into solemn soli- 
 tude by bis old father, the boy felt no dismay, no 
 
36 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 sense of fault to be found, no troubled expectation 
 of admonition. Reverence and love held about 
 equal sway in his feeling towards his father. And 
 while the grandmother looked down on Cosmo as 
 the son of his mother, for that ver}' reason his 
 father in a strange lovely way reverenced his boy : 
 the reaction was utter devotion. 
 
 Cosmo stood and looked in his father's eyes — 
 their eyes were of the same colour — that bright 
 sweet soft Norwegian blue — his right hand still 
 clasped in his father's left, and his left hand lean- 
 ing gently on his father's knee. Then, as I say, 
 the old man began to talk to the young one. A si- 
 lent man ordinarily, it was from no lack of the 
 power of speech, for he had a Celtic gift of simple 
 eloquence. 
 
 " This is your birthday, my son." 
 
 " Yes, papa." 
 
 " You are now fourteen." 
 
 " Yes, papa." 
 
 " You are growing quite a man." 
 
 " I don't know, papa." 
 
 " So much of a man, at least, my Cosmo, that 
 I am going to treat you like a man this day, and 
 tell you some things that I have never talked about 
 to any one since your mother's death. — You re- 
 member your mother, Cosmo ? " 
 
 This question he was scarcely ever alone with the 
 boy without asking — not from forgetfulness, but 
 from the desire to keep the boy's remembrance of 
 her fresh, and for the pure pleasure of talking of 
 her to the only one with whom it did not seem pro- 
 
THE DRAWING-ROOM. 37 
 
 fane to converse concerning his ■worshipped wife. 
 
 " Yes, papa, I do." 
 
 The laird always spoke Scotch to his mother, and 
 to Grizzle also, who would have thought him se- 
 riously offended had he addressed her in book-Eng- 
 lish ; but to his Marion's son he always spoke in 
 the best English he had, and Cosmo did his best 
 in the same way in return. 
 
 " Tell me what you remember about her," said the 
 old man. 
 
 He had heard the same thing again and again from 
 the boy, yet every time it was as if he hoped and 
 watched for some fresh revelation from the lips of the 
 lad — as if, truth being one, memory might go on 
 recalling, as imagination goes on foreseeing. 
 
 "I remember," said the boy, "a tall beautiful 
 woman, with, long hair, which she brushed before a 
 big, big lodking-glass." 
 
 The love of the son, kept alive by the love of the 
 husband, glorifying through the mists of his memory 
 the earthly appearance of the mother, gave to her the 
 form in which he would see her again, rather than that 
 in which he had actually beheld her. And indeed 
 the father saw her after the same fashion in the mem- 
 ory of his love. Tall to the boy of five, she was little 
 above the middle height, yet the husband saw her 
 stately in his dreams ; there was nothing remarkable 
 in her face except the expression, which after her 
 marriage had continually gathered tenderness and 
 grace, but the husband as well as the children called 
 her absolutely beautiful. 
 
 " What colour were her eyes, Cosmo ? " 
 
38 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " I don't know ; I never saw the colour of them ; but 
 I remember they looked at me as if I should run into 
 them." 
 
 " She would have died for you, my boy. We must 
 be very good that we may see her again some day." 
 
 " I will try. I do try, papa." 
 
 " You see, Cosmo, when a woman like that conde- 
 scends to be wife to one of us and mother to the 
 other, the least we can do, when she is taken from us, 
 is to give her the same love and the same obedience 
 after she is gone as when she was with us. She is 
 with her own kind up in heaven now, but she may be 
 looking down and watching us. It may be God lets 
 her do that, that she may see of the travail of her 
 soul and be satisfied — who can tell? She can't be 
 very anxious about me now, for I am getting old, and 
 my warfare is nearly over ; but she may be getting 
 things ready to rest me a bit. She knows I have for 
 a long time now been trying to keep the straight path, 
 as far as I could see it, though sometimes the grass 
 and heather has got the better of it, so that it was 
 hard to find. But you must remember, Cosmo, that 
 it IS not enough to be a good boy, as I shall tell her 
 you have always been : you've got to be a good man, 
 and that is a rather different and sometimes a harder 
 thing. For, as soon as a man has to do with other 
 men, he finds they expect him to do things they ought 
 to be ashamed of doing themselves ; and then he has 
 got to stand on his own honest legs, and not move an 
 inch for all their pushing and pulling; and especially 
 where a man loves his fellow man and likes to be on 
 good terms with him, that is not easy. The thing is 
 
THE DRAWING-ROOM. 39 
 
 just this, Cosmo — when you are a full-grown man, 
 you must be a good boy still — that's the difficulty. 
 For a man to be a boy, and a good boy still, he must 
 be a thorough man. The man that's not manly can 
 never be a good boy to his mother. And you can't 
 keep true to your mother, except you remember Him 
 who is father and mother both to all of us. I wish 
 my Marion were n:re to teach you as she taught me. 
 She taught me to pray, Cosmo, as I have tried to teach 
 you — when I was in any trouble, just to go into my 
 closet, and shut to the door, and pray to my Father 
 who is in secret — the same Father who loved you so 
 m.ich as to give you my Marion for a mother. But 
 I am getting old and tired, and shall soon go where I 
 hope to learn faster. Oh, my boy ! hear your father 
 who loves you, and never do the thing you would be 
 ashamed for your mother or me. to know. Remember, 
 nothing drops out ; everything hid shall be revealed. 
 But of all things, if ever you should fail or fall, don't 
 lie still because you are down: get up again — for 
 God's sake, for your mother's sake, for my sake — get 
 up and try again. 
 
 " And now it is time you should know a little about 
 the family of which you come. I don't doubt there 
 have been some in it who would count me a foolish 
 man for bringing you up as I have done, but those of 
 them who are up there don't. They see that the busi- 
 ness of life is not to get as much as you can, but to 
 do justly, and love mercy, and walk humbly with 
 your God — with your mother's God, my son. They 
 may say I have made a poor thing of it, but I shall 
 not hang my head before the public of that country. 
 
40 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 because I've let the land slip from me that I couldn't 
 keep any more than this weary old carcase that's now 
 crumbling away from about me. Some would tell 
 me I ought to shudder at the thought of leaving you 
 to such poverty, but I am too anxious about yourself, 
 my boy, to think much about the hardships that may 
 be waiting you. I should be far more afraid about 
 you if I were leaving you rich. I have seen rich 
 people do things I never knew a poor gentleman do. 
 I don't mean to say anything against the rich — 
 there's good and bad of all sorts ; but I just can't be 
 so very sorry that I am leaving you to poverty, though, 
 if I might have had my way, it wouldn't have been so 
 bad. But he knows best who loves best. I have 
 struggled hard to keep the old place for you ; but 
 there's hardly an acre outside the garden and close 
 but was mortgaged before I came into the property. 
 I've been all my life trying to pay off, but have made 
 little progress. The house is free, however, and th.e 
 garden ; and don't you part with the old place, my 
 boy, except you see you ought. But rather than any- 
 thing not out and out honest, anything the least 
 doubtful, sell every stone. Let all go, if you should 
 have to beg your way home to us. Come clean, my 
 son, as my Marion bore you." 
 
 Here Cosmo interrupted his father to ask what 
 ■mortgaged meant. This led to an attempt on the part 
 of the laird to instruct him in the whole state of the 
 affairs of the property. He showed him where all 
 the papers were kept, and directed him to whom to 
 go for any requisite legal advise. Weary then of 
 business, of which he had all his life had more than 
 
THE DRAWING-ROOM. 41 
 
 enough, he turned to pleasanter matters, and began 
 to tell him anecdotes of the family. 
 
 " What in mercy can hae come o' the laird, think 
 ye, my leddy ? " said Grizzle to her mistress. " It's 
 the yoong laird's birthday, ye see, an' they aye haud 
 a colloguin' thegither upo' that same, an' I kenna 
 whaur to gang to cry them till their denner." 
 
 "Run an' ring the great bell," said the grand- 
 mother, mindful of old glories. 
 
 " 'Deed, Is' du naething o' the kin'," said Grizzle 
 to herself ; " it's eneuch to raise a regiment — glen it 
 camna doon upo' my held." 
 
 But she had her suspicion, and finding the great 
 door open, ascended the stair. 
 
 The two were sitting at a table, with the genealog- 
 ical tree of the family spread out before them, the 
 father telling tale after tale, the son listening in de- 
 light. I must confess, however — let it tell against 
 the laird's honesty as it may — that, his design 
 being neither to glorify his family, nor to teach 
 records, but to impress all he could find of ances- 
 tral nobility upon his boy, he made a choice, and both 
 communicated and withheld. So absorbed were they, 
 that Grizzle's knock startled them both a good deal. 
 
 "Yer denners is ready, laird," she said, standing 
 erect in the doorway. 
 
 "Verra weel, Grizzle, I thank ye," returned the 
 laird. — " Cosmo, we'll take a walk together this even- 
 ing, and then I'll tell you more about that brother of 
 my grandfather's. Come along to dinner now. — I 
 houp ye hae something in honour o' the occasion, 
 Grizzle,'' he added in a whisper when he reached the 
 
42 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 door, where the old woman waited to follow them. 
 
 " I teuk it upo' me, laird," answered Grizzie in the 
 same tone, while Cosmo was going down the stair, 
 "to put a cock an' a leek thegither, an' they'll be 
 nane the waur that ye hae keepit them i' the pot a 
 whilie langer. — Cosmo," she went on when they had 
 descended, and overtaken the boy, who was waiting 
 for them at the foot, " the Lord bless ye upo' this 
 bonnie day ! An' may ye be aye a comfort to them 
 'at awes ye, as ye hae been up to this present." 
 " I houp sae, Grizzie," responded Cosmo humbly ; 
 and all went together to the kitchen. 
 
 There the table was covered with a clean cloth of 
 the finest of homespun, and everything set out with 
 the same nicety as if the meal had been spread in the 
 dining-room. The old lady, who had sought to please 
 her son by putting on her best cap for the occasion, 
 but who had in xruth forgot what day it was until re- 
 minded by Grizzie, sat already at the head of the 
 table, waiting their arrival. She made a kind speech 
 to the boy, hoping he would be master of the place 
 for many years after his father and she had left him. 
 Then the meal commenced. It did not last long. 
 They had the soup first, and then the fowl that had 
 been boiled in it, with a small second dish of pota- 
 toes — the year's baby Kidneys, besides those Grizzie 
 had pared. Delicate pancakes followed — and din- 
 ner was over — except for the laird, who had a little 
 toddy after. But as yet Cosmo had never even 
 tasted strong drink — and of course he never desired 
 it. Leaving the table, he wandered out, pondering 
 some of the things his father had been telling him. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AN AFTERNOON SLEEP. 
 
 Presently, without having thought whither he 
 meant to go, he found himself out of sight of the 
 house — in a favourite haunt, but one in which he 
 always had a peculiar feeling of strangeness and even 
 expatriation. He had descended the stream that 
 rushed past the end of the house, till it joined the 
 valley river, and followed the latter up, to where it 
 took a sudden sharp turn, and a little farther. Then 
 he crossed it, and was in a lonely nook of the glen, 
 with steep braes about him on all sides, some of them 
 covered with grass, others rugged and unproductive. 
 He threw himself down in the clover, a short distance 
 from the stream, and straightway felt as if he were 
 miles from home. No shadow of life was to be seen. 
 Cottage-chimney nor any smoke was visible — no 
 human being, no work of human hands, no sign of 
 cultivation except the grass and clover. 
 
 Now whether it was that in childhood he had 
 learned that here he was beyond his father's land, 
 
44 -WARLOCK O GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 or that some early sense of loneliness in the place 
 had been developed by a brooding fancy into a fixed 
 feeling, I cannot well say ; but certainly, as often as 
 he came — and he liked to visit the spot, and would 
 sometimes spend hours in it — he felt like a hermit 
 of the wilderness cut off from human society, and 
 was haunted with a vague sense of neighbouring 
 hostility. Probably it came of an historical fancy 
 that the nook ought to be theirs, combined with the 
 sense that it was not. But there had been no injury 
 done ab extra : the family had suffered from the 
 inherent moral lack of certain of its individuals. 
 
 Tliis sense of azvay-from-homeness, however, was 
 not strong enough to keep Cosmo from falling into 
 such a dreamful reverie as by degrees naturally ter- 
 minated in slumber. Seldom is sleep far from one 
 who lies on his back in the grass, with the sound of 
 waters in his ears. And indeed a sleep in the open 
 air was almost an essential ingredient of a holiday 
 such as Cosmo had been accustomed to make of his 
 birthday : constantly active as his mind was, perhaps 
 in part because of that activity, he was ready to fall 
 asleep any moment when warm and supine. 
 
 When he woke from what seemed a dreamless 
 sleep, his half roused senses were the same moment 
 called upon to render hini account of something very 
 extraordinary which they could not themselves im- 
 mediately lay hold of. Though the sun was yet some 
 distance above the horizon, it was to him behind one 
 of the hills, as he lay with his head low in the grass • 
 and what could the strange thing be which he saw on 
 the crest of the height before him, on the other side 
 
AN AFTERNOON SLEEP. 45 
 
 of the water ? Was it a fire in a grate, thinned away 
 by the sunlight ? How could there be a grate where 
 there was neither house nor wall ? Even in heraldry 
 the combination he beheld would have been a strange 
 one. There stood in fact a frightful-looking creat- 
 ure half consumed in light — yet a pale light, seem- 
 ingly not strong enough to burn. It could not be a 
 phoenix, for he saw no wings, and thought he saw 
 four legs. Suddenly he burst out laughing, and 
 laughed that the hills echoed. His sleep-blinded 
 eyes had at length found their focus and clarity. 
 
 " I see ! " he said, " I see what it is ! It's Jeames 
 Grade's coo 'at's been loupin' ower the mune, an's 
 stucken upo' 't ! " 
 
 In very truth there was the moon between the legs 
 of the cow ! She did not remain there long however, 
 but was soon on the cow's back, as she crept up and 
 up in the face of the sun. He bethought him of a 
 couplet that Grizzle had taught him when he was a 
 child : 
 
 Whan the coo loups ower the mune, 
 The reid gowd rains intil men's shune. 
 
 And In after-life he thought not unfrequently of this 
 odd vision he^ had had. Often, when, having im- 
 agined he had solved some difficulty of faith or 
 action, presently the same would return in a new 
 shape, as if it had but taken the time necessary to 
 change its garment, he would say to himself with a 
 sigh, " The coo's no ower the mune yet ! " and set 
 himself afresh to the task of shaping a handle on the 
 infinite small enough for a finite to lay hold of. 
 
46 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Grizzie, who was out looking for him, heard the 
 roar of his laughter, and, guided by the sound, spied 
 him where he lay. He heard her footsteps, but 
 never stirred till he saw her looking down upon him 
 like a benevolent gnome that had found a friendless 
 mortal asleep on ground of danger. 
 
 " Eh, Cosmo, laddie, ye'U get yer deid o' caul' ! " 
 she cried. " An' preserve's a' ! what set ye lauchin' 
 in sic a fearsome fashion as yon ? Ye're surely no 
 fey ! " 
 
 " Na, I'm no fey, Grizzie ! Ye wad hae lauchen 
 yersel' to see Jeames Grade's coo wi' the mune 
 atween the hin' an' the fore legs o' her. It was ter- 
 rible funny." 
 
 " Hoots ! I see naething to lauch at i' that. The 
 puir coo cudna help whaur the mune wad gang. The 
 haivenly boadies is no to be restricket." 
 
 Again Cosmo burst into a great laugh, and this 
 time Grizzie, seriously alarmed lest he should be in 
 reality fiy^ grew angry, and seizing hold of him by 
 the arm, pulled lustily. 
 
 " Get up, I tell ye ! " she cried. " Here's the 
 laird speirin' what's come o' ye, 'at ye come na hame 
 to yer tay." 
 
 But Cosmo instead of rising oiily laughed the 
 more, and went on until at length Grizzie made use 
 of a terrible threat. 
 
 " As sure's sowens ! " she said, " gien ye dinna 
 baud yer tongue wi' that menseless-like lauchin', I'll 
 no tell ye anither auld-warld tale afore Marti'mas." 
 
 " Will ye tell me ane the nicht gien I baud my 
 tongue an' gang hame wi' ye ? " 
 
AN AFTERNOON SLEEP. 47 
 
 "Ay, that wull I — that's gien I can min' upo' 
 ane." 
 
 He rose at once, and laughed no more. They 
 walked home together in the utmost peace. 
 
 After tea, his father went out with him for a stroll, 
 and to call on Jeames Gracie, the owner of the cow 
 whose inconstellation had so much amused him. He 
 was an old man, with an elderly wife, and a grand- 
 daughter — a weaver to trade, whose father and 
 grandfather before him had for many a decade done 
 the weaving work, both in linen and wool, required by 
 " them at the castle." He had been on the land, in 
 the person of his ancestors, from time almost imme- 
 morial, though he had only a small cottage, and a 
 little bit of land, barely enough to feed the translunar 
 cow. But poor little place as Jeames's was, if the 
 laird would have sold it the price would have gone a 
 good way towards clearing the rest of his property of 
 its encumbrances. For the situation of the little 
 spot was such as to make it specially desirable in the 
 eyes of the next proprietor, on the border of whose 
 land it lay. He was a lord of session, and had taken 
 his title from the place, which he inherited from his 
 father ; who, although a laird, had been so little of a 
 gentleman, that the lordship had not been enough to 
 make one of his son. He was yet another of those 
 trim, orderly men, who will sacrifice anything — not 
 to beauty — of that they have in general no sense -^ 
 but to tidiness : tidiness in law, in divinity, in morals, 
 in estate, in garden, in house, in person — tidiness is 
 in their eyes the first thing — seemingly because it is 
 the highest creative energy of which they are capa- 
 
48 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 ble. Naturally the dwelling of James Grade was an 
 eyesore to this man, being visible from not a few of 
 his windows, and from almost anywhere on the 
 private road to his house ; for decidedly it was not 
 tidy. Neither in truth was it dirty, while to any life- 
 loving nature it was as pleasant to know, as it was 
 picturesque to look at. But the very appearance of 
 poverty seems to act as a reproach on some of the 
 rich — at least why else are they so anxious to get it 
 out of their sight ? — and Lord Lickmyloof — that 
 was not his real title, but he was better known by it 
 than by the name of his land : it came of a nasty 
 habit he had, which I need not at present indicate 
 farther — Lord Lickmyloof could not bear the sight 
 of the cottage which no painter would have consented 
 to omit from the landscape. It haunted him like an 
 evil thing. 
 
COSMO ON HIS WAY TO SCHOOL. 
 
 50 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE SCHOOL. 
 
 The next morning, by the steeja farm road, and the 
 parish road, which ran along the border of the river 
 and followed it downward, Cosmo, on his way to 
 school, with his books in a green baize bag, hung by 
 the strings over his shoulder, came out from among 
 the hills upon a comparative plain. But there were 
 hills on all sides round him yet — not very high — 
 few of them more than a couple of thousand feet — ■ 
 but bleak and bare, even under the glow of the 
 summer sun, for the time of heather was not yet, when 
 they would show warm and rich to the eye of poet and 
 painter. Most of the farmers there, however, would 
 have felt a little insulted by being asked to admire 
 them at any time : whatever their colour or shape or 
 product, they were incapable of )ielding crops and 
 money ! In truth many a man who now admires, would 
 be unable to do so, if, like those farmers, he had 
 to struggle with nature for little more than a bare 
 living. The struggle there, what with early, long- 
 
52 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 lasting, and bitter winters, and the barrenness of the 
 soil in many parts, was a severe one. 
 
 Leaving the river, the road ascended a little, and 
 joined the highway, which kept along a level, con- 
 sisting mostly of land lately redeemed from the 
 peat-moss. It went straight for two miles, fenced 
 from the fields in many parts by low stone walls 
 without mortar, abhorrent to the eye of Cosmo; in 
 other parts by walls of earth, called dykes, which 
 delighted his very soul. These were covered with 
 grass for the vagrant cow, sprinkled with loveliest little 
 wild flowers for the poet-peasant, burrowed in by wild 
 bees for the adventurous delight of the honey-drawn 
 school-boy. Glad I am they had not quite vanished 
 from Scotland before I was sent thither, but re- 
 mained to help me get ready for the kingdom of 
 heaven: those dykes must still be dear to my brothers 
 who have gone up before me. Some of the fields 
 had only a small ditch between them and the road, 
 and some of them had no kind of fence at all. It 
 was a dreary road even in summer, though not there- 
 fore without its loveable features — amongst which 
 the dykes; and wherever there is anything to love, 
 there is beauty in some form. 
 
 A short way past the second milestone, he came to 
 the first straggling houses of the village. It was 
 called Muir of Warlock, after the moor on which it 
 stood, as the moor was called after the river that ran 
 through it, and that named after the glen, which took 
 its name from the family — so thait the Warlocks had 
 scattered their cognomen all around them. A some- 
 what dismal-looking village it was — except to those 
 
THE SCHOOL. 53 
 
 that knew its people : to some of such it was beauti- 
 ful — as the plainest face is beautiful to him who 
 knows a sweet soul inside it. The highway ran 
 through it — a broad fine road, fit for the richest 
 country under the sun ; but the causeway along its 
 edges, making of it for the space a street, was of the 
 poorest and narrowest. Some of the cottages stood 
 immediately upon the path, some of them receded a 
 little. They were almost" all of one story, built of 
 stone, and. rough-cast — harled, they called it there, 
 with roofs of thick thatch, in which a half smothered 
 pane of glass might hint at some sort of room beneath. 
 As Cosmo walked along, he saw all the trades at 
 work ; from blacksmith to tailor, everybody was busy. 
 Now and then he was met by a strong scent, as of 
 burning leather, from the oak-bark which some of 
 the housewives used for fuel, after its essence had 
 been exhausted in the tan-pit, but mostly the air was 
 filled with the odour of burning peat. Cosmo knew 
 almost everybody, and was kindly greeted as he went 
 along — none the less that some of them, hearing 
 from their children that he had not been to school 
 the day before, had remarked that his birthday hardly 
 brought him enough to keep it with. The vulgarity 
 belonging to the worship of Mammon, is by no means 
 confined to the rich ; many of these, having next to 
 nothing, yet thought profession the one thing, money, 
 houses, lands the only inheritances. It is a marvel 
 that even world-loving people should never see with 
 what a load they oppress the lives of the children to 
 whom, instead of bringing them up to earn their own 
 living, and thus enjoy at least the game of life, they 
 
54 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 leave a fortune enough to sink a devil yet deeper in 
 hell. Was it nothing to Cosmo to inherit a long line 
 of ancestors whose story he knew — their virtues, 
 their faults, their wickedness, their humiliation ? — tc 
 inherit the nobility of a father Such as his ? the 
 graciousness of a mother such as that father caused 
 him to remember her ? Was there no occasion for 
 the laird to rejoice in the birth of a boy whom he be- 
 lieved to have inherited all the virtues of his race, 
 and left all their vices behind ? But none of the vil- 
 lagers forgot, however they might regard the holiday, 
 that Cosmo was the " ycjong laird " notwithstanding 
 the poverty of his house ; and they all knew that in 
 old time the birthday of the heir had been a holiday 
 to the school as well as to himself, and remembered the 
 introduction of the change by the present master. 
 Indeed, throughout the village, although there were 
 not a few landed proprietors in the neighbourhood 
 whose lands came nearer, all of whom of course were 
 lairds, and although the village itself had ceased to 
 belong to the family, Glenwarlock was always called 
 the laird ; and the better part in the hearts of even 
 the money-loving and money-trusting among its inhab- 
 itants, honoured him as the best man in the country, 
 " thof he hed sae little skeel at haudin' his ain nest 
 thegither;" and though, besides, there is scarce a 
 money-making man who does not believe poverty the 
 cousin, if not the child of fault ; and the more unscru- 
 pulous, within the law, a man has been in making his 
 money, the more he regards the man who seems to 
 have lost the race he has won, as somehow or othei 
 to blame : " People with naught are naughty." Noi 
 
THE SCHOOL. 55 
 
 is this judgment confined to the morally unscrupu- 
 lous. Few who are themselves permitted to be suc- 
 cessful, care to conjecture that it may be the will of 
 the power, that in part through their affairs, rules men, 
 that some should be, in that way, unsuccessful : better 
 can be made of them by preventing the so-called suc- 
 cess. Some men rise with the treatment under 
 which others would sink. But of the inhabitants of 
 Muir of Warlock, only a rather larger proportion than 
 of the inhabitants of Mayfair would have taken in- 
 terest in such a theory of results. 
 
 They all liked, and those who knew him best, loved 
 the young laird ; for if he had no lands, neither had 
 he any pride, they said, and was as happy sitting with 
 any old woman, and sharing her tea, as at a lord's 
 table. Nor was he less of a favourite at school, 
 though, being incapable of self-assertion, his inborn 
 consciousness of essential humanity rendering it next 
 to impossible for him to claim anything, some of the 
 bigger boys were less than friendly with him. One 
 point in his conduct was in particular distasteful to 
 them : he seemed to scorn even an honest advantage. 
 For in truth he never could bring himself, in the 
 small matters of dealing that pass between boys at 
 school, to make the least profit. He had a passion 
 for fair play, which, combined with love to his neigh- 
 bour, made of an advantage, though perfectly under 
 stood and recognized, almost a physical pain : he 
 shrank from it with something like disgust. I may 
 not, however, conceal my belief, that there was in it a 
 rudimentary tinge of the pride of those of his ances- 
 tors who looked down upon commerce, though not 
 
56 WARLOCK O' GLEN^WARLOCK. 
 
 upon oppression, or even on robbery. But the true 
 man will change to nobility even the instincts derived ' 
 from strains of inferior moral development in his race 
 — as the oyster makes, they say, of the sand-grain a 
 pearl. 
 
 Greeting the tailor through his open window, 
 where he sat cross-legged on his table, the shoemaker 
 on his stool, which, this lovely summer morning, he 
 had brought to the door of his cottage, and the smith 
 in his nimbus of sparks, through the half-door of his 
 smithy, and receiving from each a kindly response, 
 the boy walked steadily on till he came to the school. 
 There, on the heels of the master, the boys and girls 
 were already crowding in, and he entered along with 
 them. The religious preliminaries over, consisting in 
 a dry and apparently grudging recognition of a sov- 
 ereignty that required the homage, and the reading 
 of a chapter of the Bible in class, the secular business 
 was proceeded with ; and Cosmo was sitting with his 
 books before him, occupied with a hard passage in 
 Cczsar, when the master left his desk and came to 
 him. 
 
 "You'll have to make up for lost time to-day, 
 Cosmo," he said. 
 
 Now if anything was certain to make Cosmo angry, 
 it was the appearance, however slight, or however 
 merely implied, of disapproval of anything his father 
 thought, or did, or sanctioned. His face flushed, and 
 he answered quickly, 
 
 " The time wasn't lost, sir." 
 
 This reply made the master in his turn angry, but 
 he restrained himself. 
 
THE SCHOOL. 57 
 
 " I'm glad of that ! I may then expect to find you 
 prepared with your lessons for to-day." 
 
 " I learned my lessons for yesterday," Cosmo an- 
 swered ; " but my father says it's no play to learn 
 lessons." 
 
 " Your father's not master of this school." 
 
 " He's maister o' me," returned the boy, relapsing 
 into the mother-tongue, which,- except it be spoken in 
 good humour, always sounds rude. 
 
 The master took the youth's devotion to his father 
 for insolence to himself. 
 
 " I shall say no more," he rejoined, still using the 
 self-command which of all men an autocrat requires, 
 " till I find how you do in your class. That you are 
 the best scholar in it, is no reason why you should be 
 allowed to idle away hours in which you might have 
 been laying up store for the time to come." — It was 
 a phrase much favoured by the master — in present 
 application foolish. — " But perhaps your father does 
 not mean to send you to college ? " 
 
 " My father hasna said, an' I haena speirt," an- 
 swered Cosmo, with his eyes on his book. 
 
 Still misinterpreting the boy, the conceit and ill- 
 temper of the master now overcame him, and caused 
 him to forget the proprieties altogether. 
 
 " Haud on that gait, laddie, an' ye'll be as great a 
 fule as yer father himsel'," he said. 
 
 Cosmo rose from his seat, white as the wall behind 
 him, looked in the master's eyes, caught up his 
 Ccesar, and dashed the book in his face. Most boys 
 would then have made for the door, but that was not 
 Cosmo's idea of bearing witness. The moment the 
 
58 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 book left his hand, he drew himself up, stood still as 
 a statue, looked full at the master, and waited. Not 
 by a motion would he avoid any consequence of his 
 act. 
 
 He had not long to wait. A corner of the book 
 had gone into the master's eye ; he clapped his hand 
 to it, and for a moment seemed lost in suiifering. 
 The next, he clenched for the boy a man's fist, and 
 knocked him down. Cosmo fell backward over the 
 form, struck his head hard on the foot of the next 
 desk, and lay where he fell. 
 
 A shriek arose, and a girl about sixteen came rush- 
 ing up. She was the grand-daughter of James 
 Gracie, befriended of the laird. 
 
 " Go to your seat, Agnes ! " shouted the master, 
 and turning from her, stood, with his handkerchief to 
 one eye, looking down on the boy. So little did he 
 know him, he suspected him of pretending to be 
 more hurt than he was. 
 
 "Touch me gien ye daur," cried Agnes, as she 
 stooped to remove his legs from the form. 
 
 " Leave him alone," shouted the master, and seiz- 
 ing her, pulled her away, and flung her from him 
 that she almost fell. 
 
 But by this time the pain in his eye had subsided a 
 little, and he began to doubt whether indeed the boj 
 was pretending as he had imagined. He began also 
 to feel not a little uneasy as to the possible conse 
 quences of his hasty act — not half so uneasy, how- 
 ever, as he would have felt, had the laird been as 
 
 well-to-do as his neighbour, Lord Lickmyloof who 
 
 would be rather pleased than otherwise, the master 
 
THE SCHOOL. 59 
 
 thought, at any grief that might befall either Cosmo 
 or the lass Grade. Therefore, although he would 
 have been ready to sink had the door then opened 
 and the laird entered, he did not much fear any con- 
 sequences to be counted serious from the unexpected 
 failure of his self-command. He dragged the boy up 
 by the arm, and set him on his seat, before Agnes 
 could return ; but his face was as that of one dead, 
 and he fell forward on the desk. With a second 
 great cry, Agnes again sprang forward. She was a 
 strong girl, accustomed to all kinds of work, out-door 
 and in-door. She caught Cosmo round the waist 
 from behind, pulled him from the seat, and drew him 
 to the door, which because of the heat stood open. 
 The master had had enough of it, and did not at- 
 tempt to hinder her. There she took him in her 
 arms, and literally ran with him along the street. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 GRANNIE'S COTTAGE. 
 
 But she had not to pass many houses before she 
 came to that of her grandfather's mother, an aged 
 woman, I need not say, but in very tolerable health and 
 strength nevertheless. She sat at her spinning wheel, 
 with her door wide open. Suddenly, and, to her 
 dulled sense, noiselessly, Aggie came staggering in with 
 her burden. She dropped him on the old woman's 
 bed, and herself on the floor, her heart and lungs 
 going wildly. 
 
 " I' the name o' a' ! " cried' her great-grandmother, 
 stopping her wheel, breaking her thread, and letting 
 the end twist madly up amongst the revolving iron 
 teeth, emerging from the mist of their own speed, in 
 which a moment before they had looked ethereal as 
 the vibration-film of an insect's wings. 
 
 She rose with a haste marvellous for her years, and 
 approaching, looked down on the prostrate form of 
 the girl. 
 
 " It can never be my ain Aggie," she faltered, " to 
 60 
 
grannie's cottage. 6 1 
 
 rush intil my quaiet hoose that gait, fling a man upo' 
 my bed, an' fa' her len'th upo' my flure ! " 
 
 But Agnes was not yet able to reply. She could 
 only sign with her hand to the bed, which she did 
 with such energy that her great-grandmother — Gran- 
 nie, she called her, as did the whole of the village ■ — 
 turned at once thitherward. She could not see well, 
 and the box-bed was dark, so she did not at first rec- 
 ognize Cosmo, but the moment she suspected who 
 it was, she too uttered a cry — the cry of old age, 
 feeble and wailful. 
 
 " The michty be ower 's ! what's come to my 
 bairn ? " she said. 
 
 " The maister knockit him doon," gasped Agnes. 
 
 " Eh, lassie ! rin for the doctor." 
 
 " No," came feebly from the bed. " I dinna want 
 ony notice ta'en o' the business." 
 
 " Are ye sair hurtit, my bairn ? " asked the old 
 woman. 
 
 " My heid's some sair an' throughither-like ; but 
 I'll just lie still a wee, and syne I'll be able to gang 
 hame. I'm some sick. I winna gang back to the 
 school the day." 
 
 " Na, my bonnie man, that ye sanna ! " cried Gran- 
 nie, in a tone mingled of pity and indignation. 
 
 A moment more, and Agnes rose from the earth, 
 for earth it was, quite fresh ; and the two did all they 
 could to make him comfortable. Aggie would have 
 gone at once to let his father know ; she was per- 
 fectly able, she said, and in truth seemed nothing the 
 worse for her fierce exertion. But Cosmo said, " Bide 
 a wee, Aggie, an' we'll gang hame thegither. I'll be 
 
62 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 better in twa or three minutes." But he did not get 
 better so fast as he expected, and the only condition 
 on which Grannie would consent not to send for the 
 doctor, was, that Agnes should go and tell his father. 
 
 " But eh, Aggie ! " said Cosmo, " dinna lat him 
 think there's onything to be fleyt aboot. It's nae- 
 thing but a gey knap o' the heid ; an' I'm sure the 
 maister didna inten' duin me ony sarious hurt. — But 
 my father's sure to gie him fair play! — he gies a' 
 body fair play." 
 
 Agnes set out, and Cosmo fell asleep. 
 
 He slept a long time, and woke better. She hur- 
 ried to Glenwarlock, and in the yard found the 
 laird. 
 
 " Weel, lassie ! " he said, " what brings ye here 
 this time o' day ? What for are ye no at the school .? 
 Ye'U hae little eneuch o' 't by an' by, whan the hairst 
 's come." 
 
 " It's the yoong laird ! " said Aggie, and stopped. 
 
 " What's come till 'im ? " asked the laird, in the 
 sharpened tone of anxiety. 
 
 " It's no muckle, he says himsel'. But his heid's 
 some sair yet." 
 
 " What maks his heid sair ? He was weel eneuch 
 whan he gaed this mornin'." 
 
 " The maister knockit 'im doon." 
 
 The laird started as if one had struck him in the 
 face. The blood reddened his forehead, and his old 
 eyes flashed like two stars. All the battle-fury of the 
 old fighting race seemed to swell up from ancient 
 fountains amongst the unnumbered roots of his being, 
 and rush to his throbbing brain. He clenched his 
 
grannie's cottage. 63 
 
 withered fist, drew himself up straight, and made his 
 knees strong. For a moment he felt as in the prime 
 of life and its pride. The next his fist relaxed, his 
 hand fell by his side, and he bowed his head. 
 
 " The Lord hae mercy upo' me ! " he murmured. 
 " I was near takin' -the affairs o' ane o' his into my 
 ban's ! " 
 
 He covered his face with his wrinkled hands, and 
 the girl stood beside him in awe-filled silence. But 
 she did not quite comprehend, and was troubled at 
 seeing him stand thus motionless. In the trembling 
 voice of one who would comfort her superior, she 
 said, 
 
 " Dinna greit, laird. He'll be better, I'm thinkin', 
 afore ye win till 'im. It was Grannie gart me come 
 — no him." 
 
 Speechless the laird turned, and without even en- 
 tering the house, walked away to go to the village. 
 He had reached the valley-road before he discovered 
 that Agnes was behind him. 
 
 "Dinna ye come, Aggie," he said; "ye may be 
 wantit at hame." 
 
 "Ye dinna think I wad ley ye, laird ! — 'cep' ye 
 was to think fit to sen' me frea ye. I'm maist as 
 guid's a man to gang wi' ye — wi' the advantage o' 
 bein' a wuman, as my mither tells me : " — She called 
 her grandmother, mother. — "ye see we can daur mair 
 nor ony man — but, Guid forgie me ! — no mair nor 
 the yoong laird whan he flang his Casar straucht i' 
 the maister's face this verra mornin'." 
 
 The laird stopped, turned sharply round, and 
 looked at her. 
 
64 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " What did he that for ? " he said. 
 
 '"Cause he ca'd yersel' a fule," answered the girl, 
 with the utmost simplicity, and no less reverence. 
 
 The laird drew himself up once more, and looked 
 twenty years younger. But it was not pride that in- 
 spired him, nor indignation, but the father's joy at 
 _ finding in his son his champion. 
 
 "Mony ane's ca'd me that, I weel believe, lassie, 
 though no to my ain face or that o' my bairn. But 
 whether I deserve't or no, nana but ane kens. It's 
 no by the word o' man I stan' or fa' ; but it's hoo my 
 maister luiks upo' my puir endeevour to gang by the 
 thing he says. Min' this, lassie — lat fowk say as 
 they like, but du ye as he likes, an', or a' be dune, 
 they'll be upo' their k-nees to ye. An' sae they'll be 
 yet to my bairn — though I'm some tribbled he sud 
 hae saired the maister — e'en as he deserved." 
 
 " What cud he du, sir ? It was na for himsel' he 
 strack ! An' syne he never muved an inch, but stud 
 there like a rock, an' liftit no a han' to defen' himsel', 
 but jist loot the maister tak his wuU o' 'im." 
 
 The pair tramped swiftly along the road, heeding 
 nothing on either hand as they went, Aggie lithe and 
 active, the laird stooping greatly in his forward 
 anxiety to see his injured boy, but walking much 
 faster " than his age afforded." Before they reached 
 the village, the mid-day recess had come, and every- 
 body knew what had happened. Loud were most in 
 praise of the boy's behaviour, and many were the 
 eyes that from window and door watched the laird, as 
 he hurried down the street to " Grannie's," where' all 
 
grannie's cottage. 65 
 
 spoke, or showed that he was looking, and the laird 
 walked straight on with his eyes to the ground, 
 glancing neither to the right hand nor the left ; and 
 as did the laird, so did Aggie. 
 
 The door of the cottage stood open. There was a 
 step down, but the laird knew it well. Turning to 
 the left through a short passage, in the window of 
 which stood a large hydrangea, over two wooden pails 
 of water, he lifted the latch of the inner door, bowed 
 his tall head, and entered the room where lay his 
 darling. With a bow to Grannie, he went straight up 
 to the bed, speedily discovered that Cosmo slept, 
 and stood regarding him with a full heart. Who can 
 tell but him who knows it, how much more it is to 
 be understood by one's own, than by all the world 
 beside! By one's own one learns to love all God's 
 creatures, and from one's own one gets strength to 
 meet the misprision of the world. 
 
 The room was dark though it was summer, and 
 although it had two windows, one to the street, and 
 one to the garden behind : both ceiling and floor 
 were of a dark brown, for the beams and boards of 
 the one were old and interpenetrated with smoke, and 
 the other was of hard-beaten clay, into which also was 
 wrought much smoke and an undefinable blackness, 
 while the windows were occupied with different plants 
 favoured of Grannie, so that little light could get in, 
 and that little was half-swallowed by the general 
 brownness. A tall eight-day clock stood in one 
 corner, up to which, whoever would learn from it the 
 time, had to advance confidentially, and consult its 
 face on tip-toe, with peering eyes. Beside it was a 
 
66 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 beautifully polished chest of drawers ; a nice tea-table 
 stood in the centre, and some dark-shiny wooden 
 chairs against the walls. A closet opened at the head 
 of the bed, and at the foot of it was the door of the ' 
 room and the passage, so that it stood in a recess, to 
 which were wooden doors, seldom closed. A fire 
 partly of peat, partly of tan, burned on the little 
 hearth. 
 
 Cosmo opened his eyes, and saw those of his father 
 looking down upon him. He stretched out his arms, 
 and drew the alged head upon his bosom. His heart 
 was too full to speak. 
 
 " How do you find yourself, my boy ? " said the 
 father, gently releasing himself. " I know all about 
 it; you need not trouble yourself to tell me more 
 than just how you are." 
 
 " Better, father, much better," answered Cosmo. 
 " But there is one thing I must tell you. Jus't before 
 it happened we were reading in the Bible-class about 
 Samson — how the spirit of the Lord came upon him, 
 and with the jaw-bone of an ass he slew ever so many 
 of the Philistines ; and when the master said that'bad 
 word about you, it seemed as if the spirit of the Lord 
 came upon me ; for I was not in a rage, but filled 
 with what seemed a holy indignation ; and as I had 
 no ass's jaw-bone handy, I took my CcBsar, and 
 flung it as hard and as straight, as I could in the 
 master's face. But I am not so sure about it now." 
 
 " Tak ye nae thoucht anent it, Cosmo, my bairn," 
 said the old woman, taking up the word ; " it's no a 
 hair ayont what he deserved 'at daured put sic a 
 word to the best ro^n in a' the country. By the han' 
 
grannie's cottage. 67 
 
 o' a babe, as he did Goliab o' Gath, hetli the Lord-,^ 
 rebuked the enemy. — The Lord himsel' 's upo' your 
 side, laird, to gie ye siccan a brave son." 
 
 " I never kent liim lift his han' afore," said the 
 laird, as if he would fain mitigate judgment on youth- 
 ful indiscretion, — " excep' it was to the Kirkmalloch 
 bull, when he ran at him an' me as gien he wad hae 
 pitcht 's ower the wa' o' the warl'." 
 
 " The mair like it was the speerit o' the Lord, as 
 the bairn himsel' was jaloosin," remarked Grannie, 
 in a tone of confidence to which the laird was ready 
 enough to yield ; — " an' whaur the speerit o' the 
 Lord is, there's leeberty," she added, thinking less of 
 the suitableness of the quotation, than of the aptness 
 of words in it. Glenwarlock stooped and kissed the 
 face of his son, and went to fetch the doctor. Before 
 he returned, Cosmo was asleep again. The doctor 
 would not have him waked. From his pulse and the 
 character of his sleep he judged he was doing well. 
 He had heard all about the affair before, but heard 
 all now as for the first time, assured the laird there 
 was no danger, said he would call again, and recom- 
 mended him to go home. The boy must remain 
 where he was for the night, he said, and if the least 
 ground for uneasiness should show itself, he would 
 ride over, and make his report. 
 
 " I don't know what to think," returned the laird : 
 " it would be trouble and inconvenience to Grannie." 
 
 " 'Deed, laird, ye sud be ashamt to say sic a thing : 
 it'll be naething o' the kin' ! " cried the old • woman- 
 "Here he s' bide— wi' yer leave, sir, an' no muv ffae 
 whaur he lies ! There's anither bed i' the cloaset 
 
68 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 there. But, troth, what wi' the rheumatics, an' — an' 
 — the din o' the rottans, we s' ca' 't, mony's the nicht 
 I gang to nae bed ava' ; an' to hae the yoong laird 
 sleepin' i' my bed, an' me keepin' watch ower 'im, 'ill 
 be jist like haein' an angel i' the hoose to luik after. 
 I'll be somebody again for ae nicht, I can tell ye ! 
 An' oh ! it's a lang time, sir, sin' I was onybody i' 
 this warl' ! I houp sair they'll hae something for auld 
 fowk to du i' the neist." 
 
 "Hoots, mistress Forsyth," returned the laird, 
 "the' '11 be naebody auld there!" 
 
 " Hoo am I to win in than, sir ? I'm auld, gien ony- 
 body ever was auld ! An' hoo's yersel' to win in, sir 
 — for ye maun be some auld yersel' by this time, thof 
 I min' weel yer father a bit loonie in a tartan kilt." 
 
 "What wad ye say to be made yoong again, auld 
 frien' i " suggested the laird, with a smile of wonder- 
 ful sweetness. 
 
 " Eh, sir ! there's naething to that efiEec' i' the 
 word." 
 
 " Hoot ! " rejoined the laird, " wad ye hae me 
 plaguit to tell the laddie there a' thing I wad du for 
 him, as gien he hadna a hert o' his ain to tell 'im a 
 score o' things — ay, hun'ers o' things ? Dinna ye 
 ken 'at the speerit o' man 's the can'le o' the 
 Lord ? " 
 
 " But sae mony for a' that follows but their ain 
 fancies ! — That ye maun alloo, laird ; an' what comes 
 o' yer can'le than ? " 
 
 " That' sic as never luik whaur the licht fa's, but 
 aye some ither gait, for they carena to walk by the 
 same. But them 'at orders their wy's by what licht 
 
grannie's cottage. 69 
 
 they hae, there's no fear o' them. Even sud they 
 stummle, they sanna fa'." 
 
 " 'Deed, laird, I'm thinkin' ye may be richt. I hae 
 stummlet mony's the time, but I'm no doon yet ; an' 
 I hae a guid houp 'at maybe, puir dissiple as I am, 
 the Maister may lat on 'at he kens me, whan that 
 great and terrible day o' the Lord comes." 
 
 Cosmo began to stir. His father went to the 
 bed-side, and saw at a glance that the boy was better. 
 He told him what the doctor had decreed. Cosmo 
 said he was quite able to get up and go home that 
 minute. But his father would not hear of it. 
 
 " I can't bear to think of you walking back all that 
 way alone, papa," objected Cosmo. 
 
 " Ye dinna think, Cosmo," interposed Aggie, " 'at 
 I'm gauin to lat the laird gang hame himlane, an' me 
 here to be his body-gaird ! I ken my duty better nor 
 that." 
 
 But the laird did not go till they had all had tea to- 
 gether, and the doctor had again come and gone, and 
 given his decided opinion that all Cosmo needed was 
 a little rest, and that he would be quite well in a day 
 or two. Then at length his father left him, and, com- 
 forted, set out with Aggie for Glenwarlock. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DREAMS. 
 
 The gloamin' came down much sooner in Grannie's 
 cottage than on the sides of the eastward hills, but the 
 old woman made up her little fire, and it glowed a 
 bright heart to the shadowy place. Though the room 
 was always dusky, it was never at this season quite 
 dark any time of the night. It was not absolutely 
 needful, except for the little cooking required by the 
 invalid — for as such, in her pride of being his nurse. 
 Grannie regarded him — but she welcomed the ex- 
 cuse for a little extra warmth to her old limbs during 
 the night watches. Then she sat down in her great 
 chair, and all was still. 
 
 " What for arena ye spinnin', Grannie ? " said 
 Cosmo. " I like fine to hear the wheel singin' like a 
 muckle flee upo' the winnock. It spins i' my held 
 lang lingles o' thouchts, an' dreams, an' wad-be's. 
 Neist to hearin' yersel' tell a tale, I like to hear yer 
 wheel gauin'. It has a w'y o' 'ts ain wi' me ! " 
 
 " I was feart it micht vex ye wi' the soomin' o' 't," 
 
 70 
 
DREAMS. 
 
 71 
 
 answered Grannie, and as she spoke she rose, and 
 lighted her little lamp, though she scarcely needed 
 light for her spinning, and sat down to her wheel. 
 
 For a long unweary time Cosmo lay and listened, 
 an aerial Amphion, building castles in the air to its 
 music, which was so monotonous that, like the drone 
 of the bag-pipes, he could use it for accompaniment 
 to any dream-time of his own. 
 
 When a man comes to trust in God thoroughly, he 
 shrinks from castle-building, lest his faintest fancy 
 should run counter to that loveliest Will ; but a boy's 
 dreams are nevertheless a part of his education. And 
 the true heart will not leave the blessed conscience 
 out, even in its dreams. 
 
 Those of Cosmo were mostly of a lovely woman, 
 much older than himself, who was kind to him, and 
 whom he obeyed and was ready to serve like a 
 slave. These came, of course, first of all, from 
 the heart that needed and delighted in the thought 
 of a mother, but they were bodied out from the 
 memory, faint, far-off, and dim, of his own mother, 
 and the imaginations of her roused by his father's 
 many talks with him concerning her. He dreamed 
 now of one, now of another beneficent power, of 
 the fire, the air, the earth, or the water — each of 
 them a gracious woman, who favoured, helped, and pro- 
 tected him, through dangers and trials innumerable. 
 Such imaginings may be — nay must be unhealthy for 
 those who will not attempt the right in the face of 
 loss and pain and shame ; but to those who labour in 
 the direction of their own ideal, dreams will do no 
 hurt, but foster rather the ideal. 
 
72 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 When at length the spinning-wheel ceased with its 
 hum, the silence was to Cosmo like the silence after 
 a song, and his thoughts refused to do their humming 
 alone. The same moment he fell — from a wondrous 
 region where he dwelt with sylphs in a great palace, 
 built on the tree-tops of a forest ages old ; where the 
 buxom air bathed every limb, and was to his ethereal 
 body as water — sensible as a liquid ; whose every 
 room rocked like the baby's cradle of the nursery 
 rime, but equilibrium was the merest motion of the 
 will; where the birds nested in its cellars, and the 
 squirrels ran up and down its stairs, and the wood- 
 peckers pulled themselves along its columns and 
 rails by their beaks; where the winds swung the 
 whole city with a rhythmic roll, and the sway as of 
 tempest waves, music-ruled to ordered cadences ; 
 where, far below, lower than the cellars, the deer, and 
 the mice, and the dormice, and the foxes, and all the 
 wild things of the forest, ran in its caves — from this 
 high city of the sylphs, watched and loved and taught 
 by the most gracious and graceful and tenderly ethe- 
 real and powerful of beings, he fell supine into Gran- 
 nie's box-bed, with the departed hum of her wheel 
 spinning out its last thread of sound in his disap- 
 pointed brain. 
 
 In after years when he remembered the enchanting ' 
 dreams of his boyhood, instead of sighing after them 
 as something gone for ever, he would say to himself, 
 " what matter they are gone ? In the heavenly king- 
 dom my own mother is waiting me, fairer and stronger 
 and real. I imagined the elves ; God imagined my 
 mother." 
 
DREAMS. 73 
 
 The unconscious magician of the whole mystery, 
 who had seemed to the boy to be spinning his very 
 brain into dreams, rose, and, drawing near the bed, 
 as if to finish the ruthless destruction, and with her 
 long witch-broom sweep down the very cobwebs of 
 his airy phantasy, said, 
 
 " Is ye waukin', Cosmo my bairn ? " 
 
 "Ay am I," answered Cosmo, with a faint pang, 
 and a strange sense of loss : when should he dream 
 its like again ! 
 
 " Soon, soon, Cosmo," he might have heard, could 
 he have interpreted the telephonic signals from the 
 depths of his own being; "wherever the creative 
 pneuma can enter, there it enters, and no door stands 
 so wide to it as that of the obedient heart." 
 
 " Weel, ye maun hae yer supper, an' syne ye maun 
 say yer prayers, an' hae dune wi' Tyseday, an' gang 
 on til' Wudens-day." 
 
 " I'm nae wantin' ony supper, thank ye," said the boy. 
 
 "Ye maun hae something, my bonny man; for 
 them 'at aits ower little, as weel's them 'at aits ower 
 muckle, the night-mear rides— an' she's a fearsome 
 horse. Ye can never win upo' the back o' her, for 
 as guid a rider as ye 're weel kent to be, my bairn. 
 Sae wull ye hae a drappy parritch an' ream? or 
 wad ye prefar a sup of fine gruel, sic as yer mother 
 used to like weel frae my han', whan it sae happent 
 I was i' the hoose ? " The offer seemed to the boy 
 to bring him a little nearer the mother whose memory 
 he worshipped, and on the point of saying, for the 
 sake of saving her trouble, that he would have the 
 porridge, he chose the gruel. 
 
74 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 He watched from his nest the whole process of its 
 making. It took a time of its own, for one of the 
 secrets of good gruel is a long acquaintance with the 
 fire. — Many a time the picture of that room returned 
 to him in far different circumstances, like a dream of 
 quiet and self-sustained delight — though his one 
 companion was an aged woman. 
 
 When he had taken it, he fell asleep once more, 
 and when he woke again, it was in the middle of the 
 night. The lamp was nearly burned out : it had a 
 long, red, disreputable nose, that spoke of midnight 
 hours and exhausted oil. The old lady was dozing in 
 her chair. The clock had just struck something, for 
 the sound of its bell was yet faintly pulsing in the air. 
 He sat up, and looked out into the room. Some- 
 thing seemed upon him — he could not tell what. 
 He felt as if something had been going on besides 
 the striking of the clock, and were not yet over — as 
 if something was even now being done in the room. 
 But there the old woman slept, motionless, and ap- 
 parently in perfect calm ! It could not, however, 
 have been perfect as it seemed, for presently she be- 
 gan to talk. At first came only broken sentences, 
 occasionally with a long pause ; and just as he had 
 concluded she would say nothing more, she would 
 begin again. There was something awful to the fancy 
 of the youfh in the issuing of words from the lips of 
 one apparently unconscious of surrounding things; 
 her voice was like the voice of one speaking from an- 
 other world. Cosmo was a brave boy where duty 
 was concerned, but conscience and imagination 
 were each able to make him tremble. To tremble 
 
DREAMS. 75 
 
 and to turn the back, are, however, very different 
 things : of the latter, the thing deserving to be called 
 cowardice, Cosmo knew nothing ; his hair began to 
 rise upon his head, but that head he never hid be- 
 neath the bed-clothes. He sat and stared into the 
 gloom, where the old woman lay in her huge chaii, 
 muttering at irregular intervals. 
 
 Presently she began to talk a little more continu- 
 ously. And now also Cosmo's heart had got a little 
 quieter, and no longer making such a noise in his 
 ears, allowed him to hear better. After a fpw words 
 seemingly unconnected, though probably with a per- 
 fect dependence of their own, she began to murmur 
 something that sounded like verses. Cosmo soon 
 perceived that she was saying the same thing over 
 and over, and at length he had not only made out 
 every word of the few lines, but was able to remember 
 them. This was what he afterwards recalled — by 
 that time uncertain whether the whole thing had not 
 been a dream ; 
 
 Catch yer naig an' pu' his tail :' 
 In his hin' heel ca' a nail ; 
 Rug his lugs frae ane anither — 
 Stan' up, an' ca' the king yer brither. 
 
 When first he repeated them entire to himself, the 
 old woman still muttering them, he could not help 
 laughing, and the noise, tljough repressed, yet roused 
 her. She woke, not, like most young people, with 
 slow gradation of consciousness, but all at once was 
 wide awake. She sat up in her chair. 
 
76 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Was I snorin', laddie, 'at ye leuch ? " she asked, 
 in a tone of slight offence. 
 
 " Eh, na ! " replied Cosmo. " It was only 'at ye 
 was sayin' something rale tunny — i' yer sleep, ye 
 ken — a queer jingle o' poetry it was." 
 
 Therewith he repeated the rime, and Grannie burst 
 into a merry laugh — which however sobered rather 
 suddenly, 
 
 " I dinna won'er I was sayin' ower thae fule words,'' 
 she said, " for 'deed I was dreamin' o' the only ana 
 I ever h'ard say them, an' that was whan I was a lass 
 — maybe aboot thirty. Onybody nicht hae h'ard him 
 sayin' them — ower and ower til himsel', as gien he 
 eudna weary o' them, but naebody but mysel' seemed 
 to hae ta'en ony notice o' the same. I used whiles 
 to won'er whether he fully un'erstude what he was 
 sayin' — but troth ! hoo cud there be ony sense in sic 
 havers ? " 
 
 "Was there ony mair o' the ballant ? " asked 
 Cosmo. 
 
 " Gien there was mair ; I h'jrd na't," replied Gran- 
 
 2. "An' weel I wat! he was na ane to sing, the 
 
 auld captain.— Did ye never hear tell o' 'im, laddie ? " 
 
 ^ " Gien ye mean the auld brither o' the laird o' that 
 
 time, him 'at cam hame frae his sea-farin' to the East 
 
 Indies — " 
 
 "Ay, ay; that's him! Ye hae h'ard tell o' 'im ! 
 He hed a ship o' 's ain, an' made mony a voyage 
 afore ony o' 's was born, an' was an auld man whan 
 at len'th hame cam he, as the sang says — ower auld 
 to haud by the sea ony more. I'll never forget the 
 lulk o' the man whan first I saw him, nor the hurry 
 
 nie 
 
DREAMS. 77 
 
 an' the scurry, the rinnin' here, an' the routin' there, 
 'at there was whan the face o' 'm came in at the gett ! 
 Ye see they a' thoucht he was hame \vi' a walth ayout 
 figures — stowed awa' somewhaur — naebody kent 
 whaur. Eh, but he was no a bonny man, an' fowk 
 said he dee'd na a fairstrae deith : hoo that may 
 be, I dinna weel ken : there war unco things aboot 
 the affair — tilings 'at winna weel bide speykin' o'. 
 Ae thing's certain, an' that is, 'at the place has never 
 thriven sin syne. But, for that maitter, it hedna 
 thriven for mony a lang afore. An' there was a fowth 
 o' awfu' stories reengin' the country, like ghaists 'at 
 naebody cud get a grip o' — as to hoo he had gotten 
 the said siller, an' sic like — the siller 'at naebody ever 
 saw ; for upo' that siller, as I tell ye, naebody ever cuist 
 an e'e. Some said he had been a pirate upo' the 
 hie seas, an' had ta'en the siller in lumps o' gowd 
 frae puir ships 'at hadna men eneuch to hand the 
 grip o' 't ; some said he had been a privateer ; an' 
 ither some said th^re was sma' differ atween the 
 twa. An' some wad hae 't he was ane o' them 'at 
 tuik an' sauld the puir black fowk, 'at cudna help 
 bein' black, for as ootlandish as it maun luik — I 
 never saw nane o' the nation mysel' — ony mair nor 
 a corbie can help his feathers no bein' like a doo's ; 
 an' gien they turnt black for ony deevilry o' them 'at 
 was their forbeirs, I kenna an' it maks naething to 
 me or mine, — I wad fain an' far raither du them a 
 guid turn nor tak an' sell them ; for gien their parents 
 had sinned, the mair war they to be pitied. But as 
 I was sayin', naebody kent hoo he had gethert his 
 siller, the mair by token 'at maybe there was nane, 
 
78 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 for naebody, as I was tellin' ye, ever had the sma'est 
 glimp o' siller aboot 'im. For a close-loofed near 
 kin o' man he was, gien ever ony ! Aye ready was 
 he to borrow a shillin' frae ony fule 'at wad len' him 
 ane, an' lang had him 'at len't it forgotten to luik for 
 't, er' he thoucht o' peyin' the same. It was mair 
 nor ae year or rwa 'at he leeved aboot the place, an' 
 naebody cared muckle for his company, though a' 
 body was ower feart to lat him ken he was na wel- 
 come here or there; for wha cud tell he micht oot wi' 
 the swoord he aye carriet, an' mak an' en' o' 'im ! 
 For 'deed he fearna God nor man, ony mair nor the 
 jeedge i' the Scriptur'. He drank a heap — as for 
 a' body at he ca'd upo' aye hed oot the whisky- 
 bottle well willun' to please the man they war feart 
 at." 
 
 The voice of the old woman went sounding in the 
 ears of the boy, on and on in the gloom, and through 
 it, possibly from the still confused condition of his 
 head, he kept constantly hearing ihe rimes she had 
 repeated to him. They seemed to have laid hold of 
 him as of her, perhaps from their very foolishness, in 
 an odd inexplicable way : — 
 
 Catch yer naig an' pu' his tail'; 
 In his hin' heel ca' a nail ; 
 Rug his lugs frae ane anither — 
 Stan' up, an' ca' the king yer brither. 
 
 On and on went the rime, and on and on went the 
 old woman's voice. 
 
 "Weel, there cam' a time whan an English lord 
 begud to be seen aboot the place, an' that was nae 
 
DREAMS. 79 
 
 comon sicht i' oor puir country. He was a frien' 
 fowk said, o' the yoong Markis o' Lossie, an' that 
 was hoo he cam to sicht. He gaed fleein' aboot, 
 luikin' at this, an' luikin' at that ; an' whaur or hoo 
 he fell in wi' him, I dinna ken, but or lang the 
 twa o' them was a heap thegither. They playt cairts 
 thegither, they drank thegither, they drave oot the- 
 gither — for the auld captain never crossed beast's 
 back — an" what made sic frien's o' them nobody could 
 imaigine. For the tane was a rouch sailor chield, an' 
 the titlier was a yoong lad, little mair, an' a fine gen- 
 tleman as weel's a bonny man. But the upshot o' 't 
 a' was an ill ana ; for, efter maybe aboot a month or 
 sae o' sic friendship as was atween them, there cam 
 a nicht 'at brouchtna the captain hame ; for ye maun 
 un'erstan', wi' a' his rouch w'ys, an' his drinkin', an' 
 his cairt-playin', he was aye hame at nicht, an' safe 
 intil 's bed, whaur he sleepit i' the best chaumer i' 
 the castle. Ay, he wad come hame, aften as drunk 
 as man cud be, but hame he cam. Sleep intil the 
 efternune o' the neist day he wad, but never oot o' 's 
 nain bed — or if no aye in his ain nakit bed, for I fan' 
 him ance mysel' lyin' snorin' upo' the flure, it was aye 
 intil 's ain room, as I say, an' no in ony strange place 
 drunk or sober. Sae there was some surprise at his 
 no appearin', an' fowk spak o' 't, but no that muckle, 
 for naebody cared i' their hert what cam o' the man. 
 Still whan the men gaed oot to their wark, they bude 
 to gie a luik gien there was ony sign o' 'm. It was 
 easy to think 'at he micht hae been at last ower sair 
 owertaen to be able to win hame. But that wasna 
 it, though whan they cam upo' 'm lyin' on's back i' 
 
So WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 the howe you'er 'at luiks up to my daughter's bit 
 gerse for her coo', they thoucht he bude to hae sleepit 
 there a' nicht. Sae he had, but it was "the sleep 'ai 
 kens no waukin — at least no the kin' o' waukin' 'a' 
 comes wi' the mornin' ! " 
 
 Cosmo recognized with a shudder his favourite 
 spot, where on his birthday, as on many a day before, 
 he had fallen asleep. But the old woman went or 
 with her story. 
 
 " Deid was the auld captain — as deid as ever was 
 man 'at had nane left to greit for him. But thof 
 there was nae greitin', no but sic a hullabaloo as rase 
 upo' the discovery ! They rade an' they ran ; the 
 doctor cam', an' the minister, an' the lawyer, an' the 
 grave-digger. But whan a man's deid, what can a' 
 the warl' du for 'im but berry 'im ? puir hin'er eii 
 thof it be to him at draws himsel' up, an' blaws hini 
 sel' oot ! There was mony a conjectur as to hoc he 
 cam by his deith, an' mony a doobt it wasna by fail 
 play. Some said he dee'd by his ain han', driven oil 
 til't by the enemy ; an' it was true the blade he cair. 
 riet was lyin' upo' the grass aside 'im ; but ither som.e 
 'at exem't him, said the hole i' the side o' 'im was nu 
 made wi' that. But o' a' 'at cam to speir efter 'im. 
 the English lord was nane. He hed vainished the 
 country. The general opinyon sattled doon to this, 
 'at they twa bude till hae fa'en oot at cairts, an' 
 fouchten it oot, an' the auld captain, for a' his skeel 
 an' exparience, had had the warst o' 't, an' so there 
 they faun' 'im.— But I reckon, Cosmo, yer father 'ill 
 hae tellt ye a' aboot the thing, mony's the time, o* 
 
DREAMS. 8 1 
 
 noo, an' I'm jist deivin' ye wi' my clavers, an haudin 
 'ye ohn sleepit ! " 
 
 "Na, Grannie," answered Cosmo, " he never tellt 
 me what ye hae tellt me noo. He did tell me 'at 
 there was sic a man, an' the ill en' he cam til ; an' I 
 think he was jist gaein' on to tell me mair, whan 
 Grizzle cam to say the denner was ready. That was 
 only yesterday — or the day afore, I'm thinkin', by 
 this time. — But what think ye could hae been in 's 
 held wi' yon jingle aboot the horsie ? " 
 
 " Ow ! what wad be intil 't but jist fulish nonsense ? 
 Ye ken some fowk has a queer trick o' sayin' the 
 same thing ower an' ower again to themsel's, wi'oot 
 ony sense intil 't. There was the auld laird himsel' ; 
 he was ane o' sic. Aye an' ower again he wad be 
 sayin' til himsel', '-A hun'er poun' ! Ay, a hun'er 
 poun' ! ' It maittered na what he wad be speikin' 
 aboot, or wha til, in it wad corhe ! — i' the middle o' 
 onything, ye cudna tell whan or whaur, — ' A hun'er 
 poun' ! ' says he ; 'Ay, a hun'er poun' ! ' Fowk leuch 
 at the first, but sune gat used til't, an' cam hardly to 
 ken 'at he said it, for what has nae sense has little 
 hearin'. An' I doobtna thae rimes wasna even a 
 verse o' an auld ballant, but jist a cletter o' clinkin' 
 styte (nonsense), 'at he had learnt frae some blackamore 
 bairn, maybe, an' cudna get oot o' 's held ony ither 
 gait, but bude to say't to hae dune wi' 't — jist like a 
 cat whan it gangs scrattin' at the door, ye hae to get 
 up, whether ye wull or no, an' lat the cratur oot.'' 
 
 Cosmo did not feel quite satisfied with the expla- 
 nation, but he made no objection to it. 
 
 " I maun alloo, hooever," the old woman went on, 
 
82 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " 'at ance ye get a haud o' them, they tak a grip o' 
 you, an' hae a queer w'y o' hauntin' ye like, as they 
 did the man himsel', sae 'at ye carina yet rid o' them. 
 It comes only at noes an' thans, but whan the fit 's 
 upo' me, I canna get them oot o' my held. The verse 
 gangs on tum'lin' ower an' ower intil 't, till I'm jist 
 scunnert wi' 't. Awa' it wanna gang, maybe for a 
 haill day, an' syne it mayna come again for months." 
 
 True enough, the rime was already running about 
 in Cosmo's head like a mouse, and he fell asleep 
 with it ringing in the ears of his mind. 
 
 Before he woke again, which was in the broad day- 
 light, he had a curious dream. 
 
 He dreamed that he was out in the moonlight. It 
 was a summer night — late. But there was some- 
 thing very strange about the night : right up in the 
 top of it was the moon, looking down as if she knew 
 all about it, and something was going to happen. He 
 did not like the look of her — he had never seen her 
 look like that before ! and he went home just to get 
 away from her. As he was going up the stairs to his 
 chamber, something moved him — he could not tell 
 what — to stop at the door of the drawing-room, and 
 go in. It was flooded with moonlight, but he did not 
 mind that, so long as he could keep out of her sight. 
 Still it had a strange, eerie look, with its various 
 pieces of furniture casting different shadows from 
 those that by rights belonged to them. He gazed at 
 this thing and that, as if he had never seen it before. 
 The place seemed to cast a spell over him, so that he 
 could not leave it. He seated himself on the ancient 
 brocaded couch, and sat staring, with a sense, which 
 
DREAMS. 83 
 
 by degrees grew dreadful, that he was where he would 
 not be, and that if he did not get up and go, some- 
 thing would happen. But he could not rise — not 
 that he felt any physical impediment, but that he 
 could - not make a resolve strong enough — like one 
 in irksome company, who wants to leave, but waits in 
 vain a fit opportunity. Delay grew to agony, but still 
 he sat. 
 
 He became aware that he was not alone. His 
 whole skin seemed to contract with a shuddering 
 sense of presence. Gradually, as he gazed straight 
 in front of him, slowly, in the chair on the opposite 
 side of the fire-place, grew visible the form of a man, 
 until he saw it quite plainly — that of a seafaring 
 man, in a blue coat, with a red sash round his waist, 
 in which were pistols, and a dagger. He too sat 
 motionless, fixing on him the stare of fierce eyes, 
 black, yet glowing, as if set on fire of hell. They 
 filled him with fear, but something seemed to sustain 
 him under it. He almost fancied, when first on wak- 
 ing he thought over it, that a third must have been 
 in the room — for his protection. The face that 
 stared at him was a brown and red and weather- 
 beaten face, cut across with a great scar, and wearing 
 an expression of horror trying not to look horrible. 
 His fear threatened to turn him into clay, but he met 
 it with scorn, strove against it, would not and did not 
 yield. Still the figure stared, as if it would fascinate 
 him into limpest submission. Slowly at length it 
 rose, and with a look that seemed meant to rivet the 
 foregone stare — a look of mingled pain and fierce- 
 ness, turned, and led the way from the room, where- 
 
84 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 upon the spell was so far broken or changed, that he 
 was able to rise and follow him : even in his dreams 
 he was a boy of courage, and feared nothing so much 
 as yielding to fear. The figure went on, nor ever 
 turned its head, up the stair to the room over that 
 they had left — the best bedroom, the guest-chamber 
 of the house — not often visited, and there it entered. 
 Still following, Cosmo entered also. The figure walk- 
 ed across the room, as if making for the bed, but in 
 the middle of the floor suddenly turned, and went 
 round by the foot of the bed to the other side of it, 
 where the curtains hid it. Cosmo followed, but when 
 he reached the other side, the shade was nowhere 
 to be seen, and he woke, his heart beating terribly. 
 
 By this time Grannie was snoring in her chair, or . 
 very likely, in his desire to emerge from its atmosphere, 
 he would have told her his dream. For a while he 
 lay looking at the dying fire, and the streak from 
 the setting moon, that stole i:i at the window, and 
 lay weary at the foot of the wall. Slowly he fell fast 
 asleep, and slept far into the morning: long after 
 lessons were begun in the school, and village-affairs 
 were in the full swing of their daily routine, he slept ; 
 nor had he finished his breakfast, when his fathei 
 entered. 
 
 "I'm quite well, papa," answered the boy to his 
 gentle yet eager inquiry ; — " perfectly able to go to 
 school in the afternoon." 
 
 "I don't mean you to go again, Cosmo," replied 
 his father gravely. " It could not be pleasant either 
 for yourself or for the master. The proper relation 
 between you is destroyed." 
 
COSMO'S DREAM. 
 
 «s 
 
DREAMS. 87 
 
 " If you think I was wrong, papa, I will make an 
 apology." 
 
 " If you had done it for yourself, I should unhesita- 
 tingly say you must. But as it was, I am not pre- 
 pared to say so." 
 
 " What am I to do then ? How am I to get ready 
 for college ? " 
 
 The laird gave a sigh, and made no answer. Alas 1 
 there were more difficulties than that in the path to 
 college. 
 
 He turned away, and went to call on the minister, 
 while Cosmo got up and dressed : except a little 
 singing in his head when he stooped, he was aware 
 of no consequences of the double blow. 
 
 Grannie was again at her wheel, and Cosmo sal 
 down in her chair to await his father's return. 
 
 " Whaur said ye the captain sleepit whan he was 
 at the castle ? " he inquired across the buzz and 
 whiz and hum of the wheel. Through the low window, 
 betwixt the leaves of the many plants that shaded it, 
 he could see the sun shining hot upon the bare street ; 
 but inside \i'as soft gloom filled with murmurous sound. 
 
 " Whaur but i' the best bedroom ? " answered 
 Grannie. " Naething less wad hae pleased /lim, I 
 can a3sure ye. For ance 'at there cam the markis to 
 the hoose — whan things warna freely sae scant aboofr 
 the place as they hae been sin' yer father cam to the 
 throne — there cam at his back a fearsome storm, sic 
 as comes but seldom in a life lang as mine, an' sic 
 'at his lordship cudna win awa'. Thereupon yer 
 father, that is, yer gran'father, — or it wad be yer 
 grit-gran'father — I'm turnin' some confused amo' ye ; 
 
88 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 ye aye keep comin' !-^onyhoo, he gae the captain 
 a kent like, 'at he wad du weel to offer his room til's 
 lordship. But wad he, think ye ? Na, no him ! He 
 grew reid, an' syne as white's the aisse, an' luikit to 
 be i' the awfu'est inside rage 'at mortal wessel cud 
 weel hand. Sae yer gran'father, no 'at he was feart 
 at 'im, for Is' be bun' he never was feart afore the 
 face o' man, but jest no wullin' to anger his ain kin, 
 an' maybe no willin' onybody sud say he was a re- 
 specter o' persons, heeld his tongue an' said nae 
 mair, an' the markis hed the second best bed, for 
 he sleepit in Glenwarlock's ain." 
 
 Cosmo then told her the dream he had had in the 
 night, describing the person he had seen in it as 
 closely as he could. Now all the time Grannie had 
 been speaking, it was to the accompaniment of her 
 wheel, but Cosmo liad not got far with his narrative 
 when she ceased spinning, and sat absorbed — listen- 
 ing as to a red occurrence, not the feverish dream of 
 a boy. When he ended, — 
 
 "It maun hae been the auld captain himself ! " she 
 said under her breath, and with a sigh ; tli£n shut up 
 her mouth, and remained silent, leaving Cosmo in ' 
 doubt whether it was that she would take no interest 
 in sucft a foolish thing, or found in it something to 
 ^et her thinking ; but he could not help noting that 
 there seemed a strangeness about her silence ; nor 
 did she break it until his father returned. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HOME. 
 
 Cosmo was not particularly fond of school, and he 
 was particularly fond of holidays ; hence his father's 
 resolve that he should go to school no more, seemed 
 to him the promise of an endless joy. The very sun 
 seemed swelling in his heart as he walked home with 
 his father. A whole day of home and its pleasures 
 was before him — only the more welcome that he had 
 had a holiday so lately, and that so many more lay 
 behind it. Every shadow about the old place was a 
 delight to him. Never human being loved more the 
 things into which he had been born than did Cosmo. 
 The whole surrounding had to him a sacred look, 
 such as Jerusalem, the temple, and its vessels, bore to 
 the Jews, even those of them who were capable of 
 loving little else. There was hardly anything that 
 could be called beauty about the building — strength 
 and gloom were its main characteristics — but its very 
 stones were dear to the boy. There never were such 
 bees, there never were such thick walls, there never 
 
 89 
 
9° 
 
 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 were such storms, never such a rushing river, as those 
 about his beloved home ! And this although, all the 
 time, as I have said, he longed for more beauty of 
 mountain and wood than the country around could 
 afford him. Then there were the books belonging to 
 the house ! — was there any such a collection in the 
 world besides ! They were in truth very few — all 
 contained in a closet opening out of his father's bed- 
 room ; but Cosmo had a feeling of inexhaustible 
 wealth in them — partly because his father had not 
 yet allowed him to read everything there, but re- 
 stricted him to certain of the shelves — as much to 
 cultivate self-restraint in him as to keep one or two 
 of the books from him, — partly because he read books 
 so that they remained books to him, and he believed 
 in them after he had read them, nor imagined himself 
 capable of exhausting them. But the range of his 
 taste w as certainly not a limited one. While he rev- 
 elled in The Arabian Nights, he read also, and with 
 no small enjoyment, the Night Tfwughts — books, it 
 will be confessed, considerably apart both in scope 
 and in style. But while thus, for purest pleasure, 
 fond of reading, to enjoy life it was to him enough to 
 lie in the grass ; in certain moods, the smell of the 
 commonest flower would drive him half crazy with 
 delight. On a holiday his head would be haunted 
 with old ballads like a sunflower with bees : on other 
 days they would only come and go. He rejoiced 
 even in nursery rimes, only in his head somehow or 
 other they got glorified. The swing and hum and 
 hizz of a line, one that might have to him no discov- 
 erable meaning, would play its tune in him as well as 
 
HOME. 91 
 
 any mountain-stream its infinite water-jumble melody. 
 One of those that this clay kept — not coming and 
 going, but coming and coming, just as Grannie said 
 his foolish rime haunted the old captain, was that 
 which two days before came into his head when first 
 he caught sight of the moon playing bo-peep with him 
 betwixt the cows legs : 
 
 Whan the coo loups ower the mune, 
 The raid gowd rains intil men's shune. 
 
 I think there must at one time have been a poet in 
 the Glenwarlock nursery, for there were rimes, and 
 modifications of rimes, floating about the family, for 
 which nobody could account. Cosmo's mother too 
 had been, in a fragmentary way, fond of verse ; and 
 although he could not remember many of her favour- 
 ite rimes, his father did, and delighted in saying them 
 over and over to her child — and that long before he 
 was capable of understanding them. Here is one : 
 
 Make not of thy heart a casket, 
 Opening seldom, quick to close ; 
 
 But of bread a wide-mouthed basket, 
 And a cup that overflows. 
 
 Here is another : 
 
 The gadfly makes the horse run swift : 
 " Speed," quoth the gadfly, " is my gift." 
 
 One more, and it shall be the last for the present : 
 They serve as dim lights on the all but vanished 
 mother, of whom the boy himself knew so little. 
 
 In God alone, the perfect end, 
 Wilt thou find thyself or friend. 
 
92 
 
 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Cosmo's dream of life was, to live all his days in 
 the house of his forefathers — or at least and worst, 
 to return to it at last, how long soever he might have 
 been compelled to be away from it. In his castle- 
 building, next to that of the fairy-mother-lady, his 
 fondest fancy was — not the making of a fortune, but 
 the returning home with one, to make the house of 
 his fathers beautiful, and the heart of his father glad. 
 About the land he did not think so much yet : the 
 country was open to him as if it had been all his own,- 
 Still, he had quite a different feeling for that portion 
 which yet lay within the sorely contracted marches ; 
 to have seen any smallest nook of that sold, would 
 have been like to break his heart. In him the love 
 of place was in danger of becoming a disease. There 
 was in it something, I fear, of the nature, if not of 
 the avarice that grasps, yet of the avarice that clings^ 
 He was generous as few in the matter of money, but 
 then he had had so little — not half enough to learn 
 to love it ! Nor had he the slightest idea of any 
 mode in which to make it. Most of the methods he 
 had come in contact with, except that of manual 
 labour, in which work was done and money paid im-, 
 mediately for it, repelled him, as having elements of 
 the unhandsome where not the dishonest : he was not 
 yet able to distinguish between substance and mode 
 in such matters. The only way in which he ever 
 dreamed of coming into possession of money — it 
 was another of his favourite castles — was finding in 
 the old house a room he had never seen or heard of 
 before, and therein a hoard of riches incredible. 
 Such things had been — why might it not be ? 
 
HOME. 
 
 93 
 
 As they walked, his father told him he had been 
 thinking all night what it would be best to do with him, 
 now that the school was closed against him ; and 
 that he had come to the conclusion to ask his 
 friend Peter Simon — the wits of the neighbourhood 
 called him Simon Peter — to take charge of his edu- 
 cation. 
 
 " He is a man of peculiar opinions," he said, " as 
 I daresay you may have heard ; but everything in 
 him is, practice and theory, on a scale so grand, that 
 to fear harm from him would be to sin against the 
 truth. A man must learn to judge for himself, and 
 he will teach you that. I have seen in him so much 
 that I recognize as good and great, that I am com- 
 pelled to believe in him where the things he believ';.« 
 appear to me out of the way, or even extravagant." 
 
 "I have heard that he believes in ghosts, papa)' 
 said Cosmo. 
 
 His father smiled, and made him no answer. Ht- 
 had been born into an age whose incredulity, taking 
 active form, was now fast approaching its extreme, 
 and becoming superstition; and the denial of many 
 things that had long been believed in the country had 
 penetrated at last even to the remote region where 
 his property lay : like that property, his mind, be- 
 cause of the age, lay also itj a sort of border-land. 
 An active believer in the care and providence of God, 
 with no conscious difficulty in accepting any miracle 
 recorded in the Bible, he was, where the oracles were 
 dumb, in a measure inclined to a scepticism, which 
 yet was limited to the region of his intellect ; — his 
 imagination turned from its conclusions, and cher- 
 
94 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 ished not a little so-called weakness for the so-called 
 supernatural — so far as any glimmer of sense or 
 meaning or reason would show itself therein. And 
 in the history of the world, the imagination has, I 
 fancy, been quite as often right as the intellect, and 
 the things in which it has been right, have been of 
 much the greater importance. Only, unhappily, 
 wherever Pegasus has shown the way through a bog 
 the pack-horse which follows gets the praise of cross- 
 ing it ; while the blunders with which the pack-horse 
 is burdened, are, the moment each is discovered, by 
 the plodding leaders of the pair transferred to the 
 space betwixt the wings of Pegasus, without regard to 
 the beauty of his feathers. The laird was therefore 
 unable to speak with authority respecting such things, 
 and was not particularly anxious to influence the 
 mind of his son concerning them. Happily, in those 
 days the platitudes and weary vulgarities of what they 
 call spiritualism, had not been heard of in those quar- 
 ters, and the soft light of imagination yet lingered 
 about the borders of that wide region of mingled false 
 and true, commonly called Superstition. It seems to 
 me the most killing poison to the imagination must 
 be a strong course of " spiritualism." For myself, I 
 am not so set upon entering the unknown, as, instead 
 of encouraging what holy.visitations faith, not in the 
 spiritual or the immortal, but in the living God, may 
 bring, to creep through the sewers of it to get in. I 
 care not to encounter its mud-larkes, and lovers of 
 garbage, its thieves, impostors, liars, and canaille, in 
 general. That they are on the other side, that they are 
 what men call dead, does not seem to me sufficient 
 
HOME. 
 
 95 
 
 reason for taking them into my confidence, courting 
 their company, asking their advice. A well-attested 
 old-fashion ghost story, where such is to be had, is 
 worth a thousand seances. 
 
 " Do _jv« .believe in ghosts, papa? " resumed Cosmo, 
 noting his father's silence, and remembering that he 
 had never heard him utter an opinion on the subject. 
 " The master says none but fools believe in them 
 now; and he makes such a face at anything he calls 
 superstition, that you would think it must be some- 
 where in the commandments." 
 
 " Mr. Simon remarked the other day in my hear- 
 ing," answered his father, " that the dread of super- 
 stition might amount to superstition, and become the 
 most dangerous superstition of all." 
 
 " Do you think so, papa ? " 
 
 " I could well believe it. Besides, I have always 
 found Mr. Simon so reasonable, even where I could 
 not follow him, that I am prejudiced in favor of any- 
 thing he thinks." 
 
 The boy rejoiced to hear his father talk thus, for he, 
 had a strong leaning to the marvellous, and hitherto, 
 from the schoolmaster's assertion and his father's si- 
 lence, had supposed nothing was to be accepted for 
 belief but what was scientifically probable, or was 
 told in the bible. That we live in a universe of mar- 
 vels of which we know only the outsides, and which 
 we turn into the incredible by taking the mere out- 
 sides for all, even while we know the roots of the 
 seen remain unseen — these spiritual facts now began 
 to dawn upon him, and fell in most naturally with 
 those his mind had already conceived and entertained. 
 
96 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 He was therefore delighted at the thought of making 
 the closer acquaintance of a man like Mr. Simon — a 
 man of whose peculiarities even, his father could 
 speak in such terms. All day long he brooded on 
 the prospect, and in the twilight went out .wandering 
 over the hills. 
 
 There was no night there at this season, any more 
 than all the year through in heaven. Indeed we have 
 seldom real positive night in this world - — so many 
 provisions have been made against it. Every time 
 we say, " What a lovely night ! " we speak of a breach, 
 a rift in the old night. There is light more or less, posi- 
 tive light, else were there no beauty. Many a night 
 is but a low starry day, a day with a softened back- 
 ground against which the far-off suns of millions of 
 other days show themselves : when the near vision van- 
 ishes the farther hope awakes. It is nowhere said of 
 heaven, there shall be no twilight there, 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE STUDENT. 
 
 The twilight had not yet reached the depth of its 
 mysteriousness, when Cosmo, returning home from 
 casting a large loop of wandering over several hills, 
 walked up to James Grade's cottage, thinking 
 whether they would not all be in bed. 
 
 But as he passed the window, he saw a little light, 
 and went on to the door and knocked : had it been 
 the daytime, he would have gone straight in. Agnes 
 came, and opened cautiously, for there were occasion- 
 ally such beings as tramps about. 
 
 " Eh ! it's you ? " she cried with a glad voice, when 
 she saw the shape of Cosmo in the dimness. " There's 
 naething wrang I houp,'' she added, changing her tone. 
 
 " Na, naething,'' answered Cosmo. " I only wantit 
 to lat ye ken 'at I wasna gaein' back to the schuil 
 ony main" 
 
 " Weel, I dinna won'er at that ! " returned Agnes 
 witli a little sigh. " Efter the w'y the maister behaved 
 til ye, the laird cud ill lat ye gang there again. But 
 9? 
 
98 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 what's he gaein' to du wi' ye, Maister Cosmo, gien a 
 body micht speir 'at has nae richt to be keerious ? " 
 
 "He's sen'in' me to maister Simon," answered 
 Cosmo. 
 
 " I wuss I was gaein' tu," sighed Aggie. " I'm 
 jist feart 'at I come to hate the maister efter ye're 
 no to be seen there, Cosmo. An' we maunna hate, 
 for that, ye ken, 's the hin'er en' o' a' thing. But it 
 wad be a heap easier no to hate him, gien I had nae- 
 thing tu du wi' him." 
 
 " That maun be contest," answered Cosmo. — " But," 
 he added, " the hairst-play 'ill be here sune, an' syne 
 the hairst itsel' ; an' whan ye gang back ye'll hae 
 won ower't." 
 
 " Na, I doobt no," Cosmo ; for, ye sae, as I hae 
 h'ard my father say, the Gracies are a' terrible for 
 min'in'. Na, there's no forgettin' o' naething. What 
 for sud onything be forgotten ? It's a cooardly kin' 
 o' a' w'y, to forget." 
 
 " Some things, I doobt, hae to be forgotten," re- 
 turned Cosmo, thoughtfully. " Gien ye forgie a 
 body for enstance, ye maun forget tu — no sae muckle, 
 I'm thinkin', for the sake o' them 'at did ye the wrang, 
 for wha wad tak up again a fool (foul) thing ance it 
 was drappit ? — but for yer ain sake ; for what ye hae 
 dune richt, my father says, maun be forgotten oot 'o 
 sight for fear o' corruption, for naething comes to 
 stink waur nor a guid deed hung up i' the munelicht 
 o' the memory. 
 
 " Eh ! " exclaimed Aggie, " but ye're unco wice for 
 a lad o' yer 'ears." 
 
 " I wad be an nuco gowk," remarked Cosmo, " gien 
 
THE STUDENT. 99 
 
 I kent naething, wi' sic a father as yon o' mine. Wliat 
 wad ye think o' yersel' gien the dochter o' Jeames 
 Gracie war nae mair wice-like nor Meg Scroggie ? " 
 
 Agnes laughed, but made no reply, for the voice of 
 her motlier came out of the dark : 
 
 " Wlia's that, Aggie, ye're haudin' sic a confab wi' 
 in the middle o' the night ? Ye tellt me ye had to sit 
 up to yer lessons ! " 
 
 " I was busy at them, mither, whan Maister Cosmo 
 chappit at the door.'' 
 
 "Weel, what for lat ye him Stan' there? Ye may 
 hae yer crack wi' him as lang 's ye like — in rizzon, 
 that is. Gar him come in." 
 
 " Na, na, mistress Gracie," answered Cosmo ; " I 
 maun awa' hame ; I hae had a gey long walk. It's 
 no 'at I'm tired, but I'm gey and sleepy. Only I was 
 sae pleased 'at I was gaein' to learn my lessons wi' 
 Maister Simon, 'at I bude to tell Aggie. She micht 
 ha' been won'erin', an' thinkin' I wasna better, gien 
 she hadna seen me at the schuil the morn." 
 
 " Is' warran' her ohn gane to the schuil ohn speirt 
 in at the Castle the first thing i' the mornin', an' seein' 
 gien the laird had ony eeran' to the toon. Little 
 cares she for the maister, gien onybody at the Hoose 
 be in want o' her ! " 
 
 " Is there naething I cud help ye wi', Aggie, afore 
 I gang ? " asked Cosmo. " Somebody tellt me ye 
 was tryin' yer han' at, algebra." 
 
 "Naebody had ony business to tell ye ony sic a thing," 
 returned Aggie, rather angrily. " It's no at the schuil 
 I wad think o' sic a ploy. They wad a' lauch fine ! 
 But I wad fain ken what's intil the thing. I canw/ 
 
WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 un'erstan' hoo fowk can coont wi' letters an' crosses 
 an' strokes in place o' figgers. I hae been at it a 
 haillook noo — by mysel', ye ken — an' I'm nane 
 nearer til 't yet. I can add an' subtrac', accordin' to 
 the rules gien, but that's no un'erstan'in', an' un'er- 
 stan' I canna." 
 
 " I'm thinkin' it's something as gien x was a horse, 
 an' y was a coo, an' z was a cairt, or onything ither 
 ye micht hae to ca' 't ; an' ye bargain awa' aboot the 
 X an' the J/ and the z, an' ley the horse i' the stable, 
 the coo i' the byre, an' the cairt i' the shed, till ye hae 
 sattlet a'." 
 
 " But ye ken aboot algebra " — she pronounced the 
 word with the accent on the second syllable — "divna 
 ye, maister Cosmo ? " 
 
 " Na, no the half, nor the hun'ert pairt. I only ken 
 eneuch to baud me gaein' on to mair. A body maun 
 hae learnt a heap o' onything afore the licht breaks 
 oot o' 't. Ye maun win throuw the wa' first. I doobt 
 gien onybody un'erstan's a thing oot an' oot, sae 
 lang's he's no ready at a moment's, notice to gar 
 ahither see intil the hert o' 't ; an' I canna gar ye see 
 what's intil 't the minute ye speir't at me ! " 
 
 "I'm thinkin', hooever, Cosmo, a body maun be 
 nearhan' seein' o' himsel' afore anither can lat him 
 see onything." 
 
 " Ye may be richt there," yielded Cosmo. " — But 
 jist lat me see whaur ye are," he went on. " I may 
 be able to help ye, though I canna lat ye see a' at 
 once. It wad be an ill job for them 'at needs help, 
 gien- naebody could help them but them 'at kent a' 
 aboot a thing." 
 
THE STUDENT. I03 
 
 Without a word, Aggie turned and led the way to 
 the "but-end." An iron lamp, burning the coarsest 
 of train oil, hung against the wall, and under that she 
 had placed the one movable table in the kitchen, 
 which was white as scouring could make it. Upon it 
 lay a slate and a book of algebra. 
 
 " My cousin Willie lent me the bulk," said Aggie. 
 
 "What for didna ye come to me to len' ye ane ? I 
 could hae gien ye a better nor that," expostulated 
 Cosmo. 
 
 Aggie hesitated, but, open as the day, she did not 
 hesitate long. She turned her face from him, and 
 answered, 
 
 " I wantit to gie ye a surprise, Maister Cosmo. 
 Divna ye min' tellin' me ance 'at ye saw no rizzon 
 hoo a lassie sudna un'erstan' jist as weel's a laddie. 
 I wantit to see whether ye was richt or wrang ; an' as 
 algdbra luiket the maist (^nlikly thing, I thoucht I 
 wad taikle that, an' sae gattle the queston at ance. 
 But, eh me ! I'm sair feart ye was i' the wrang, 
 Cosmo ! " 
 
 " I maun du my best to pruv mysel' i' the richt," 
 returned Cosmo. " I never said onybody cud learn 
 a' o' themsel's, wantin' help, ye ken. There's nae 
 mony laddies cud du that, an' feower still wad try." 
 
 They sat down together at the table, and in half an 
 hour or so, Aggie had begun to see the faint light of 
 at least the false dawn, as they call it, through the 
 thickets of algebra. It was nearly midnight when 
 Cosmo rose, and then Aggie would not let him go 
 alone, but insisted on accompanying him to the gate 
 of the court. 
 
104 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 It was a curious relation between tlie two. While 
 A-gnes looked up to Cosmo, about two yea-rs her ju- 
 nior, as immeasurably her superior in all that per- 
 tained to the intellect and its range, she assumed over 
 him a sort of general human superiority, something 
 like that a mother will assert over the most gifted of 
 sons. One has seen, with a kind of sacred amuse- 
 ment, the high priest of many literary and artistic 
 circles, set down with rebuke by his mother, as if he 
 had been still a boy ! And I have heard the children 
 of this world speak with like superiority of the child 
 of light whom they loved — allowing him wondrous 
 good, but regarding him as a kind of God's chicken : 
 nothing is so mysterious to the children of this world 
 as the ways of the children of light, though to them- 
 selves they seem simple enough. That Agnes never 
 treated Cosmo with this degree of protective conde- 
 scension, arose from th^fact that she was very nearly 
 as much a child of light as he ; only, being a woman, 
 she was keener of perception, and being older, felt 
 the more of the mother that every woman feels, and 
 made the most of it. It was to her therefore a merely 
 natural thing to act his protector. Indeed with re- 
 spect to the Warlock family in general, she counted 
 herself possessed of the right to serve any one of 
 them to the last drop of her blood. From infancy 
 she had heard the laird spoken of — without definite 
 distinction between the present and the last— as the 
 noblest, best, and kindest of men, as the power which 
 had been for generations over the family of the 
 Grades, for their help and healing ; and hence it was 
 impressed upon her deepest consciousness, that one 
 
THE STUDENT. 105 
 
 of the main reasons of her existence was her relation 
 to the family of Glenwarlock. 
 
 Notwithstanding the familiarity I have shown be- 
 tween them — Agnes had but lately begun to put 
 the Master before Cosmo's name, and as often forgot 
 it— the girl, as they went towards the castle, although 
 they were walking in deep dusk, and entirely alone, 
 kept a little behind the boy — not behind his back, 
 but on his left hand in the next rank. No spy most 
 curious could have detected the least love-making 
 between them, and their talk, in the still, dark air, 
 sounded loud all the way as they went. Strange 
 talk it would have been counted by many, and indeed 
 unintelligible, for it ranged over a vast surface, and 
 was the talk of two wise children, wise not above 
 their own years only, but immeasurably- above those 
 of the prudent. Riches indubitably favour stupidity ; 
 poverty, where the heart is right, favours mental and 
 moral development. They parted at the gate, and 
 Cosmo went to bed. 
 
 But, although his father allowed him such plentiful 
 liberty, and would fain have the boy feel the night 
 holy as the day — so that no one ever asked where 
 he had been, or at what hour he had come home — 
 a question which, having no watch, he would have 
 found it hard to answer — not an eye was closed in 
 the house until his entering footsteps were heard. 
 The grandmother lay angry at the unheard of liberty 
 her son gave his son ; it was neither decent nor in 
 order ; it was against all ancient rule of family life ; 
 she must speak about it ! But she never did speak 
 about it, for she was now in her turn afraid of the son 
 
Io6 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 who, without a particle of obstinacy in his composi- 
 tion, yet took what she called his own way. Grizzle 
 kept grumbling to herself that the laddie was sure to 
 come to " mischief ; " but the main forms of " mis- 
 chief " that ruled in her imagination were tramps, 
 precipices, and spates. The laird, for his part, spent 
 most of the time his son's absence kept him awake, 
 in praying for him — not that he might be the restorer 
 of the family, but that he might be able to accept the 
 will of God as the best thing for family as for individ- 
 ual. If his boy might but reach the spirit-land un- 
 soiled and noble, his prayers were ended. 
 
 In such experiences, the laird learned to under- 
 stand how the catholics come to pray to their saints, 
 and the Chinese to their parents and ancestors ; fot 
 he frequently found himself, more especially as drow- 
 siness began to steal upon his praying soul, seeming 
 to hold council with his wife concerning their boy, 
 and asking her help towards such strength for him as 
 human beings may minister to each other. 
 
 But Cosmo went up to bed without a suspicion that 
 the air around him was full of such holy messengers 
 heavenward for his sake. He imagined none anxious 
 about him — either with the anxiety of grandmother 
 or of servant-friend or of great-hearted father. 
 
 As he passed the door of the spare room, immedi- 
 ately above which was his own, his dream, preceded 
 by a cold shiver, came to his memory. But he 
 scorned to quicken his pace, or to glance over his 
 shoulder, as he ascended- the Second stair. Without 
 any need of a candle, in the still faint twilight which 
 is the ghosts' day, he threw off his clothes, and was 
 
THE STUDENT. 1 07 
 
 presently buried in the grave of Iiis bed, under the 
 sod of the blankets, lapt in the death of sleep. 
 
 The moment he woke, he jumped out of bed : a 
 new era in his life was at hand, the thought of which 
 had been subjacently present in his dreams, and 
 was operative the instant he became conscious of 
 waking life. He hurried on his clothes without care, 
 for this dressing was but temporary. Going down 
 the stairs like a cataract, for not a soul slept in 
 that part but himself, and there was no fear of 
 waking any one, then in like manner down the hill, 
 he reached the place where, with a final dart, the tor- 
 rent shot into the quiet stream of the valley, in whose 
 channel of rock and gravel it had hollowed a deep 
 basin. This was Cosmo's bath — and a splendid one. 
 His clothes were off again more quickly than he put 
 them on, and head foremost he shot like the torrent 
 into the boiling mass, where for a few moments he 
 yielded himself the sport of the frothy water, and was 
 tossed and tumbled about like a dead thing. Soon 
 however, down in the heart of the boil, he struck out, 
 and shooting from under the fall, rose to the surface 
 beyond it, panting and blowing. To get out on the 
 bank was then the work of one moment, and to plunge 
 in again that of the next. Half a dozen times, with 
 scarce a pause between, he thus plunged, was tossed 
 and overwhelmed, struggled, escaped, and plunged 
 again. Then he ran for a few moments up and down 
 the bank to dry himself — he counted the use of a 
 towel effeminacy, and dressing again, ran home to 
 finish his simple toilet. If after that he read a chap- 
 ter of his Bible, it was no more than was required by 
 
Io8 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 many a parent of many a boy who got little good of 
 the task ; but Cosmo's father had never enjoined it, 
 on him ; and when next he knelt down at his bedside, 
 he did not merely "say his prayers." Then he took 
 his slate, to try after something Aggie had made him 
 know he did not miderstand : — for the finding of our 
 own intellectual defects, nothing is like trying to teach 
 another. But before long, certain sensations began 
 to warn him there was an invention in the world 
 called breakfast, and laying his slate aside, he went 
 to the kitchen, where he found Grizzle making the 
 porridge. 
 
 " Min' ye pit saut eneuch in't the day, Grizzie," he 
 said. " It was unco vversh yesterday." 
 
 "An' what was't like thestreen {yestere'en), Cosmo } " 
 asked the old woman, irritated at being found fauU 
 with in a matter wherein she counted herself as near 
 perfection as ever mortal could come. 
 
 "I had nane last nicht, ye min'," answered Cosmo, 
 " I was oot a' the evenin'." 
 
 " An' whaur got ye yer supper ? " 
 
 " Ow, I didna want nane. Hoot ! I'm forgettin' ! 
 Aggie gied me a quarter o' iireid as I cam by, or 
 rather as I cam awa', efter giein' her a han' wi' her 
 algebra." 
 
 " What ca' ye that for a lass bairn to be takin' up 
 her time wi' ! I never h'ard o' sic a thing ! What's the 
 natur' o' 't, Cosmo ? " 
 
 He tried to give her some far-off idea of the sort of 
 thing algebra was, but apparently without success, for 
 she cried at length, 
 
 "Na, sirs! I hae h'ard o' cairts, an' bogles, an' 
 
THE STUDENT. log 
 
 witchcraft, an' astronomy, but sic a thing as this ye 
 bring me noo, I never did hear tell o' ! What can 
 the warl' be comin' till ! — An' dis the father o' ye, 
 laddie, ken what ye spen' )'er midnicht hoors gangin' 
 teachin' to the lass-bairns o' the country roon' ? " 
 
 She was interrupted by the entrance of the laird, 
 and they sat down to breakfast. The grandmother 
 within the last year had begun to take hers in her own 
 room. 
 
 Grizzle was full of anxiety to know what the laird 
 would say to the discovery she had just made, 
 but she dared not hazard allusion to the con- 
 dud of his son, and must therefore be content to lead 
 the conversation in the direction of it, hoping it might 
 naturally appear. So, about the middle of Cosmo's 
 breakfast, that is about two minutes after he had 
 attacked his porridge, she approached her design, if 
 not exactly the object she desired, with the remark, 
 
 " Did ye never hear the auld saw, sir — 
 
 Whaur's neither sun nor mune, 
 Laich things come abune — ?" 
 
 " I 'maist think I have, Grizzle," answered the laird. 
 " But what gars ye come ower 't noo ? " 
 
 " I canna but think, sir," returned Grizzle, " as I lie 
 i' the mirk, o' the heap o' things 'at gang to nae kirk, 
 ooc an' aboot as sharp as a glad, whan the young laird 
 is no in his bed — oot wi' 's algibbry an' astronomy, 
 an' a' that kin' o' thing! 'Deed, sir, it wadnabe canny 
 gien they cam to ken o' 't." 
 
 «' Wha come to ken o' what, Grizzle ? " asked the 
 
WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 laird with a twinkle in his eye, and a glance at Cosmo, 
 who sat gazing curiously at the old woman. 
 
 " Them 'at the saw speyks o', sir," said Grizzle, 
 answering the first part of the double question, as she 
 placed two boiled eggs before her master. 
 
 The laird smiled : he was too kind to laugh. Not 
 a few laughed at old Grizzie, but never the laird. 
 
 " Did ye never hear the auld saw, Grizzie," he 
 said : 
 
 " Throu the heather an' how gaed the creepin' thing, 
 But abune was the waught o' an angel's wing — .'' " 
 
 "Ay, I hae h'ard it — naegait 'cep' here i' this 
 hoose," answered Grizzie : she would disparage the 
 authority of the saying by a doubt as to its gen- 
 uineness. "But, sir, ye sud never temp' providence. 
 Wha kens what may be oot i' the nicht ? " 
 
 " To him, Grizzie, the nicht shineth as the day." 
 
 "Weel, sir," cried Grizzie, "Ye jist pit me 'at I 
 dinna ken mysel' ! Is't poassible ye hae forgotten 
 what's sae weel kent to a' the cuintry roon' ? — the 
 auld captain, 'at canna lie still in's grave, because o' — 
 because o' whatever the rizzon may be? Onygait 
 he's no laid yet; an' some thinks he's doomed to 
 haunt the hoose till the day o' jeedgment." 
 
 " I suspec' there winna be muckle o' the hoose left 
 for him to haunt 'gen that time, Grizzie," saic^the 
 laird. " But what for sud ye put sic fule things intil 
 the bairn's held ? An' gien the ghaist haunt the 
 hoose, isna he better oot o' 't ? Wad ye hae him come 
 hame to sic company ? " 
 
THE STUDENT. 
 
 This posed Grizzie, and she held her peace for the 
 time. 
 
 " Come, Cosmo," said the iaird rising ; and they 
 set out together for Mr, Simon's cottage. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 PETER SIMON. 
 
 This man was not a native pf the district, but had 
 for some two years now been a dweller in it. Report 
 said he was the son of a small tradesman in a city at 
 no great distance, but, to those who knew him, he 
 made no secret of the fact, that he had been found by 
 such a man, a child of a few months, lying on a pave- 
 ment of that city, one stormy, desolate Christmas-eve, 
 when it was now dark, with the wind blowing bitterly 
 from the north, and the said tradesman seemingly the 
 one inhabitant of the coldest city in Scotland who 
 dared face it. He had just closed his shop, had car- 
 ried home to one of his customers a forgotten order, 
 and was returning to his wife and a childless hearth, 
 when he all but stumbled over the infant. Before 
 stooping to lift him, he. looked all about to see if 
 there was nobody to do it instead. There was not a 
 human being, or even what comes next to one, a dog 
 in sight, and the wind was blowing like a blast from 
 a frozen hell. There was no help for it : he must 
 
HE CARRIED IT HOME. 
 
PETER SIMON. 113 
 
 take up the child ! He did, and carried it home, 
 grumbling all the way. What right had the morsel to 
 be lyin^ fliere, a trap and a gin for his character, in 
 the dark and the cold ? What would his wife say ? 
 And what would the neighbours think ? All the way 
 home he grumbled. 
 
 What happened there, how his wife received him 
 with his burden, how she scolded and he grumbled, 
 how it needed but the one day — the Christmas Day, 
 in which nothing could well be done — to reconcile 
 them to the gift, and how they brought him up, blessing 
 the clay when they found him, would be a story fit to 
 make the truehearted of my readers both laugh and 
 cry ; but I have not room or time for it. 
 
 Of course, as they were in poor circumstances, 
 hardly able indeed, not merely to make both ends 
 meet, but to bring them far enough round the parcel 
 of their necessities to let them see each other, their 
 friends called their behaviour in refusing to hand 
 over the brat to the parish authqrities — which they 
 felt as a reflection upon all who in similar circum- 
 stances would have done so — utter folly. But when 
 the moon-struck pair was foolish enough to say they 
 did not know that he might not have been sent them 
 instead of the still-born child that had hitherto been 
 all their offspring, this was entirely too much for the 
 nerves of the neighbours in general — that peculiar 
 people always better acquainted with one's affairs, 
 down to his faults and up to his duties, than he is 
 himself. It was rank superstition ! It was a flying 
 in the face of Providence ! How could they expect 
 to prosper, when they acted with so little foresight, 
 
114 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 rendering the struggle for existence severer still ! 
 They did not reckon what strength the additional 
 motive, what heart the new love, what uplifting the 
 hope of help from on high, kindled by their righteous 
 deed, might give them — for God likes far better 
 to help people from the inside than from the outside. 
 They did not think that this might be just the fresh 
 sting of life that the fainting pair required. To mark 
 their disapproval, some of them immediately withdrew 
 what little custom they had given them : one who had 
 given them none, promised them the whole of hers, 
 the moment they sent the child away ; while others, 
 with equal inconsistency, doubled theirs, and did 
 what they could to send them fresh customers : they 
 were a pair of good-natured fools, but they ought not 
 to be let starve ! From that time they began to 
 get on a little better. And still as the boy grew, and 
 wanted more, they had the little more. For it so 
 happened that the boy turned out to be one of God's 
 creatures, and it looked as if the Maker of him, who 
 happened also to be the ruler of the world, was not 
 altogether displeased with those who had taken him 
 to their hearts, instead of leaving him to the parish. 
 The child was the light of the house and of the shop, 
 a beauty to the eyes, and a joy in the heart of 
 both. But perhaps the best proof that they had done 
 right, lay in the fact that they began to love each 
 other better from the very next day after they took 
 him in, for, to tell the truth, one cause of their not 
 getting on well, had been that they did not pull well 
 together. Thus we can explain the improvement in 
 their circumstances by reference to merest " natural 
 
PETER SIMON. 115 
 
 causes," without having recourse to the distasteful 
 idea that a power in the land of superstition, with 
 a weakness called a special providence, was interested 
 in the matter. 
 
 But foolishness such as theirs is apt to increase 
 with years ; and so they sent the foundling to the 
 grammar-school, and thence to college — not a very 
 difficult affair in that city. At college he did not 
 greatly distinguish himself, for his special gifts, 
 though peculiar enough, were not of a kind to dis- 
 tinguish a man much, either in that city or in this 
 world. But he grew and prospered nevertheless, and 
 became a master in one of the schools. His father 
 and mother, as he called them, would gladly have 
 made a minister of him, but of that he would never 
 hear. He lived with them till they died, always 
 bringing home to them his salary, minus only the 
 little that he spent on books. His life, his devotion 
 and loving gratitude, so wrought upon them, that the 
 kingdom of heaven opened its doors to them, and 
 they were the happiest old couple in that city. Of 
 course this was all an accident, for the kingdom of 
 heaven being but a dream, the dignity of natural 
 cause can scarcely consent to work to the end of de- 
 lusion ; but the good natured pair were foolish enough 
 to look upon their miserable foundling as a divine 
 messenger, an angel entertained not for long un- 
 awares, and the cause of all the good luck that fol- 
 lowed his entrance. They never spent a penny of his 
 salary, but added to it, and saved it up, and when 
 they went, very strangely left all they had to this same 
 angel of a beggar, instead of to their own relations. 
 
Il6 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 who would have been very glad of it, for they had a 
 good deal more of their own. 
 
 The foundling did not care to live longer in any 
 city, but sought a place as librarian, and was suc- 
 cessful. In the family of an English lord he lived 
 many years, and when time's changes rendered it 
 necessary he should depart, he retired to the cottage 
 on the Warlock. There he was now living the quiet- 
 est of quiet lives, cultivating the acquaintance of but 
 a few — chiefly that of the laird, James Gracie, and 
 the minister of the parish. Among the people of the 
 neighbourhood he was regarded as " no a'thegither 
 there." This judgment possibly arose in part from 
 the fact that he not unfrequently wandered about the 
 fields from morning to night, and sometimes from 
 night to morning. Then he never drank anything 
 worthy of the name of drink — seldom anything but 
 water or milk ! That he never ate animal food was 
 not so notable where many never did so from one 
 year's end to another's. As he was no propagandist, 
 few had any notion of his opinions, beyond a general 
 impression that they were unsound. 
 
 Cosmo had heard some of the peculiarities attrib- 
 uted to him, and was filled with curious expectation 
 as to the manner of man he was about to meet, for, 
 oddly enough, he had never yet seen him except at a 
 distance ; but anxiety, not untinged with awe, was 
 mingled with his curiosity. 
 
 Mr. Simon's cottage was some distance up the val- 
 ley, at an angle where it turned westward. It stood 
 on the left bank of the Warlock, at the foot of a small 
 clifE that sheltered it from the north, while in front 
 
PETER SIMON. II7 
 
 the stream came galloping down to it from the sun- 
 set. The immediate bank between the cottage and 
 the water was rocky and dry, but the ground on which 
 the cottage stood was soil washed from the hills. 
 There Mr. Simon had a little garden for flowers and 
 vegetables, with a summer seat in which he smoked 
 his pipe of an evening — for, however inconsistent 
 the habit may seem with the rest of the man, smoke 
 he did : slowly and gently and broodingly did the 
 man smoke, thinking a great deal more than he 
 smoked, and making his one pipe last a long time. 
 His garden was full of flowers, but of the most ordi- 
 nary kinds ; rarity was no recommendation to him. 
 Some may think that herein he was unlike himself, 
 seeing his opinions were of the rarest ; but in truth 
 never once did Peter Simon, all his life, adopt an 
 opinion because of its strangeness. He never adopted 
 an opinion at all ; he believed — he loved what seem- 
 ed to him true : how it looked to others he concerned 
 himself little. 
 
 The cottage was of stone and lime, nowise the less 
 thorougly built that the stones were unhewn. It was 
 harled, that is rough-cast, and shone very white both 
 in sun and moon. It contained but two rooms and a 
 closet between, with one under the thatch for the old 
 woman who kept house for him. Altogether it was a 
 very ordinary, and not very promising abode. 
 
 But when they were shown ben to the parlour, 
 Cosmo was struck with nothing less than astonish- 
 ment : the walls from floor to ceiling were covered 
 with books. Not a square foot all over was vacant. 
 Even the chimney-piece was absorbed, assimilated. 
 
Il8 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 turned into a book-shelf, and so obliterated. Mr. Si- 
 mon's pipe lay on the hob ; and there was not another 
 spot where it could have lain. There was not a shelf, 
 a cupboard to be seen. Books, books everywhere, 
 and nothing but books ! Even the door that led to 
 the closet where he slept, was covered over, and, like 
 the mantleshelf, obliterated with books. They were 
 but about twelve hundred in all ; to the eyes of Cosmo 
 it seemed a mighty library — a treasure-house for a 
 royal sage. 
 
 There was no one in the room when they entered, 
 and Cosmo was yet staring in mute astonishment, 
 when suddenly Mr. Simon was addressing his father. 
 But the door had not opened, and how he came in 
 seemed inexplicable. To the eyes of the boy the 
 small man before him assumed gigantic proportions. 
 
 But he was in truth below the middle height, some- 
 what round-shouldered, with long arms, and small, 
 well-shaped hands. His hair was plentiful, grizzled, 
 and cut short. His head was large and his forehead 
 wide, with overhanging brows ; his eyes were small, 
 dark, and brilliant ; his nose had a certain look of 
 decision — but a nose is a creature beyond descrip- 
 tion ; his mouth was large, and his chin stirong ; his 
 complexion dark, and his skin rugged. The only fine 
 features about him were his two ears, which were 
 delicate enough for a lady. His face was not at 
 first sight particularly attractive ; indeed it was rather 
 gloomy — till he smiled, not a moment after ; for that 
 smile was the true interpreter of the mouth, and, 
 through the mouth, of the face, which was never the 
 same as before to one that had seen it. 
 
PETER SIMON. 
 
 119 
 
 After a word or two about the book he had bor- 
 rowed, the laird took his departure, saying the sooner 
 he left master and pupil to themselves the better. 
 Mr. Simon acquiesced with a smile, and presently 
 Cosmo was facing his near future, not without some 
 anxiety. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE NEW SCHOOLING. 
 
 Without a word, Mr. Simon opened a drawer, and 
 taking from it about a score of leaves of paper, 
 handed one of them to Cosmo. Upon it, in print, 
 was a stanza — one, and no more. 
 
 " Read that," he said, with a glance that showed 
 through his eyes the light burning inside him, " and 
 tell me if you understand it. I don"t want you to 
 ponder over it, but to say at a reading whether you 
 know what it means." 
 
 Cosmo obeyed and read. 
 
 " I dinna mak held nor tail o' 't, sir," he answered, 
 looking over the top of the paper like a prisoned 
 sheep. 
 
 Mr. Simon took it from him, and handed him 
 another. 
 
 " Try that," he said. 
 
 Cosmo read, put his hand to his head, and looked 
 troubled. 
 
 " Don't distress yourself," said Mr. Simon. " The 
 
THE NEW SCHOOLING. 
 
 thing is of no consequence for judgment ; it is only 
 for discovery.'' 
 
 The remark conveyed but little consolation to the 
 pupil, who would gladly have stood well in his own 
 eyes before his new master. 
 
 One after another Mr. Simon handed him the 
 papers he held. About the fifth or sixth, Cosmo 
 exclaimed, 
 
 " I do understand that, sir." 
 
 " Very well," returned Mr. Simon, without showing 
 any special satisfaction, and immediately handed him 
 another. 
 
 This was again a non-luminous body, and indeed 
 cast a shadow over the face of the embryo student. 
 One by one Mr. Simon handed him all he held. Out 
 of the score there were three Cosmo said he under- 
 stood, and four he thought he should understand if 
 he were allowed to read them over two or three times.» 
 But Mr. Simon laid them all together again, and back 
 into the drawer. 
 
 " Now I shall know what I am about,'' he said. 
 " Tell me what you have been doing at school." 
 
 Were my book a treatise on education, it might 
 be worth while to give some account of Peter Simon's 
 ways of furthering human growth. But intellectual 
 development is not my main business or interest, and 
 I mean to say little more concerning Cosmo's than 
 that, after about six weeks' work, the boy one day 
 begged Mr. Simon to let him look at those papers 
 again, and found to his delight that he understood all 
 but three or four of them. 
 
 That first day, Mr. Simon gave him an ode of 
 
WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Horace, and a poem by Wordsworth to copy — telling 
 him to put in every point as it was in the boolf 
 exactly, but to note any improvement he though! 
 might be made in the pointing. He told him also to 
 look whether he could see any resemblance between 
 the two poems. 
 
 As he sat Surrounded by the many books, Cosmr 
 felt as if he were in the heart of a cloud of witnesses 
 
 That first day was sufficient to make the heart or 
 the boy cleave to his new master. For one thing 
 Mr. Simon always, in anything done, took note 6.r; 
 of the things that pleased him, and only after thai 
 proceeded to remark on the faults — most of which 
 he treated as imperfections, letting Cosmo see plainly 
 that he understood how he had come to go wrong. 
 
 Such an education as Mr. Simon was thus attempt 
 ing with Cosmo, is hardly to be given to , more thai. 
 ,one at a time ; and indeed there are not a great many 
 boys on whom it would be much better than lost 
 labour. Cosmo, however, was now almost as eager 
 to go to his lessons, as before to spend a holiday. 
 Mr. Simon never gave him anything to do at home, 
 heartily believing it the imperative duty of a teacher 
 to leave room for the scholar to grow after the fash- 
 ion in which he is made, and that what a boy does 
 by himself is of greater import than what he does 
 with any master. Such leisure may indeed be of 
 comparatively small consequence with regard to the 
 multitude of boys, but it is absolutely necessary 
 wherever one is born with his individuality so far de- 
 termined, as to be on the point of beginning to de- 
 velop itself. When Cosmo therefore went home, he 
 
THE NEW SCHOOLING. 1 23 
 
 read or wrote what be pleased, wandered about at his 
 will, and dreamed to his heart's content. Nor was it 
 long before he discovered that his dreams themselves 
 were becoming of greater import to him — that they 
 also were being influenced by Mr. Simon. And 
 there were other witnesses there, quite as silent as 
 those around him in the library, and more unseen, 
 who would not remain speechless or invisible always. 
 
 One day Cosmo came late, and to say there were 
 traces of tears on his cheeks would hardly be correct, 
 for his eyes were swollen with weeping. His master 
 looked at him almost wistfully, but said nothing until 
 he had settled for a while to his work, and was a 
 little composed. He asked him then what was 
 amiss, and the boy told him. To most boys it would 
 have seemed small ground for such heart-breaking 
 sorrow. 
 
 Amongst the horses on the farm, was a certain 
 small mare, which, although she worked as hard as 
 any, was yet an excellent one to ride, and Cosmo, as 
 often as there was not much work doing, rode her 
 where he would, and boy and mare were much at- 
 tached to each other. Sometimes he would have her 
 every day for several weeks, and that would be in the 
 prime of the summer weather, when the harvest was 
 drawing nigh, and the school had its long yearly holi- 
 day. Summer, the harvest— "play," and Linty ! — 
 oh, large bliss ! my heart swells at the thought. 
 They would be out for hours together, perhaps not 
 far from home all the time — on the top of a hill it 
 might be, whence Cosmo could see when he would 
 the castle below. There, the whole sleepy afternoon, 
 
124 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 he would lie in the heather, with Linty, the mare, 
 feeding amongst it, ready to come at his call, receive 
 him on her back, and carry him where he would ! 
 
 But alas ! though supple and active, Linty was old, 
 and the day could not be distant when they must part 
 company : she was then nine and twenty. And now 
 — the night before, she had been taken, ill: there 
 was a disease about amongst the horses. The men 
 had been up with her all night, and Grizzle too : she 
 had fetched her own pillow and put under her head, 
 then sat by it for hours. iVhen Cosmo left, she was 
 a little better, but great fears were entertained as to 
 the possibility of her recovery. 
 
 " She's sae terrible aul'! ye see, sir," said Cosmo, 
 as he ended his tale of woe, and burst out crying 
 afresh. 
 
 "Cosmo," said Mr. Simon, — and to a southern 
 ear the issuing of such sweet solemn thoughts in 
 such rough northern speech, might have seemed 
 strange, though, to be sure, the vowels were finely 
 sonorous if the consonants were harsh, — " Cosmo, 
 your heart is faithful to your mare, but is it equally 
 faithful to him that made your mare ? " 
 
 "I ken it's his wull," answered Cosmo: — his 
 master never took notice whether he spoke in broad 
 Scotch or bastard English — "I ken mears maim 
 dee, but eh ! she was sic a guid ane ! — Sir ! I canna. 
 bide it." 
 
 " Ye ken wha sits by the deein' sparrow ? " said 
 Mr. Simon, himself taking to the dialect. " Cosmo 
 there was a better nor Grizzle, an' nearer to Linty a' 
 the lang nicht. Things warna gangin' sae ill wi' her 
 
THE NEW SCHOOLING. 125 
 
 as ye thoucht. Life's an awfu' mystery, Cosmo, but 
 it's jist the ae thing the maker o' 't can hand nearest 
 til, for it's nearest til himsel' i' the mak o' 't. — Fowk 
 may tell me," he went on, more now as if he were 
 talking to himself than to the boy, " 'at I sud content 
 mysel' wi' what I see an' hear, an' lat alane sic eese- 
 less speculations ! wi' deein' men an' mears a' aboot 
 me, hoo can I ! They're onything but eeseless to me, 
 for gien I had naething but what I see an' hear, gran' 
 an' bonny as a heap o' 't is, I wad jist smore for want 
 o' room." 
 
 "But what's the guid o' 't a', whan I'll never see 
 her again ? " sobbed Cosmo. 
 
 " Wha says sic a thing, laddie ? " 
 
 "A' body," answered Cosmo, a good deal aston- 
 ished at the question. 
 
 " Maister A' body has a heap o' the gawk in him 
 yet, Cosmo," replied his master. " Infac' he's scarce 
 mair nor an infant yet, though he wull speyk as gien 
 the haill universe o' wisdom an' knowledge war open 
 til 'im ! There's no a word o' the kin' i' the haill 
 Bible, nor i' the hert o' man — nor i' the hert o' the 
 Maker, do I, i' the hert o' me, believe Cosmo, can ye 
 believe 'at that wee bit foal o' an ass 'at carriet the 
 maister o' 's, a' alang yon hill-road frae Bethany to 
 Jerus'lem, cam to sic an ill hin 'er en' as to be for- 
 gotten by him he cairriet ? No more can I believe 
 that jist 'cause it carriet him it was ae hair better 
 luiket efter nor ony ither bit assie foalt i' the Ian' o' 
 Isr'el." 
 
 " The disciples micht hae min't it til the cratur, an' 
 liukit efter him for't," suggested Cosmo. 
 
126 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 His master looked pleased. 
 
 " They could but work the will o' him that made 
 the ass," he said, " an does the best for a' thing an' 
 a' body. Na, na, my son ! gien I hae ony pooer to 
 read the trowth o' things, the life 'at 's gien is no taen ; 
 an' whatever come o' the cratur, the love it waukent 
 in a human breist, 'ill no more be lost than the 
 objec' o' the same. That a thing can love an' be 
 loved — an' that's yer bonnie mearie, Cosmo — is jist 
 a' ana to sayin' 'at it's immortal, for God is love, an' 
 whatever partakes o' the essence o' God canna dee, 
 but maun gang on livin' till it please him to say baud, 
 an' that he'll never say." 
 
 By this time the face of the man was glowing like 
 an altar on which had descended the fire of the high- 
 est heaven. His confidence entered the heart of 
 Cosmo, and when the master ceased, he turned, with 
 a sigh of gladness and relief, to his work, and wept 
 no more. The possible entrance of Linty to an en- 
 larged existence, widened the whole heaven of his 
 conscious being ; the well-spring of personal life within 
 him seemed to rush forth in mighty volume ; and 
 through that grief and its consolation, the boy made 
 a great stride towards manhood. 
 
 One day in the first week of his new schooling, Cosmo 
 took occasion to mention Aggie's difficulty with her 
 algebra, and her anxiety to find whether it was true 
 that a girl could do as well as a boy. Mr. Simon was 
 much interested, and with the instinct of the true hun- 
 ter, whose business it is to hunt death for the sake of 
 life, began to think whether here might not be an- 
 other prepared to receive. He knew her father well 
 
THE NEW SCHOOLING. ny 
 
 but had made no acquaintance with Agnes yet, who 
 indeed was not a little afraid of him, for he looked as 
 if he were always thinking about things nobody else 
 knew of, although, in common with every woman who 
 saw it, she did find his smile reassuring. No doubt 
 the peculiar feeling of the neighbours concerning him 
 had caused her involuntarily to associate with him the 
 idea of something " no canny." Not the less, when 
 she heard from Cosmo what sort of man his new mas- 
 ter was, would she have given all she possessed to learn 
 of him. And before long, she had her chance. Old 
 Dorothy, Mr. Simon's servant and housekeepei" was 
 one day taken ill, and Cosmo mentioning the fact in 
 Aggie's hearing, she ran, with a mere word to her 
 mother, and not a moments' cogitation, to offer 
 her assistance till she was better. 
 
 It turned out that " auld Dorty," as the neighbours 
 called her, not without some hint askance at the 
 quality of her temper, was not ver}' seriously ailing, 
 yet sufificiently so to accept a little help for the 
 rougher work of the house ; and while Aggie was on 
 her knees washing the slabs of the passage that led 
 through to the back door, the master, as she always 
 called him now that Cosmo was his pupil, happened 
 to come from his room, and saw and addressed her. 
 She rose in haste, mechanically drying her hands 
 in her apron. 
 
 " How's the algebra getting on, Agnes ? " he said. 
 
 "Naething's gettin' on verra weel sin' maister 
 Cosmo gaed frae the schuil, sir. I dinna seem to 
 hae the hert for the learnin' 'at I had sae lang as he 
 was there, sae far aheid o' me, but no a'thegither 
 
128 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 oot 'o my sicht, like. — It soon's a conceitit kin' o' a 
 thing to say, but I'm no meanin' onything o' that 
 natur', sir." 
 
 " I understand you very well, Agnes," returned the 
 master. " Would you like to have some lessons 
 with me .' I don't say along with Cosmo ; you would 
 hardly be able for that at present, I fancy — but at 
 such times as you could manage to come — odd 
 times, when you were not wanted." 
 
 " There's naething upo' the airth, sir," said Aggie, 
 " 'at I wad like half sae weal. Thae jist a kin' o' a 
 hoonger upo' me for un'erstan'in' things. Its frae 
 
 bein' sae muckle wi' Maister Cosmo, I'm thinkin' 
 
 ever sin' he was a bairn, ye ken, sir ; for bein' twa 
 year aul'er nor him, I was a kin' o' a wee nursie til 
 him ; an' ever sin' syne we hae had nae secrets frae 
 ane anither ; an' ye ken what he's like — aye wantin' 
 to win at the boddom o' things, an' that's infeckit me, 
 sae 'at I canna rist whan I see onybody un'erstan'in' 
 a thing, till I set aboot gettin' a grip o' 't mysel'." 
 
 " A very good infection to take, Agnes," replied 
 the master, with a smile of thorough pleasure " and 
 one that will do more for you than the cow-pox. 
 Come to me as often as you can — and as you like. 
 I think I shall be able to tell you some things to make 
 you happier." 
 
 " 'Deed, sir, I'm in no want o' happiness 1 O' that 
 I hae full mair nor I deserve ; but I want a heap for 
 a' that. I canna say what it is, for the hoonger is for 
 what I haena." 
 
 " Another of God's children ! " said the master to 
 himself, " and full of the groanings of the spirit ! 
 
THE NEW SCHOOLING. 1 29 
 
 The wilderness and the solitary place' shall be glad 
 for them." 
 
 He often quoted scripture as the people of the 
 New Testament did — not much minding the origi- 
 nal application of the words. Those that are filled 
 with the spirit, have always taken liberties with the 
 letter. 
 
 That very evening before she went home, they had 
 a talk about algebra, and several other things. Agnes 
 went no more to school, but almost every day to see 
 the master, avoiding the hours when Cosmo would be 
 there. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 grannie's ghost story. 
 
 Things -jvent on very quietly. The glorious days 
 of harvest .^ame and went, and left the fields bare for 
 the wintry revelling of great blasts. The potatoes 
 were all dug up, and again buried — deeper than be- 
 fore, in pits, with sheets of straw and blankets of 
 earth to protect them from the biting of the frost. 
 Their stalks and many weeds with them were burned, 
 and their ashes scattered. Some of the land was 
 ploughed, and some left till the spring. Before the au- 
 tumn rains the stock of peats was brought from the hill, 
 where they had been drying through the hot weather, 
 and a splendid stack they made. Coal was carted from 
 the nearest sea-port, though not in such quantity as 
 the laird would have liked, for money was as scarce 
 as ever, and that is to put its lack pretty strongly. 
 Everything available for firewood was collected, and, 
 if of any size, put under saw and axe, then stored in 
 the house. Good preparation was thus made for the 
 siege of the winter. 
 
 13° 
 
grannie's ghost story. 131 
 
 In their poverty, partly no doubt from considera- 
 tion, tliey seemed to be much forgotten. The family 
 was like an old thistle-head, withering on its wintry 
 Tjtalk, alone in a wind-swept field. All the summer 
 through not a single visitor, friend or stranger, had 
 slept in the house. A fresh face was more of a won- 
 der to Cosmo than to desert-haunting Abraham. The 
 human heart, like the human body, can live without 
 much variety to feed on, but its house is built on a 
 lordly scale for hospitality, and is capable of wel- 
 coming every new face as a new revelation. Steadily 
 Cosmo went to his day's work with the master, stead- 
 ily returned to his home ; saw nothing new, yet 
 learned day by day, as he went and came, to love yet 
 more, not the faces of the men and women only, but 
 the aspects of the country in which he was born, to 
 read the lines and shades of its varying beauty : if it 
 was not luxuriant enough to satisfy his ideal, it had 
 yet endless loveliness to disclose to him who already 
 loved enough to care to understand it. When the 
 autumn came, it made him sad, for it was not iti har- 
 mony with the forward look of his young life, which, 
 though not ambitious, was vaguely expectant. But 
 when the hoar frosts appeared, when the clouds gath- 
 ered, when the winds began to wail, and the snows to 
 fall, then his spirits rose to meet the invading death. 
 The old castle grew grayer and grayer outside, but 
 ruddier and merrier within. Oh, that awful gray and 
 white Scottish winter — dear to my heart as I sit and 
 write with window wide open to the blue skies of 
 Italy's December ! 
 
 Cosmo kept up his morning bath in "the pot" as 
 
132 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 long as he could, but when sleet and rain came, and 
 he could no longer dry himself by running about, he 
 did not care for it longer, but waited for the snow to 
 come in plenty, which was a sure thing, for then he 
 had a substitute. It came of the ambition of hardy 
 endurance, and will scarcely seem credible to some of 
 my readers. In the depth of the winter, when the 
 cold was at its strongest, provided only the snow lay 
 pretty deep, he would jump from his warm bed with 
 the first glimmer of the morning, and running out, in 
 a light gray with the grayness of what is frozen, to a 
 hollow on the hillside a few yards from the house, 
 there pull off his night-garment, and roll in the snow, 
 kneading handfuls of it, and rubbing himself with it 
 all over. Thus he believed he strengthened himself 
 to stand the cold of the day; and happily he was 
 strong enough to stand the strengthening, and so in- 
 creased his hardihood : what would have been death to 
 many was to him invigoration. He knew nothing of 
 boxing, or rowing, or billiards, but he could run and 
 jump»well, and ride very fairly, and, above all, he could 
 endure. In the last harvest he had for the first time 
 wielded a scythe, and had held his own with the rest, 
 though, it must be allowed, with a fierce struggle. 
 The next spring — I may mention it here — he not 
 only held the plough, but by patient persistence and 
 fearless compulsion trained two young bulls to go in 
 it, saving many weeks' labour of a pair of horses. It 
 filled his father with pride, and hope for his boy's 
 coming fight with the world. Even the eyes of his 
 grandmother would after that brighten at rnention of 
 him ; she began to feel proud that she had a share in 
 
grannie's ghost story. 133 
 
 the existence of the lad : if he did so well when a 
 hobbledehoy, he might be something by the time he 
 was a man ! B}it one thing troubled her : he was no 
 sportsman ; he never went out to hunt the otter, or to 
 shoot hares or rabbits or grouse or partridges ! and 
 that was unnatural ! The fact was, ever since that 
 talk with the master about Linty, he could not bear 
 to kill anything, and was now and then haunted by 
 the dying eyes of the pigeon he shot the first time he 
 handled a gun. The grandmother thought it a defect 
 in his manhood that he did not like shooting; but, 
 woman, and old woman as she was, his heart was 
 larger and tenderer than hers, and got in the way of 
 the killing. 
 
 His father had never troubled his young life with 
 details concerning the family affairs ; he had only let 
 him know that, for many years, through extravagance 
 and carelessness in those who preceded his father, 
 things had been going from bad to worse. But this 
 was enough to wake in the boy the desire, and it grew 
 in him as he grew, to rescue what was left of the 
 estate from its burdens, and restore it to independ- 
 ence and so to honour. He said nothing of it, how- 
 ever, to his father, feeling the presumption of proposing 
 to himself what his father had been unable to 
 effect. 
 
 He went oftener to the village this winter than 
 before, and rarely without going to see Mistress For- 
 syth, whom he, like the rest, always called Grannie. 
 She suffered much from rheumatism, which she de- 
 scribed as a sorrow in her bones. But she never lost 
 her patience, and so got the good of a trouble which 
 
134 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCJ^. 
 
 would seem specially sent as the concluding discipline 
 of old people for this world, that they may start well 
 in the next. Before the winter set in, the laird had 
 seen that she was provided with peats — that much 
 he could do, because it cost him nothing but labour ; 
 and indeed each of the several cart-loads Cosmo 
 himself had taken, with mare Linty between the 
 shafts. But no amount of fire could keep the frost 
 out of the old woman's body, or the sorrow out of 
 her bones. Hence she had to be a good deal in bed, 
 and needed her great-grandchild, Agnes, to help her 
 to bear her burden. When the bitter weather came, 
 soon after Christmas, Agnes had to be with her 
 almost constantly. She had grown a little graver, 
 but was always cheerful, and, except for anxiety lest 
 her mother should be overworked, or her father take 
 cold, seemed as happy with her grandmother as at 
 home. 
 
 One afternoon, when the clouds were rising, and 
 the wind blew keen from the north, Cosmo left Glen- 
 warlock to go to the village — mainly to see Grannie. 
 He tramped the two miles and a half in all the joy of 
 youthful coiiflict with wind and weather, and reached 
 the old woman's cottage radiant. The snow lay deep 
 and powdery with frost, and the struggle with space 
 from a bad footing on the world had brought the 
 blood to his cheeks and the sparkle to his eyes. He 
 found Grannie sitting up in bed, and Aggie getting 
 her tea — to which Cosmo contributed a bottle of 
 milk he had carried her — an article rare enough in 
 the winter when there was so little grass for the cows. 
 Aggie drew the old woman's chair to the fire for him 
 
GRANNIES GHOST STORY. 135 
 
 and he sat down and ate barley-meal scons, and 
 drank tea with them. Grannie was a little better 
 than usual, for every disease has its inconsistencies, 
 and pain will abate before an access ; and so, with 
 storm at hand, threaded with fiery flying serpents for 
 her bones, she was talking more than for days pre- 
 vious. Her voice came feebly from the bed to 
 Cosmo's ears, while he leaned back in her great chair, 
 and Aggie was removing the tea-things. 
 
 " Did ye ever dream ony mair aboot the auld cap- 
 tain, Cosmo ? " she asked : from her tone he could 
 not tell whether she spoke seriously, or was amusing 
 herself with the idea. 
 
 " No ance," he answered. " What gars ye speir. 
 Grannie ? " 
 
 She said nothing for a few minutes, and Cosmo 
 thought she had dismissed the subject. Aggie had 
 returned to her seat, and he was talking with her 
 about Euclid, when she began again ; and this time 
 her voice revealed that she was quite in earnest. 
 
 " Ye're wee! nigh a man noo, Cosmo," she said. 
 " A body may daur speyk to ye aboot things a body 
 wadna be wullin' to say till a bairn for fearo' frichtin' 
 o' 'im mair nor the bit hert o' 'm cud Stan'. Whan a 
 lad can warstle wi' a pair o' bills, an' get the upper 
 han' o' them, an' gar them du his biddin', he wadna 
 need to tak fricht at — " There she paused. 
 
 This preamble was enough in itself — not exactly 
 to bring Cosmo's heart into his mouth, but to send 
 a little more of his blood from his brain to his heart 
 than was altogether welcome there. His imagination, 
 however, was more eager than apprehfinsive, and his 
 
136 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 desire to hear far greater than his dread of the pos- 
 sible disclosure. Neither would he have turned his 
 back on any terror, though he knew well enough 
 what fear was. He looked at Aggie as much as to 
 say, " What can be coming ? " and she stared at him 
 in turn with dilated pupils, as if something dreadful 
 were about to be evoked by the threatened narrative. 
 Neither spoke a word, but their souls got into their 
 ears, and there sat listening. The hearing was likely 
 to be frightful when so prefaced by Grannie. 
 
 " There's no guid ever cam' o' ca'in' things oot o' 
 their ain names," she began, "an' it's my min' 'at 
 gien ever ae man was a willain, an' gien ever ae man 
 had rizzon no to lie quaiet whan he was doon, that 
 man was your father's uncle — his gran' uncle, that is, 
 the auld captain, as we ca'd him. Fowk said -he saul' 
 his sowl to the ill ane : hoo that may be, I wadna 
 care to be able to tell ; but sure I am 'at his was a 
 sowl ill at ease, — baith here an' herefter. Them 'at 
 sleepit aneth me, for there was twa men-servan's ^oot 
 the hoose that time — an' troth there was need o' 
 them an' mair, sic war the gangin's on ! an' they 
 sleepit whaur I'm tauld ye sleep noo, Cosmo — them 
 'at sleepit there tellt me 'at never a nicht passed.'at 
 they h'ardna soons 'aneth them 'at there was no 
 mainner o' accoontin' for nor explainin', as fowks sae 
 set upo' duin' nooadays wi' a'thing. That explainin' 
 I canna bide : it's jist a love o' leasin', an' taks the 
 bluid oot o' a'thing, lea'in' life as wersh an' fusionless 
 as kail wantin' saut. Them 'at h'ard it tellt me 'at 
 there was no accoontin', as I tell you, for the reemish 
 they baith h'ard — whiles douf-like dunts, an' whiles 
 
grannie's ghost story. 137 
 
 speech o' mou', beggin' an' groanin' as gien the enemy 
 war bodily present to the puir sinner." 
 
 " He micht hae been but jabberin' in's sleep," 
 Cosmo, with his love of truth, ventured to suggest : 
 Aggie gave him a nudge o£ warning. 
 
 "Ay micht it," returned the old woman with calm 
 scorn ; " an' it micht nae doobt hae been snorin', or a 
 cat speykin' wi' man's tongue, or ony ane o' mony 
 things 'cep' the trowth 'at ye're no wullin' to hear." 
 
 " I am wullin' — to hear the warst trowth ye daur 
 
 tell me, Grannie,'' cried Cosmo, terrified lest he had 
 
 choked the fountain. He was more afraid of losing 
 
 the story than of hearing the worst tale that could be 
 
 told even about the room he slept in last night, and 
 
 must go back to sleep in again to-night. 
 
 Grannie was mollified, and went on. 
 
 " As I was sayin', he micht weel be ill at ease, the 
 
 auld captain, gien ae half was true 'at was said o' 'im ; 
 
 but I 'maist think yer father coontit it priven 'at.he had 
 
 led a deevilich life amo' the pirates. Only, gien he 
 
 did, whaur was the wauges o' his ineequity? Nae 
 
 doobt he got the wauges'-' 'at the apostle speyks o', 
 
 whilk is, as ye well ken, deith — 'the wauges o' sin is 
 
 deith.' But, maistly, sic-like sinners get first wauges 
 
 o' anither speckle frae the maister o' them. For 
 
 troth! he has no need to be near in's dealin's wi' 
 
 them, seein' there's nae buyin'.nor selHn' whaur'he is, 
 
 an' a' the gowd he has doon yon'er i' the booels o' the 
 
 yird, wad jist lie there duin' naething, gien he sent na 
 
 't up abune, whaur maist pairt it works his wull. Na, 
 
 he seldom scrimps 't to them 'at follows his biddin'. 
 
 But i' this case, whaur, I say, was the wauges ? 
 
138 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Natheless, he aye carriet himsel' like ana 'at cud lay 
 doon the law o' this warl', an cleemt no sma' consid- 
 eration ; yet was there never sign or mark o' the proper 
 fundation for sic assumption o' the rjcht to respec'. 
 
 " It turnt oot, or cam to be said, 'at the Englishman 
 'at fowk believed to hae killt him, was far-awa' sib to 
 the faimily, an' the twa had come thegither afore, 
 somewhaur i' foreign pairts. But that's naither here 
 nor there, nor what for 'he killed him, or wha's faut 
 was that same : aboot a' that, naething was ever kent 
 for certain. 
 
 " Weel, it was an awfu' like thing, ye may be sure, 
 to quaiet fowk, sic as we was a' — 'cep' for the drink- 
 in' an' sic like, sin' ever jthe auld captain cam, wi' his 
 reprobat w'ys — it was a sair thing, I'm sayin', to hae 
 a deid man a' at ance upo' oor ban's ; for, lat the men 
 du 'at they like, the warst o' 't aye comes upo' the 
 women. Lat a bairn come to mischance, or the guid- 
 man turn ower the kettle, an' it's aye, ' Rin for Jean 
 this, or Bauby that,' to set richt what they hae set 
 wrang. Even whan a man kills a body, it's the 
 women hae to mak the best o' 't, an' the corp luik 
 dacent. An' there's some o' them no that easy to 
 mak luik dacent! Troth, there's mony ane luiks 
 bonnier deid nor alive, but that wasna the case wi' 
 the auld captain, for he luikit as gien he had dee'd 
 cursin', as he bude to du, gien he dee'd as he lived. 
 His moo' was drawn fearfu', as gien his last aith had 
 chokit him. Nae doobt they said 'at wad hae't they 
 kent, 'at hoo that's the w'y wi' delth frae slayin' wi' 
 the swoord ; but I wadna hear o' 't ; I kenned better. 
 An' whether he had fair play or no, the deith he dee'd 
 
GRANNIE S GHOST STORY. 
 
 139 
 
 was a just ane ; for them 'at draws the swoord maun 
 periss by the swoord. Whan they faun' 'im, the richt 
 han' o' the corp was streekit oot, as gien he was cryin' 
 to somebody rinnin' awa' to bide an' tak 'uti wi' 'im. 
 But there was anither at han' to tak 'im wi' 'im. 
 Only, gien he tuik 'im that same nicht, he cudna hae 
 carried liim far. 'Deed, maybe, the auld sinner was 
 ower muckle aven for him. 
 
 " They brocht him hame, ah' laid the corp o' him 
 upo' his ain bed, whaur, I reckon, up til this nicht, he 
 had tried mair nor he had sleepit. An' that verra 
 nicht, wha sud I see ^but I'm jist gaein' to tell ye a' 
 aboot it, an' hoo it was, an' syne ye can say yersel's. 
 Sin' my ain auld mither dee'd, I haena opent my moo' 
 to mortal upo' the subjec'." 
 
 The eyes of the two listeners were fixed upon the nar- 
 rator in the acme of expectation. A real ghost-story, 
 from the lips of one they knew, and must believe in, 
 was a thing of dread delight. Like ghosts themselves, 
 they were all-unconscious of body, rapt in listening. 
 
 " Ye may weel believe," resumed the old woman 
 after a short pause, " at nana o' 's was ower wullin' 
 to sit wi' the corp oor lane, for, as I say, he wasna a 
 comely corp to be a body's lane wi'. Sae auld auntie 
 Jean an' mysel', we agreed 'at we wad tak the thing 
 upo' oorsel's, for, huz twa, we cud lippen til ane 
 anither no to be ower feart to min' 'at there was twa 
 o' 's. There hadna been time yet for the corp to be 
 laid intil the coffin, though, i' the quaiet o' the mirk, 
 we thoucht, as we sat, we cud hear the tap-tappin' as 
 they cawed the braiss nails intil't, awa' ower in 
 Geordie Lumsden's chop, at the Muir o' Warlock, a 
 
140 WARLOCK o' glenWarlock. 
 
 twa mile, it wad be. We war sittin', auntie Jean an' 
 mysel', i' the mids o' the room, no wi' oor backs til 
 the bed, nor yet wi' oor faces, for we daurna turn 
 aither o' them til't. F the ae case, wha cud tell what 
 we micht see, an' i' the ither, wha cud tell what micht 
 be luikin' at hiz ! We war sittin', I say, wi' oor faces 
 to the door o' the room, an' auntie was noddin' a wee, 
 for she was turnin' gey an' auld, but / was as wide 
 waukin' an ony baudrins by a moose-hole, whan sud- 
 dent there came a kin' o' a dirlin' at the sneck, 'at 
 sent the verra sowl o' me up intil the garret o' my 
 held ; an' afore I had time to ken hoo sair frichtit I 
 was, the door begud to open ; an', glower as I wad, 
 no believin' my ain e'en, open that door did, lang- 
 some, langsome, quaiet, quaiet, jist as my auld 
 Grannie used to tell o' the deid man comin' doon the 
 lum, bit an' bit, an' jinin' thegither upo' the flure. I 
 was turnt to stane, like, 'at I didna believe I cud hae 
 fa'en frae the cheir gien I had swarfed clean awa'. 
 An' eh but it tuik a time to open that door ! But at 
 last, as sure as ye sit there, you twa, an' no anither, 
 — " — At the word, Cosmo's heart came swelling up 
 into his throat, but he dared not look round to assure 
 himself that they were indeed two sitting there and 
 not another — " in cam the auld captain, ae fit efter 
 anither ! Speir gien I was sure o' 'im ! Didna I ken 
 him as weel as my ain father — as weel's my ain 
 minister — as weel as my ain man? He cam in I 
 say, the^ auld captain himsel' — an' eh, sic an evil 
 luik ! — the verra luik deith — frozen upo' the face o' 
 the corp ! The live bluid turned to dubs i' my inside. 
 He cam on an' on, but no straucht for whaur we sat 
 
GRANNIES GHOST STORY. I4I 
 
 or I dinna think the sma' rizzon I had left wad hae 
 bidden wi' me, but as gien he war haudin' for 's bed. 
 To tell God's trowth, for I daurna lee, for fear o' hae- 
 in' to luik upo' 's like again, my auld auntie declaret 
 efterhin 'at she saw naething. She bude til hae been 
 asleep, an' a mercifu' thing it was for her, puir feody ! 
 but she didna live lang efter. He made straucht for 
 the bed, as I thoucht. ' The Lord preserve's ! ' 
 thoucht I, ' is he gaein to lie doon wi' 's ain corp ? ' 
 but he turnt awa', an' roon' the fit o' the bed to the 
 ither side o' 't, an' I saw nae mair ; an' for a while, 
 auntie Jean sat her lane wi' the deid, for I lay upo' 
 the flure, an' naither h'ard nor saw. But whan I 
 came to mysel', wasna I thankfu' 'at I wasna deid, for 
 he micht hae gotten me than, an' there was nae sayin' 
 what he micht hae dune til me ! But, think ye, wad 
 auntie Jean believe 'at I had seen him, or that it was 
 onything but a dream 'at had come ower me, atween 
 waukin' an' sleepin' ! Na, no she ! for she had 
 sleepit throu' 't hersel' ! " 
 
 For some time silence reigned, as befitted the closo 
 of such a story. Nothing but the solemn tick of the 
 tall clock was to be heard. On and on it went, ag 
 steady as before. Ghosts were nothing special to the 
 clock : it had to measure out the time both for ghosts 
 and unghosts. 
 
 " But what cud the ghaist hae been wantin' ? No 
 the corp, for he turnt awa', ye tell me, frae hit," Cosmo 
 ventured at length to remark. 
 
 " Wha can say what ghaists may be efter, laddie ) 
 But, troth to tell, whan ye see live fowk sae gien 
 ower to the boady, 'at they're never happy but whan 
 
142 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 they're aitin' or drinkin' or sic like — an' the auld 
 captain was seldom throu' wi' his glaiss, 'at he wasna 
 cryin' for the whisky or the het watter for the neist — 
 whan the boady's the best half o' them, like, an' they 
 maun aye be duin' something wi' 't, ye needna won'er 
 'at the ghaist o' ane sic like sud fin' himsel' geyan 
 eerie an' lonesome like, wantin' his seek to fill, an' 
 sae try to win back to hae aluik hoo it was weirin'." 
 
 " But he gaed na to the corp," Cosmo insisted. 
 
 " 'Cause he wasna alloot," said Grannie. " He 
 wad hae been intil 't again in a moment, ye may be 
 certain, gien it had been in his pooer. But the 
 deevils cudriagang intil the swine wantin' leave." 
 
 " Ay, I see," said Cosmo. 
 
 " But jist ye speir at yer new maister," Grannie 
 went on, " what he thinks aboot it, for I ance h'ard 
 him speyk richt wise words to my gudeson, James 
 Gracie, anent sic things. I min' weel 'at he said the 
 only thing 'at made agen the viouw I tiuk — though 
 I spakna o' the partic'lar occasion — was, 'at naebody 
 ever h'ard tell o' the ghaist o' an alderman, wha they 
 say's some grit Lon'on man, sair gien to the fillin' o' 
 the seek." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE STORM-GUEST. 
 
 Again a deep silence descended on the room. The 
 twilight had long fallen, and settled down into the 
 dark. The only thing that acknowledged and an- 
 swered the clock was the red glow of the peats on the 
 hearth. To Cosmo, as he sat sunk in thought, the 
 clock and the fire seemed to be holding a silent talk. 
 Presently came a great and sudden blast of wind, 
 which roused Cosmo, and made him bethink himself 
 that it was time to be going home. And for this 
 there was another reason besides the threatening 
 storm : he had the night before begun to read aloud 
 one of Sir Walter's novels to the assembled family, 
 and Grizzle would be getting anxious for another 
 portion of it before she went to bed. 
 
 " I'm glaid to see ye sae muckle better. Grannie," 
 he said. " I'll say gude nicht noo, an' luik in again 
 the morn." 
 
 " Weel, I'm obleeged to ye," replied the old 
 woman. "There's been but feow o' yer kin, be 
 
 143 
 
144 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 their fau'ts what they micht, wad forget ony 'at luikit 
 for a kin' word or a kin' deed ! — Aggie, lass, ye'll 
 convoy him a bittock, wilhia ye ? " 
 
 All the few in whom yet lingered any shadow of 
 retainership towards the fast-fading chieftainship of 
 Glenwarlock, seemed to cherish the notion that the 
 heir of the house had to be tended and cared for 
 like a child — that was whar they were in the world 
 for. Doubtless a pitying sense oi the misfortunes 
 of the family had much to do with the feeling. 
 
 " There's nae occasion," and " I'll du that," said 
 the two young people in a breath. 
 
 Cosmo rose, and began to put on his plaid, cross- 
 ing it over back and chest to leave his arms free; 
 that way the wind would get least hold on him. 
 Agnes went to the closet for her plaid also — of the 
 same tartan, and drawing it over her head and pin- 
 ning it under her chin, was presently ready for the 
 stormy way. Then she turned to Cosmo, and was 
 pinning his plaid together at the throat, when the 
 wind came with a sudden howl, rushed down the 
 chimney, and drove the level smoke into the middle 
 of the room. It could not shake the cottage — it 
 was too lowly : neither could it rattle its windows — 
 they were not made to open ; but it bellowed over it 
 like a wave over a rock, and as in contempt blew its 
 smoke back into its throat. 
 
 " It'll be a wuU nicht, I'm doobtin', Cosmo," said 
 Agnes ; " an' I wuss ye safe i' the ingle-neak wi' yer 
 fowk." 
 
 Cosmo laughed. "The win' kens me," he said. 
 
 " Guid farbid ! " cried the old woman from the bed. 
 
THE STORM-GUEST. 
 
 H7 
 
 " Kenna ye wha's the prence o' 't, laddie ? Makna 
 a jeist o' the pooers 'at be." 
 
 " Gien they binna ordeent o' God, what are they 
 but a jeist ? " returned Cosmo. " Eh, but ye wad 
 mak a bonny munsie o' me. Grannie, to hae me feart 
 at the deil an' a' ! I canna a' thegither help it wi' the 
 ghaists, an' I'm ashamed o' mysel' for that ; but I am 
 not gaein to heed the deil. I defy him an' a' his 
 works. He's but a cooerd, ye ken. Grannie, for whan 
 ye resist him, he rins." 
 
 She made no answer. Cosmo shook hands with 
 her; and went, followed by Agnes, who locked the 
 door behind her, and put the key in her pocket. 
 
 It was indeed a wild night. The wind was rushing 
 from the north, full of sharp stinging pellicles, some- 
 thing between snow-flakes and hail-stones. Down 
 the wide village street it came right in their faces. 
 Through it, as through a thin shifting sheet, they saw 
 on both sides the flickering lights of the many homes, 
 but before them lay darkness, and the moor, a chaos, 
 a carnival of wind and snow. Worst of all the snow 
 on the road was not binding, and their feet felt as if 
 walking on sand. As long as the footing is good, 
 one can get on even in the face of a northerly storm ; 
 but to heave with a shifting fulcrum is hard. Never- 
 theless Cosmo, beholding with his mind's eye the 
 wide waste around him, rejoiced ; invisible through 
 the snow, it was not the less a presence, and his 
 young heart rushed to the contest. There was no fear 
 of ghosts in such a storm ! The ghosts might be there, 
 but there was no time to heed them, and that was as 
 good as their absence — perhaps better, if we knew all. 
 
WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 "Bide a wee, Cosmo," cried Agnes, and leaving 
 him in tJie middle of the street where they were walk- 
 ing, she ran across to one of the houses, and entered 
 — lifting the latch without ceremony. No neighbour 
 troubled another to come and open the door; if there 
 was no one at home, the key in the lock outside 
 showed it. 
 
 Cosino turned his back to the wind, and stood 
 waiting. From the door which Aggie opened, came 
 through the wind and snow the sound of the shoe- 
 maker's hammer on his lapstone. 
 
 " Cud ye spare the mistress for an hoor, or maybe 
 twa an' a half, to haud Grannie company, John 
 Nauchty ? " said Agnes. 
 
 "Weel that," answered the sutor, hammering away. 
 He intended no reflection on the bond that bound the 
 mistress and himself. 
 
 " I dinna see her," said Aggie. 
 
 " She'll be in in a minute. She's run ower the ro'd 
 to get a doup o' a can'le," returned the man. 
 
 "Gien she dinna the speedier, she'll hae to licht it 
 to fin' her ain door," said Agnes merrily, to whom the 
 approaching fight with the elements was as welcome 
 as to Cosmo. She had made up her mind to go with 
 him all the way, let him protest as he might. 
 
 " Ow na ! she'll hearken, an' hear the hemmer," re- 
 plied the shoemaker. 
 
 " Weel, tak the key, an' ye winna -forget, John ? " 
 said Aggie, laying the key amongst his tools. 
 "Grannie's lyin' there her lee-lane, an' gien the 
 hoose was to tak fire, what wad come o' her ? " 
 
 " Guid forbid onybody sud forget Grannie ! " re- 
 
THE STORM-OUEST. I4g 
 
 joined the man heartily ; " but fire wad hae a sma' 
 chance the nicht." 
 
 Agnes thanked and left him. All the time he had 
 not missed a single stroke of his hammer on the ben- 
 leather between it and his lapstone. 
 
 When she rejoined Cosmo, where he stood leaning 
 his back against the wind in the middle of the road, 
 
 " Come nae farther, Aggie," he said. " It's an ill 
 nicht, an' grows waur. There's nae guid in't naither, 
 for we winna hear ane anitlier speyk ohn stoppit, an' 
 turnt oor backs til't. Gang to yer Grannie; she'll 
 be feart aboot ye." 
 
 " Nae a bit. I maun see ye oot o' the toon." 
 
 They fought their way along the street, and out on 
 the open moor, the greater part of which was still 
 heather and swamp. Peat-bog and ploughed land was 
 all one waste of snow. Creation seemed but the snow 
 that had fallen, the snow that was falling, and the snow 
 that had yet to fall ; or, to put it otherwise, a fall of 
 snow between two outspread worlds of snow. 
 
 " Gang back, noo, Aggie," said Cosmo again. 
 " What's the guid o' twa whaur ane only need be, an' 
 baith hae to fecht for themsel's ? " 
 
 " I'm no gaein' back yet," persisted Aggie. Twa's 
 better at onything nor ane himblane. The sutor's 
 wife's gaein' in to see Grannie, an' Grannie '11 like 
 her cracks a heap better nor mine. She thinks I hae 
 nae mair brains nor a hen, 'cause I canna min' upo' 
 things at war nearhan' forgotten or I was born." 
 
 Cosmo desisted from useless persuasion, and they 
 struggled on together, through the snow above and 
 the snow beneath. At this Aggie was more than a 
 
150 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 match for Cosmo. Lighter and smaller, and perhaps 
 with larger lungs in proportion, she bored her way 
 through the blast better than he, and the moment he 
 began to expostulate, would increase the distance be- 
 tween them, and go on in front where he knew she 
 could not hear a word he said. 
 
 At last, being then a little ahead, she turned hei 
 back to the wind, and waited for him to come up. 
 
 " Noo, ye've had eneuch o' 't ! " he said. " An' I 
 maun turn an' gang back wi' you, or ye'll never win 
 hame.'' 
 
 Aggie broke into a loud laugh that rang like music 
 through the storm. 
 
 " A likly thing ! " she cried ; " an' me wi' my back 
 a' the ro'd to the win' ! Gang back yersel', Cosmo, 
 an' sit by Grannie's fire, an' I'll gang on to the castle, 
 an' lat them ken whaur ye are. Gien ye dinna that, 
 I tell ye ance for a', I'm no gaein' to lea' ye till I see 
 ye safe inside yer ain wa's." 
 
 "But Aggie," reasoned Cosmo, with yet greater 
 earnestness, " what'll ye gar fowk think o' me, 'at wad 
 hae a lassie to gang hame wi' me, for fear the win' 
 micht blaw me intil the sea .? Ye'll bring me to 
 shame, Aggie." 
 
 " A lassie ! say ye ? " cried Aggie, — " I think I 
 hear ye ! — an' me auld eneuch to be yer mither ! 
 Is' tak guid care there s' be nae affront intil 't. 
 Haud yer hert quaiet, Cosmo ; ye'll hae need o' a' 
 yer breath afore ye win to yer ain fireside." 
 
 As she spoke, the wind pounced upon them with a 
 fiercer gust than any that had preceded. Instinctively 
 they grasped each other, as if from the wish, if they 
 
THE STORM-GUEST. 
 
 151 
 
 should be blown away, to be blown away together. 
 " Eh, that 's a rouch ana ! " said Cosmo, and again 
 Aggie laughed merrily. 
 
 While they stood thus, with their backs to the 
 wind, the moon rose. Far indeed from being visible, 
 she yet shed a little glimmer of light over the plain, 
 revealing a world as wild as ever the frozen north 
 outspread — as wild as ever poet's despairing vision 
 of desolation. I see it ! I see it ! but how shall I 
 make my reader see it with me ? It was ghastly. 
 The only similitude of life was the perplexed and 
 multitudinous motion of the drifting, falling flakes. 
 No shape was to be seen, no sound but that of the 
 wind to be heard. It was like the dream of a delir- 
 ious child after reading the ancient theory of the 
 existence of the world by the rushing together of 
 fortuitous atoms. Wan and thick, tumultuous, in- 
 numerable to millions of angels, an interminable 
 tempest of intermingling and indistinguishable vor 
 tices, it stretched on and on, a boundless hell of cold 
 and shapelessness — white thinned with gray, and 
 fading into gray blackness, into tangible darkness. 
 
 The moment the fury of the blast abated, Agnes 
 turned, and without a word, began again her boring 
 march, forcing her way through the palpable obstruc- 
 tion? of wind and snow. Unable to prevent her, 
 Cosmo followed. But he comforted himself with the 
 thought, that, if the storm continued he would get 
 his father to use his autiiority against her attempting 
 a return before the morning. The sutor's wife was 
 one of Grannie's best cronies, and there was no fear 
 of her being deserted through the night. 
 
152 WARLOCK O GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 Aggie kept the lead she had taken, till there could 
 be no more question of going on, and they were now 
 drawing near the road that struck oif to the left, 
 along the bank of the Warlock river, leading up 
 among the vallies and low hills, most of which had 
 once been the property of the house of Warlock, when 
 she stopped suddenly, this time without turning her 
 back to the wind, and Cosmo was immediately be- 
 side her. 
 
 "What's yon, Cosmo?" she said — and Cosmo 
 fancied consternation in the tone. He looked 
 sharply forward, and saw what seemed a glimmer, but 
 might be only something whiter in the whiteness. 
 No ! it was certainly a light — but whether on the 
 road he could not tell. There was no house in that 
 direction ! It moved ! — yet not as if carried in hu- 
 man hand ! Now it was gone ! There it was again ! 
 There were two of them — two huge pale eyes, roll- 
 ing from side to side. Grannie's warning about the 
 Prince of the power of the air, darted into Cosmo's 
 mind. It was awful ! But anyhow the devil was not 
 to be run from ! That was the easiest measure, no 
 doubt, yet not the less the one impossible to take. 
 And now it was plain that the something was not 
 away on the moor, but on the road in front of them, 
 and coming towards them. It came nearer and 
 nearer, and grew vaguely visible — a huge blunder- 
 ing mass — animal or what, they could not tell, but 
 on the wind came sounds that might be human — or 
 animal human — the sounds of encouragement and 
 incitation to horses. And now it approached no more. 
 With common impulse they hastened towards it. 
 
THE STORM-GUEST. 153 
 
 It was a travelling carriage — a rare sight in those 
 parts at any time, and rarer still in winter. Both of 
 them had certainly seen one before, but as certainly, 
 never a pair of lighted carriage-lamps, with reflectors 
 to make of them fiendish eyes. It had but two horses, 
 and, do what the driver could, which was not much, 
 they persisted in standing stock-still, refusing to take 
 a single step farther. Indeed they could not. They 
 had tried and tried, and done their best, but finding 
 themselves unable to move the carriage an inch, pre- 
 ferred standing still to spending themselves in vain 
 struggles, for all their eight legs went slipping about 
 under them. 
 
 Cosmo looked up to the box. The driver was 
 little more than a boy, and nearly dead with cold. 
 Already Aggie had a forefoot of the near horse in 
 her hand. Cosmo ran to the other. 
 
 " Their feet's fu' o' snaw," said Aggie. 
 
 " Ay ; it's ba'd hard," said Cosmo. " They maun 
 hae come ower a saft place : it wadna ba' the nicht 
 upo' the muir." 
 
 " Hae ye yer knife, Cosmo ? " asked Aggie. 
 
 Here a head was put out of the carriage-window. 
 It was that of a lady in a swansdown travelling-hood. 
 She had heard an unintelligible conversation — and 
 one intelligible word. They must be robbers ! How 
 else should they want a knife in a snowstorm ? Why 
 else should they have stopped the carriage? She 
 gave a little cry of alarm. Aggie dropped the hoof 
 she held, and went to the window. 
 
 " What's yer wuU, mem ? " she asked. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " the lady returned in a trem- 
 
154 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 bling voice, but not a little reassured at the sight, as 
 she crossed the range of one of the lamps, of the face 
 of a young girl. " Why doesn't the coachman go on ? " 
 
 " He canna, mem. The horse canna win throu 
 the snaw. They hae ba's o' 't i' their feet, an' they 
 canna get a grip wi' them, nae mair nor ye cud 
 yersel', mem, gien the soles o' yer shune war roon' 
 an' made o' ice. But we'll sune set that richt. — Hoo 
 far hae ye come, mem, gien I may speir ? Aigh, mem, 
 its an unco nicht ! ". 
 
 The lady did not understand much of what Aggie 
 said, for she was English, returning from her first 
 visit to Scotland, but, half guessing at her question,, 
 replied, that they had come from Cairntod, and were 
 going on to Howglen. She told her also, now en- 
 tirely reassured by Aggie's voice, that they had been 
 much longer on the way than they had expected, and 
 were now getting anxious. 
 
 " I doobt sair gien ye'll win to Howglen the nicht," 
 said Aggie. — " But ye're not yer lone ? " she added, 
 trying to summon her English, of which she had 
 plenty of a sort, though not always at hand. 
 
 " My father is with me, " said the lady, looking 
 back into the dark carriage, " but I think he is asleep, 
 and I don't want to wake him while we are standing 
 still." 
 
 Peeping in, Aggie caught sight of somebody muffled, 
 leaning back in the other corner of the carriage, and 
 breathing heavily. 
 
 To Aggie's not altogether unaccustomed eye, it 
 seemed he might have had more than was good for 
 him in the way of refreshment. 
 
THE STORM-GUEST. " 155 
 
 Cosmo was busy clearing the snow from the horses' 
 hoofs. The driver, stupid or dazed, sat on the box, 
 helpless as a parrot on a swinging perch. 
 
 " You'll never win to Howglen to-night, mem," said 
 Aggie. 
 
 " We must put up where we can, then,'' answered 
 the lady. 
 
 " I dinna know of a place nearer, fit for gentlefowk, 
 mem." 
 
 " What are we to do then ? " asked the lady, with 
 subdued, but evident anxiety. 
 
 " What's the guid o' haein' a father like that — 
 sleepin' and snorin' whan maist ye're in want o' 
 'im ! " thought Aggie to herself ; but what she replied 
 was, " Bide, mem, till we hear what Cosmo has to say 
 til't." 
 
 " That is a peculiar name ! " remarked the lady, 
 brightening at the sound of it, for it could, she thought, 
 hardly belong to a peasant. 
 
 " It's the name the lairds o' Glenwarlock hae borne 
 for generations," answered Aggie ; " though doobtless 
 it's no a name, as the maister wad say, indigenous to 
 the country. Ane o' them ,broucht it frae Italy, the 
 place whaur the Pop' o' Rom' bides." 
 
 " And who is this Cosmo whose advice you would 
 have me ask ? " 
 
 " He's the yoong laird himsel', mem : — eh ! but ye 
 maun be a stranger no to ken the name o' Warlock." 
 
 " Indeed I am a stranger — and I can't help wish- 
 ing, if there is much more of this weather between us 
 and England, that I had been more of a stranger 
 still." 
 
156 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " 'Deed, mem, we hae a heap o' weather up here 
 as like this as ae snow-flake is til anither. But we 
 tak what's sent, an' makna mony remarks. Though 
 to be sure the thing's different whan it's o' a body's 
 ain seekin'." 
 
 This speech — my reader may naturally think it not 
 over-polite — was harppily not over-intelligible to the 
 lady. Aggie, a little wounded by the reflection on 
 the weather of her country, had in her emotion aggra- 
 vated her Scottish tone. 
 
 " And where is this Cosmo ? How are we to find 
 him ? " 
 
 " He'll come onsoucht, mem. It's only 'at he's 
 
 busy cleanin' oot yer puir horse' hivs 'at hedisna p'y 
 
 his respec's to ye. But he'll be blythe eneuch ! " 
 
 " I thought you said he was a lord ! " remarked the 
 
 lady. 
 
 "Na, I saidna that, mem. He's nae lord. But 
 he's a laird, an' some lairds is better nor 'maist ony 
 lords — an' he's Warlock o' Glenwarlock — at least ho 
 wull be — an' may it be lang or come the day." 
 
 Hard as the snow was packed in them, all the 
 eight hoofs were now cleared out with Cosmo's busy 
 knife, which he had had to use carefully lest he 
 should hurt the frog. The next moment his head ap- 
 peared, a little behind that of Aggie, and in the light 
 of the lamp the lady saw the handsome face of a lad 
 seemingly about sixteen. 
 
 " Here he is, mem ! This is the yoong laird. Ye 
 speir at him what ye're to du, and du jist as he tells 
 ye," said Aggie, and drew back, that Cosmo might 
 take her place. 
 
THE STORM-GUEST. 157 
 
 " Is that girl your sister? " asked the lady, with not 
 a little abruptness-, for the best bred are not always the 
 most polite. 
 
 "No, my lady," answered Cosmo, who had learned 
 from the lad on the box her name and rank ; " she is 
 the daughter of one of my father's tenants." 
 
 Lady Joan Scudamore thought it very odd that the 
 youth should be on such familiar terms with the 
 daughter of one of his father's tenants — out alone 
 with her in the heart of a hideous storm ! No doubt 
 the girl looked up to him, but apparently from the 
 same level, as one sharing in the pride of the family ! 
 Should she take her advice, and seek his ? or should 
 she press on for Howglen ? There was, alas ! no 
 counsel to be had from her father just at present : if 
 she woke him, he would but mutter something not so 
 much unlike an oath as it ought to be, and go to sleep 
 again ! 
 
 " We want very much to reach Howglen — I think 
 that is what you call the place," she said. 
 
 "You can't get there tonight, I'm afraid," returned 
 Cosmo. " The road is, as you see, no road at all. 
 The horses would do better if you took their shoes 
 off, I think — only then, if they came on a bit of 
 frozen dub, it might knock their hoofs to pieces in 
 such a frost." 
 
 The lady glanced round at her sleeping companion 
 with a look expressive of no small perplexity. 
 
 " My father will make you welcome, my lady," con- 
 tinued Cosmo, " if you will come with us. We can 
 give you only what English people must think poor 
 fare, for *e're not — " 
 
158 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 She interrupted him. 
 
 " I should be glad to sit anywherg all night, where 
 there was a fire. I am nearly frozen." 
 
 "We can do a little better for you than that, 
 though not so well as we should like. Perhaps, as 
 we can't make any show, we are the more likely to do 
 our best for your comfort." 
 
 Their pinched circumstances had at one time and 
 another given rise to conversation in which the laird 
 and his son sought together to sound the abysses of 
 hospitality: the old-fashioned sententiousness of the 
 boy had in it nothing of the prig. 
 
 "You are very kind. I will promise to be com- 
 fortable," said the lady. 
 
 She began to be a trifle interested in this odd speci- 
 men of the Scotch calf. 
 
 " Welcome then to Glenwarlock ! " said Cosmo. 
 "Come, Aggie ; tak ane o' them by the heid : they're 
 gaein' wi' 's. — We must turn the horses' heads, my 
 lady. I fear they won't like to face the wind they've 
 only had their backs to yet. I can't make out 
 whether your driver is half dead or half drunk or 
 more than half frozen ; but Aggie and I will take care 
 of them, and if he tumble off, nobody will be the 
 worse." 
 
 "What a terrible country ! " said the lady to herself. 
 " The coachmen get drunk ! the boys are prigs ! there 
 is no distinction between the owners of the soil and 
 the tenants who farm it ! and it snows from morning 
 to night, and from one week's end to another ! " 
 
 Aggie had taken the head of the near horse, and 
 Cosmo took that of the off one. Their driver' said 
 
THE STORM-GUEST. 1 59 
 
 nothing, letting them do as they pleased. With some 
 difficulty, for they had to be more than ordinarily cau- 
 tious, the road being indistinguishable from the ditches 
 they knew here bounded it on both sides, they got 
 the carriage round. But when the weary animals re- 
 ceived the tempest in their faces, instead of pulling 
 they backed, would have turned again, and for some 
 time were not to be induced to front it. Agnes and 
 Cosmo had to employ all. their powers of persuasion, 
 first to get them to stand still, and then to advance a 
 little. Gradually, by leading, and patting, and con- 
 tinuous encouraging in language they understood, 
 they were coaxed as far as the parish road, and there 
 turning their sides to the wind, and no longer their 
 . eyes and noses, they began to move with a little will 
 of their own ; for horses have so much hope, that the 
 mere fact of having made a turn is enough to revive 
 them with the expectation of cover and food and re- 
 pose. They reached presently a more sheltered part 
 of the road, and if now and then they had to drag the 
 carriage through deeper snow, they were no longer 
 buffeted by the cruel wind or stung by its frost- 
 arrows. 
 
 All this time the gentleman inside slept — nor was 
 it surprising ; for, lunching at the last town, and not 
 finding the wine fit to drink, he had fallen back upon 
 an accomplishment of his youth, and betaken himself 
 to toddy. That he had found that at least fit to 
 drink was proved by the state in which he was now 
 carried along. 
 
 They reached at last the steep ascent from the 
 parish road to Castle Warlock. The two conductors, 
 
l6o WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 though they had no leisure to confer on the subject, 
 were equally anxious as to whether the horses would 
 face it ; but the moment their hf ads came round, 
 whether only that it was another turn with its fresh 
 hope, or that the wind brought some stray odour of 
 hay or oats to their wide nostrils, I cannot tell, but 
 finding the ground tolerably clear, they took to it 
 with a will, and tore up with the last efforts of all but 
 exhausted strength, Cosmo and Aggie running along 
 beside them, and talking to them all the way. The 
 only difficulty was to get the lad on the box to give 
 them their heads. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE CASTLE INN. 
 
 The noise of their approach, heard from the bot- 
 tom of the ascent, within the lonely winter castle, 
 awoke profound conjecture, and Grizzle proceeded 
 to light the lanthern that she might learn the sooner 
 what catastrophe could cause such a phenomenon : 
 something awful must have taken place ! Perhaps 
 they had cut off the king's head as they did in 
 France ! But such was the rapidity of the horses' 
 ascent in the hope of rest, and warmth, and supper, 
 ■ that the carriage was in the close, and rattling up to 
 the door, ere she had got the long wick of the tallow 
 candle to acknowledge the dominion of fire. The 
 laird rose in haste from his arm-chair, and went to 
 the door. There stood the chaise, in the cloud of 
 steam that rose from the quick-heaving sides of the 
 horses. And there were Cosmo and Agnes at the 
 door of it, assisting somebody to descend. The laird 
 was never in a hurry. He was too thorough a gen- 
 tleman to trouble approach by uneasy advance, and 
 
 i6i 
 
WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 he had no fear of anything Cosmo had done. He 
 stood therefore in the kitchen door, calmly expect- 
 ant. 
 
 A long-cloaked lady got down, and, turning from 
 the assistant hand of his son, came tpwards him — a 
 handsome lady, tall and somewhat stately, but weary, 
 and probably in want of food as well as rest. He 
 bowed with old-fashioned worship, and held out his 
 hand to welcome her. She gave him hers graciously, 
 and thanked him for the hospitality his son had 
 offered them. 
 
 " Come in, come in, madam," said the old man. 
 " The fireside is the best place for explanations. 
 Welcome to a poor house but a warm hearth ! So 
 much we can yet offer stranger-friends.'' 
 
 He led the way, and she followed him into the 
 kitchen. On a small piece of carpet before the fire, 
 stood the two chairs of state, each protected by a 
 large antique screen. From hers the grandmother 
 rose with dignified difficulty, when she perceived the 
 quality of the entering stranger. 
 
 " Mother," said the laird, " it is not often we have 
 the pleasure of visitors at this time of the year ! " 
 
 "The more is the rare foot welcome," answered 
 she, and made Lady Joan as low a courtesy as she 
 dared : she could not quite reckon on her power of 
 recovery. 
 
 Lady Joan returned her salute, little impressed 
 with the honour done her, but recognizing that she 
 was in the presence of a gentlewoman. She took the 
 laird's seat at his invitation, and, leaning forward, 
 gazed wearily at the fire. 
 
THE CASTLE INN. 163 
 
 The next moment, a not very pleasant-looking old 
 man entered, supported on one side by Cosmo and 
 on the other by Agnes. They had had no little dif- 
 ficulty in waking him up, and he entered vaguely 
 supposing they had arrived at an inn where they 
 were to spend the night. If his .grumbling and 
 swearing as he advanced was sotto voce, the assuage- 
 ment was owing merely to his not being sufficiently 
 awake to use more vigour. The laird left the lady 
 and advanced to meet him, but he took no notice of 
 him, regarding his welcome as the obsequiousness of 
 a landlord, and turned shivering towards the fire, 
 where Grizzie was hastening to set him a chair. 
 
 " The fire's the best flooer i' the gairden, an' the 
 pig's the best coo i' the herdin', my lord," she said — 
 an old saw to which his lordship might have been 
 readier to respond, had he remembered that the pig 
 sometimes meant the stone jar that held the whisky. 
 
 As soon as Lord Mergwain was seated, Cosmo 
 drew his father aside, told him the names of their 
 guests, and in what difficulty he had found them, and 
 added that the lady and the horses were sober 
 enough, but for the other two he would not answer. 
 
 " We have been spending some weeks at Canmore 
 Castle in Ross-shire, and are now on our way home," 
 said Lady Joan to Mistress Warlock. 
 
 " You have come a long way round," remarked the 
 old lady, not so pleased with the manners of her 
 male visitor, on whom she kept casting, every now 
 and then, a full glance. 
 
 "We have," replied Lady Joan. "We turned out 
 of our way to visit an old friend of papa's, and have 
 
164 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK 
 
 been storm-bound till he — I mean papa — could bear 
 it no longer. We sent our servants on this morning. 
 They are, I hope, by this time, waiting us at How- 
 glen." 
 
 The fire had been thawing the sleep out of Lord 
 Mergwain, and now at length he was sufficienth- 
 awake to be annoyed that his daughter should hold 
 so much converse with the folk of the inn. 
 
 " Can't you show us to a rcom ? " he said grufH)', 
 " and get us something to eat? " 
 
 " We are doing the best we can for your lordship," 
 replied the laird. " But we were not expecting visit- 
 ors, and one of the rooms you will have to occupy, 
 has not been in use for some time. In such weather 
 as this, it will take two or three hours of a good fire to 
 render it fit to sleep in. But I will go myself, and 
 see that the servant is making what haste she 
 can." 
 
 He put on his hat over his night-cap, and made for 
 the door. 
 
 "That's right, landlord," cried his lordship; "al- 
 ways see to the comfort of your guests yourself — 
 But bless me ! you don't mean we have to go out of 
 doors to reach our bedrooms .' " 
 
 " I am afraid we cannot help it," returned the laird, 
 arresting his step. " There used to be a passage con- 
 necting the two houses, but for some reason or other 
 — I never heard what — it was closed in my father's 
 time." 
 
 " He must have been an old fool ! " remarked the 
 visitor. 
 
 " My lord ! " 
 
THE CASTLE INN. 165 
 
 " I said your father must have been an old fool," 
 repeated his lordship testily. 
 
 " You speak of my husband ! " said Mistress War- 
 lock, drawing herself up with dignity. 
 
 " I can't help that. / didn't give you away. Let's 
 have some supper, will you ? I want a tumbler of 
 toddy, and without something to eat it might make 
 me drunk." 
 
 Lady Joan sat silent, with a look half of contempt, 
 half of mischievous enjoyment on her handsome, :ac^. 
 She had too often to suffer from her father's rudeness 
 not to enjoy its bringing him into a scrape. But the 
 laird was sharper than she thought him, and seeing 
 both the old man's condition and his mistake, hu- 
 moured the joke. His mother rose, trembling with in- 
 dignation. He gave her his arm, and conducted her 
 to a stair which ascended immediately from the 
 kitchen, whispering to her on the way, that the man 
 was the worse of drink, and he must not quarrel with 
 him. She retired without leave-taking. He then 
 called Cosmo and Agnes, who were talking together 
 in a low voice at the other end of the kitchen, and 
 taking them to Grizzle in the spare room, told them 
 to help hrr, that she might the sooner come and get 
 the supper ready. 
 
 " I am afraid, my lord," he said, returning, " we are 
 but poorly provided for such guests as your lordship, 
 but we will do what we can." 
 
 "A horrible country ! " growled his lordship ; "but 
 look you, I don't want jaw — I want drink." 
 
 " What drink would your lordship have ? If it be 
 in my power — " 
 
1 66 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 " I doubt, for all your talk, if you've got any- 
 thing but your miserable whisky ! " interrupted Lord 
 Mergwain. 
 
 Now the laird had some remnants of old wine in 
 the once well stored cellar, and, thankless as his vis- 
 itor seemed likely to turn out, his hospitality would 
 not allow him to withhold what he had. 
 
 " I have a few bottles of claret," he said, " — if it 
 shjild not be over-old ! ■ — I do not understand much 
 afbotit wine myself." 
 
 " Let's have it up," cried his lordship. " We'll 
 see. If you don't know good wine, I do. I'm old 
 enough for any wine." 
 
 The laird would have had more confidence in 
 recommending his port, which he had been told was 
 as fine as any in Scotland, but he thought claret 
 safer for one in his lordship's condition — one who 
 having drunk would drink again. He went therefore 
 to the wine cellar, which had once been the dungeon 
 of the castle, and brought thence a most respectable- 
 looking magnum, dirty as a burrowing terrier, and to 
 the eye of the imagination hoary with age. The 
 eyes of the toper glistened at the sight. Eagerly he 
 stretched out both hands towards it. They actually 
 trembled with desire. Hardly could he endure the 
 delay of its uncorking. No sooner did the fine promis- 
 sory note of the discharge of its tompion reach his 
 ear, than he cried out, with the authority of a field- 
 officer at least : 
 
 " Decant it. Leave the last glass in the bottom." 
 
 The laird filied a decanter, and set it before him. 
 
 " Haven't you a mangum-jug ? " 
 
THE CASTLE INN. 167 
 
 " No, my lord.'' 
 
 "Then fill another decanter, and mind the last 
 glass." 
 
 " I have not another decanter, my lord." 
 " Not got two decanters, you fool ? " sneered his 
 lordship, enraged at not having the whole bottle set 
 down to him at once. " But after all," he resumed, 
 " it mayn't be worth a rush, not to say a decanter. 
 Bring the bottle. Set it down. Here ! — Carefully ! 
 Bring a glass. You should have brought the glasses 
 first. Bring three ; I like to change my glass. Make 
 haste, will you ! " 
 
 The laird did make haste, smiling at the exigence 
 of his visitor. Lord Mergwain listened to the glug- 
 glug in the long neck of the decanter as if it had 
 been a song of love, and the moment it was over, was 
 holding the glass to his nose. 
 
 " Humph ! Not much aroma here ! " he growled, 
 " I ought to have made the old fool " — the laird 
 must have been some fifteen years younger than he. 
 — "set it down before the fire — only what would 
 have become of me while it was thawing ? It's no 
 wonder though ! By the time I've been buried as 
 long, I shall want thawing too ! " 
 
 The wine, however, turned out more satisfactory to 
 the palate of the toper than to his nostrils — which 
 in truth, so much had he drunk that day, were at 
 present incapable of doing it justice — and he set 
 himself to enjoy it. How that should be possible to 
 a man for whom the accompanying dried olives of 
 memory could do so little,- 1 find it difficult to under- 
 stand. ' One would think, to enjoy his wine alone. 
 
l68 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 a man must have either good memories or good hopes : 
 Lord Mergwain had forgotten the taste of hope ; and 
 most men would shrink from touching the spring that 
 would set a single scene of such a panorama unrolling 
 itself, as made up the past of Lord Mergwain. How- 
 ever there he sat, and there he drank, and, truth to 
 tell, now and then smiled jgrimly. 
 
 The laird set a pair of brass candlesticks on the 
 table — there were no silver utensils any more in the 
 house of Glenwarlock ; years ago the last of them had 
 vanished — and retired to a wooden chair at the end 
 of the hearth, under the lamp that hung on the wall. 
 But on his way he had taken from a shelf an old, 
 much-thumbed folio which Mr. Simon had lent him 
 — the journal of George Fox, and the panorama 
 which then for a while kept passing before his mind's 
 eye, was not a little different from that passing before 
 Lord Mergwain's. What a study to a spirit able to 
 watch the unrolling of the two side by side ! 
 
 In a few minutes Grizzie entered, carrying a fowl 
 newly killed, its head almost touching the ground at 
 the end of its long, limp neck. She seated herself on 
 a stool, somewhere about the middle of the large 
 space, and proceeded to pluck, and otherwise prepare 
 it for the fire. Having, last of all, split it open from 
 end to end, turning it into something like an illegible 
 heraldic crest, she approached the fire, the fowl in 
 one hand, the gridiron in the other. 
 
 " I doobt I maun get his lordship to sit a wee back 
 frae the fire," she said. "I maun jist bran'er this 
 chuckle for his supper." 
 
 Lady Joan had taken Mrs. Warlock's chair, and 
 
THE CASTLE INN. 165 
 
 her father had taken the laird's, and pulled it right 
 i:i front of the fire, where a small deal table supported 
 his bottle, his decanter, and his three glasses. 
 
 " What does the woman mean ? " said his lordship. 
 " — Oh! I see; a spread-eagle! — But is my room 
 not ready yet ? Or haven't you one to sit in ? I don't 
 relish feasting my nose so much in advance of my 
 other senses." 
 
 "Ow! nae fear o' yer lordship's nose, 'cep' it be 
 frae yer lordship's hose, my lord ! " said Grizzle, "for 
 I doobt ye're birstlin' yer lordship's shins I I'll 
 tak the cratur oot to the cairt-shed, an' sing' 't there 
 first. But 'deed I wadna advise ye to gang to yer 
 room a minute afore ye need, for it winna be that 
 warm the nicht. I hae made a fire 'at's baith big an' 
 bricht, an' fit to ro'st Belzebub — an' I beg your par- 
 don, laird — but it's some days — I micht say ooks — 
 sin' there "was a fire intil 't, an' the place needs time 
 to tak the heat intil its auld neuks." 
 
 She might have said years not a few, instead ot 
 some weeks, but her truthfulness did not drive her so 
 far. She turned, and left the house, carrying with 
 her the fowl to singe. 
 
 " Here," said his lordship to his host, " move back 
 this table and chair a bit, will you ? I don't relish 
 having the old witch fussing about my knees. What 
 a mistake it is not to have rooms ready for whoever 
 may come I " 
 
 The laird rose, laid his book down, and moved the 
 table, then helped his guest to rise, moved his chair, 
 and placed the screen again betwixt him and the 
 door. Lord Mergwain re-settled himself to his bottle. 
 
170 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 In the meantime, in the guest-chamber, which had 
 for so long entertained neither friend nor stranger, 
 Cosmo and Aggie were busy — too busy to talk much 
 — airing the linen, dusting the furniture, setting 
 things tidy, and keeping up a roaring fire. For this 
 purpose the remnants of an old broken-down cart, of 
 which the axle was anciently greasy, had been fetched 
 from the winter-store, and the wood and peats to- 
 gether, with a shovelful of coal to give the composi- 
 tion a little body, had made a glorious glow. But 
 the heat had hardly yet begun to affect sensibly the 
 general atmosphere of the place. It was a large 
 room, the same size as the drawing-room immediately 
 under it, and still less familiar to Cosmo. For, if 
 the latter filled him with a kind of loving awe, the 
 former caused him a kind of faint terror, so that, in 
 truth, even in broad daylight, at no time was he will- 
 ing to enter it. Now and then he would -open the 
 door in passing, and for a moment stand peering in, 
 with a stricken, breath-bating enjoyment of the vague 
 atmosphere of dread, which, issuing, seemed to en- 
 velope him in its folds ; but to go in was too much, 
 and he neither desired nor endured even the looking 
 in for more than a few seconds. For so long it was 
 to him like a page in a book of horrors : to go to the 
 other end of it, and in particular to approach the 
 heavily curtained bed, was more than he cared to do 
 without cogent reason. At the same time he rejoiced 
 to think there was such a room in the house, and at- 
 tached to it an idea of measure less value — almost as 
 if it had a mysterious window that looked out upon 
 the infinite. The cause of this feeling was not to 
 

 V- 
 
 
THE CASTLE INN. 1 73 
 
 himself traceable. Until old Grannie's story, he had 
 heard no tale concerning it that he remembered : he 
 may have heard hints — a word dropped may have 
 made its impression, and roused fancies outlasting 
 the memory of their origin ; for feelings, like memo- 
 ries of scents and sounds, remain, when the related 
 facts have vanished. What it was about the room 
 that scared him, he could not tell, but the scare was 
 there. With a companion like Aggie, however, even 
 after hearing Grannie's terrible reminiscence, he was 
 able to be in the room without experiencing worse 
 than that same milder, almost pleasant degree of 
 dread, caused by the mere looking through the door 
 into the strange brooding silence of the place. But, 
 I must confess, this applies only to the space on the 
 side of the bed next the fire. The bed itself — not 
 to mention the shadowy region beyond it — on which 
 the body of the pirate had lain, he could not regard 
 without a sense of the awfully gruesome : itself looked 
 scared at its own consciousness of the fact, and of 
 the feeling it caused in the beholder. 
 
 In the strength of Aggie's presence, he was now 
 able to take a survey of the room such as never be- 
 fore. Over walls, floor, and ceiling, his eyes were 
 wandering, when suddenly a question arose on which 
 he desired certainty : " Is there," he said to himself, 
 "a door upo' the ither side o' the bed ? " " Did Gran- 
 nie mak mention o' sic a door ? " he asked himself 
 next, and could not be certain of the answer. He 
 gazed around him, and saw no door other than that 
 by which they had entered, but at the head of the 
 bed, on the other side, was a space hidden by 
 
174 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 the curtain : it might be there ! When they went to 
 put the sheets on the bed, he would learn ! He dared 
 not go till then ! " Dare not ! " he repeated to him- 
 self — and went at once. 
 
 He saw and trembled. It was the strangest feel- 
 ing. If it was ni c fear, it was something very like it, 
 but with a mixture of wondrous pleasure : there was 
 the door ! The curtains hid Aggie, and for a r'loment 
 he felt as if he were miles alone, and must rush back 
 to the refuge of her presence. But he would not yield 
 to the folly — compelled himself to walk to the door. 
 
 Whether he was more disappointed or relieved, he 
 could not, the first instant, have told : instead of 
 a door, scarcely leaning against the wall, was an old 
 dark screen, in stamped leather, from which the 
 gilding was long faded. Disappointment and not re- 
 lief was then his only sense. 
 
 " Aggie," he called, still on the farther side of the 
 bed — he called gently, but trembled at the sound of 
 his own voice — "did ye ever hear — did Grannie 
 mak mention o' a door 'at the auld captain gaed oot 
 at ? " 
 
 " Whisht, whisht ! " cried Aggie, in a loud hissing 
 whisper, which seemed to pierce the marrow of 
 Cosmo's bones, " I rede ye say nae thing aboot that 
 i' this chaumer. Bide till we're oot o' 't : I hae near 
 dune. Syne we'll steek the door, an' lat the fire 
 work. It '11 hae eneuch adu afore it mak the place 
 warm ; the cauld intil this room's no a coamon ane. 
 There's something by ord'nar intil 't." 
 
 Cosmo could no longer endure having the great, 
 old, hearse-like bed between him and Aggie. With a 
 
THE CASTLE INN. 
 
 17s 
 
 shiver in the very middle of his body, be hastened to 
 the other side : there lay the country of air, and fire, 
 and safe earthly homeliness : the side he left was the 
 dank region of the unknown, whose march-ditch was 
 the grave. 
 
 They hurried with the rest of their work. Aggie 
 insisted on being at the farther side of the bed when 
 they made it. Not another word was spoken between 
 them, till they were safe from the room, and had 
 closed its door behind them. 
 
 They went up to Cosmo's room, to make it some- 
 thing fitter for a lady's bower. Opening a certain 
 chest, they took from it — stored there by his 
 mother, Cosmo loved to think — another set of 
 curtains, clean- blankets, fine sheets, and a counter- 
 pane of silk patchwork, and put them all on the bed. 
 With these, a white toilet-cover, and a chair or two 
 from the drawing-room, they so changed the room 
 that Cosmo declared he would not have known it. 
 They then filled the grate with as much fuel as it 
 would hold, and running fast down the two stairs, 
 went again to the kitchen. At the ■ door of it, how- 
 ever, Aggie gave her companion the slip, and set out 
 to go back to her grannie at Muir o' Warlock. 
 
 Cosmo found the table spread for supper, the Eng- 
 lish lord sitting with his wine before him, and the 
 lady in his grandmother's chair, leaning back, and 
 yawning wearily. Lord Mergwain looked muddled, 
 and his daughter cast on him now and then a look 
 that had in it more of annoyance than affection. He 
 was not now a very pleasant lord to look on, what- 
 ever he might once have been. He was red-faced 
 
176 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 and blear-eyed, and his nose, partly from the snuff 
 which he took in large quantity, was much injured in 
 shape and colour : a closer description the historical 
 muse declines. His eyes had once been blue, but to- 
 bacco, potations, revellings day and night — every- 
 thing but tears, had washed from them almost all the 
 colour. It added much to the strange unpleasantness 
 of his appearance, that he wore a jet-black wig, so 
 that to the unnatural came the untimely, and en- 
 hanced the withered. His mouth, which was full of 
 false teeth, very white, and ill-fitting, had a cruel ex- 
 pression, and Death seemed to look out every time he 
 grinned. 
 
 As soon as he and Lady Joan were seated at the 
 supper-table, with Grizzle to wait upon them, the 
 laird and Cosmo left the kitchen, and went to the 
 spare-room, for the laird judged that, in the temper 
 and mistake her father was in, the lady would be more 
 comfortable in their absence. 
 
 "Cosmo," he said, standing with his back to the 
 fire, when he had again made it up, " I cannot help 
 feeling as if I had known that man before. But I can 
 recall no circumstances, and it may be a mere fancy. 
 You have never seen him before, my boy, have you?" 
 
 " I don't think I have, papa ; and I don't care if I 
 never see him again," answered Cosmo. " The lady 
 is pretty, but not very pleasant, I think, though she 
 is a lord's daughter." 
 
 " Ah, but such a lord, Cosmo ! " returned his father. 
 " When a man goes on drinking like that, he is no 
 better than a cheese under the spigot of a wine-cask • 
 he lives to keep his body well soaked — that it may 
 
THE CASTLE INN. 177 
 
 be the nicer, or the nastier for the worms. Cosmo, 
 my son, don't you learn to drown your soul in your 
 body, like the poor Duke of Clarence in the wine- 
 butt. The material part of us ought to keep growing 
 gradually thinner, to let the soul out when its time 
 comes, and the soul to keep growing bigger and 
 stronger every day, until it bursts the body at length, 
 as a growing nut does its shell ; when, instead, the 
 body grows thicker and thicker, lessening the room 
 within, it squeezes the life out of the soul, and when 
 such a man's body dies, his soul is found a shrivelled 
 thing, too poor to be a comfort to itself or to anybody 
 else. Cosmo, to see that man drink, makes me 
 ashamed of my tumbler of toddy. And now I think 
 of it, I don't believe it does me any good ; and, just 
 to make sure that I am in earnest, from this hour I 
 will take no more. — Then," he added, after a short 
 pause, "I shall be pretty sure you will not take it." 
 
 "Oh, papa!" cried Cosmo, "take your toddy all 
 the same: I promise you — and a Warlock will not 
 break his word— never to taste strong drink while I 
 live." 
 
 " I should prefer the word of a man to that of a 
 Warlock," said his father. "A Warlock is nothing 
 except he be a man. Some Warlocks have been 
 men." 
 
 From that day, I may here mention, the laird drank 
 nothing but water, much to the pleasure of Peter 
 Simon, who was from choice a water-drinker. 
 
 " What a howling night it is, Cosmo ! " he resumed. 
 " If that poor old drinker had tried to get on to Howglen, 
 he would have been frozen to death ; when the drink 
 
178 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 is out of the drunkard, he has nothing to resist with." 
 
 By this time Lord Mergwain had had his supper, 
 and had begun to drink again. Grizzie wanted to 
 get rid of him, that she might " redd up " her kitchen. 
 But he would not move. He was quite comfortable 
 where he was, he said, and though it was the kitchen ! 
 he wouldn't stir a peg till he had finished the magnum. 
 My lady might go when she pleased ; the magnum 
 was better company than the whole houseful ! 
 
 Grizzie was on the point of losing her temper with 
 him altogether, when the laird returned to the kitchen. 
 He found her standing before him with her two hands 
 on her two hips, and lingered a moment at the door 
 to hear what she was saying. 
 
 " Na, na, my lord ! '•" expostulated Grizzie, " I canna 
 lea' ye here. Yer lordship '11 sune be past takin' 
 care o' yersel' — no 'at ye wad be a witch at' it this 
 present ! Ye wad be thinkin' ye was i' yer bed whan 
 ye was i' the mids' o' the middin', or pu'in' the 
 blankets o' the deuk dub ower yer held ! Lord ! my 
 lord, yet micht set the hoose o' fire, an' burn a', baith 
 stable an' byre, an' horses an' cairts, an' cairt-sheds, 
 an' hiz a' to white aisse in oor nakit beds 1 " 
 
 " Hold your outlandish gibberish," returned his 
 lordship. "Go and fetch me some whisky. This 
 stuff is too cold to go to sleep on in such weather." 
 
 " Deil a drap or drap o' whusky, or oucht else, yer 
 lordship's hae fra my han' this nicht — nae mair nor 
 gien ye war a bairn 'at wantit poother to blaw himsel' 
 up wi' ! Ye hae had ower muckle a'ready, gien ye 
 war but cawpable o' un'erstan'in', or failin' that, o' 
 believin' an honest wuman 'at kens what state ye are 
 
THE CASTLE INN. 179 
 
 in better nor ye du yersel'. — A bonny lordship ! " she 
 muttered to herself as she turned from him. 
 
 The laird thought it time to show himself, and went 
 forward. Lord Mergwain had understood not the 
 half of what Grizzie said; but had found sufficient 
 provocation in the tone, and was much too angry for 
 any articulate attempt at speech beyond swearing. 
 
 " My lord," said the laird, " I think you will find 
 your room tolerably comfortable now : shall I have 
 the pleasure of showing you the way ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ! I'm not going to stir. Fetch me a 
 bottle of your whisky — that's pretty safe to be good." 
 
 " Indeed, my lord, you shall have no more drink 
 to-night," said the laird, and taking the bottle, which 
 was nearly empty, carried it from the table. 
 
 Though nearly past everything else, his guest was 
 not yet too far gone to swear with vigour, and the vol- 
 ley that now came pouring from his outraged heart 
 was such, that, for the sake of Grizzie and Cosmo, the 
 laird took the bottle again in his hand, and said, that, 
 if his lordship would drink it in his own room, he 
 should have what was left of it. 
 
 Not too drunk to see where his advantage lay, 
 Lord Mergwain yielded; the thunder of impre- 
 cation from bellowing sank to growling, then to 
 muttering, and the storm gradually subsided. The 
 laird gave him one arm, Cosmo another, and Grizzie 
 came behind, ready to support or push, and so in 
 procession they moved from the kitchen along the 
 causeway, his lordship grumbling and slipping, 
 hauled, carried, and shoved — through the great 
 door, as they called it, up the stairs, past the draw- 
 
l8o WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 ing-room, and into "the muckle chaumer." There he 
 was deposited in an easy chair, before the huge fire, 
 and was fast asleep in a moment. Lady Joan had 
 followed them, and while they were in her father's 
 room, had passed up to her own, so that when they 
 re-entered the kitchen, there was nobody there. 
 With a sigh of relief the laird sank into his mother's 
 chair. After a little while, he sent Cosmo to bed, 
 and, rejoicing in the quiet, got again the journal of 
 George Fox, and began to read. When Grizzle had 
 pottered about for a while, she too went to bed, and 
 the laird was alone. 
 
 When he had read about an hour, he thought it 
 time to see after his guest, and went to his room. 
 He found him still asleep in his chair before the fire; 
 but he could not be left there through such a night, 
 for the fire would go out, and then a pack of wolves 
 would hardly be worse than the invading cold. It 
 was by no means an easy task to rouse him, however, 
 and indeed remained in large measure unaccom- 
 plished — so far so, that, after with much labour and 
 contrivance relieving him of his coat and boots, the 
 laird had to satisfy his hospitality with getting him 
 into bed in the remainder of his clothes. He then 
 heaped fresh fuel on the fire, put out the candles, and 
 left him to what repose there might be for him. Re- 
 turning to his chair and his book, the laird read for 
 another hour, and then went to bed. His room was 
 in the same block, above that of his mother. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THAT NIGHT. 
 
 Cosmo's temporary quarters were in one of two or 
 three chambers above his own, forrnerly occupied by 
 domestics, when there were many more of them 
 about the place. He went to bed, but, after about three 
 hours, woke very cold — so cold that he could not go 
 to sleep again. He got up, heaped on his bed every- 
 thing protective he could find, and tried again. But 
 it was of no avail. Cosmo could keep himself warm 
 enough in the open air, or if he could not, he did not 
 mind ; but to be cold in bed was more than he would 
 willingly endure. He got up again — with an idea. 
 Why should he not amuse himself, rather than lie 
 shivering on couch inhospitable ? When anything 
 disturbed him of a summer night, as a matter of 
 course he got up and went out; and although natu- 
 rally he was less inclined on such a night as this, 
 when the rooks would be tumbling dead from the 
 boughs of the fir-trees, he yet would, rather than lie 
 sleepless with cold. 
 
 i8i 
 
l82 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 On the opposite side of the court, in" a gap between 
 the stable and the byre, the men had heaped up the 
 snow from the rest of the yard, and in the heap 
 Cosmo had been excavating. For snow-balling he 
 had little inclination, but the snow as a plastic sub- 
 stance, a thing that could be compelled into shapes, 
 was an endless delight to him, and in connection with 
 this mound he had conceived a new fancy, which, this 
 very night, but for the interruption of their visitors, 
 he would already have put to the test. 
 
 Into the middle of the mound he had bored a tun- 
 nel, and then hollowed out what I may call a negative 
 human shape — the mould, as it were, of a man, of 
 life-size, with his arms thrown out, and his feet 
 stretched straight, like one that had fallen, and lay 
 in weariness. His object was to illuminate it, in the 
 hope of "a man all light, a seraph man," shin- 
 ing through the snow. That very night he had in- 
 tended, on his return from Muir of Warlock, to light 
 him up ; and now that he was driven out by the cold, 
 he would brave, in his own den, in the heart of the 
 snow, the enemy that had roused him, and make his 
 experiment. 
 
 He dressed himself, crept softly out, and, for a 
 preparation, would have a good run. He trotted 
 down the hill, beating his feet hard, until he reached 
 the more level road, where he set out at full speed, 
 and soon was warm as any boy need care to be. 
 
 About three o'clock in the morning, the laird 
 woke suddenly, without knowing why. But he was 
 not long without knowing why he should not go to 
 sleep again. From a distance, as it seemed, through 
 
THAT NIGHT. 1 83 
 
 the Stillness of the night, in rapid succession, came 
 three distinct shrieks, one close on the other, as from 
 the throat of a human being in mortal terror. Never 
 had such shrieks invaded his ears. Whether or not 
 they came from some part of his own house, he could 
 not tell. He sprung upon the floor, thinking first of 
 his boy, and next of the old man whom he had left 
 drunk in his bed, and dressed as fast as he could, ex- 
 pecting every moment a fresh assault of horrible 
 sound. But all he heard was the hasty running of 
 far oiif feet. He hurried down, passing carefully his 
 mother's door, but listening as he passed, in the hope 
 of finding she had not been disturbed. He heard 
 nothing, and went on. But in truth the old lady lay 
 trembling, too terrified to move or utter a sound. 
 In'the next room he heard Grizzle moving, as if, like 
 himself, getting up with all speed. Down to the 
 kitchen he ran, in haste to get out and reach the great 
 door. But when he opened the kitchen door, a strange 
 sight met his eyes, and for a moment arrested him. 
 
 The night was dark as pitch, for, though the snow 
 had ceased to fall, great clouds of it yet filled the 
 vault of the sky, and behind them was no moon from 
 which any smallest glimmer might come soaking 
 through. But, on the opposite side of the court, 
 the heap of snow familiar to his eyes was shin- 
 ing with an unknown, a faint, phosphorescent ra- 
 diance. The whole heap was illuminated, and was 
 plainly visible : but the strangest thing was, that the 
 core of the light had a vague shadowy resemblance — 
 if one may use the word of a shape of light — to the 
 form of a man. There were the body and out- 
 
184 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 Stretched limbs of one who had cast himself supine 
 in sorest weariness, ready for the grave which had 
 found him. The vision flickered, and faded and re- 
 vived, and faded again, while, m his wonder forget- 
 ting for one brief moment the cries that had roused 
 him, the laird stood and gazed. It was the strangest, 
 ghostliest thing he had ever seen ! Surely he was on 
 the point of discovering some phenomenon hitherto 
 unknown ! What Grizzle would have taken it for, 
 unhappily we do not know, for, just as the laird 
 heard her footsteps on the stair, and he was himself 
 starting to cross the frozen space between, the light, 
 which had been gradually paling, suddenly went out. 
 With its disappearance he bethought himself, and 
 hurried towards the great door, with Grizzle now at 
 his heels. 
 
 He opened it. All was still. Feeling his way in 
 the thick darkness, he went softly up the stair. 
 
 Cosmo had but just left the last remnants of his 
 candle-ends burning, and climbed glowing to his 
 room, delighted with the success of his experiment, 
 when those quick-following, hideous sounds rent the 
 night, like flashes from some cloud of hellish torture. 
 His heart seemed to stand still. Without knowing 
 why, involuntarily he associated them with what he 
 had been last about, and for a moment felt like a 
 murderer. The next he caught up his light, and 
 rushed from the room, to seek, like his father, that of 
 their guest. 
 
 As he reached the bottom of the first stair, the 
 door of his own room opened, and out came - Lady 
 Joan, with a cloak thrown over her night-gown, and 
 
THAT NIGHT. 185 
 
 looking like marble, with wide eyes. But Cosmo felt 
 it was not she who had shrieked, and passing her with- 
 out a second look, led the way down, and she followed. 
 
 When the laird opened the door of the guest- 
 chamber, there was his boy in his clothes, with a 
 candle in his hand, and the lady in her night-gown, 
 standing in the middle of the floor, and looking down 
 with dismayed countenances. There lay Lord Mer- 
 gwain ! — or was it but a thing of nought — the de- 
 serted house of a living soul ? The face was drawn 
 a little to one side, and had a mingled expression, of 
 horror — which came from within, and of ludicrous- 
 ness, which had an outside formal cause. Upon 
 closer investigation, the laird almost concluded he 
 was dead ; but on the merest chance something must 
 be done. Cosmo seemed dazed, and Lady Joan 
 stood staring with lost look, more of fright than of 
 sorrow, but there was Grizzle, peeping through be- 
 tween them, with bright searching eyes ! On her 
 countenance was neither dismay, anxiety, nor distrac- 
 tion. She nodded her head now and then as she 
 gazed, looking as if she had expected it all, and here 
 it was. 
 
 "Rin an' fess het watter as fest's ye can. Grizzle," 
 said the laird. " My dear Lady Joan, go and dress, 
 or you will be frozen to death. We will do all we 
 can. Cosmo, get the fire up as quickly as possible — 
 it is not quite out. But first you and I must get him 
 into bed, and cover him up warm, and I will rub his 
 bands and feet till the hot water comes." 
 
 As the laird said, everyone did. A pail of hot 
 water was soon brought, the fire was soon lighted, and 
 
l86 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 the lady soon returned more warmly clad. He made 
 Grizzle put the pail on a chair by the bed-side, and 
 they got his feet in without raising him, or taking him 
 out of the blankets. Before long he gave a deep sigh, 
 and presently showed other signs of revival. When 
 at length he opened his eyes, he stared around him 
 wildly, and for a moment it seemed to all of them he 
 had lost his reason. But the laird said he might not 
 yet have got over the drink he had taken, and if he 
 could be got to sleep, he would probably wake better. 
 They therefore removed some more of his clothes, 
 laid him down again, and made him as comfortable 
 as they could, with hot bottles about him. The laird 
 said he would sit with him, and call Lady Joan if 
 needful. To judge by her behaviour, he conjectured 
 such a catastrophe was not altogether strange to her. 
 She went away readily, more like one relieved than 
 anxious. 
 
 But there had arisen in the mind of the laird a 
 fear : might not Cosmo unwittingly have had some 
 share in the frightful event ? When first he entered 
 the room, there was Cosmo, dressed, and with a light 
 in his hand: the seeming phosphorescence in the 
 snow must have been one of his ploys, and might not 
 that have been the source of the shock to the dazed 
 brain of the drinker? 
 
 His lordship was breathing more softly and regu- 
 larly, though every now and then half waking with a 
 cry — a dreadful thing to hear from a sleeping old 
 man. They drew their chairs close to the fire and to 
 each other, and Cosmo, as was usual with him, laid 
 his hand on his father's knee. 
 
THAT NIGHT. 187 
 
 " Did you observe that peculiar appearance in the 
 snow-heap, on the other side of the court, Cosmo ? " 
 asked the laird. 
 
 "Yes, papa," replied the boy: "I made it myself." 
 And therewith he told him all about it. " You're not 
 vexed with me, are you, papa ? " he added, seeing the 
 laird look grave. 
 
 " No, my son," answered his father ; " I am only 
 uneasy lest that should have had anything to do 
 with this sad affair." 
 
 " How could that be, papa .' " asked Cosmo. 
 
 " He may have looked out of the window and seen 
 it, and, in the half-foolish state he was in, taken it for 
 something supernatural." 
 , " But why should that have done him any harm ? " 
 
 "It may have terrified him." 
 
 " Why should it terrify him ? " said Cosmo. 
 
 "There may be things we know nothing of," re- 
 plied his father, " to answer that question. I cannot 
 help feeling rather uneasy about it." 
 
 " Did you see anything frightful about my man of 
 light, papa ? " inquired Cosmo. 
 
 "No," answered his father, thoughtfully; "but the 
 thing, you see, was in the shape of a man — a man 
 lying at full length as if he were dead, and indeed in 
 his grave : he might take it for his wraith — an 
 omen of his coming end." 
 
 " But he is an Englishman, papa, and the English 
 don't believe in the second sight." 
 
 " That does make it less likely. — Few lowlanders 
 
 do." 
 
 " Do you believe in it, papa ? " 
 
l88 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Well, you see," returned the laird, with a small 
 smile, " I, like yourself, am neither pure highlander 
 nor pure lowlander, and the natural consequence is, 
 I am not very sure whether I believe in it or not. I 
 have heard stories difficult to explain." 
 
 " Still," said Cosmo, " my lord would be more to 
 blame than me, for no man with a good conscience 
 would have been so frightened as that, even if it had 
 been his wraith." 
 
 " That may be true ; — still, a man cannot help 
 being especially sorry anything should happen to a 
 stranger in his house. You and I, Cosmo, would 
 have our house a place of refuge. — But you had 
 better go to bed now. There is no reason in tiring 
 two people, when one is enough." 
 
 " But, papa, I got up because I was so cold I 
 could not sleep. If you will let me, I would much 
 rather sit with you. I shall be much more comfort- 
 able here." 
 
 That his son should have been cold in the night 
 distressed the laird. He felt as if, for the sake of 
 strangers, he had neglected his own — the specially 
 sent. He would have persuaded Cosmo to go to his 
 father's bed, which was in a warmer room, but the 
 boy begged so to be allowed to remain that he 
 yielded. 
 
 They had talked in a low voice for fear of dis- 
 turbing the sleeper, and now were silent. Cosmo 
 rolled himself in his plaid, lay down at his lather's 
 feet, and was soon fast asleep : with his father there 
 the chamber had lost all its terrors, and was just like 
 any other home-feeling room of the house. Many i; 
 
THAT NIGHT. 189 
 
 time in after years did that night, that room, that 
 fire, and the feeling of his father over his head, while 
 the bad lord lay snoring within the dark curtains, 
 rise before him ; and from the memory he would try 
 to teach himself, that, if he were towards his great 
 Father in his house as he was then towards his 
 earthly father in his, he would never fear anything. 
 
 To know one's-self as safe amid storm and darkness, 
 amid fire and water, amid disease and pain, even 
 during the felt approach of death, is to be a Chris- 
 tian, for that is how the Master felt in the hour of 
 darkness, because he knew it a fact. 
 
 All night long, at intervals, the old man moaned, 
 and every now and then would mutter sentences 
 unintelligible to the laird, but sown with ugly, some- 
 times fearful words. In the gray of the morning he 
 woke. 
 
 " Bring me brandy," he cried in a voice of dis- 
 content. 
 
 The laird rose and went to him. When he saw 
 the face above him, a horror came upon his — a look 
 like that they found frozen on it. 
 
 " Who are you ? " he gasped. " Where am I ? " 
 
 "You came here in the storm last night, my lord," 
 said the laird. 
 
 " Cursed place ! I never had such horrible dreams 
 in my life. Where am I — do you hear? Why 
 don't you answer me ? " 
 
 " You are at Castle Warlock, my lord," replied the 
 laird. 
 
 At this he shrieked, and, throwing off the clothes, 
 sprung from the bed. 
 
igo WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " I entreat you, my lord, to lie down again. You 
 were very ill in the night," expostulated the laird. 
 
 " I don't stop another hour in the blasted hole ! " 
 roared his guest, in a fierce quaver. Out of my way 
 you fool ! Where's Joan ? Tell her to get up and 
 come directly. I'm off, tell her. I'd as soon go 
 to bed in the drifts as stop another hour in this 
 abominable old lime-kiln. 
 
 The laird let him rave on : it was useless to oppose 
 him. He flew at his clothes to dress himself, but 
 his poor old hands trembled with rage, fear, drink, 
 and eagerness. The laird did his best to help him, 
 but he seemed nowise recognizant. 
 
 "I will get you some hot water, my lord," he said 
 at length, and was moving towards the door. 
 
 "No, —you! — everybody!" shrieked the old 
 man. " If you go out of that door, I will throv 
 myself out of this window." 
 
 The laird turned at once, and in silence waited on 
 him like a servant. " He must be in a fit of delirium 
 tremens ! " he said to himself. He poured him out 
 some cold water, but he would not use it. He would 
 neither eat nor drink nor wash till he was out of the 
 horrible dungeon, he said. The next moment he 
 cried for water, drank three mouthfuls eagerly, threw 
 the tumbler from him, and broke it on the hearth. 
 
 The instant he was dressed, he dropped into the 
 great chair and closed his eyes. 
 
 "Your lordship must allow me to fetch some 
 fuel," said the laird ; " the room is growing cold." 
 
 " No, I tell you ! " cried Lord Mergwain, opening 
 his eyes and sitting up. " When I'm cold I'll go to 
 
THAT NIGHT. I9I 
 
 — . If you attempt to leave the room, I'll send a 
 bullet after you. — God have mercy ! what's that at 
 my feet ? " 
 
 " It is only my son," replied the laird gently. "We 
 have been with you all night — since you were taken 
 ill, that is." 
 
 " When was that ? What do you mean by that ? " 
 he said, looking up sharply, with a face of more intel- 
 ligence than he had yet shown. 
 
 " Your lordship had some sort of fit in the night, and 
 if you do not compose yourself, I dread a return of it." 
 
 " You well -may, if I stop here," he returned — 
 then, after a pause, " Did I talk ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, my lord — a good deal." 
 
 " What did I say ? " 
 
 " Nothing I could understand, my lord." 
 
 " And you did your best, I don't doubt ! " rejoined 
 his lordship with a sneer. " But you know nothing 
 is to be made of what a man says in a fit." 
 
 " I have told your lordship I heard nothing." 
 
 "No matter; I don't sleep another night under 
 your roof." 
 
 "That will be as it may, my lord." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Look at the weather, my lord. — Cosmo ! " 
 
 The boy was still asleep, but at the sound of his 
 name from his father's lips, he started at once to his 
 feet. 
 
 "Go and wake Grizzle," said the laird, "and tell 
 Iier to get breakfast ready as fast as she can. Then 
 bring some peat for the fire, and some hot water for 
 his lordship.'- 
 
192 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Cosmo ran to obey. Grizzie had been up for more 
 than an hour, and was going about with the look of 
 one absorbed in a tale of magic and devilry. Her 
 mouth was pursed up close, as if worlds should not 
 make her speak, but her eyes were wide and flashing, 
 and now and then she would nod her head, as for 
 the Q. E. D. to some unheard argument. What- 
 ever Cosmo required, she attended to at once, buf 
 not one solitary word did she utter. 
 
 He went back with the fuel, and they made up the 
 fire. Lord Mergwain was again lying back ex- 
 hausted in his chair, with his eyes closed. 
 
 "Why don't you give me my brandy — do you 
 hear?" all at once he cried. " — Oh, I thought 
 it was my own rascal ! Get me some brandy, will you .' " 
 
 "There is none in the house, my lord," said his host. 
 
 " What a miserable sort of public to keep ! No 
 brandy ! " 
 
 "My lord, you are at Castle Warlock — not so 
 good a place for your lordship's needs." 
 
 " Oh, that's it, yes ! I remember ! I knew your 
 father, or your grandfather, or 3'our grandson, or 
 somebody — the more's my curse ! Out of this I 
 must be gone, and that at once ! Tell them to put the 
 horses to. Little I thought when I left Cairntod 
 where I was going to find myself ! I would rather be 
 in — and have done witli it! Lord! Lord! to 
 think of a trifle like that not being forgotten yet ! 
 Are there no doors out? Give me brandy, I say. 
 There's some in my pocket somewhere. Look you ! 
 I don't know what coat I had on yesterday ! or where 
 it is! 
 
THAT NIGHT. I93 
 
 He threw himself back in his chair. The laird set 
 about looking if he had brought the brandy of which 
 he spoke: it might be well to let him have some. 
 Not finding it, he would have gone to search the outer 
 garments his lordship had put off in the kitchen ; but 
 he burst out afresh : 
 
 "I tell you — and confound you, I say that 
 you have to be told twice — I will not be left alone 
 with that child ! He's as good as nobody ! What 
 could ^^ do if — " Here he left the sentence unfin- 
 ished. 
 
 "Very well, my lord," responded the laird, "I will 
 not leave you. Cosmo shall go and look for the 
 brandy-flask in your lordship's greatcoat." 
 
 " Yes, yes, good boy ! you go and look for it. 
 You're all Cosmos, are you? Will the line never 
 come to an end ! A cursed line forme — if it shouldn't 
 be a rope-line ! But I had the best of the game after 
 all ! — though I did lose my two rings. Confounded 
 old cheating son of a porpus ! It was doing the world 
 a good turn, and Glenwarlock a better to — Look 
 you ! what are you listening there for ! — Ha ! ha ! 
 ha! I say, now — would you hang a man, laird — I 
 mean, when you could get no good out of it — not a 
 ha'p'orth for yourself or your family .' " 
 
 " I've never had occasion to consider the question," 
 answered the laird. 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! haven't you ? Let me tell you it's quite 
 time you considered it. It's no joke when a man has 
 to decide without time to think. He's pretty sure to 
 decide wrong." 
 
 "That depends, I should think, my lord, on the 
 
194 
 
 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 way in which he has been in the habit of deciding." 
 " Come now ! none of your Scotch sermons to me ! 
 You Scotch always were a set a down-brown hypo- 
 crites ! Confound the whole nation ! " 
 
 " To judge by your last speech, my lord, — " 
 " Oh, by my last speech, eh? By my dying declara- 
 tion ? Then I tell you 'tis fairer to judge a man by 
 anything sooner than his speech. That only serves 
 to hide what he's thinking. I wish I might be judged 
 by mine, though, and not by my deeds. I've done 
 a good many things in my time I would rather 
 forget, now age has clawed me in his clutch. So 
 have you ; so has e^'erybody. I don't see why I 
 should fare worse than the rest." 
 
 Here Cosmo returned with the brandy-flask, which 
 he had found in his greatcoat. His lordship stretched 
 out both hands to it, more eagerh- even than when he 
 welcomed the cob-webbed magnum of claret — hands 
 trembling with feebleness and hunger for strength. 
 Heedless of his host's offer of water and a glass, he 
 put it to his mouth, and swallowed three great gulps 
 hurriedly. Then he breathed a deep breath, seemed 
 to say with Macbeth, " Ourselves again ! " drew him- 
 self up in a chair, and glanced around him with a 
 look of gathering arrogance. A kind of truculent 
 question was in his eyes — as much as to say, "Now 
 then, what do you make of it all ? What's your 
 candid notion about me and my extraordinary be- 
 haviour ? " After a moment's silence, — 
 
 "What puzzles me is this," he ;aid, "how the 
 deuce I came, of all places, to come just here! I 
 don't believe, in all my wicked life, I ever made such 
 
THAT NIGHT. igj 
 
 a fool of myself before — and I've made many a fool 
 of myself too ! " 
 
 Receiving no answer, he took another pull at his 
 flask. The laird stood a little behind and watched 
 him, harking back upon old stories, putting this and 
 that together, and resolving to have a talk with old 
 Grannie. 
 
 A minute or two more, and his lordship got up, 
 and proceeded to wash his face and hands, ordering 
 Cosmo about after the things he wanted, as if he had 
 been his valet. 
 
 " Richard's himself again ! " he said in a would-be 
 jaunty voice, the moment he had finished his toilet, 
 and looked in a crow-cocky kind of a way at the 
 laird. But the latter thought he saw trouble still un- 
 derneath the look. 
 
 " Now then, Mr. Warlock, where's this breakfast of 
 yours ? " he said. 
 
 " For that, my lord," replied the laird, " I must beg 
 you to come to the kitchen. The dining-room in this 
 weather would freeze the very marrow of your 
 bones." 
 
 "And look you! it don't want freezing," said his 
 lordship, with a shudder. " The kitchen to be sure ! 
 — I don't desire a better place. I'll be hanged if I 
 enter this room again ! " he muttered to himself — 
 not too low to be heard. "My tastes are quite as 
 simple as yours, Mr. Warlock, though I have not had 
 the same opportunity of indulging them." 
 
 He seemed rapidly returning to the semblance of 
 what he would have called a gentleman. 
 * He rose, and the laird led the way. Lord Mer- 
 
196 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 gwain followed ; and Cosmo, coming immediately 
 behind, heard him muttering to himself all down the 
 stairs : " Mere confounded nonsense ! Nothing what- 
 ever but the drink ! — I must say I prefer the day- 
 light after all. — Yes! that's the drawing-room. — 
 What's done's done — and more than done, for it 
 can't be done again ! " 
 
 It was a nipping and an eager air into which they 
 stepped from the great door. The storm had ceased, 
 but the snow lay much deeper, and all the world 
 seemed folded in a lucent death, of which the white 
 mounds were the graves. All the morning it had 
 been snowing busily, for no footsteps were between 
 the two doors but those of Cosmo. 
 
 When they reached the kitchen, there was a grand 
 fire on the hearth, and a great pot on the fire, in 
 which the porridge Grizzie had just made was swelling 
 in huge bubbles that burst in sighs. Old Grizzie was 
 bright as the new day, bustling and deedy. Her 
 sense of the awful was nowise to be measured by the 
 degree of her dread : she believed and did not fear 
 — much. She had an instinctive consciousness that 
 a woman ought to be, and might be, and was a match 
 for the devil. 
 
 " I am sorry we have no coffee for your lordship," 
 said the laird, " To tell the truth, we seldom take 
 anything more than our country's porridge. I hope 
 you can take tea? Our Grizzie's scons are good, 
 with plenty of butter." 
 
 His lordship had in the meantime taken another 
 pull at the brandy-flask, and was growing more and 
 more polite. 
 
THAT NIGHT. 197 
 
 " The man would be hard to please," he said, 
 " who would not be enticed to eat by such a display 
 of good victuals. Tea for me, before everything ! — 
 How am I to pretend to swallow the stuff ? " he 
 murmured, rather than muttered, to himself. — " But," 
 iie went on aloud, "didn't that cheating rascal 
 leave you — " 
 
 He stopped abruptly, and the laird saw his eyes 
 fixed upon something on the table, and following 
 their look, saw it was a certain pepper-pot, of odd de- 
 vice — a piece of old china, in the shape of a clum- 
 sily made horse, with holes between the ears for the 
 issue of the pepper. 
 
 " I see, my lord," he said, " you are amused with 
 the pepper-pot. It is a curious utensil, is it not ? It 
 has been in the house a long time — longer than 
 anybody knows. Which of my great-grandmothers 
 let it take her fancy, it is impossible to say ; but I sup- 
 pose the reason for its purchase, if not its manufac- 
 ture, was, that a horse passant has been the crest of 
 our family from time immemorial." 
 
 " Curse the crest, and the horse too ! " said his 
 lordship. 
 
 The laird started. His guest had for the last few 
 minutes been behaving so much like a civilized 
 being, that he was not- prepared for such a sudden 
 relapse into barbarity. But the entrance of Lady 
 Joan, looking radiant, diverted the current of things. 
 
 The fact was, that, like not a few old people. Lord 
 Mergwain had fallen into such a habit of speaking in 
 his worse moods without the least restraint, that in 
 his better moods, which were indeed only good by 
 
ig8 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 comparison, he spoke in the same way, without being 
 aware of it, and of himself seldom discovering that he 
 had spoken. 
 
 The rest of the breakfast passed in peace. The 
 visitors had tea, oatcake, and scons, with fresh 
 butter and jam ; and Lady Joan, for all the frost and 
 snow, had yet a new-laid egg — the only one ; while 
 the laird and Cosmo ate their porridge and milk — 
 the latter very scanty at this season of the year, and 
 tasting not a little of turnip — and Grizzie, seated 
 on a stool at some distance from the table, took her 
 porridge with treacle. Mrs. Warlock had not yet 
 left her room. 
 
 When the meal was over. Lord Mergwain turned to 
 his host, and said, 
 
 "Will you oblige me, Mr. Warlock, by sending 
 orders to my coachman to have the horses put to as 
 quickly as possible : we must not trespass more on 
 your hospitality. — Confound me if I stop an hour 
 longer in this hole of a place, though it be daylight! " 
 
 " Papa ! " cried Lady Joan. 
 
 His lordship understood, looked a little confused, 
 and with much readiness sought to put the best face 
 on his blunder. 
 
 " Pardon me, Mr. Warlock," he said ; " I have al- 
 ways had a bad habit of spee'ch, and now that I am 
 an old man, I don't improve on it." 
 
 "Don't mention it, my lord," returned the laird. 
 "I will go and see about the carriage; but I am 
 more than doubtful." 
 
 He left the kitchen, and Cosmo followed him. 
 Lord Mergwain turned to his daughter and said, 
 
THAT NIGHT. 1 99 
 
 " What does the man mean ? I tell you, Joan, I 
 am going at once. So don't you side with him if he 
 wants us to stop. He may have his reasons. I knew 
 this confounded place before you were born, and I 
 hate it." 
 
 "Very good, papa!" replied Lady Joan, with a 
 slight curl of her lip. " I don't see why you should 
 fancy I should like to stop." 
 
 They had spoken aloud, regardless of the presence 
 of Grizzle. 
 
 " May it be lang afore ye're in a waur an' a warmer 
 place, my lord an' my lady," said the old woman, 
 with the greatest politeness of manner she knew how 
 to assume. When people were rude, she thought she 
 had a right to be rude in return. But they took no 
 more notice than if they had not heard. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THROUGH THE DAY. 
 
 It was a glorious morning. ' The wind had fallen 
 quite, and the sun was shining as if he would say, 
 " Keep up your hearts ; I am up here still. I have 
 not forgotten you. By and by you shall see more of 
 me." But Nature lay dead, with a great white sheet 
 cast over face and form. Not dead ? — Just as much 
 dead as ever was man, save for the inner death with 
 which he kills himself, and which she cannot die. It 
 is only to the eyes of his neighbours that the just man 
 dies : to himself, and to those on the other side, he 
 does not die, but is born instead : " He that liveth 
 and believeth in me shall never die.'' But the poor 
 old lord felt the approaching dank and cold of the 
 sepulchre as the end of all things to him — if indeed 
 he would be permitted to lie there, and not have to 
 get up and go to worse quarters still. 
 
 " I am sorry to have to tell you, my lord," said the 
 laird, re-entering, " that both our roads and your 
 horses are in such a state that it is impossible yoi» 
 should proceed today." 
 
THRUUGH THE DAY. 201 
 
 His guest turned white through all the discolora- 
 tion of his countenance. His very soul grew too 
 white to swear. He stood silent, his pendulous under 
 lip trembling. 
 
 "Though the wind fell last night," resumed the 
 laird, " the snow came on again before the morning, 
 and it seems impossible you should get through. To 
 attempt it would be to run no small risk of your 
 lives." 
 
 " Joan," said Lord Mergwain, " go and tell the ras- 
 cal to put the horses to." 
 
 Lady Joan rose at once, took her shawl, put it over 
 her head, and went. Cosmo ran to open the door for 
 her. The laird looked on, and said not a word : the 
 headstrong old man would find the thing could not be 
 done ! 
 
 "Will you come arid find the coachman for me, 
 Cosmo ? " said Lady Joan when they reached the 
 door — with a flash of her white teeth and her dark eyes 
 that bewitched the boy. Then first, in the morning 
 light, and the brilliance of the snow-glare, he saw that 
 she was beautiful. When the shadows were dark 
 about her, the darkness of her complexion obscured 
 itself ; against the white sheen she stood out darkly 
 radiant. Specially he noted the long eyelashes that 
 made a softening twilight round the low horizon-like 
 luminousness of her eyes. 
 
 Through the deep snow between the kitchen and 
 the stable, were none but his father's footsteps. He 
 cast a glance at her small feet, daintily shod in little 
 more than sandals : she could not put down one of 
 them anywhere without sinking beyond her ankle ! 
 
WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " My lady," he said, " you'll get your feet soaking 
 wet ! They're so small, they'll just dibble the snow ! 
 Please ask your papa if I mayn't go and give his 
 message. It will do just as well." 
 
 " I must go myself," she answered. " Sometimes 
 he will trust nobody but me.'' 
 
 " Stop then a moment,'' said Cosmo. " Just come 
 to the drawing-room. I won't keep you more than 
 two minutes. The path there, you see, is pretty well 
 trodden." 
 
 He led the way, and she followed. 
 
 The fire was alight, and burning well ; for Grizzle, 
 foreseeing how it must be, and determined she would 
 not have strangers in the kitchen all day, had lighted 
 it early. Lady Joan walked straight to it, and drop- 
 ped, with a little shiver, into a chair beside it. To 
 Cosmo the sight of the blaze brought a strange de- 
 light, like the discovery of a new loveliness in an 
 old friend. To Lady Joan the room looked old- 
 fashioned dreariness itself, to Cosmo an ancient 
 marvel, ever fresh. 
 
 He left her, and ran to his own room, whence 
 presently he returned with a pair of thick woollen 
 stockings, knitted in green and red by the hands of 
 his grandmother. These he carried to Lady Joan, 
 where she sat on the low chair, and kneeling before 
 her, began, without apology or explanation, to draw 
 one of them over the dainty foot placed on the top 
 of the other in front of the fire. She gave a little 
 start, and half withdrew her foot ; then looking down 
 at the kneeling figure of service before her, recog- 
 nized at once the utterly honest and self-forgetful 
 
COSMO CONDUCTED HF.R TO THE STABLE." 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 205 
 
 earnestness of the boy, and submitted. Carefully he 
 drew the stockings on, and she neither opposed nor 
 assisted him. When he had done, he looked up in 
 her face with an expression that seemed to say — 
 "There now! can't I do it properly?" but did not 
 speak. She thanked him, rose, and went out, and 
 Cosmo conducted her to the stable, where he heard 
 the coachman, as she called him, not much better 
 than a stable-boy, whistling. She gave him her 
 father's order. 
 
 The lad stared with open mouth, and pointed to 
 one of the stalls. There stood an utterly wretched 
 horse, swathed in a cloth, with his head hanging 
 down, heedless of the food before him. It was clear 
 no hope lay there. She turned and looked at Cosmo. 
 
 " The better for us, my lady ! " replied Cosmo 
 to her look; "we shall have your beautiful eyes 
 the longer ! They were lost in the dark last night, 
 because they are made out of it, but now we see them, 
 we don't want to part with them." 
 
 She looked at him and smiled, saying to herself 
 the boy would be dangerous by and by, and together 
 they went back to the kitchen, where since they left 
 not a word had been spokan. Grizzle was removing 
 the breakfast things ; Lord Mergwain was seated by 
 the fire, staring into *it ; and the laird had got his 
 Journal of George Fox, and was reading diligently : 
 when nothing was to be done, the deeper mind of 
 the laird grew immediately active. 
 
 When Lady Joan entered, her father sat up straight 
 in his chair : he expected opposition ! 
 
 " One of the horses, my lord, is quite unfit," she said. 
 
2o6 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Then, by my soul ! we'll start with the other," 
 he replied, in a tone that, sounded defiance to heaven 
 or earth or whatever said him nay. 
 
 " As your lordship pleases," returned Joan. 
 
 " My lord," said the laird, lowering his book to his 
 knee, " if I thought four cart-horses would pull you 
 through to Howglen to-night, you should have them ; 
 but you would simply stick fast, horses and all, in 
 the snow-wreaths." 
 
 The old man uttered an exclamation with an awful 
 solemnity, and said no more, but collapsed, and sat 
 huddled up, staring into the fire. 
 
 " You must just make the best of your quarters 
 here ; they are entirely at your service, my lord," said 
 the laird. " We shall not stari'e. There are sheep on 
 the place, pigs and poultry, and plenty of oatmeal, 
 though very little flour. There is milk too — and 
 a little wine, and I think we shall do well enough." 
 
 Lord Mergwain made no answer, but in his silence 
 seemed to be making up his mind to the includible. 
 
 " Have you any more of that claret ? " he asked. 
 
 "Not much, I am sorry to say," answered the 
 laird, " but it is your lordship's while it lasts." 
 
 "If this lasts, I shall drink your cellar dry," re- 
 joined his lordship with a feeble grin. " I may as 
 well make a clean breast of it. From my childhood 
 I have never kjiown what it was not to be thirsty. 
 I believe thirst to be the one unfailing birth-mark 
 of the family. I was what the methodists call 
 a drunkard before I was born. My father died 
 of drink. So did my grandfather. You must have 
 some pity on me, if I should want more than seems 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 207 
 
 reasonable. The only faculty ever cultivated in 
 our strain was drinking, and I am sorry to say it 
 has not been brought to perfection yet. Perfection 
 is to get drunk and never know it ; but I have bad 
 dreams, sir ! I have bad dreams ! And the worst 
 of it is, if once I have a bad dream, I am sure 
 to have it again; and if it come first in a strange 
 place, it will come every night until I leave that 
 place. I had a very bad one last night, as you 
 know. I grant it came because I drank too much 
 yesterday, but that won't keep it from coming again 
 to-night." 
 
 He started to his feet, the muscles of his face 
 working frightfully. 
 
 " Send for your horses, Mr. Warlock," he cried. 
 " Have them put to at once. Four of them, you 
 said. At once — at once 1 Out of this I must go. 
 If it be to — -itself, go I must and will." 
 
 " My lord," said the laird, " I cannot send you 
 from my house in this weather. As my guest, I am 
 bound to do my best for you ; especially as I under- 
 stand the country, and you do not. I said you should 
 have my horses if I thought they could take you 
 through, but I do not think it. Besides, the change, 
 in my judgment, is a deceitful one, and this night 
 may be worse than the last. Poor as your accommo- 
 dation is, it is better than the open road between this 
 and Howglen ; though, doubtless, before to-morrow 
 morning you would be snug in the heart of a snow- 
 wreath." 
 
 " Look here, sir," said Lord Mergwain, and rising, 
 he went up to the laird, and laid his hand on his 
 
208 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 shoulder ; " if I stop, will you give me another room, 
 and promise to share it with me to-night ? I am 
 aware it is an odd request to make, but, as I tell you, 
 we have been drinking for generations, and my 
 nerves are the worse for it. It's rather hard that 
 the sins of the fathers should be visited on the chil- 
 dren ! Before God, I have enough to do with my 
 own, let alone my fathers' ! Every one should bear 
 his own burden. I can't bear mine. If I could, 
 it's not much my fathers' would trouble me ! " 
 
 " My lord, I will do anything I can for you — any- 
 thing but consent to your leaving Castle Warlock 
 to-day." 
 
 " You will spend the night with me then ? " 
 
 "I will." 
 
 " But not in that room, you know." 
 
 " Anywhere you please in the house, my lord, ex- 
 cept my mother's room." 
 
 " Then I'll stop. — Joan, you may amuse yourself ; 
 we are not going till to-morrow." 
 
 The laird smiled ; he could not flatter himself with 
 the hope of so speedy a departure. Joan turned to 
 Cosmo. 
 
 "Will you take me about the place ? " she said. 
 
 " If you mean in-doors," interposed the laird. " It 
 is a curious old house, and might interest you a little." 
 
 "I should like nothing better. May I go with 
 Cosmo ? " 
 
 "Certainly: he will be delighted to attend your 
 ladyship. — Here are the keys of the cabinets in the 
 drawing-room, Cosmo. Her ladyship may like to 
 ".ook at some of their contents." ' 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 209 
 
 " I hardly know enough about them," returned 
 Cosmo. " Won't you come yourself, father, and 
 show them to us ? " 
 
 It was the first time the boy used the appellation. 
 
 " If they are not worth looking at in themselves, 
 the facts about them cannot be of much consequence, 
 my boy," answered the laird. 
 
 He was unwilling t« leave Lord Mergwain. Lady 
 Joan and Cosmo went without him. 
 
 " Perhaps we may follow you by and by," said the 
 laird. 
 
 " Is the place very old, Cosmo ? " asked Lady Joan 
 on their way. 
 
 " Nobody knows how old the oldest part of it is," 
 answered Cosmo, " though dates are assigned to the 
 most of what you will see to-day. But you must ask 
 my father ; I do not know much of the history of 
 it. I know the place itself, though, as well as he 
 does. I fancy I know nearly every visible stone 
 of it." 
 
 " You are very fond of it, then ? " 
 
 " There never could be any place like it to me, my 
 lady. I know it is not very beautiful, but I love it 
 none the less for that. I sometimes think I love it 
 the more for its ruggedness — ugHness, if you please 
 to call it so. If my mother had not been beautiful, I 
 should love her all the same." — "and think there 
 wasn't anybody like her," he was going to add, but 
 checked himself, remembering that of course there 
 was not. 
 
 Arrived in the drawing-room, whither Cosmo led 
 her first, Lady Joan took her former place by the fire, 
 
WARLOCK O GLENVVARL.:CK. 
 
 and sat staring into it. She did not know what to 
 make of what she saw and heard. How could people 
 be happy, she thought, in such a dreary, cold, wretched 
 country, with such poverty-stricken home-surround- 
 ings, and nothing to amuse them from one week's end 
 to another .? Yet they seemed to be happy to a degree 
 she knew nothing of ! For alas, her home was far 
 from a blessed one ; and as she had no fountain open 
 in herself, but looked entirely to foreign supply for 
 her life-necessities, and as such never can be so sup- 
 plied, her lif? was not a flourishing one. 
 
 There are souls innumerable in the world, as dry 
 as the Sahara desert — souls which, when they look 
 most gay and summer-like, are only flaunting the 
 flowers gathered from other people's gardens, stuck 
 without roots into their own unproducing soil Oh, 
 the dreariness, the sandy sadness of such poor arid 
 souls! They are hungry, and eat husks; they are 
 thirsty, and drink hot wine ; their sleep is a stupor, 
 and their life, if not an unrest, then a yielded decay. 
 Only when praised or admired do they feel as if they 
 lived! But Joan was not yet of such. She had had 
 too much discomfort to have entered yet into their 
 number. There was water not yet far from the sur- 
 face of her consciousness. 
 
 With no little pleasure and some pride, Cosmo 
 proceeded to take the family treasures from their 
 shelves ; but, alas ! most of them were common to 
 the eyes of one who also had a family and a history, 
 lived in a much larger, if not half so old a house, and 
 had had amongst her ancestors more than one with a 
 liking for antiquities, oddities, and bibelots. Lady 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 
 
 Joan regarded them listlessly ■willing to seem to at- 
 tend to the boy, but with her thoughts far away, 
 while now and then she turned a weary gaze towards 
 the next window : all she saw thence was a great, 
 mounded country, dreary as sunshine and white cold 
 could make it. Storm, driving endless whirls of 
 spectral snow, would have been less dreary to her 
 than the smiling of this cold antagonism. It was a 
 picture of her own life. Evil greater than she knew 
 had spread a winter around her. If her father suf- 
 fered for the sins of his fathers, she suffered for his, 
 and had for them to dwell in desolation and Soneli- 
 ness. 
 
 One thing after another Cosmo brought her, but 
 none of them seemed much to interest her. She 
 knew the sort of most of them. 
 
 " This is said to be solid silver," he remarked, as 
 he laid on a chair beside her a curious little statuette 
 of a horse, trapped and decorated in Indian graving, 
 and having its whole surface covered with an involved 
 and rich ornamental design. Its eyes were, or seemed 
 to be rubies, and saddle and bridle and housing were 
 studded with small gems. There was little merit in 
 the art of it beyond the engraving, but Cosmo saw 
 the eyes of the lady fixed upon it, with a strange look 
 in them, 
 
 " That is the only thing they say the old captain 
 ever gave his brother, my great-grand-father," said 
 Cosmo. " But I beg your pardon," he added, " I have 
 never told you the story of the old captain ! " 
 
 The boy already felt as if he had known their guest 
 of a night for years ; the hearts of the young are di- 
 
WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 vinely hospitable, which is one of the things that 
 make children the such of the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 I ady Joan took the horse in her hand, and looked 
 at i'; more closely. 
 
 " It is very heavy ! " she remarked. 
 
 "It is said to be solid silver," repeated Cosmo. 
 
 She laid it down, and put her hand to her forehead, 
 but said nothing. 
 
 ', 'hey heard the steps and voices of the two gentle- 
 mes, ascending the stair. Lady Joan caught up the 
 horse, rose hastily, and holding it out to Cosmo, said, 
 
 " Quick ! quick ! put it away. Don't let my father 
 see it." 
 
 Cosmo cast on her one look of surprise, and 
 obeyed at once, restored it to its place, and had just 
 closed the doors of the cabinet, when Lord Mergwain 
 and his father entered the room. 
 
 They were a peculiar-looking pair — Lord Mer- 
 gwain in antiquated dress, not a little worn, and neither 
 very clean nor in very good condition — a snuffy, di- 
 lapidated, miserable, feeble old man, with a carriage 
 where doubt seemed rooted in apprehension, every 
 other moment casting about him a glance of enquiry, 
 as if an evil spirit came running to the mouth of his 
 eye-caves, looked out, and retreated; and the laird 
 behind him, a head higher, crowned with, his red 
 night-cap, and dressed as I have already described, 
 looking older than his years, but bearing on his face 
 the repose of discomfort accepted, his eye keen and 
 clear, and, when turned on his guest, filled with com- 
 passion rather than hospitality. He was walking 
 more erect than usual, either in recognition of the 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 2 13 
 
 lady's presence, or from a feeling of protection 
 towards her father. 
 
 " Now, my lord," he said, as they advanced from 
 the door, " we will set you in a warm corner by the 
 fire, and you must make the best of it. We can't 
 have things all as we should like them. That is not 
 what the world was made for.'' 
 
 His lordship returned him no answer, but threw a 
 queer look from under his black wig — a look of su- 
 perior knowledge — of the wisdom of this world. 
 
 "You are an old fool," it said ; " but you are mas- 
 ter here ! Ah ! how little you know ! " 
 
 He walked tottering to the fire where Cosmo had 
 already set for him a chair. Something in the look 
 of it displeased him. He glanced round the room. 
 
 " Fetch me that chair, my boy," he said, not un- 
 kindly, and Cosmo hastened to substitute the one he 
 indicated. The laird placed a tall screen behind it. 
 His lordship dropped into the chair, and began to rub 
 his knees with his hands, and gaze into the fire. 
 Lady Joan rearranged her skirts, and for a moment 
 the little circle looked as if each was about to settle 
 down to some mild enjoyment of the others. Cosmo 
 drew a chair as near Lady Joan as he judged polite- 
 ness would permit. The laird made up the fire, and 
 turned away, saying he must go and see the sick horse. 
 
 " Mr. Warlock ! " said Lord Mergwain, and spoke 
 with a snarl, " you will not deprive us of the only 
 pleasure we have — that of your company ? " 
 
 " I shall be back in a few minutes, my lord," re- 
 plied his host ; and added, " I must see about lunch 
 too." 
 
214 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " That was wonderful claret ! " said his lordship, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "I shall see to the claret, my lord." 
 
 " If I might suggest, let it be brought here. A 
 gentle airing under my own eye, just an introduction 
 to the fire, would improve what is otherwise perfect. 
 — And look here," he added, as, with a kindly bow 
 of assent, the laird was going, " — you haven't got a 
 pack of cards, have you ? " 
 
 " I believe there is a pack somewhere in the 
 house," replied the laird, "but it is very old, and I 
 fear too much soiled for your lordship's hands." 
 
 " Oh, confound the dirt ! " said his lordship. " Let 
 us have them. They're the only thing to make 
 the time pass.'' 
 
 " Have you a library ? " asked Lady Joan — mainly 
 to say something, for she was not particularly fond of 
 books ; like most people she had not yet learned to 
 read. 
 
 " What do you want with a library ? " growled hei 
 father. . " Books are nothing but a pack of lies, not 
 half so good for killing time as a pack of cards. 
 You're going to play a rubber, not to read books ! " 
 
 " With pleasure, papa," responded Lady Joan. 
 
 " /don't want to kill the time. I should like to 
 keep it alive for ever," said Cosmo, with a worship- 
 ping look at the beautiful lady — a summer-bird of 
 heaven that had strayed into their lonely winter. 
 
 " Hold your tongue ; you are an idiot ! " said his 
 lordship angrily. " — Old and young," he went on, 
 unaware of utterance, " the breed is idiotic. 'Tis time 
 it were played out." 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 215 
 
 Cosmo's eyes flashed. But the rudesby was too 
 old to be served as he had served the schoolmaster ! 
 He was their guest too, and the father of the lady by 
 his side ! 
 
 The hand of the lady stole to his, and patting it 
 gently, said, as plainly as if it had been her mouth, 
 " Don't mind him ; he is an old man, and does not 
 know what he is saying." He looked up in her face, 
 and his anger was gone. 
 
 " Come with me," he said, rising ; "I will show you 
 what books we have. There may be one you would 
 like another time. We shall be back before the 
 cards come." 
 
 "Joan ! " cried her father, " sit still." 
 She glanced an appeal for consideration to Cosmo, 
 and did not move. Cosmo sat down again. A few 
 minutes passed in silence. Father and daughter 
 stared into the fire. So did Cosmo. But into what 
 different three worlds did the fire stare ! The old 
 man rose and went to the window. 
 
 " I must get away from this abominable place," he 
 said, " if it cost me my life." 
 
 He looked out and shuddered. The world seemed 
 impassable as a dead world on which the foot of the 
 living could take no hold, could measure no distance, 
 make no progress. Not a print of man or of beast 
 was visible. It was like a world not yet discovered. 
 " I am tied to the stake ; I hear the fire roaring ! " 
 he muttered. " My fate has found me — caught me 
 like a rat, and is going to make an end of me ! In 
 my time nobody believed such things ! Now they 
 seem to be coming into fashion again ! " 
 
2l6 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Whoever would represent what is passing in a 
 mind, must say more than the man himself knows 
 how to say. 
 
 The laird re-entered. 
 
 " Well, have you brought the cards ? " said Lord 
 Mergwain, turning fiom the window. 
 
 " I have, my lord. I am sorry it is such a poor pack, 
 but we never play. — I think, Cosmo, you had better 
 come with me." 
 
 "Hold you, laird, we're going to have a rubber ! " 
 
 " Cosmo does not understand the game." 
 
 " I will teach him," said Lady Joan. " He shall 
 be live dummy for a few rounds ; that will be 
 enough." 
 
 " My lord will not care to play for counters," per- 
 sisted the laird, "and we cannot play for money." 
 
 " I don't care what the points are," said Lord 
 Mergwain, " — sixpence, if you like — so long as it is 
 money. None but a fool cares for victory where 
 notliing is to be got by it." 
 
 " I am sorry to disappoint your lordship,'' returned 
 the laird, " but play for money neither my son nor 
 myself will. But perhaps you would like a game of 
 draughts, or backgammon ? " 
 
 " Will you bet on the game or the gammon ? " 
 
 " On nothing, my lord." 
 
 " Oh, confound you ! " 
 
 He turned again and went to the window. 
 
 " This is frightful ! " he said to himself. " Nothing 
 whatever to help one to forget ! If the day goes on 
 like this, I shall out with everything . — Maybe I had 
 better ! — How the clodpoles would stare ! I believe I 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 217 
 
 should laugh in the middle of it. — And that fellow 
 lurking somewhere all the time about the place, 
 watching his chance when the night comes! — It's 
 horrible. I shall go mad ! " This last he spoke 
 aloud. 
 
 " Papa ! " said his daughter sharply. 
 
 Lord Mergwain started, and looked troubled. 
 What he might have uttered, he could not tell. 
 
 "A rubber, then," he said, approaching the fire 
 again, " — on any terms, or no terms at all ! " 
 
 He took up the cards. 
 
 " Ha, there's blood on them," he cried, and 
 dashing them on the table, turned once more to the 
 window. 
 
 He was like a bird in a cage that knows he cannot 
 get out, and yet keeps trying, as if he dared not admit 
 the impossibility. Twenty times that morning he 
 went to the window, saying, " I must get out of this ! " 
 and returned again to his seat by the fire. The 
 laird had removed the pack, and he said nothing more 
 about a rubber. Lady Joan tried to talk, and Cosmo 
 did his best to amuse her. The laird did his en- 
 deavour with his lordship, but with small success. 
 And so the morning crept away. It might have been 
 a pleasant one to the rest, but for the caged lord's 
 misery. At last came Grizzle. 
 
 " Sir, an' my lord," she said, " come ye doon the 
 stair. The kail's het, an' the cheirs is set, an' yer 
 denner's waitin' ye there." 
 
 It may have been already observed, that to Grizzie 
 came not unfrequently an odd way of riming what 
 she said. She was unaware of this peculiarity. The 
 
2l8 WARLOCK O' GLKNWARLOCK. 
 
 suggestion of sound by sound was as hidden from her 
 as it was deep-seated in her and strong. And this 
 was not all: the riming might have passed unper- 
 ceived by others, too, but for the accompanying ten- 
 dency to rhythm as well. Nor was this by any 
 means all yet : there was in her a great leaning to 
 poetic utterance generally, and that arising from a 
 poetic habit of thought. She had in her everything 
 essential to the making of a poetess ; yet of the 
 whole she was profoundly ignorant ; and had any one 
 sought to develop the general gift, I believe all would 
 have shrunk back into her being. 
 
 The laird rose and offered his arm to Lady Joan. 
 Lord Mergwain gave a grunt, and looked only a little 
 pleased at the news : no discomfort or suffering, men- 
 tal or spiritual, made him indiffe-ent to luncheon or 
 dinner — for after each came the bottle; but the 
 claret had not been brought to the drawing-room as 
 he had requested ! 
 
 When they reached the kitchen, he looked first 
 eagerly, then uneasily round him : lio bottle, quart or 
 magnum was to be seen 1 A cloud gathered, lowering 
 and heavy, on the face of the toper. The laird saw 
 it, remembered that, in his anxiety to amuse him, he 
 had forgotten his dearest delight, and vanished in the 
 region behind. 
 
 Mrs. Warlock, according to her custom, was al- 
 ready seated at the head of the table. She bowed 
 just her head to his lordship, and motioned him to a 
 chair on her right hand. He took it with a courteous 
 acknowledgment, of which he would hardly have been 
 capable, had he not guessed on what errand his host 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 
 
 219 
 
 was gone : he had no recollection of having given her 
 offence. 
 
 "I hope your ladyship is well this morning.?" he 
 said. 
 
 "Ye revive an auld custom, my lord," returned his 
 hostess, not without sign of gratification, "—clean 
 cot o' fashion noo-a-days, excep' amang the semple. 
 A laird's wife has no richt to be ca'd my kddy, 'cep' 
 by auncient custom." 
 
 " Oh, if you come to that," returned his lordship, 
 "three fourths of the. titles in use are merely of 
 courtesy. Joan there has no more right than your- 
 self to be called my lady. Neither has my son Bor- 
 land the smallest right to the title ; it is mine, and 
 mine only, as much as Mergwain." 
 
 The old lady turned her head, and fixed a stolen 
 but searching gaze on her guest, and to the end of 
 the meal took every opportunity of regarding him 
 unobserved. Her son from the other end of the 
 table saw her looks, and guessed her suspicions ; 
 .law also that she did not abate her. courtesy, but 
 'ittle thought to what her calmness was owing. 
 
 Mrs. Warlock, ready to welcome anything mar- 
 i^ellous, had held with Grizzle much conference con- 
 cerning what had passed in the night — one acci^ 
 dental result of which was the disappearance for the 
 time of all little rivalries and offences between them 
 in the common interest of an awful impending de- 
 nouement. She had never heard, or had forgotten 
 the title to which Lord Borland of the old time was 
 heir ; and now that all doubt as to the identity of 
 the man was over, although, let her strain her vision 
 
WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 as she might, she could not, through the deforma- 
 tion of years, descry the youthful visage, she felt that 
 all action on the part of the generation in possession 
 was none the less forestalled and precluded' by the 
 presence of one in the house who had evidently long 
 waited his arrival, and had certainly but begun his 
 reprisals. More would be heard ere the next dawn, 
 she said to herself ; and with things in such a train 
 she would not interfere by the smallest show of feud 
 or offence. Who could tell how much that certain 
 inmate of the house — she hesitated to call him a 
 member of the family — and, in all righteous proba- 
 bility, of a worse place as well, had to do with the 
 storm that drove Borland thither, and the storms that 
 might detain him there ! already there were signs 
 of a fresh onset of the elements ! the wind was ris- 
 ing; it had begun to moan in the wide chimney; and 
 "rem the quarter whence it now blew, it was certain 
 ;o bring more storm, that is snow ! 
 
 The dinner went on. The great magnum before 
 the fire was gathering genial might from the soft 
 insinuation of limpid warmth, renewing as much of 
 its youth as was to be desired in wine ; and redevel- 
 oping relations, somewhat suppressed, with the slack- 
 ening nerves and untwisting fibres of an old man's 
 earthly being.! 
 
 But there was not a drop to drink on the table, 
 except water ; and the toper found it hard to lay 
 solid foundation enough for the wine that was to 
 follow, and grumbled inwardly. The sight of the 
 bottle before the fire, however, did much to, enable 
 him,, not to be patient, but to suppress the shows of 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 
 
 impatience. He eyed it, and loved it, and held his 
 peace. He saw the water at his elbow, and hated 
 it the worse that it was within his reach — hated its 
 cold staring rebuke &s he hated virtue — hated it as 
 if its well were in the churchyard where the old cap- 
 tain was buried sixty years ago. — Confound him ! 
 why wouldn't he lie still ? He made some effort to 
 be polite to the old hag, as he called her, in that not 
 very secret chamber of his soul, whose door was 
 but too ready to fall ajar, and allow its evil things to 
 issue. He searched his lumber-room for old stories 
 to tell, but found it difficult to lay hold on any fit 
 for the ears present, though one of the ladies was 
 an old woman — old. enough, he judged, not to be 
 startled at anything, and the other his own daughter, 
 who ought to see no harm when her father made the 
 company laugh ! It was a miserable time for him, 
 but, like a much enduring magician awaiting the mo- 
 ment of power, he kept eying the bottle, and gath- 
 ering comfort. 
 
 Grizzle eyed him from behind, almost as he eyed 
 the bottle. She eyed him a* she might the devil 
 caught in the toils of the arch-angel ; and if she did 
 not bring against him a railing accusation, it was 
 more from cunning than politeness. " Ah, my fine 
 fellow!" her eyes said, "he is after you! he will be 
 here presently ! " 
 
 Grizzie afforded a wonderfully perfest instance of 
 a relation which is one of the loveliest in humanity 
 — absolute service without a shade of servility. She 
 would have died for her master, but even to him she 
 must speak her mind. Her own affairs were noth- 
 
WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 ing to her, and those of her master as those of the 
 universe, but she was vitally one of his family, as 
 the toes belong to the head ! In truth, she was of 
 the family like a poor relation, with few privileges, 
 and no end of duties ; and she thought ten times 
 more of her duties than her privileges. She would 
 ha\e fed, and sometimes did feed with perfect sat- 
 isfaction on the poorest scraps remaining from meals, 
 but a doubt of the laird's preference of her porridge 
 to that of any maker in broad Scotland, would have 
 given her a sore heart. She would have wept bitter 
 tears had the privilege of washing the laird's feet 
 been taken from her. If reverence for the human 
 is an essential element of greatness, then at least 
 greatness was possible to Grizzle. She dealt with no 
 abstractions ; she worshipped one living man, and 
 that is the first step toward the love of all men ; 
 while some will talk glowingly about humanity, and 
 be scornful as a lap-dog to the next needy embodi- 
 ment of it that comes in their way. Such as Grizzle 
 will perhaps prove to be of those last foredoomed to 
 be first. With the tenderness of a ministering angel 
 and mother combined, her eyes waited upon her 
 master. She took her return beforehand in the as- 
 surance that the laird would follow her to the grave, 
 would miss her, and at times think nobody could do 
 something or other so much to his mind as old 
 Grizzle. And if, like the old captain, she might be 
 permitted to creep about the place after night-fall, 
 she desired nothing better than the chance of serving 
 him still, if but by rolling a stone out of his way. 
 The angels might bear him in their hands — she 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 223 
 
 could not aspire to that, but it would be much the 
 same whether she got the stone out of the way of his 
 foot, or they lifted his foot above the stone ! 
 
 Dinner over, the laird asked his guest whether he 
 would take his wine where he was, or have it carried 
 to the drawing-room. The offering of this alternative, 
 the old lady, to use an Elizabethan phrase, took in 
 snuff; for although she never now sat in the drawing- 
 room, and indeed rarely crossed its threshold, it was 
 her room ; and, ladies having been banished from the 
 dining-room while men drank, what Would be left them 
 if next, bottle in hand, the men invaded the drawing- 
 room ? But happily their guest declined the proposal, 
 and that on the very ground of respect for her lady- 
 ship's apartment ; the consequence of which was that 
 she very nearly forgave him the murder of which she 
 never doubted him guilty, saying to herself that, 
 whatever he might be when disguised, poor man — 
 and we all had our failings — he knew how to behave 
 when sober, and that was more than could be said for 
 everybody! So the old lord sat in the kitchen and 
 drank his wine ; and the old lady sat by the fire and 
 knitted her stocking, went to sleep, and woke up, and 
 went to sleep again a score of times, and enjoyed her 
 afternoon. Not a word passed between the two : 
 now, in his old age. Lord Mergwain never talked 
 over his bottle ; he gave his mind to it. The laird 
 went and came, unconsciously anxious to be out of the 
 way of his guest, and consciously anxious not to neg- 
 lect him, but nothing was said on either side. The 
 old lady knitted and dozed, and his lordship sat and 
 drank, now and then mingling the aesthetic with the 
 
2 24 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 sensual, and holding his glass to the light to enjoy its 
 colour and brilliancy, — doing his poor best to en- 
 courage the presence of what ideas Le counted agree- 
 able, and prevent the intrusion of their opposites. 
 And still as he drank, the braver he grew, and the 
 more confident that (he events of the past night were 
 but the foolish consequences of having mingled so 
 many liquors, which, from the state of the thermome- 
 ter, had grown cold in his very stomach, and bred 
 rank fancies ! " With two bottles like this under my 
 belt," he said to himself, " I would defy them all, but 
 this wretched night-capped curmudgeon of a host 
 will never fetch me a second ! If he had not been 
 so niggardly last night, I should have got through 
 well enough ! " 
 
 Lady Joan and Cosmo had been all over the house, 
 and were now sitting in the drawing-room, silent in the 
 firelight. Lady Joan did not yet find Cosmo much 
 of a companion, though she liked to have him beside 
 her, and would have felt the dreariness more penetra- 
 ting witlrout him. But to Cosmo her presence was an 
 experience as marvellous and lovely as it was new 
 and strange. He had never save in his dreams 
 before been with one who influenced him with beauty ; 
 and never one of his dreams came up to the dream- 
 like reality that now folded him about with bliss. 
 For he sat, an isolating winter stretched miles and 
 miles around him, in the old paradise of his mother's 
 drawing-room, in the glorious twilight of a peat and 
 wood fire, the shadows flickering about at their own 
 wild will over all the magic room, at the feet of 
 a lady, whose eyes were black as the night, but 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 225 
 
 alive with a radiance such as no sun could kindle, 
 whose hand was like warm snow, whose garments 
 were lovely as the clouds that clothe a sunset, and 
 who inhabited an atmosphere of evanescent odours 
 that were themselves dreams from a region beyond 
 the stars, while the darkness that danced with the 
 firelight played all sorts of variations on the theme 
 of her beauty. 
 
 How long he had sat lost in the dream-haunted 
 gorgeous silence he did not know, when suddenly 
 he bethought himself that he ought to be doing some- 
 thing to serve or amuse, or at least interest the heav- 
 enly visitant. Strangers and angels must be enter- 
 tained, nor must the shadow of loneliness fall upon 
 them. Now to that end he knew one thing always 
 good, always at hand, and specially fitting the time. 
 
 " Shall I tell you a story, my lady ? " he said, look- 
 ing up to her from the low stool on which he had 
 taken his place at her feet. 
 
 " Yes, if you please," she answered, finding herself 
 .in a shoal of sad thoughts, and willing to let them 
 drift. 
 
 " Then I will try. But I am sorry I cannot tell it 
 so well as Grizzle told it me. Her old-fashioned way 
 suits the story. And then I must make English of it 
 for your ladyship, and that goes still worse with it." 
 
 Alas ! alas ! the speech of every succeeding gener- 
 ation is a falling away from the pith and pathos of 
 the preceding. Speech gains in scope, but loses in 
 intensity. 
 
 " There was once a girl in the Highlands," began 
 Cosmo, " — not very far from here it was, who was 
 
226 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 very beautiful, so that every young man in the neigh- 
 bourhood fell in love with her. She was as good as 
 she was beautiful, and of course would not let more 
 than one be her lover, and said no to every one else ; 
 and if after that they would go on loving her, she 
 could not help it. She was the daughter of a sheep- 
 farmer, who had a great many sheep that fed about 
 over the hills, and she helped her father to look after 
 them, and was as good and obedient as any lamb of 
 his flock. And her name was Mary. Her other 
 name I do not know. 
 
 "Now her father had a young shepherd, only a 
 year or two older than Mary, and he of course was in 
 love with her as well as the rest, and more in love 
 with her than any of them, because he was the most 
 to be trusted of all in that country-side. He was 
 very strong and very handsome, and a good shepherd. 
 He was out on the hills all day, from morning to 
 night, seeing that the sheep did their duty, and ate 
 the best grass, so as to give plenty of good wool, and 
 good mutton when it was wanted. — That's the way 
 Grizzle tells the stor)', my lady, though not so that 
 you would understand her. — When any of the lambs 
 were weakly or ill, they were brought home for Mary 
 to nurse, and that was how the young shepherd came 
 to know Mary, and Mary to know him. And so it 
 came to pass that they grew fond of each other, and 
 saw each other as often as they could ; and Mary 
 promised, if her father would let her, she would marry 
 Alister. But her father was too well-off to show 
 favour to a poor shepherd lad, for his heart had got 
 so full of his money that there was not room enough 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 
 
 227 
 
 for the blood in it. If Alister had had land and 
 sheep like himself, he would have had no objection 
 to giving him Mary; but a poor son-in-law, however 
 good he might be, would make him feel poor, whereas 
 a rich son-in-law, if he were nothing but an old 
 miser, would make him feel rich ! He told Alister, 
 therefore, that he had nothing to say to him, and he 
 and Mary must have nothing to say to each other. 
 Mary felt obliged to do what her father told her, but 
 in her heart she did not give up Alister, and felt sure 
 Alister did not give up her, for he was a brave and 
 honest youth. 
 
 "Of course Alister was always wanting to see 
 Mary, and often he saw her when nobody, not even 
 Mary herself, knew it. One day she was out rather 
 late on the hill, and when the gloaming came down, 
 sat wishing in her heart that out of it Alister would 
 come, that she might see him, though she would not 
 speak to him. She was sitting on a stone, Grizzie 
 says, with the gloamin' coming down like a gray 
 frost about her ; and by the time it grew to a black 
 frost, out of it came some one running towards 
 her. 
 
 " But it was not Alister ; it was a farmer who wanted 
 to marry her. He was a big, strong man, rich and 
 good-looking, though twice Mary's age. Her father 
 was very friendly to him. But people said he was a 
 coward. 
 
 " Now just at that time, only it had not yet reached 
 the glen, a terrible story was going about the coun- 
 try, of a beast in the hills, that went biting every 
 living thing he could get at, and whatever he bit 
 
WARLOCK GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 went raving-mad. He never ate any creature he at- 
 . tacked, never staid to kill it, but just came up with a 
 rush, bit it, and was out of sight in a moment. It 
 was generally in the twilight he came. He appeared 
 — nobody ever saw from where— made his gnash, 
 and was gone. There was great terror and dismay 
 wherever the story was heard, so that people would 
 hardly venture across their thresholds after sur-down, 
 for terror lest the beast should dash out of the bor- 
 ders of the dark upon them, and leave his madness 
 in them. Some said it was a shee^-dog, but some 
 who thought they had seen it, said it was too large 
 for any collie, and was, they believed, a mad wolf ; 
 for though there are no wolves in Scotland now, my 
 lady, there were at one time, and this is a very old story." 
 
 Lady Joan gaped audibly. 
 
 "I am wearying you, my lady! " said Cosmo, pen- 
 itently. 
 
 "No, no! dear boy," answered Lady Joan, sorry, 
 and a little ashamed. " It is only that I am very 
 weary. I think the cold tires one." 
 
 " I will tell you the rest another time," said Cosmo 
 cheerily. "You must lie down on the sofa, and I 
 will cover you up warm." 
 
 " No, no ; please go on. Indeed I want to hear 
 the rest of it." 
 
 "Well," resumed Cosmo, "the news of this wolf, 
 or whatever it was, had come to the ears of the far- 
 mer for the first time that day at a fair, and he was 
 hurrying home with his head and his heart and his 
 heels full of it, when he saw Mary sitting on the 
 white stone by the track, feeling as safe as if she 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 229 
 
 were in paradise, and as sad as if she were in purga- 
 tory. — That's how Grizzie tells it — I suppose be- 
 cause some of her people are papists. — But, for as 
 much as he wanted to marry her, you could hardly 
 say he was in love with her — could you. Lady Joan ? 
 — when I tell you that, instead of stopping and 
 taking her and her sheep home, he hurried past her, 
 crying out, ' Gang hame, Mary. There's a mad beast 
 on the hill. Rin, rin — a' 't ye can. Never min' 
 yer sheep.' His last words came from the distance, 
 for he never stayed a step while he spoke. 
 
 " Mary got up at once. But you may be sure, my 
 lady, a girl like that was not going to leave her sheep 
 where she dared not stop herself. She began to 
 gather them together to take them out of harm's way, 
 and was just setting out with them for home, when a 
 creature like a huge dog came bounding upon her 
 out of the edge of the night. The same instant, up 
 from behind a rock, a few yards away, jumped Alis- 
 ter, and made at the beast with his crook ; and just 
 as the wolf was upon Mary, for Alister was not near 
 enough to get between the beast and her, he heaved 
 a great blow at him, which would have knocked him 
 down anyhow. But that instant Mary threw herself 
 towards Alister, and his terrible blow came down 
 upon her, and not upon the wolf, and she fell dead 
 in his arms — that's what Grizzie says — and away 
 went the wolf, leaping and bounding, and never utter- 
 ing a cry. 
 
 " What Alister did next, Grizzie never says — only 
 that he came staggering up to her father's door with 
 dead Mary in his arms, carried her in, laid her on the 
 
230 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 bed, and went out again. They found the blow on 
 on her head, and when they undressed her, they 
 found also the bite of the wolf ; and they soon 
 guessed how it had been, and said it was well she 
 had died so, for it was much better than going mad 
 first : it was kind of Death, they said, to come and 
 snatch her away out of the arms of Madness. But 
 the farmer, because he hated Alister, and knew that 
 Alister must have seen him running away, gave it 
 out, that he himself was rushing to defend Mary, and 
 that the blow that killed her was meant for him. 
 Nobody however believed him. 
 
 " What people might think, was, however, a mat- 
 ter of little consequence to Alister, for from that day 
 he never spoke to human being, never slept under a 
 roof. He left his shepherding, and gave himself to 
 the hunting of the mad wolf : such a creature should 
 not be allowed to live, and he must do some good 
 thing for Mary's sake. Mary was so good, that any 
 good thing done would be a thing done for her. So 
 he followed and followed, hunting the horrible crea- 
 ture to destroy him. Some said he lived on his hate 
 of the wolf, and never ate anything at all. But some 
 of the people on the hills, when they heard he had 
 been seen, set out of their doors at night milk and 
 cakes ; and in the morning, sometimes, they would be 
 gone, and taken as if by a human being, and not 
 an animal. 
 
 " By and by came a strange story abroad. For a 
 certain old woman, whom some called a witch, and 
 whom all allowed to have the second sight, told that 
 one night late, as she was coming home from her 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 231 
 
 daughter's house, she saw Alister lying in the heather, 
 and another sitting with him ; Alister she saw plainly 
 with her first or bodily eyes ; but with her second 
 eyes, in which lay the second sight, she saw his head 
 lying on a woman's lap — and that woman was Mary, 
 whom he had killed. He was fast asleep, and 
 whet^ier he knew what pillow he had, she could not 
 tell ; but she saw the woman as plainly as if with her 
 bodily eyes, — only with the difference which there 
 always was, she said, and which she did not know how 
 to describe, between the things seen by the one pair 
 of eyes, and the things seen by the other. She stood 
 and regarded them for some time, but neither moved. 
 It was in the twilight, and as it grew darker she could 
 see Alister less and less clearly, but always Mary 
 better and better — till at last the moon rose, and 
 then she saw Alister again, and Mary no more. But, 
 through the moonlight, three times she heard a little, 
 moan, half very glad, and half a littlfe sad. 
 
 " Now the people had mostly a horror of Alister, 
 and had shunned him — even those who did not be- 
 lieve him to blame for what he had done — because 
 of his having killed a human being, one made like 
 himself, and in the image of God ; but when they 
 heard the wise woman's story, they began to feel 
 differently towards Alister, and to look askance upon 
 Mary's father, whose unkindness had kept them 
 asunder. They said now it had all come through 
 him, and that God had sent the wolf to fetch Mary, 
 that he might give her and Alister to each other in 
 spite of him — for God had many a way of doing a 
 thing, every one better than another. 
 
232 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " But that did not help Alister to find the wolf. 
 The winter came, however, and that did help him, 
 for the ?now let him see the trail, and follow faster. 
 The wonder was that the animal, being mad, lived so 
 long ; but some said that, although the wolf was mad, 
 he was not mad in any ordinary way — if he had 
 been, he would indeed have been dead long ago ;^ he 
 was a wolf into which an evil spirit had entered ; 
 and had he been a domestic animal, or one for the 
 use of man, he would immediately have destroyed 
 himself ; but, being a wild and blood-thirsty animal, 
 he went on very much like his natural self, without 
 knowing what sort of a fellow-tenant he had with him 
 in the house. 
 
 " At last, one morning in the month of December, 
 when the snow lay heavy on the ground, some men 
 came upon a track which they all agreed must be that 
 of the wolf. They went and got their weapons, and 
 set out in chase. ' They followed, and followed, and 
 better than followed, and the trail led them high into 
 the hills, wondering much at the huge bounds with 
 which the beast had galloped up the steepest places. 
 They concluded that Alister had been after him, and 
 that the beast knew it, and had made for the most in- 
 accessible spot he was acquainted with. They came 
 at length to a point where a bare-foot human track 
 joined that of the wolf for a little way, and after that 
 they came upon it again and again. Up and up the 
 mountain they went — sometimes losing the track 
 from the great springs the wolf took — now across a 
 great chasm which they had to go round the head of, 
 now up the face of a rock too steep for the snow to 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 233 
 
 lie upon, so that there • was no print of his horrid 
 feet. 
 
 But at last, almost at the top of the mountain, they 
 saw before them two dark spots in a little hollow, and 
 when they reached it, there was the wolf, dead in a 
 mass of frozen blood and trampled snow. It was a 
 huge, gaunt, gray, meagre carcass, with the foam fro- 
 zen about its jaws, and stabbed in many places, which 
 showed the fight had been a close one. All the snow 
 was beaten about, as if with many feet, which showed 
 still more plainly what a tussle it had been. A little 
 farther on lay Alister, as if asleep, stretched at full 
 length, with his face to the sky. He had been dead 
 for many hours, they thought, but the smile had not 
 faded which his spirit left behind as it went. All 
 about his body were the marks of the brute's teeth — 
 everywhere almost except on his face. That had been 
 bespattered with blood, but it had been wiped away. 
 His dirk was lying not far off, and his skene dhu close 
 by his hand. 
 
 " There is but one thing more — and I think that 
 is just the thing that made me want to tell you the 
 story. The men who found Alister declared when 
 they came home, and ever after when they told the 
 story — Grizzie says her grandmother used always to 
 say so — that, when they lifted him to bring hirrj away, 
 they saw in the snow the mark of the body, deep- 
 pressed, but only as far as the shoulders ; there was 
 no mark of his head whatever. And when they told 
 this to the wise woman, she answered only, 'Of coorse ! 
 of coorse ! — Gien I had been wi' ye, lads, I wad hae 
 seen main' When they pressed her to speak more 
 
234 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK 
 
 plainly, she only shook her he'ad, an-d muttered, ' Dull- 
 hertit gowks ! ' — That's all, my lady." 
 
 In the kitchen, things were going on even more 
 quietly than in the drawing-room. In front of the 
 fire sat the English lord over his wine ; Mistress 
 Warlock sat in her arm-chair, knitting and dozing — 
 between her evanescent naps wide awake, and ever 
 and anon sliding her eyes from the stocking which 
 did not need her attention to the guest who little de- 
 sired it ; the laird had taken his place at the other 
 corner, and was reading the Journal of George Fox ; 
 and Grizzle was bustling about with less noise than 
 she liked, and wishing heartily she were free of his 
 lordship, that she might get on with her work. 
 Scarcely a word was spoken. 
 
 It began to grow dark ; the lid of the night was 
 closing upon them ere half a summer-day would 
 have been over. But it mattered little : the snow 
 had stayed the work of the world. Grizzie put on 
 the kettle for her mistress's tea. The old lady 
 turned her forty winks into four hundred, and slept 
 outright, curtained in the shadows. All at once his 
 lordship became alive to the- fact that the day was 
 gone, shifted uneasily in his chair, poured out a 
 bumper of claret, drank it off hurriedly, and hitched 
 his chair a little nearer to the fire. His hostess saw 
 these movements with satisfaction : he had appeased 
 her personal indignation, but her soul was not hos- 
 pitable towards him, and the devil in her was grati- 
 fied with the sight of his discomposure : she hankered 
 after talion, not waited on penitence. Her eyes 
 sought those of Grizzie. 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 235 
 
 "Gang to the door, Grizzle," she said, "an' see 
 what the nicht's like. I'm thinkin' by the cry o' the 
 win', it '11 be a wull mirk again. — What think ye, 
 laird ? " 
 
 Her son looked up from his book, where he had 
 been beholding a large breadth of light on the spir- 
 itual sky, and answered, somewhat abstractedly, 
 but with the gentle politeness he always showed her. 
 
 " I should not wonder if it came on to snow again ! " 
 Lord Mergwain shifted uneasily. Grizzie returned 
 from her inspection of the weather. 
 
 " It's black theroot, an' dingin' 'oot, wi' great thuds 
 o' win'," she said, quite unaware as usual of the style 
 of her utterance. 
 
 " God bless me ! " murmured his lordship, " what 
 an abominable country ! " 
 
 " Had we not better go to the drawing-room, my 
 lord ? " said the laird. " I think, Grizzie," he went 
 on, " you must get supper early. — And, Grizzie," he 
 added, rising, " mind yoi^ bring Lady Joan a cup of 
 tea — if your mistress will excuse her," he concluded, 
 with a glance to his mother. 
 
 Mistress Warlock was longing for a talk with 
 Grizzie, and had no wish for Lady Joan's presence at 
 tea. 
 
 " An old woman is bare company for a young one, 
 Cosmo," she said. 
 
 His lordship sat as if he did not mean to move. 
 
 " Will you not come, Lord Mergwain ? " said the 
 laird. "We had better go before the night gets 
 worse." 
 
 "I will stay where I am." 
 
236 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Excuse me, my lord, that can hardly be. Come, 
 I will carry your wine. You will finish your bottle 
 more at your ease there, knowing you have not to 
 move again." 
 
 " The bottle is empty," replied his lordship, gruffly, 
 as if reproaching his host for not being aware of the 
 fact, and having another at hand to follow. 
 
 "Then — " said the laird, and hesitated. 
 
 " Then you'll fetch me another ! " adjoined his 
 lordship, as if answering an unpropounded question 
 that ought not to be put. Seeing, however, that the 
 laird stood in some hesitation still, he added defini- 
 tively, " I don't stir a peg without it. Get me an- 
 other bottle — another magnum^ I mean, and I will 
 go at once." 
 
 Yet a moment the laird reflected. He said to 
 himself that the wretched man had not had nearly so 
 much to drink that day as he had the day before ; 
 that he was used to soaking, and a great diminution 
 of his customary quantity might in its way be danger- 
 ous ; and that anyhow it was not for him to order the 
 regimen of a passing guest, to whom first of all he 
 owed hospitality. 
 
 " I will fetch it, my lord," he said, and disappeared 
 in the milk-cellar, from which a steep stone-stair led 
 down to the ancient dungeon. 
 
 "The maister's gane wantin' a licht," muttered 
 Grizzle ; " I houp he winna see onything." 
 
 It was an enigmatical utterance, and angered Lord 
 Mergwain. 
 
 " What the deuce should he see, when he has got to 
 feel his way with his hands ? " he snarled. 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 
 
 237 
 
 "There's some things, my lord, 'at can better 
 affoord to come oot i' the dark nor the licht," replied 
 Grizzie. 
 
 His lordship said nothing in rejoinder, but kept 
 looking every now and then towards the door of the 
 milk-cellar — whether solely in anxiety for the appear- 
 ance of the magnum, may be doubtful. The moment 
 the laird emerged from his dive into darkness, bear- 
 ing with him the pearl-oyster of its deep, his lordship 
 rose, proud that for an old man he could stand so 
 ' steady, and straightened himself up to his full height, 
 which was not great. The laird set down the bottle 
 on the table, and proceeded to wrap him in a plaid, 
 that he might not get a chill, nor heeded that his 
 lordship, instead of showing recognition of his care, 
 conducted himself like an ill-conditioned child, to 
 whom his mother's ministrations are unwelcome. 
 But he did not resist, he only grumbled. As soon as 
 the process was finished, he caught up the first bottle, 
 in which, notwithstanding his assertion, he knew there 
 was yet a glass or two, while the laird resumed the 
 greater burden of the second, and gave his guest an 
 arm, and Grizzie, leaving the door open to cast a little 
 light on their way, followed close behind, to see them 
 safe in. 
 
 When they reached the drawing-room, his lordship 
 out of breath with the long stair, they found Lady 
 Joan teaching and Cosmo learning backgammon, 
 which they immediately abandoned until they had 
 him in his former chair, with a small table by him, on 
 it the first bottle, and the fresh one at his feet before 
 the fire : with the contents of one such inside him, 
 
238 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 1 ■ 
 
 and another coming on, he looked more cheerful than 
 since first he entered the house. But a fluctuating 
 trouble was very visible in his countenance notwith- 
 standing. 
 
 A few poverty-stricken attempts at conversation 
 followed, to which Lord Mergwain contributed noth- 
 ing. Lost in himself, he kept his eyes fixed on the 
 ripening bottle, waiting with heroic self-denial, nor 
 uttering a single audible oath, until the sound of its 
 opening should herald the outbursting blossom of 
 the nightly flower of existence. The thing hard to 
 bear was, that there were no fresh wine-glasses on the 
 table — only the one he had taken care to bring with 
 the old bottle. 
 
 Presently Grizzle came with the tea-things, and as 
 she set them down, remarked, with cunningly devised 
 look of unconsciousness ; 
 
 " It's a gurly nicht ; no a pinch o' licht ; an' the 
 win' blawin' like deevils ; the Pooer o' the air, he's 
 oot wi' a rair, an' the snaw rins roon' upo' sweevils." 
 
 What do you mean, woman ? Would you drive 
 me mad with your gibberish ? " cried his lordship, get- 
 ting up, and going to the window. 
 
 "Ow, na, my lord!" returned Grizzie quietly; 
 "mad's mad, but there's waur nor mad." 
 
 " Grizzie ! " said the laird, and she did not speak 
 again. 
 
 Lurking in Grizzie was the suspicion, less than la- 
 tent in the minds of the few who had any memory of 
 the old captain, that he had been robbed as well as 
 murdered— though nothing had ever been missed that 
 was known to belong to him, except indeed an odd 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 239 
 
 walking-stick he used to carry; and if so, then the 
 property, whatever it was, had been taken to the loss 
 of his rightful heir. Warlock o' Glenwarlock. Hence 
 mainly arose Grizzle's desire to play upon the fears 
 of the English lord ; for might he not be driven by 
 terror to make restitution ? Therefore, although, obe- 
 dient to the will of her master, she left the room in 
 silence, she cast on the old man, as she turned away, 
 a look, which, in spite of the wine he had drunk, and 
 the wine he hoped to drink, he felt freeze his very 
 vitals — a look it was of inexplicable triumph, and in- 
 articulate doom. 
 
 The final effect of it on her victim, however, was 
 different from what she intended. For it roused sus- 
 picion. What if, he thought with himself, he was the 
 victim of a conspiracy ? What if the something fright- 
 ful that befell him the night before, of which he had 
 but a vague recollection, had been contrived and exe- 
 cuted by the people of the house ? This horrible old 
 hag might remember else-forgotten things ? What if 
 they had drugged his wine ? the first half of the bot- 
 tle he had yesterday was decanted ! — But the one he 
 had just drunk had not been touched ! and this fresh 
 one before the fire should not be carried from his 
 sight ! he would not take his eyes off it for a moment i 
 he was safe so far as these were concerned ! only 
 
 if after all if there should be no difference — • 
 
 — if something were to happen again all the same — 
 ah, then indeed ! — then it would only be so much the 
 worse ! — Better let them decant the bottle, and then 
 he would have the drug to fall back upon ! 
 
 Just as he heard the loud bang of Grizzle's clos- 
 
240 WARLOCK O GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 ure of the great door, the wind rushed all at once 
 against the house, with a tremendous bellow, that 
 threatened to drive the windows into the room. An 
 immediate lull followed, through which as instantly 
 came strange sounds, as of a distant staccato thun- 
 der. The moment the laird heard the douf thuds, he 
 started to his feet, and made for the door, and Cosmo 
 rose to follow. 
 
 " Stop ! stop !" shouted Lord Mergwain, in a quav- 
 ering, yet, through terror, imperative voice, and 
 looked as if his hair would have stood on end, only 
 that it was a wig. 
 
 Lady Joan gave Cosmo a glance of entreaty : the 
 shout was ineffectual, the glance was not. The 
 laird scarcely heard his visitor's cry, and hastened 
 from the room, taking huge strides with his long thin 
 legs ; but Cosmo resumed his seat as if nothing were 
 the matter. 
 
 Lord Mergwain was trembling visibly ; his jaw 
 shook, and seemed ready to drop. 
 
 " Don't be alarmed, my lord," said Cosmo ; "it is 
 only one of the horses kicking against his stall." 
 
 " But why should the brute kick ? " said his lord- 
 ship, putting his hand to his chin, and doing his best 
 to hide his agitation. 
 
 " My father will tell us. He will soon set things 
 right. He knows all about horses. Jolly may have 
 thrown his leg over his halter, and got furious. He's 
 rather an ill-tempered horse." 
 
 Lord Mergwain swallowed a great glass of wine, 
 the last of the first bottle, and gave a little shiver. 
 
 " It's cold ! cold ! " he said. 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 24I 
 
 The wine did not seem to be itself somehow -this 
 evening ! 
 
 The game interrupted, Lady Joan forgot it, and 
 stared into the fire. Cosmo gave his eyes a glorious 
 holiday on her beautiful face. 
 
 It was some time before the laird returned. He 
 brought the news that one of the strange horses was 
 very ill. 
 
 "I thought he looked bad this morning,'' said 
 Cosmo. 
 
 " Only it's not the same horse, my boy," answered 
 his father. " I believe he has been ill all day ; the 
 state of the other has prevented its being noticed. 
 He was taken suddenly with violent pain ; and now 
 he lies groaning. They are doing what they can for 
 him, but I fear, in this weather, he will not recover. 
 Evidently he has severe inflammation ; the symptoms 
 are those of the worst form of the disease now 
 about." 
 
 " Hustled here in the dark to die like a rat ! " mut- 
 tered his lordship. 
 
 " Don't make a trap of the old place, my lord," said 
 the laird cheerily. " The moment the roads will per- 
 mit, I will see that you have horses." 
 
 " I don't doubt you'll be glad enough to get rid of 
 me." 
 
 " We shall not regret your departure so much, my 
 lord, as if we had been able to make your lordship 
 comfortable," said the laird. 
 
 Witli that there came another great howling onsei 
 of wind. Lord Mergwain started almost to his feet, 
 but sat dov/n instantly, and said with some calmness, 
 
242 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " I should be obliged, Mr. Warlock, if you would 
 order a wine-glass or two for me. I am troublesome, 
 I know, but I like to change my glass ; and the wine 
 will be the worse every moment more it stands there. 
 — I wish you would drink ! We should make a night 
 of it." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, my lord," said the laird. 
 " What was I thinking of ! — Cosmo, run and fetch 
 wine-glasses — and the cock-screw." 
 
 But while Cosmo was returning, he heard the bat- 
 tery of iron shoes recommence, and ran to the stable. 
 Just as he reached the door of it, the horse half 
 reared, and cast himself against the side of his stall. 
 With a great crash it gave way, and he fell upon it, 
 and lay motionless. 
 
 " He's deid ! " cried one of the men, and Cosmo ran 
 to tell his father. 
 
 While he was gone, the time seemed to the toper 
 endless. But the longer he could be kept from his 
 second magnum, the laird thought it the better, and 
 was not troubled at Cosmo's delay. 
 
 A third terrible blast, fiercer and more imperious 
 than those that preceded it, shook the windows as a 
 dog shakes a rat : the house itself it could shake no 
 more than a primeval rock. The next minute Cosmo 
 entered, saying the horse was dead. 
 
 " What a beastly country ! " growled his lordship. 
 
 But the wine that was presently gurgling from the 
 short neck of the apoplectic magnum, soon began to 
 console him. He liked this bottle better than the 
 last, and some composure returned to him. 
 
 The laird fetched a book of old ballads, and 
 
THROUGH THE DAY. 243 
 
 offered to read one or two to make the time pass. 
 Lord Mergwain gave a scornful grunt ; but Lady- 
 Joan welcomed the proposal : the silent worship of 
 the boy, again at her feet, was not enough to make 
 her less than very weary. For more than an hour, 
 the laird read ballad after ballad ; but nobody, not 
 even himself, attended much — the old lord not at 
 all. But the time passed. His lordship grew sleepy, 
 began to nod, and seemed to forget his wine. At 
 length he fell asleep. But when the laird would 
 have made him more comfortable, with a yell of 
 defiance he started to his feet wide awake. Coming 
 to himself at once, he tried to laugh, and said from a 
 child he had been furious when waked suddenly. 
 Then he settled himself in the chair, and fell fast 
 asleep. 
 
 Still the night wore on, and supper-time came. 
 His lordship woke, but would have no supper, and 
 took to his bottle again. Lady Joan and Cosmo 
 went to the kitchen, and the laird had his porridge 
 brought to the drawing-room. 
 
 At length it was time to go to bed. Lady Joan 
 retired. The laird would not allow Cosmo to sit up 
 another night, and he went also. The lord and the 
 laird were left together, the one again asleep, and 
 dreaming who knows what 1 the other wide awake, 
 but absorbed in the stoiy of a man whose thoughts, 
 fresh from above, were life to himself, and a mockery 
 to his generation. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THAT SAME NIGHT. 
 
 The wind had now risen to a hurricane — a rage of 
 swiftness. The house was like a rock assaulted by 
 the waves of an ocean-tempest. The laird had closed 
 all the shutters, and drawn the old curtains across 
 them : through windows and shutters, the curtains 
 waved in the penetrating blasts. The sturdy old 
 house did not shake, for nothing under an earthquake 
 could have made it tremble. The snow was fast 
 gathering in sloped heaps on the window-sills, on the 
 frames, on every smallest ledge where it could lie. 
 In the midst of the blackness and the roaring wind, 
 the house was being covered with spots of silent 
 whiteness, resting on every projection, every rough- 
 ness even, of the building. In his own house as he 
 was, a sense of fierce desolation, of foreign invasion 
 and siege, took possession of the soul of the laird. 
 He had made a huge iire, and had heaped up beside 
 it great store of fuel, but, though his body was warm 
 and likely to be warm, his soul inside it felt the 
 244 
 
THAT SAME NIOHT. 245 
 
 ravaging cold outside — remorseless, and full of 
 mock, the ghastly power of negation and unmaking. 
 He had got together all the screens he could find, 
 and with them inclosed the fireplace, so that they sat 
 in a citadel v/ithin a fortress. By the fire he had 
 placed for his lordship the antique brocade-covered 
 sofa, that he might lie down when he pleased, and 
 himself occupied the great chair on the other side. 
 From the centre of this fire-defended heart, the room 
 itself outside looked cold and waste : it demanded 
 almost courage to leave the stockade of the screens, 
 and venture into the campaign of the floor beyond. 
 And then the hell of wind and snow that raved out- 
 side that ! and the desert of air surrounding it, in 
 which the clouds that garnered the snow were shaken 
 by mad winds, whirled and tossed and buffeted, to 
 make them yield their treasures ! Lord Mcrgwain 
 heard it, and drank. The laird listened, and lifted 
 up his heart. Not much passed between them. The 
 memories of the English lord were not such as he felt 
 it fit to share with the dull old Scotchman beside 
 him, who knew nothing of the world — knew neither 
 how pitilessly selfish, nor how meanly clever a man 
 of this world might be, and bate not a jot of his self 
 admiration ! Men who salute a neighbour as a man 
 of the >world, paying him the greatest compliment 
 they know in acknowledging him of their kind, recoil 
 with a sort of fear from the man alien to their thoughts, 
 and impracticable for their purposes. They say 
 " He is beyond me," and despise him. So is there a 
 great world beyond them with which they hold a 
 frightful relationship — that of unrecognized, unat- 
 
246 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 tempted duty ! Lord Mergwain regarded the odd- 
 looking laird as a fool ; the laird looked on him with 
 something of the pity an angel must feel for the 
 wretch to whom he is sent to give his last chance, ere 
 sorer measures be taken in which angels are not the 
 ministers. 
 
 But the wine was at last beginning to work its too 
 oft repeated and now nearly exhausted influence on 
 the sagging and much frayed nerves of the old man. 
 A yellowish remnant of withered rose began to smear 
 his far-ofif west : he dared not look to the east; that 
 lay terribly cold and gray ; and he smiled with a little 
 curl of his lip now and then, as he thought of this 
 and that advantage he had had in the game of life, 
 for alas ! it had never with him risen to the dignity 
 of a battle. He was as proud of a successful ruse, 
 as a hero of a well fought and well won field. "I 
 had him there ! " stood with him for the joy of work 
 done and salvation wrought. It was a repulsive 
 smile — one that might move even to hatred the on- 
 looker who was not yet divine enough to let the out- 
 rushing waves of pity swamp his human judgment. 
 It only curled the cruel-looking upper lip, while the 
 lower continued to hang thick, and sensual, and 
 drawn into a protuberance in the middle. 
 
 Gradually he seemed to himself, as he drank, to be 
 recovering the common sense of his self-vaunted, vio- 
 orous nature. He assured himself that now he saw 
 plainly the truth and fact of things — that his present 
 outlook and vision were the true, and the horrors of 
 the foregone night the weak soul-gnawing fancies bred 
 of a disordered stomach. He was a man once more 
 
THAT SAME NIGHT. 247 
 
 and beyond the sport of a foolish imagination. 
 
 Alas for the man who draws his courage from wine ! 
 the same alas for the man whose health is its buttress ! 
 the touch of a pin on this or that spot of his mortal 
 house, will change him from a leader of armies, or a 
 hunter of tigers in the jungle, to one who shudders at 
 a centipede ! That courage also which is mere in- 
 sensibility crumbles at once before any object of ter- 
 ror able to stir the sluggish imagination. There is a 
 fear, this for one, that for another, which can appall 
 the stoutest who is not one with the essential. 
 
 Lord Mergwain emerged from the influence of his 
 imagination and his fears, and went under that of his 
 senses and himself. He took his place beside the 
 Christian in his low, common moods, when the world, 
 with its laws and its material insistence, presses upon 
 him, and he does not believe that God cares for the 
 sparrow, or can possibly count the hairs of his head ; 
 when the divine power, and rule, and means to help, 
 seem nowhere but in a passed-away fancy of the hour 
 of prayer. Only the Christian is then miserable, and 
 Lord Mergwain was relieved ; for did he not then 
 come to himself ? and did he know anything better to 
 arrive at than just that wretched self of his .' 
 
 A glass or two more, and he laughed at the terror 
 by night. He had been a thorough fool not to go to 
 bed like other people, instead of sitting by the fire 
 with a porridge-eating Scotchman, who regarded him 
 as one of the wicked, afraid of the darkness. The 
 thought may have passed from his mind to that of his 
 host, for the self-same moment the laird spoke : 
 
248 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Don't you think you had better go to bed when 
 you have finished your bottle, my lord ? " 
 
 With the words, a cold swell, as from the returning 
 tide of some dead sea, so long ebbed that men had 
 ploughed and sown and built within its bed, stole in, 
 swift and black, filling every cranny of the old man's 
 conscious being. 
 
 " My God ! " he cried ; " I thought better of you than 
 that, laird ! I took you for a man of your word ! 
 You promised to sit up with me ! " 
 
 " I did, my lord, and am ready to keep my promise. 
 I only thought you looked as if you might have 
 changed your mind ; and in such a night as this, be- 
 yond a doubt, bed is the best place for everybody that 
 has got one to go to." 
 
 " That depends," answered his lordship, and drank. 
 
 The laird held his peace for a time, then spoke 
 again : 
 
 " Would your lordship think me rude if I were to 
 take a book ? " 
 
 " I don't want a noise. It don't go well with old 
 wine like this : such wine wants attention ! It would 
 spoil it. No, thank you." 
 
 " I did not propose to read aloud, my lord — only 
 to myself." 
 
 " Oh ! That alters the matter ! That I would by 
 no means object to. I am but poor company ! " 
 
 The laird got his "Journal," and was soon lost in 
 the communion of a kindred soul. 
 
 By and by, the boat of his lordship's biain was 
 again drifting towards the side of such imagination as 
 was in him. The half-tide restoring the physical 
 
THAT SAME NIGHT. 249 
 
 mean was past, and intoxication was setting in. He 
 began to cast uneasy glances towards the book the 
 laird was reading. The old folio had a look of ven- 
 erable significance about it, and whether it called up 
 some association of childhood, concerned in some 
 fearful fancy, or dreamfully he dreaded the necro- 
 mancer's art, suggested by late experience, made him 
 uneasy. 
 
 "What's that you are reading ? " he said at length. 
 " It looks like a book of magic." 
 
 " On the contrary," replied the laird, " it is a re- 
 ligious book of the very best sort." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! Ah ! I have no objection to a little 
 religion — in its own place. There it is all right. I 
 never was one of those mockers — those Jacobins, 
 those sans-culottes ! Arrogant fools they always 
 seemed to me ! " 
 
 "Would your lordship like to bear a little of the 
 book, then ? " 
 
 " No, no ; by no means ! Things sacred ought not 
 to be mixed up with things common — with such an un- 
 common bottle of wine, for instance. I dictate to no 
 one, but for my own part I keep my religion for 
 church. That is the proper place for it, and there 
 you are in the mood for it. Do not mistake me ; it is 
 out of respect I decline." 
 
 He drank, and the laird dropt back into the depths 
 of his volume. The night wore on. His lordship did 
 not drink fast. There was no hope of another bottle, 
 and the wine must cover the period of his necessity : 
 he dared not encounter the night without the sustain- 
 ing knowledge of its presence. At last he began to 
 
250 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 nod, and by slow degrees sank on the sofa. Very 
 softly the laird covered him, and went back to his 
 book. 
 
 The storm went raging on, as if it would never 
 cease. The sense of desolation it produced in the 
 heart of the laird when he listened to it was such, that 
 with an inward shudder he closed his mind against it, 
 and gave all his attention to George Fox, and the 
 thoughts he roused. The minutes crawled slowly 
 along. He lost all measure of time, because he read 
 with delight, and at last he found himself invaded by 
 that soft physical peace which heralds the approach 
 of sleep. He roused himself ; he wanted to read : he 
 was in one of the most interesting passages he had 
 yet come to. But presently the sweet enemy was 
 again within his outworks. Once more he roused 
 himself, heard the storm raving on — over buried 
 graves and curtained beds, heedless of human heed- 
 ing — fell a-listening to its shriek-broken roar, and so 
 into a soundless and dreamless sleep. 
 
 He woke so suddenly that for a moment he knew 
 himself only for somebody he knew. There lay upon 
 him the weight of an indefinable oppression — the 
 horror of a darkness too vague to be combated. The 
 fire had burned low, and his very bones seemed to 
 shiver. The candle-flames were down in the sockets 
 of the candlesticks, and the voice of the storm was 
 like a scream of victory. Had the cold then won its 
 way into the house ? Was it having its deathly will 
 of them all > He cast his eyes on his guest. Sleep- 
 ing still, he half lay, half leaned in the corner of the 
 sofa, breathing heavily. His face was not to be well 
 
THAT SAME NIGHT. 25 1 
 
 seen, because of the flapping and flickering of the 
 candle-flames, and the shadows they sent waving huge 
 over all, like the flaunting of a black flag. Through 
 the flicker and the shadow the laird was still peering 
 at him, when suddenly, without opening his eyes, the 
 old man raised himself to a sitting posture — all of a 
 piece, like a figure of wood lifted from behind. The 
 laird then saw his face, and upon it the expression as 
 of one sufifering from some horrible nightmare — so 
 terrified was it, so wrathful, so disgusted, all in one — 
 and rose in haste to rouse him from a drunken dream. 
 But ere he reached him he opened his eyes, and his 
 expression changed — not to one of relief, but to 
 utter collapse, as if the sleep-dulled horrors of the 
 dream had but grown real to him as he woke. His 
 under lip trembled like a dry yellow leaf in a small 
 wind ; his right arm rose slowly from the shoulder 
 and stuck straight out in the direction of his host, 
 while his hand hung from the wrist ; and he stared as 
 upon one loosed from hell to speak of horrors. But 
 it did not seem to the laird that, although turned 
 straight towards him, his eyes rested on him ; they 
 did not appear to be focused for him, but for some- 
 thing beyond him. It was like the stare of one de- 
 mented, and it invaded — possessed the laird. A 
 physical terror seized him. He felt his gaze return- 
 ing that of the man before him, like to like, as from a 
 mirror. He felt the skin of his head contracting; 
 his hair was about to stand on end ! The spell must 
 be broken ! He forced himself forward a step to lay 
 his hand on Lord Mergwain, and bring him to him- 
 self. But his lordship uttered a terrible cry, betwixt 
 
252 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 a scream and a yell, and sank back on the sofa. The 
 same instant the laird was himself again, and sprang 
 to him. 
 
 Lord Mergwain lay with his mouth wide open, and 
 the same look with which they found him the night 
 before prostrate in the guest-chamber. His arm 
 stuck straight out from his body. The laird pressed 
 it down, but it rose again as soon as he left it. He 
 could not for a moment doubt the man was dead; 
 there was that about him that assured him of it, but 
 what it was he could not have told. 
 
 The first thought that came to him was, that his 
 daughter must not see him so. He tied up his jaw, 
 laid him straight on the sofa, lighted fresh candles, 
 left them burning by the dead, and went to call 
 Grizzie : a doctor was out of the question. 
 
 He felt his way down the dark stair, and fought it 
 through the wind to the kitchen, whence he climbed 
 to Grizzle's room. He found she was already out of 
 bed, and putting on her clothes. She had not been 
 asleep, she said, and added something obscure, which 
 the laird took to mean that she had been expecting a 
 summons. 
 
 "Whan Ane's oot, there's nane in!" she said. 
 " Hoo's the auld reprobat laird — an'- I beg yer 
 pardon ? " 
 
 " He's gane til's accoont, Grizzie," answered the 
 laird, in a trembling voice. 
 
 " Say ye sae, laird .? " returned Grizzie with perfect 
 calmness. " Oh, sirs ! " 
 
 Not a single remark did she then offer. If she was 
 
THAT SAME NIGHT. 253 
 
 cool, she was not irreverent before the thought of the 
 awful thing that lay waiting her. 
 
 " Ye winna wauk the hoose, will ye, sir ? " she 
 added presently. " I dinna think it wad be ony 
 service to died or livin'." 
 
 " I'll no du that, Grizzie ; but come ye an' luik at 
 him," said the laird, " an' tell me what ye think. I 
 makna a doobt he's deid, but gien ye hae ony, we'll 
 du what we can ; an' we'll sit up wi' the corp the- 
 gither, an' lat yoong an' auld tak the rist they hae 
 mair need o' nor the likes o' you an' me." 
 
 It was a proud moment in Grizzle's life, one never 
 forgotten, when the laird addressed her thus. She 
 was ready in a moment, and they went together. 
 
 "The prince is haein' his ain w'y the nicht ! " she 
 murmured to herself, as they bored their way through 
 die wind to the great door. 
 
 When she came where the corpse lay, she stood 
 for some moments looking down upon it without 
 uttering a sound, nor was there any emotion in the 
 fixed gaze of her eye. She had been brought up in a 
 stern and nowise pitiful school. She made neither 
 solemn reflection, nor uttered hope which her theol- 
 ogy forbade her to cherish. 
 
 "Ye think wi' me 'at he's deid — dinna ye, Griz- 
 zie ? " said the laird, in a voice that seemed to himself 
 to intrude on the solemn silence. 
 
 She removed the handkerchief, and the jaw fell. 
 
 " He's gane til's accoont," she said. " It's a great 
 amoont ; an' mair on ae side nor he'll weel bide. It's 
 sair eneuch, laird, whan we hae to gang at the Lord's 
 call, but whan the messenger comes frae the laich 
 
254 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK 
 
 yett {low gate), we maun jist lat gang an' forget 
 But sae lang's he's a man, we maun do what we car. 
 ■■ — an' that's what we did last nicht ; sae I'll rin an' 
 get het watter." 
 
 She did so, and they used every means they could 
 think of for his recovery, but at length gave it up, 
 heaped him over with blankets, for the last chance of 
 spontaneous revival, and sitting down, awaited the 
 slow-travelling, feeble dawn. 
 
 After they had sat in silence for nearly an hour, 
 the laird spoke : 
 
 " We'll read a psalm thegither, Grizzle," he said. 
 
 " Ay, du ye that, laird. It '11 baud them awa' for 
 the time bein', though it can profit but little i' the 
 hin'er en'." 
 
 The laird drew from his pocket a small, much 
 worn bible which had been his Marion's, and by the 
 body of the dead sinner, in the heart of the howling 
 storm and the waste of the night, his voice, trembling 
 \\ith a strange emotion, rose upborne upon the glori- 
 ous words of the ninety-first psalm. 
 
 When he ended, they were aware that the storm 
 had begun to yield, and by slow degrees it sank as 
 tlie morning came on. Till the first faintest glim- 
 mer of dawn began to appear nothing more was said 
 between them. But then Grizzle rose in haste, like 
 one that had overslept herself, and said : 
 
 " I maun to my wark, laird — what think ye ? " 
 
 The laird rose also, and by a common impulse 
 they went and looked at the corpse — for corpse it 
 now was, beyond all question, cold as the snow with- 
 out. After a brief, low-voiced conference, they pro- 
 
THAT SAME NIGHT. 255 
 
 ceeded to carry it to the guest-chamber, where they 
 laid it upon the bed, and when Grizzie had done all 
 that custom required, left it covered with a sheet, 
 dead in the room where it dared not sleep, a mound 
 cold and white as any snow-wreath outside. It 
 looked as if Winter had forced his way into the house, 
 and left this one drift, in signal of his capture. 
 Grizzie went about her duties, and the laird back to 
 his book. 
 
 A great awe fell upon Cosmo when he heard what 
 visit and what departure had taken place in the midst 
 of the storm and darkness. Lady Joan turned white 
 as the dead, and spoke not a word. A few tears 
 rolled from*the luminous dark of her e)'es, like the 
 dew slow-gathering in a night of stars, but she was 
 very still. The bond between her and her father had 
 not been a pleasant one; she had not towards him 
 that reverence which so grandly heightens love. She 
 had loved him pitifully — perhaps, dreadful thought! 
 a little contemptuously. The laird persuaded her not 
 to see the body ; taking every charge concerning it. 
 
 All that day things went on in the house much as 
 usual, with a little more silence where had been much. 
 The wind lay moveless on the frozen earth ; the sun 
 shone cold as a diamond; and the fresh snow glittered 
 and gleamed and sparkled like a dead sea of lightning. 
 
 The laird was just thinking which of his men to 
 send to the village, when the door opened and in 
 came Agnes. Grannie had sent her, she said, to en- 
 quire after them. Grannie had had a troubled night, 
 and the moment she woke began to talk about the 
 laird, and his visitors, and what the storm must have 
 
256 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 been round lonely Castle Warlock. The drifts were 
 tremendous, she said, but she had made her way 
 without much difficulty. So the laird, partly to send 
 Cosmo from the house of death into the world of 
 life, told him to go with Aggie, and give directions to 
 the c?rpenter, for the making of a coffin. 
 
 How long the body might have to lie with them, no 
 one could tell, for the storm had ceased in a hard 
 frost, and there could be no postal communication for 
 many days. The laird judged it better, therefore, as 
 soon as the shell arrived, to place the body in a death- 
 chapel prepared for it by nature herself. With their 
 spades he and Cosmo fashioned the mound, already 
 hollowed in sport, into the shape of a l^jugh sarcopha- 
 gus, then opened wide the side of it, to receive the 
 coffin as into a sepulchre in a rock. The jnen 
 brought it, laid it in, and closed the entrance again 
 with snow. Where Cosmo's hollow man of light had 
 shone, lay the body of the wicked old nobleman. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A WINTER IDYLL. 
 
 Lady Joan the same day wrote to her brother Bor- 
 land, now Mergwain, telling him what had taken place. 
 But it must be some time before she received his an- 
 swer, for the post from England reached the neigh- 
 bouring city but intermittently, and was there alto- 
 gether arrested, so far as Howglen and Muir o' Warlock 
 were concerned. The laird told her she must have 
 patience, and assured her that to them her presence 
 was welcome. 
 
 And now began for Cosmo an episode of enchant- 
 ment, as wondrous as any dream of tree-top, or sum- 
 mer wave city — for if it was not so full of lighter 
 marvel around, it had at the heart of it a deeper mar- 
 vel, namely a live and beautiful lady. 
 
 She was a girl of nearly eighteen, but looked older 
 — shapely, strong, and graceful. But both her life- 
 consciousness and her spirits — in some only do the 
 words mean the same thing — had been kept down by 
 the family relations in which she found herself. Her 
 257 
 
258 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 father loved her with what love was in him, and there- 
 fore was jealous ; trusted, and therefore enslaved her; 
 could make her useful, and therefore oppressed her. 
 Since his health began to decline he would go no- 
 where without her, though he spoke seldom a pleas- 
 ant, and often a very unpleasant word to her. He 
 never praised her to her face, but swore deeply to her 
 excellence in ears that cared little to hear of it. When 
 at home she must always be within his reach, if not 
 within his call; but he was far from slow to anger 
 with her, and she dreaded his anger, not so much 
 from love or fear as from nicety, because of the ugly 
 things he would say when he was offended with her. 
 One hears of ruling by love and ruling by fear, but 
 this man ruled by disgust. At home he lived much 
 as we have seen him in the house of another, cared 
 for nobody's comfort but his own, and was hard to 
 keep in good humour — such good humour as was 
 possible to him. He paid no attention to business or 
 management: his estates had long been under trus- 
 tees; lolled about in his room, diverting himself with 
 a horrible monkey which he taught ugly tricks; drank 
 almost constantly; and would throw dice by himself 
 for an hour together— doing what he could, which 
 was little, towards the poor object of killing Time. 
 He kept a poor larder but a rich cellar ; almost al- 
 ways without money, he yet contrived to hold his bins 
 replenished, and that from the farther end : he might 
 have been expecting to live to a hundred and twenty 
 for of visitors he had none, except an occasional time- 
 belated companion of his youth, whom the faint, mud- 
 dled memories of old sins would bring to his 'door 
 
A WINTER IDYLL. 259 
 
 when they would spend a day or two together, soaking, 
 and telling bad stories, at times hardly restrained 
 until Joan left the room — that is, if her brother was 
 not present, before whom her father was on his good 
 behaviour. 
 
 The old man was in bad repute with the neighbours, 
 and they never called upon him — which they would 
 have found it hard to justify, seeing some who were 
 not better were quite respectable. No doubt he was 
 the dilapidated old reprobate they counted him, but if 
 he had not made himself poor, they would have found 
 his morals no business of theirs. They pitied the 
 daughter, or at least spoke pityingly of her, but could 
 not for her sake countenance the father ! Neglect- 
 ing their duty towards her, they began to regard her 
 with a blame which was the shadow of their neglect, 
 thinking of her as defiled in her father's defilement. 
 The creeping things — those which God hath not yet 
 cleansed — call the pure things unclean. But it was 
 better to be so judged than to run the risk of growing 
 after the pattern of her judges. I suspect the man 
 who leads a dissolute, and the man who leads a com- 
 monly selfish life, will land from the great jump pretty 
 nearly in the same spot. What if those who have 
 despised each the other's sins, are set down to stare 
 at them together, until each finds his own iniquity to 
 be hateful. 
 
 Of the latter, the respectably selfish class, was Bor- 
 land her brother. He knew his presence a protec- 
 tion to his sister, yet gave himself no trouble 'to look 
 after her. As the apple of his eye would he cherish 
 the fluid in which he hoped to discover some secret 
 
2 6o WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 process of nature ; but he was not his sister's keeper, 
 and a drop of mud more or less cast into her spirit 
 was to him of no consequence. Yet he would as soon 
 have left a woman he wanted to marry within reach 
 of the miasms that now and then surrounded Joan, as 
 unwarned in the dark by the cage of a tiger. 
 
 At home, therefore, because of the poverty of the 
 family, the ill-repute of her father, and the pride and 
 self- withdrawal of her brother, she led a lonely life 
 where everything around her was left to run wild. 
 The lawn was more of a meadow than a lawn, and the 
 park a mere pasture for cattle. The shrubbery was 
 an impassable tangle, and the flower garden a wilder- 
 ness. She could do nothing to set things right, and 
 lived about the place like a poor relation. At school, 
 which she left at fifteen, she had learned nothing so 
 as to be of any vital use to her — possibly left it a 
 little less capable than she went. For some of her 
 natural perceptions could hardly fail to be blunted by 
 the artificial, false, and selfish judgments and regards 
 which had there surrounded her. Without a mother, 
 without a companion, she had to find what solace, 
 what pastime she could. In the huge house there 
 was not a piano fit to play upon ; and her only source 
 of in-door amusement was a library containing a large 
 disproportion of books in old French bindings, with 
 much tarnished gilding on the backs. But a native 
 purity of soul kept her lovely, and capable of becom- 
 ing lovelier. 
 
 The mystery of all mysteries is the upward tendency 
 of so many souls through so much that clogs and 
 would defile their wings, while so many others seem 
 
COSMO AND LADY JOAN CLIMBING. 
 
A WINTER IDYLL. 
 
 263 
 
 never even to look up. Then, having so begun with 
 the dust, how do these ever come to raise their eyes 
 to the hills ? The keenest of us moral philosophers 
 are but poor, mole-eyed creatures! One day, 1 trust, 
 we shall laugh at many a, difficulty that now seems in- 
 surmountable, but others will keep rising behind them. 
 Lady Joan did not like ugly things, and so shrank 
 from evil things. She was the less in danger from 
 liberty, because of the disgust which certain tones and 
 words of her father had repeatedly occasioned her. 
 She learned self-defence early — and alone, without 
 even a dog to keep her company, and help her to 
 the laws of the world outside herself. 
 
 With none of the conventionalities of society. Lady 
 Joan saw no reason for making a difficulty when, 
 the day after that on which her father died, Cosmo 
 proposed a walk in the snow. He saw her properly 
 provided for what seemed to her an adventure — 
 with short skirts, and stockings over her shoes — 
 and they set out together, in the brilliant light of a sun 
 rapidly declining toward the western horizon, though 
 it had but just passed the low noon. The moment 
 she stepped from the threshold, Joan was invaded 
 by an almost giddy sense of freedom. The keen air 
 and the impeding snow sent the warm blood to her 
 cheeks, and her heart beat as if new-born into a 
 better world. She was annoyed with herself, but in 
 vain she called herself heartless ; in vain she accused 
 herself of indifference to the loss of her father, said 
 to herself she was a worthless girl : there was the 
 sun in the sky — not warm, but dazzling-bright and 
 shining straight into her very being ! while the air, 
 
264 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 instinct with life, was filling her lungs like water 
 drunk by a thirsty soul, and making her heart beat 
 like the heart of Eve when first she woke alive, and 
 felt what her Maker had willed ! Life indeed was 
 good ! it was a blessed thing for the eyes to behold 
 the sun ! — Let death do what it can, there is just one 
 thing it cannot destroy, and that is life. Never in 
 itself, only in the unfaith of man, does life recognize 
 any sway of death. • — A fresh burst of healthy 
 vigour seemed born to answer each fresh effort. 
 Over the torrent they walked on a bridge of snow, 
 and listening could hear, far down, below the 
 thick white blanket, the noise of its hidden rushing. 
 Away and up the hill they went ; the hidden torrent 
 of Joan's blood flowed clearer ; her heart sang to 
 her soul ; and everything began to look like a 
 thing in a story — herself a princess, and her 
 attendant a younger brother, travelling with her 
 to meet the tide of in-flowing lovely adventure. 
 Such a brother was a luxury she had never had — very 
 different from an older one. He talked so strangely 
 too — now like a child, now like an old man ! She 
 felt a charm in both, but understood neither. Cap- 
 able, through confidence in his father, of receiving wis- 
 dom far beyond what he could have thought out for 
 himself, he sometimes said things because he urder- 
 stood them, which seemed to most who heard them be- 
 yond his years. Some people only understand enough 
 of a truth to reject it, but Cosmo's reception by faith 
 turned to sight, as all true faith does at last, and 
 formed a soil for thought more immediately his own. 
 They had been climbing a steep ascent, very difficult 
 
A WINTER IDYLL. 265 
 
 in the snow, and had at length reached the top, where 
 they stood for a moment pantmg, with another ascent 
 beyond them. 
 
 " Aren't you always wanting to climb and climb, 
 Lady Joan ? " said the boy. 
 
 '• Call me Joan, and I will answer you." 
 
 "Then, Joan, — how kind you are! Don't you al- 
 ways want to be getting up ? — up higher than you are ? " 
 
 "No; I don't think I do." 
 
 " I believe you do, only you don't know it. When 
 I get on the top of yon hill there, it always seems to 
 me such a little way up! — and Mr. Simon tells me I 
 should feel much the same, if it were the top of the 
 highest peak in the Himmalays." 
 
 Lady Joan did not reply, and Cosmo too was silent 
 for a time. 
 
 "Don't you think," he began again, "though life is 
 so very good — to me especially with you here — you 
 would get very tired if you thought you had to live in 
 this world always — for ever and ever and ever, and 
 never, never get out of it ? " 
 
 " No, I don't," said Joan. " I can't say I find hfe 
 so nice as you think it, but one keeps hoping it may 
 turn to something better." 
 
 She was amused with what she counted childish 
 talk for a boy of his years — so manly too beyond his 
 years ! 
 
 " That is very curious ! " he returned. " Now I am 
 quite happy ; but this moment I should feel just in a 
 prison, if I thought I should never get to another 
 world; for what you can never get out of, is your 
 prison — isn't it?" 
 
266 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Yes — but if you don't want to get out ? " 
 
 " Ah, that is true ! but as soon as that comes to a 
 prisoner, it is a sign that he is worn out, and has not 
 life enough in him to look the world in the face. I 
 was talking about it the other day with Mr. Simon, 
 else 1 shouldn't have got it so plain. The blue roof 
 so high above us there, is indeed very different from 
 the stone vault of a prison, for there is no stop or end 
 to it. But if you can never get away from under it, 
 never get off the floor at the bottom of it, I feel as if 
 it might almost as well be something solid that held 
 me in. There would be no promise in the stars then : 
 they look now like promises, don't they ? I do not 
 believe God would ever show us a thing he did not 
 mean to give us.'' 
 
 " You are a very odd boy, Cosmo. I am almost 
 afraid to listen to you. You say such presumptuous 
 things ! " 
 
 Cosmo laughed a little gentle laugh. 
 
 " How can you love God, Joan, and be afraid to 
 speak before him ? I should no more dream of his 
 being angry with me for thinking he made me for 
 great and glad things, and was altogether generous 
 towards me, than I could imagine my father angr)' 
 with me for wishing to be as wise and as good as he 
 is, when I know it is wise and good he Aost wants 
 me to be." 
 
 " Ah, but he is your father, you know, and that is 
 very different ! " 
 
 "I know it is very different — God is so much, 
 much more my father than is the laird of Glenwar- 
 lock ! He is so much more to me, and so much 
 
A WINTER IDYLL. 267 
 
 nearer to me, though my father is the best father that 
 ever lived ! God, you know, Joan, God is more than 
 anybody knows what to say about. Sometimes, when 
 I am lying in my bed at night, my heart swells and 
 swells in me, that I hardly know how to bear it, with 
 the thought that here I am, come out of God, and yet 
 notour of him — close to the very life that said to 
 everything lie, and it was ! — you think it strange that 
 I talk so ? " 
 
 " Rather, I must confess ! I don't believe it can be 
 a good thing at your age to think so much about 
 religion. There is a time for everything. You talk 
 like one of those good little children in books that 
 always die — at least I have heard of such books — I 
 never saw any of them." 
 , Cosmo laughed again. 
 
 " Which of us is the merrier — you or me ? Which 
 of us is the stronger, Joan ? The moment I saw you, 
 I thought you looked like one that hadn't enough of 
 something — as if you weren't happy; but if you 
 knew that the great beautiful person we call God, 
 was always near you, it would be impossible for you 
 to go on being sad." 
 
 Joan gave a great sigh : her heart knew ils own 
 bitterness, and there was little joy in it for a stranger 
 to intermeddle with. But she said to herself the boy 
 would be a gray-haired man before he was twent)-, 
 and began to imagine a mission to help him out of 
 these morbid fancies. 
 
 " You must surely understand, Cosmo," she said, 
 " that, while we are in this world, we must live as 
 ueople of this world, not of another.'' 
 
268 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " But you can't mean that the people of this world 
 are banished from Him who put them in it ! He is 
 all the same, in this world and in every other. If 
 anything makes us happy, it must make us much 
 happier to know it for a bit of frozen love — for the 
 love that gives is to the gift as water is to snow. Ah, 
 you should hear our torrent sing in summer, and 
 shout in the spring ! The thought of God fills me so 
 full of life that I want to go and do something for 
 everybody. I am never miserable. I don't think I 
 shall be when my father dies." 
 
 " Oh, Cosmo ! — with such a good father as yours ! 
 I am shocked." 
 
 Her words struck a pang into her own heart, for 
 she felt as if she had compared his father and hers, 
 over whom she was not miserable. Cosmo turned, 
 and looked at her. The sun was close upon the hori- 
 zon, and his level rays shone full on the face of the boy. 
 
 " Lady Joan," he said slowly, and with a tremble 
 in his voice, "I should just laugh with delight to 
 have to die for my father. But if he were taken from 
 me now, I should be so proud of him, I should have 
 no room to be miserable. As God makes me glad 
 though I cannot see him, so my father would make 
 me glad though I could not see him. I cannot see 
 him now, and yet I am glad because my father is — 
 away down there in the old castle ; and when he is 
 gone from me, I shall be glad still, for he will be 
 somewhere all the same — with God as he is now. We 
 shall meet again one day, and run at each other." 
 
 It was an odd phrase with which he ended, but 
 Lad}' Joan did not laugh. 
 
A WINTER IDYLL. 269 
 
 The sun was down, and the cold, bkie gray twiUght 
 came creeping from the east. They turned and 
 walked home, through a luminous dusk. It would 
 not be dark all night, though the moon did not rise 
 till late, for the snow gave out a ghostly radiance. 
 Surely it must be one of those substances that have 
 the power of drinking and hoarding the light of the- 
 sun, that with their memories of it they may thin the 
 darkness ! I suspect everything does it more or less. 
 Far below were the lights of the castle, and across an 
 unbroken waste of whiteness the gleams of the vil- 
 lage. The air was keen as an essence of points and 
 edges, and the thought of the kitchen fire grew pleas- 
 ant. Cosmo took Joan's hand, and down the hill 
 they, ran swiftly descending what they had toilsomely 
 climbed. 
 
 As she ran, the thought that one of those lights was 
 burning by the body of her father, rebuked Joan 
 afresh. She was not glad, and she could not be 
 sorry ! If Cosmo's father were to die, Cosmo would 
 be both sorry and glad ! But the boy turned his face, 
 ever and again as they ran, up to hers — she was a 
 little taller than he — and his every look comforted 
 her. An attendant boy-angel he seemed, whose busi- 
 ness it was to rebuke and console her. If he were 
 her brother, she would be wall content never more to 
 leave the savage place ! For the strange old man in 
 the red night-cap was such a gentleman ! and this 
 odd boy, absolutely unnatural in his goodness, was 
 nevertheless charming ! She did not yet know that 
 goodness is the only nature. She regarded it as a 
 noble sort of disease — as something at least which 
 
270 
 
 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 it was possible to have too much of. She had not a 
 suspicion that goodness and nothing else is life and 
 health — that what the universe demands of us is 
 to be good boys and girls. 
 
 To judge religion we must have it — not stare at 
 it from the bottom of a seeming interminable ladder. 
 When she reached the door, she felt as ifwaking out 
 of a dream, in which she had been led along strange 
 paths by a curious angel. But not to himself was 
 Cosmo like an angel ! For indeed he was a strong, 
 viguorous, hopeful, trusting boy of God's in this world, 
 and would be just such a boy in the next — one 
 namely who did his work, and was ready for whatever 
 was meant to come. 
 
 When, from all that world of snow outside, Joan 
 entered the kitchen with its red heart of fire, she 
 knew for a moment how a little bird feels when creep- 
 ing under the wing of his mother. Those old He- 
 brews — what poets they were ! Holy and homely 
 and daring, they delighted in the wings of the Al- 
 mighty ; but the Son of the Father made the lovely 
 image more homely still, likening himself to the hen 
 under whose wings the chickens would not creep for 
 all her crying and calling. Then first was Joan 
 aware of simple confidence, of safety and satisfaction 
 and loss of care ; for the old man in the red night- 
 cap would see to eveiy thing ! Nought would go 
 amiss where he was at the head of affairs ! And 
 hardly was she seated when she felt a new fold of his 
 protection about her : he told her he had had her 
 room changed, that she might be near his mother and 
 Grizzle, and not have to go out to reach it. 
 
A WINTER IDYLL. 27 1 
 
 Cosmo heard with delight that his father had given 
 up his room to Lady Joan, and would share his. To 
 sleep with his father was one of the greatest joys the 
 world held for him. Such a sense of safety an'd com- 
 fort — of hen's wings — was nowhere else to be had 
 on the face of the great world ! It was the full type 
 of conscious well-being, of softness and warmth and 
 peace in the heart of strength. His father was to 
 him a downy nest inside a stone-castle. 
 
 They all sat together round the kitchen fire. The 
 laird fell into a gentle monologue, in which, to Joan's 
 thinking, he talked even more strangely than Cosmo. 
 Things born in the fire and the smoke, like the song 
 of the three holy children, issued from the furnace 
 clothed in softest moonlight. Joan said to herself it 
 was plain where the boy got his oddity ; hut what she 
 called oddity was but sense from a deeper source 
 than she knew the existence of. He read them also 
 passages of the book then occupying him so much : 
 Joan wondered what attraction such a jumble of good 
 words and no sense could have for a man so capable 
 In ordinary affairs. Then came supper ; and after 
 that, for the first time in her life, Joan was present 
 when a man had the presumption to speak to his 
 Maker direct from his own heart, without the medi- 
 ation of a book. This she found odder than all the 
 rest ; she had never even heard of such a thing ! So 
 peculiar, so unfathomable were his utterances, that it 
 never occurred to her the man might be meaning 
 something ; farther from her still was the thought, 
 that perhaps- God liked to hear him, was listening 
 to him and understanding him, and would give him 
 
272 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 the things he asked. She heard onl)' an extraordi- 
 nary gibberish, supposed suitable to a religious ob- 
 servance — family prayers, she thought it must be! 
 She felt confused, troubled, ashamed- — -so grievously 
 out of her element that she never knew until thty 
 rose, that the rest were kneeling while she sat staring 
 into the fire. Then she felt guilty and shy, but as 
 nobody took any notice, persuaded herself they had 
 not observed. The unpleasantness of 'all this, how- 
 ever, did not prevent her from saying to herself as 
 she went to bed, " Oh, how delightful it would be to 
 live in a house where everybody understood, and 
 loved, and thought about everybody else ! " She did 
 not know that she was wishing for nothing more, and 
 something a little less, than, the kingdom of heaven — 
 the very thing she thought the laird and Cosmo so 
 strange for troubling their heads about. If men's 
 wishes are not always for what the kingdom of heaven 
 would bring them, their miseries at least are all for 
 the lack of that kingdom. 
 
 That night Joan dreamed herself in a .desert island, 
 where she had to go through great hardships, but 
 where everybody was good to everybody, and never 
 thought of taking care except of each other; and that, 
 when a beautiful ship came to carry her away, she 
 cried, and would not go. 
 
 Three weeks of all kinds of weather, except warm, 
 followed, ending with torrents of rain, and a rapid 
 thaw; but before that time Joan had got as careless 
 of the weather as Cosmo, and nothing delighted her 
 more than to encounter any sort of it with him. 
 Nothing kept her in-doors, and as she always at- 
 
A WINTER IDYLL. 273 
 
 tended to Grizzie's injunctions the moment she re- 
 turned, she took no liarm, and grew much stronger. 
 It is not encountering the weather that is dangerous, 
 but encountering it when the strength is not equal to 
 the encounter. These two would come in wet from 
 head to foot, change their clothes, have a good meal, 
 sleep well, and wake in the morning without the least 
 cold. They would spend the hours between breakfast 
 and dinner ascending the bank of a hill-stream, 
 dammed by the snow, swollen by the thaw, and now 
 rushing with a roar to the valley; or fighting their 
 way through wind and sleet to the top of some wild 
 expanse of hill-moorland, houseless for miles and 
 miles — waste bog, and dry stony soil, as far as eye 
 could reach, with here and there a solitary stock or 
 bush, bending low to the ground in the steady bitter 
 wind — a hopeless region, save that it made the hope 
 in their hearts glow the redder; or climbing a gully, 
 deep-\yorn bythe few wheels of a month but the many 
 of centuries, and more by the torrents that rushed 
 always down its trench when it rained heavily, or 
 thawed after snow — hearing the wind sweep across it 
 above their heads, but feeling no breath of its pres- 
 ence, till emerging suddenly upon its plane, they had 
 to struggle with it for very foot-hold upon the round 
 earth. In such contests Lady Joan delighted. It was 
 so nice, she said, to have a downright good fight, and 
 nobody out of temper! She would come home from 
 the windy war with her face glowing, her eyes flashing, 
 her hair challenging storm from every point of the 
 compass, and her heart merry with very peacefulness. 
 Her only thoughts of trouble were, that her father's 
 
2 74 WARLOCK O GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 body lay unburied, and that Borland would come aiid 
 take her away. 
 
 When the thaw came at last, the laird had the 
 coffin brought again into the guest-chamber, and there 
 placed on trestles, to wait the coming of the new Lord 
 Mergwain. ■ "■='1 
 
 Outstripping the letter that announced his de- 
 parture, he arrived at length, and with him his man 
 of business. Lady Joan's heart gave a small beat of 
 pleasure at sight of him, then lay quiet, sad, and ap- 
 prehensive : the cold proper salute he gave her 
 seemed, after the life she had of late been living, to 
 belong rather to some sunless world than the realms 
 of humanity. He uttered one commonplace concern- 
 ing his father's death, and never alluded to it again ; 
 behaved in a dignified, recognizant manner to the 
 laird, as to an inferior to whom he was under more 
 obligation than he saw how to wipe out; and, after 
 the snub with which he .met the boy'si friendly ap- 
 proach, took no farther notice of Cosmo. Seated 
 three minutes, he began to require the laird's assist- 
 ance towards the removal of the body ; could not be 
 prevailed upon to accept refreshment; had a mes- 
 senger de-patched instantly to procure the nearest 
 hearse and four horses; and that same afternoon 
 started for England, following the body, and taking 
 his sister with him. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 AN " INTERLUNAR CAVE.'' 
 
 And so the moon died out of Cosmo's heaven. 
 But it was only the moon. The sun remained to 
 him — his father — visible type of the great sun, 
 whose light is too keen for souls, and heart and spirit 
 only can bear. But when he had received Joan's 
 last smile, when she turned away her face, and the 
 Ungenial, who had spoiled everything at Glenwarlock, 
 carried her away, then indeed for a moment a great 
 cloud came over the light of his life, and he sought 
 where to hide his tears. It was a sickeniflg time, for 
 suddenly she had come, suddenly entered his heart, 
 and suddenly departed. But such things are but 
 clouds, and cannot but pass. Ah, reader ! it may be 
 your cloud has not yet passed, and you scorn to hear 
 it called one, priding yourself that your trouble is 
 eternal. But just because you are eternal, your 
 trouble cannot be. You may cling to it, and brood 
 over it, but you cannot keep it from either blossom- 
 ing into a bliss, or crumbling to dust. Be such while 
 
 27S 
 
276 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 it lasts, that, when it passes, it shall leave you loving 
 more, not less. 
 
 There was this difference between Cosmo and most 
 3'oung men of clay finer than ordinary, that, after the 
 first few moments of the seemingly unendurable, he 
 did not wander about moody, nursing his sorrow, and 
 making everybody uncomfortable because he was un- 
 comfortable ; but sought the more the company of 
 his father, and of Mr. Simon, from whom he had 
 been much separated while Lady Joan was with them. 
 For such a visit was an opportunity most precious in 
 the eyes of the laird. With the sacred instinct of a 
 father he divined what the society of a lady would do 
 for his boy — for the ripening of his bloom, and the 
 strengthening of his volition. Two days had not 
 passed before he began to be aware of a softening 
 and clearing of his speech ; of greater readiness and 
 directness in his replies ; of an indescribable sweet- 
 ening of the address, that had been sweet, with a 
 rose-shadow of gentle apology cast over every ap- 
 proach ; of a deepening of the atmosphere of his 
 reverence, which yet as it deepened grew more 
 diaphanous. And when now the episode of angelic 
 visitation was over, with his usual wisdom he under- 
 stood the wrench her abrupt departure must have 
 given his whole being, and allowed him plenty of 
 time to recover himself from it. Once he came upon 
 him weeping: not with faintest overshadowing did he 
 rebuke him, not with farthest hint suggest weakness 
 in his tears. He went up to him, laid his hand 
 gently on his head, stood thus a moment, then turned 
 withuut a. word, and left him. Nowise because of his 
 
AN " INTERLUNAR CAVE." 277 
 
 sorrow did he regret the freedom he had granted 
 their intercourse. He knew what the sharp things of 
 life are to the human plant ; that its frosts are as need- 
 ful as its sunshine, its great passion-winds as its gentle 
 rains ; that a divine result is required, and that his 
 son was being made divinely human ; that in aid 
 of this end the hand of man must humbly follow the 
 great lines of Nature, ready to withhold itself, anxious 
 not to interfere. Most people resist the marvellous 
 process ; call in the aid of worldly wisdom for low 
 ends ; and bring the experience of their own failures 
 to bear for the production of worse. But there is no 
 escaping the mill that grinds slowly and grinds small; 
 and those who refuse to be living stones in the living 
 temple, must be ground into mortar for it. 
 
 The next day, of his own choice, Cosmo went 
 to Mr. Simon. He also knew how to treat the grow- 
 ing plant. He set him such work as should in a 
 measure harmonize with his late experience, and 
 so drew him gently from his past : mere labour would 
 have but driven him deeper into it. Yesterday is 
 as much our past as the bygone century, and shelter- 
 ing in it from an uncongenial present, we are lost to 
 our morrow. Thus things slid gently back with him 
 into their old grooves. An era of blessedness had 
 vanished, but was not lost ; it was added to his life, 
 gathered up into his being ; it was dissolved into his 
 consciousness, and interpenetrated his activity. 
 Where there is no ground of regret, or shame, or self- 
 reproach, new joy casts not out the old ; and now 
 that the new joy was old, the older joys came softly 
 trooping back to their attendance. Nor was this all. 
 
278 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 The departing woman left behind her a gift that had 
 never been hers — the power of verse : he began 
 to be a poet. The older I grow the more am I filled 
 with marvel at the divine idea of the mutual devel- 
 opment of the man and the woman. Many a woman 
 has made of a man, for the time at least, and some- 
 times for ever, a poet, caring for his verses never 
 a cambric handkerchief or pair of gloves ! A 
 wretched man to whom a poem is not worth a sneer, 
 may set a woman singing to the centuries ! 
 
 Any gift of the nature of poetry, however poor 
 or small, is of value inestimable to the development 
 of the individual, ludicrous even though it may show 
 itself, should conceit clothe it in print. The desire 
 of fame, so vaunted, is the ruin of the small, some- 
 times of the great poet. The next evil to doing 
 anything for love of money, is doing it for the love of 
 fame. A man may have a wife who is all the world 
 to him, but must he therefore set her on a throne ? 
 Cosmo, essentially and peculiarly practical, never 
 thought of the world and his verses together, 
 but gathered life for himself in the making of 
 them. 
 
 These children of his, like all real children, strength- 
 ened his heart, and upheld his hands. In them Truth 
 took to him shape ; in them she submitted herself to 
 his contemplation. He grew faster, and from the 
 days of his mourning emerged more of a man, and 
 abler to look the world in the face. 
 
 From that time also he learned and understood 
 more rapidly, though he never came to show any 
 great superiority in the faculties most prized of this 
 
AN " INTERLUNAR CAVE.'' 279 
 
 world, whose judgment differs from that of God's 
 kingdom in regard to the comparative value of intel- 
 lectual gifts almost as much as it does in regard to 
 the relative value of the moral and the intellectual. 
 Not the less desirable however did it seem in the eyes 
 of both his father and his tutor, that, if it could any- 
 how be managed, he should go the next winter to 
 college. As to how it could be managed, the laird 
 took much serious thought, but saw no glimmer of 
 light in the darkness of apparent impossibility. An 
 unsuspected oracle was however at hand. 
 
 Old servants of the true sort, have, I fancy, a kind 
 of family instinct. From the air about them almost, 
 from the personal carriage, from words dropped that 
 were never meant for them, from the thoughtful, 
 troubled, or eager look, and the sought or avoided 
 conference, they get possessed by a notion both of 
 how the wind is blowing, and of how the ship wants 
 to sail. But Grizzle was capable of reasoning from 
 what she saw. She marked, the increase of care on 
 the brow of her master ; noted that it was always 
 greater after he and Mr. Simon had had a talk at 
 which Cosmo, the beloved of both, was not present ; 
 and concluded that their talk, and the laird's trouble, 
 must be about Cosmo. She noted also that both 
 were as much pleased with him as ever, and concluded 
 therefore it was his prospects and not his behaviour 
 that caused the uneasiness. Then again she noted 
 how fervently at prayers her master entreated guid- 
 ance to do neither more nor less than the right thing; 
 and from all put together, and considered in the light 
 nf a tolerably accurate idea of the laird's circum- 
 
28o WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Stances, Grizzle was able not only to arrive at a final 
 conclusion, but to come to the resolution of offering 
 — not advice — that she would never have prt sv.med 
 upon — but a suggestion. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CATCH YER NAIG. 
 
 One night the laird sat in the kitchen revolving in 
 his mind the whole affair for the many hundredth 
 time. Was it right to spend on his son's education 
 what might go to the creditors ? Was it not better 
 for the world, for the creditors, and for all, that one 
 of Cosmo's vigour should be educated ? Was it not 
 the best possible investment of any money he could 
 lay hold of ? As to the creditors, there was the land ! 
 the worst for him was the best for them ; and for the 
 boy it was infinitely better he should go without land 
 than without education ! But, all this granted and 
 settled, where was the money to come from ? That the 
 amount required was small, made no difference, when 
 it was neither in hand, nor, so far as he could see, 
 anywhere near his hand. 
 
 He sat in his great chair, with his book open upon 
 
 his knees. His mother and Cosmo were gone to bed, 
 
 and Grizzle was preparing to follow them : the laird 
 
 was generally the last to go. But Grizzle, who had 
 
 281 
 
WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 been eying him at intervals for the last half hour, 
 having now finished her preiDarations for the morning, 
 drew near, and stood before him, with her hands and 
 bare arms under her apron. Her master taking no 
 notice of her, she stood thus in silence for a moment, 
 then began. It may have been noted that the riming 
 tendency appeared mostly in the start of a speech, 
 and mostly vanished afterwards. 
 
 "Laird," she said, "ye're in trouble, for ye're Sittin' 
 double, an' castna a leuk upo' yer bulk. Gien ye wad 
 lat a body speyk 'at kens naething, 'cep' 'at oot o' the 
 moo' o' babes an' sucklin's — an' troth I'm naither 
 babe nor sucklin' this mony a lang, but I'm a muckle 
 eneuch gowk to be ana o' the Lord's innocents, an' 
 hae him perfec' praise oot o' the moo' o' me ! — " 
 
 She paused a moment, feeling it was time the laird 
 should say something — which immediately he did. 
 
 " Sayawa', Grizzle," he answered; "I'm hearin' ye. 
 There's nane has a better richt to say her say i' this 
 hoose ; what ither hae ye to say't intil ! " 
 
 " I hae no richt," retorted Grizzle, almost angrily, 
 "but what ye alloc me, laird; and I wadna wuss the 
 Lord to gie me ony mair. But whan I see ye in 
 tribble — eh, mony's the time I baud my tongue till 
 my hert's that grit it's jist swallin' in blobs an' blawin' 
 like the parritch whan its dune makin', afore tak it 
 frae the fire I for I hae naething to say, an' naither 
 coonsel nor help intil me. But last nicht, whan I 
 leukit na for't, there cam a thoucht intil my heid, an' 
 seein' it was a stranger, I bad it walcome. It micht 
 hae come til a far wysser heid nor mine, but seein' it 
 did come to mine, it wad luik as gien the Lord micht 
 
CATCH YER NAIG. 283 
 
 hae pitten' t' there — lo the comfort an' consolation 
 o' ane, 'at, gien she be a gowk, is muckle the same as 
 the Lord made her wi' 's ain bliss-it han'. Sae, quo' 
 I, Is' jist submit the thing to the laird. He'll sune 
 discern whether it be frae the Lord or mysel' ! " 
 
 " Say on, Grizzle," returned the laird, when again 
 she paused. "It sud surprise nane to get a message 
 frae the Lord by the mou' o' ane o' his handmaid- 
 ens." 
 
 "Weel, it's this, laird. — I hae often been i' the 
 gran' drawin' room, when ye wad be lattiii' the yoong 
 laird, or somebody or anither ye wantit to be special 
 til, see the bonny things ye hae sic a fouth o' i' the 
 caibnets again the wa's ; an' I hae aye h'ard ye say o' 
 ane o' them — yon bonny little horsie, ye ken,'at they 
 say the auld captain, 'at 's no laid yet, gied to yer 
 gran'father — I hae sye h'ard ye say o' that, 'at hoo it 
 «vas solid silver — ' satii to be,' ye wad aye tack to the 
 tail o' 't." 
 
 " True ! true ! " said the laird, a hopeful gleam 
 beginning to break upon his darkness. 
 
 "We'll, ye see, laird," Grizzle went on, "I'm no 
 sic a born idiot as think ye wad set the possession o' 
 sic a playock again the yoong laird's edication ; sae 
 ye maun hae some rizzon for no meltin' 't doon- — 
 seein' siller maun aye be worth siller, — an' gowd, 
 gien there be eneuch o' 't. Sae, like the minister, I 
 come to the conclusion — But I hae yer leave, laird, 
 to speyk ? " 
 
 " Gang on, gang on. Grizzle," said the laird, al- 
 most eagerly. 
 
 "Weel, laird — I winna sz.y feart, for I never saw 
 
284 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 yer lairdship " — she had got into the way of saying 
 lordship, and now not unfrequently said lairdship ! — 
 " feart afore bull or bully, but I cud weel believe ye 
 wadna willin'ly anger ane 'at the Lord lats gang up 
 and doon upo' the earth, whan he wad be far better 
 intil 't, ristin' in 's grave till the resurrection — only 
 he was never ane o' the sancts ! But anent that, 
 michtna ye jist ca' to min', laird, 'at a gi'en gift 's yer 
 ain, to du wi' what ye like ; an' I wad na heed man, 
 no to say a cratur 'at belangs richtly to nae warl' ava', 
 'at wad play the bairn, an' want back what he had 
 gi'en. For him, he's a mere deid man 'at winna lie 
 still. Mony a bairn canna sleep, 'cause he's behavet 
 himsel' ill the day afore ! But gi'en, by coortesy like, 
 he hed a word i' the case, he cudna objec' — that is, 
 glen he hae onything o' the gentleman left intil him, 
 which nae doobt may weel be doobtfu' — for wasna 
 he a byous expense wi' his drink an' the gran' oot- 
 landish dishes he bude to hae ! Aften hae I h'ard 
 auld Grannie say as muckle, an' she kens mair aboot 
 that portion o' oor history nor ony ither, for, ye see, 
 I cam raither late intil the faimily mysel'. Sae, as I 
 say, it wad be but fair the auld captain' sud contree- 
 bit something to the needcessities o' the hoose war 
 it his to withhaud, which I mainteen it is not." 
 
 " Weel rizzont, Grizzie ! " cried the laird. " An' I 
 thank ye mair for yer thoucht nor yer rizzons; the 
 tane \ was in want o', the tither I was na. The thing 
 sail be luikit inlil, an' that the first thing the morn's 
 mornin' ! The bit playock cam never i' my heid ! I 
 maun be growin' auld, Grizzie, no to hae thoucht o' a 
 thing sae plain ! But it's the w'y wi' a' the best 
 
CATCH YER NAIG. 285 
 
 things ! They're sae guid whan ye get a grip o' them, 
 'at ye canna un'erstan' hoo ye never thoucht o' them 
 afore." 
 
 " I'm aul'er nor you, sir ; sae it maun hae been tl e 
 Lord himsel' 'at pat it intil me." 
 
 '"We'll see the morn, Grizzie. I'm no that sure 
 there's onything mair intil 't nor a mere fule word. 
 For onything I ken, tlie thing may be nae better nor 
 a bit o' braiss. I hae thouclit mony a time it luikit, 
 in places, unco like braiss. But Is' tak it the morn's 
 mornin' to Jeemie Merson. We'll see what he says til 
 't. Gien-ony body i' these pairts hae ony authority 
 in sic maitters, it's Jeemie. An' I thank ye hertil}-, 
 Grizzie." 
 
 But Grizzie was not well pleased that her master 
 should so lightly pass the reasoned portion of her 
 utterance ; like many another prophet, she prized 
 more the part of her prophecy that came from herself, 
 than the part that came from the Lord. 
 
 " Sae plain as he cam an' gaed, laird, I thoucht ye 
 micht hae been considerin' him." 
 
 The laird replied to her tone rather than her words. 
 
 "Hoots, Grizzie, wuman ! " he said, "was na ye 
 
 jist tellin' me no to heed him a hair? An' no ae 
 
 hair wad I heed him, 'cep' it wad gie ony rist til's 
 
 puir wan'erin' sowl." 
 
 "I but thoucht the thing worth a thoucht, laird," 
 said Grizzie, humbly and apologetically ; and with a 
 kind " Guid nicht to ye, laird," turned away, and went 
 up the stairs to her room. 
 
 The moment she was gone, the laird fell on his 
 knees, and gave God thanks for the word he had re- 
 
286 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 ceived by his messenger — if indeed it pleased him 
 that such Grizzie should prove to be. 
 
 "O Lord," he said, "with thee the future is as the 
 present, and the past as the future. In the long 
 past it n:iay be thou didst provide this supply for my 
 present need — didst even then prepare the answer to 
 the prayers with which thou knewest I should assail 
 thine ear. Never in all my need have I so much 
 desired money as now for the good of my boy. But 
 if this be but one of my hopes, not one of thy intents, 
 give me the patience of a son, O Father." 
 
 With these words he rose from his knees, and tak- 
 ing his book, read and enjoyed into the dead of the 
 night. 
 
 That same night, Cosmo, who, again in his own 
 chamber, was the more troubled with the trouble of 
 his father that he was no longer with him in his 
 room, dreamed a very odd, confused dream, of which 
 he could give himself but little account in the morn- 
 ing — something about horses shod with shoes of 
 gold, which they cast from their heels in a shoe-storm 
 as they ran, and which anybody might have for the 
 picking up. And throughout the dream was diffused 
 an unaccountable flavour of the old villain, the sea- 
 captain, although nowhere did he come into the 
 story. 
 
 When he came down to breakfast, his father told 
 him, to his delight, that he was going to Muirof War- 
 lock, and would like him to go with him. He ran like 
 a hare up the waterside to let Mr. Simon know, and 
 was back by the time his father was ready. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE WATCIJMAKER. 
 
 It was a lovely day. There would be plenty of 
 cold and rough weather yet, but the winter was over 
 and gone, and even to that late region of the north, 
 the time of the singing of birds was come. The air 
 was soft, with streaks of cold in it. The fields lay 
 about all wet, but there was the sun above them, 
 whose business it was to dry them. There were no 
 leaves yet on the few trees and hedges, but prepara- 
 tions had long been made, and the sap was now rising 
 in their many stems, like the mercury in all the ther- 
 mometers. Up also rose the larks, joy fluttering 
 their wings, and quivering their throats. They al- 
 ways know when the time to praise God is come, for 
 il is when they begin to feel happy: more cannot be 
 expected of them. And are they not therein already 
 on the level of most of us Christians who in this 
 mood and that praise God ? And indeed are not the 
 biids and the rest of the creatures Christians in the 
 same way as the vast mass of those that call them- 
 287 
 
288 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 selves such ? Do they not belong to the creation 
 groaning after a redemption they do not know ? Men 
 and- women groan in misery from not being yet the 
 sons and daughters of God, who regard nothing else 
 as redemption, but the getting of their own way, 
 which the devil only would care to give them. 
 
 As they went, the laird told Cosmo what was 
 taking him to the village, and the boy walked by his 
 father's side as in a. fairy tale ; for had they not with 
 them a strange thing that might prove the talismanic 
 opener of many doors to treasure-caves ? 
 
 They went straight to the shop, if shop it could be 
 called, of Jeames Merson, the watchmaker of the 
 village. There all its little ornamental business was 
 done — a silver spoon might be engraved, a new pin 
 put to a brooch, a wedding ring of sterling gold 
 purchased, or a pair of earings of lovely glass, repre- 
 senting ameth3'st or topaz. There a second-hand 
 watch might be had, with choice amongst a score, 
 taken in exchange from ploughmen or craftsmen. 
 Jeames was poor, for there was not much trade in his 
 line, and so was never able to have much of a stock ; 
 but he was an excellent watchmaker — none better 
 in the great city — so at least his town-folk believed, ' 
 and in a village it soon appears whether a watch- 
 maker has got it in him. 
 
 He was a thin, pale man, with a mixed look of 
 rabbit and ferret, a high narrow forehead, and keen 
 gray eyes. His work-shop and show-room was the 
 kitchen, partly for the sake of his wife's company, 
 partly because there was the largest window the 
 cottage could boast. In this window was hung 
 
THE WATCHMAKER. 289 
 
 almost his whole stock, and a table before it was 
 covered with his work and tools. He was stooping 
 over it, his lens in his eye, busy with a watch, of 
 which several portions lay beside him protected from 
 the dust by footless wine-glasses, when the laird and 
 Cosmo entered. He put down pinion and lile, 
 pushed back his chair, and rose to receive them. 
 
 " A fine mornin', Jeames ! " said the laird. " I 
 houp ye're weel, and duin' weel.''' 
 
 " Muckle the same as usual, laird, an' I thank ye," 
 answered Jeames, with a large smile. " I'm no jist 
 upo' the ro'd to be what they ca' a millionaire, an' 
 I'm no jist upon the perris — something atween the 
 twa, I'm thinkin'." 
 
 " I doobt there's mair o' 's in like condition, 
 Jeames," responded the laird, " or we wad na be 
 comin' to tax yer skeel at this present." 
 
 " Use yer freedom, laird ; I'm yer heumble servan'. 
 It wadna be a watch for the yoong laird ? I ken- 
 na— " 
 
 He stopped, and cast an anxious eye towards the 
 window. 
 
 " Na, na," interrupted the laird, sorry to have 
 raised even so much of a vain hope in the mind 
 of the man, " I'm as far frae a watch as ye are frae the 
 bank. But I hae here i' my pooch a bit silly playock, 
 'at 's been i' the hoose this mony a lang ; an' jist 
 this last nicht it was pitten intil my held there micht 
 be some guid intl the chattel, seein' i' the tradition 
 o' the faimily it's aye been hauden for siller. For my 
 ain pairt I hae my doobts ; but gien onybody here 
 aboot can tell the trowth o' 't, yersel' maun be the 
 
2go WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 man ; an' sae I hae brought it, to ken what ye wad 
 
 say til 't." 
 
 " I'll du my best to lowse yer doobt, laird," re- 
 turned Jeames. " Lat's hae a luik at the article." 
 
 The laird took the horse from his pocket, and 
 handed it to him. Jeames regarded it for some time 
 with interest, and examined it with care. 
 
 " It's a bonny bit o' carved work," he said ; '' — a 
 bairnly kin' o' a thing for shape — mair like a tim- 
 mer horsie ; but whan ye come to the ornamenta- 
 tion o' the same, it 's o' anither character frae the 
 roon' spots o' reid paint — an' sae 's the sma' rubies 
 an' stanes intil 't. This has taen a heap o' time, an' 
 painsfu' labour — a deal mair nor some o' 's wad think 
 it worth, I doobt ! It 's the w'y o' the haithens wi' 
 their graven eemages, but what for a horsie like this, 
 I dinna ken. Hooever, that's naither here nor there : 
 ye didna come to me to speir hoo or what for it 
 was made ; it 's what is 't made o' 's the question. 
 It 's some yallow-like for siller ; an' it 's unco black, 
 which is mair like it' — but that may be wi' dirt. — An' 
 dirt I'm thinkin.' it maun be, barkit intil the gravin'," 
 he went on, taking a tool and running the point of 
 it along one of the fine lines. " Troth ohn testit, I 
 wadna like to say what it was. But it 's an unco 
 weicht! — I doobt' — na, I mair nor doobt it canna 
 be siller." 
 
 So saying he carried it to his table, put it down, 
 and went to a corner-cupboard. Thence he brought a 
 small stoppered phial. He gave it a little shake, and 
 took out the stopper. It was followed by a dense 
 white fume. With the stopper he toughed the horse 
 
THE WATCHMAKER. 
 
 291 
 
 underneath, and looked closely at the spot. He then 
 replaced the stopper and the bottle, and stood by the 
 cupboard, gazing at nothing for a moment. Then 
 turning to the laird, he said, with a peculiar look and 
 a hesitating expression : 
 
 " Na, laird, it 's no siller. Aquafortis winna bite 
 upo' 't. I wad mix 't wi' muriatic, an' try that, blit 
 I hae nane handy, an' forby it wad tak time to tell. 
 Ken ye whaur it camfrae ? — Ae thing I'm sure o' — 
 it's no siller ! " 
 
 " I'm sorry to hear it," rejoined the laird, with a 
 faint smile and a little sigh. — " Well, we're no worse 
 off than we were, Cosmo ! — But poor Grizzle ! she 
 '11 be dreadfully disappointed. — Gie me the bit horsie, 
 Jeames ; we'll e'en tak' him hame again. It 's no 
 his fau't, puir thing, 'at he 's no better nor he was 
 made ! " 
 
 " Wad ye no tell me whaur the bit thing cam frae, 
 or is supposit to hae come frae, sir.^ H'ard ye it 
 ever said, for enstance, 'at the auld captain they tell 
 o' had broucht it ? " 
 
 " That's what I hae h'ard said," answered the 
 laird. 
 
 "Weel, sir," returned Jeames, "gien ye had nae 
 objection, I wad fain mak' oot what the thing z> 
 made o'." 
 
 " It matters little," said the laird, " seein' we ken 
 what it 's no made o' ; but tak' yer wull o' 't, 
 Jeames." 
 
 " Sit ye doon than, laird, gien ye hae -naething mair 
 pressin', an' see what I mak' o' 't," said the watch- 
 maker, setting him a chair. 
 
292 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Wullin'ly," replied the laird, "• — but I dinna like 
 takin' up yer time." 
 
 " 0\v, my time 's no sae dooms previous ! I can aye 
 win throu' wi' my work ohn swatten," said Jeames, 
 with a smile in which mingled a half comical sad- 
 ness. " An' it wad set me to waur 't (^puzzle me to spend 
 if) better to my ain min' nor servin' yersel', i' the 
 sma'est, sir." 
 
 The laird thanked him, and sat down. Cosmo 
 placed himself on a stool beside him. 
 
 "I hae naething upo' han' the da}'," Jeames 
 Merson went on, " but a watch o' Jeames Grade's, 
 up at the Know — ane o' yer ain fowk, laird. He 
 tells me it was your gran'father, sir, gied it til his 
 gran'father. It 's a queer auld-fashiont kin' o' 
 a thing — some complicat ; an' whiles it 's 'maist ower 
 muckle for me. Ye see auld age is aboot the warst 
 disease horses an' watches can be ta'en wi' : there's 
 sae little left to come an' gang upo' ! " 
 
 While the homely assayer thus spoke, he was 
 making his preparations. 
 
 " What for no men as weel 's horses an' watches ? " 
 suggested the laird. 
 
 " I wadna meddle wi' men. I le,a' them to the 
 doctors an' the ministers," replied Jeames, with 
 another wide, silent laugh. 
 
 By this time he had got a pair of scales carefully 
 adjusted, a small tin vessel in one of them, and bal- 
 ancing weights in the other. Then he went to the 
 rack over the dresser, and mildly lamenting his wife's 
 absence and his own inability to lay his hand on the 
 precise vessels he wanted, brought thence a dish and 
 
THE WATCHMAKER. 293 
 
 a basin. The dish he placed on the table with the 
 basin in it and filled the latter with water to the very 
 brim. He then took the horse, placed it gently in 
 the basin, which was large enough to receive it en- 
 tirely, and set basin and horse aside. Taking then 
 the dish into which the water had overflowed, he 
 poured its contents into the tin vessel in the one 
 scale, and added weights to the opposite until they 
 balanced each other, upon which he made a note 
 with a piece of chalk on the table. Next, he removed 
 everything from the scales, took the horse, wiped 
 it in his apron, and weighed it carefully. That done, 
 he sat down, and leaning back in his chair, seemed 
 to his visitors to be making a calculation, only the 
 conjecture did not quite fit the strange, inscrutable 
 expression of his countenance. The laird began 
 to think he must be one of those who delight to 
 plaster knowledge with mystery. 
 
 " Weel, laird," said Jeames at length, "the weicht 
 o' what ye hae laid upo' me, maks me doobtfu' whaur 
 nae doobt sud be. But I'm b'un' to say, ootside the 
 risk o' some mistak, o' the gr'un's o' which I can ken 
 naething, for else I wadna hae made it, 'at this bit 
 horsie o' yours, by a' 'at my knowledge or skeel, 
 which is naither o' them muckle, can tell me — 
 this bit horsie — an' gien it binna as I say, I cannof 
 see what for it sudna be sae — only, ye see, laird, 
 whan we think we ken a'thing, there's a heap ahint 
 oor a' tiling \ an' feow ken better, at least feow hae a 
 richt to ken better, nor I du mysel', what a puir 
 cratur is man, an hoo liable to mak mistaks, e'en 
 whan he's duin' his best to be i' the richt ; an for 
 
294 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 oucht 'at I ken, there may hae been grit discoveries 
 made, ohn ever come to my hearin', 'at upsets a'thing 
 I ever was gien to tak, an' baud by for true ; an' yet 
 I daurna witlihaud the conclusion I'm driven til, for 
 maybe whiles the hert o' man may gang the wrang 
 gait by bein' ower wise in its ain conceit o' expeckin' 
 ower little, jist as weel's in expeckin' ower muckle, 
 an' sae I'm b'un' to tell ye, laird, 'at yer expectations 
 frae this knot o'metal, — for metal we maun alloo it 
 to be, whatever else it be or bena — yer expectations, 
 I say, are a'thegither wrang, for it's no more siller 
 nor my wife's kitchie-poker." 
 
 "Weel, man!" said the laird, with a laugh that had 
 in it just a touch of scorn, "gien the thing be sae 
 plain, what gars ye gang that gait aboot the buss to 
 say't? Du ye tak me and Cosmo here for bairns 'at 
 wad fa' a greetin' gien ye tellt them their ba-lamb 
 wasna a leevin' ane — naething but a fussock o' 
 cotton-'oo', rowed roon' a bit stick? We're naither o' 
 's complimentit. — Come, Cosmo. — I'm nane the less 
 obleeged to ye, Jeames," he added as he rose, 
 " though I cud \Aeel wuss yer opingon had been sic as 
 wad hae pitten 't 'i my pooer to ofifer ye a fee for 't." 
 
 "The less said aboot that the better, laird!'" re- 
 plied Jeames with imperturbability, and his large, 
 silent smile ; " the trowth's the trowth, whether it's 
 paid for or no. But afore ye gang it's but fair to tell 
 ye — only I wadna like to be hauden ower stricldy 
 accoontable for the opingon, seein' its no my profes- 
 sion, as they ca' 't, but I hae dune my best, an gien 1 
 be i' the wrang, I naither hae nor had ony ill design 
 intir 't. — " 
 
THE WATCHMAKER, 295 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " cried the laird, widi more impa- 
 tience than Cosmo had ever seen him show, " is the 
 man mad, or does he take me for a fool ? " 
 
 " There's some things, laird," resumed Jeames, 
 " that hae to be approcht oontil, wi' circumspection 
 an' a proaper regaird to the impression they inay mak. 
 Noo, disclaimin' ony desire to luik like an ill-bred 
 scoon'rel, whilk I wad raither luik to onybody nor to 
 yersel', laird, I ventur to jaloose 'at maybe the maitter o' 
 a feow poun's micht be o' some consequence to 
 
 ye-" 
 
 " Ilka fule i' the country kens that 'at kens Glen- 
 warlock," interrupted the laird, and turned hastily. 
 " Come, Cosmo." 
 
 Cosmo went to open the door, troubled to see his 
 father annoyed with the unintelligibility of the man. 
 
 " Weel, gien ye widl gang," said Jeames, " I maun 
 jist'tak my life i' my han', an'- — ■" 
 
 " Hoot, man ! tak yer tongue i' yer teeth ; it'll be 
 mair to the purpose," cried the laird laughing, for he 
 had got over his ill humour already. " My life i' my 
 han', quo' he! — Man, I haena carriet a dirk this 
 mony a day ! I laid it aff wi' the kilt." 
 
 " Weel, it micht be the better 'at ye hadna, gien ye 
 binna gaein hame afore nicht, for I saw some cairds 
 o' the ro'd the day. — Ance mair, gien ye wad but 
 hearken til ane 'at confesses he oucht to ken, even 
 sud he be i' the wrang, I tell ye that horsie is not 
 siller — na, nor naething like it." 
 
 "Plague take the man! — what is it, then?" cried 
 the laird. 
 
 " What for didna ye speir that at me afore ? " re- 
 
296 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 joined Jeames. " It wad hae gien me leeberty to tell 
 ye — to the best o' my abeelity that is. Whan I'm no 
 cocksure — an' its ower muckle a thing to be cocksure 
 aboot — ■ I wadna volunteer onything. I wadna say 
 naething till I was adjured like an evil speerit." 
 
 '•Weel," quoth the laird, entering now into the 
 humour of the thing, " herewith I adjure thee, thou 
 contrairy and inarticulate speerit, that thou tell me 
 whereof and of what substance this same toy-horse is 
 composed, manufactured, or made up." 
 
 "Toy here, toy there! " returned Jeames; "sae far 
 as ony cawpabeelity o' mine, or ony puir skeel I hae, 
 will alloo o' testimony — though min' ye, laird, I 
 winna tak the consequences o' bein' i' the wrang — 
 though I wad raither tak them, an' ower again, nor 
 be i' the wrang, — " 
 
 The laird turned and went out, followed by Cosmo. 
 He began to think the man must have lost his reason. 
 But when the watchmaker saw them walking steadily 
 along the street in the direction of home, he darted 
 out of the door and ran after them. 
 
 "Gien ye wad gang, laird," he said, in an injured 
 tone, " ye mecht hae jist latten me en' the sentence I 
 had begun ! " 
 
 " There's nae en' to ony o' yer sentences, man ! " 
 said the laird ; " that's the only thing i' them 'at was 
 forgotten, 'cep' it was the sense." 
 
 "Weel, guid day to ye laird!" returned Jeames. 
 "Only," he added, drawing a step nearer, and speak- 
 ing in a subdued confidential voice, " dinna lat yer 
 harsie rin awa' upo' the ro'd hame, for I sweir til ye, 
 
THE WATCHMAKER. 297 
 
 gien there be only trowth i' the laws o' natur, he's no 
 siller, nor onything like it — " 
 
 " Hoots ! " said the laird, and turning away, walked 
 off with great strides. 
 
 " But," the watchmaker continued, almost running 
 to keep up with him, and speaking in a low, harsh, 
 hurried voice, as if thrusting the words into his ears, 
 " naither mair nor less nor solid gowd' — ^puregowd, 
 no a grain o' alloy ! " 
 
 That said, he turned, went back at the same speed, 
 shot himself into his cottage, and closed the door. 
 
 The father and son stopped, and looked at each 
 other for a moment. Then the laird walked slowly 
 on. After a minute or two, Cosmo glanced up in his 
 face, but his father did not return the glance, and the 
 boy saw that he was talking to another. By and by 
 he heard him murmur to himself, " The gifts of God 
 are without repentance." 
 
 Not a word passed between them as they went 
 home, though all the time it seemed to both father 
 and son that they were holding closest converse. The 
 moment they reached the castle, the laird went to his 
 room — to the closet where his few books lay, and 
 got out a volume of an old cyclopcedia, where he read 
 all he could find about gold. Thence descending to 
 the kitchen, he rummaged out a rusty old pair of 
 scales, and with their help arrived at the conclusion 
 that the horse weighed about three pounds avoirdu- 
 pois : it might be worth about a hundred and fifty 
 pounds. Ready money, this was a treasure in the 
 eyes of one whose hand had seldom indeed closed 
 upon more than ten pounds at once. Here was large 
 
298 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 provision for the four years of his boy's college life ! 
 Nor was the margin it would leave for his creditors 
 by any means too small for consideration ! It is true 
 the golden horse, hoofs, and skin, and hair of jewels, 
 could do but little towards the carting away of the 
 barrow of debt that crushed Glenwarlock ; but not 
 the less was it a heavenly messenger of good will to 
 the laird. There are who are so pitiful over the poor 
 man, that, finding they cannot lift him beyond the 
 reach of the providence which intends there shall 
 always be the poor on the earth, will do for him noth- 
 ing at all. 
 
 " Where is the use ? " they say. They treat their 
 money like their children, and would not send it into 
 a sad house. If they had themselves no joys but 
 their permanent ones, where would the hearts of 
 them be ? Can such have a notion of the relief, the 
 glad rebound of the heart of the poor man, the in- 
 burst of light, the re-creation of the world, when 
 help, however temporary, reaches him ? A man like 
 the laird of Glenwarlock, capable of a large outlook, 
 one that reaches beyond the wide-spread skirts of 
 his poverty, sees in it an arc of the mighty rainbow 
 that circles the world, a well in the desert he is cross- 
 ing to the pastures of red kine and woolly sheep. It 
 is to him a foretaste of the final deliverance. While 
 the rich giver is saying, " Poor fellow, he will be just 
 as bad next month again ! " the poor fellow is breath- 
 ing the airs of paradise, reaping more joy of life in 
 half a day than his benefactor in half a year, for help 
 is a quick seed and of rapid growth, and bourgeons 
 in a moment into the infinite aeons. Everything in 
 
THE WATCHMAKER. 299 
 
 this world is but temporary : wliy should temporary 
 help be undervalued ? Would you not pull out a 
 drowning bather because he will bathe again to-mor- 
 row ? The only question is — does it help ? Jonah 
 might grumble at the withering of his gourd, but if it 
 had not grown at all, would he ever have preached to 
 Nineveh ? It set the laird on a Pisgah-rock, whence 
 he gazed into the promised land. 
 
 The rich, so far as money-needs are concerned, 
 live under a cloudless sky of summer — dreary rather 
 and shallow, it seems to me, however lovely its blue 
 light; when for the poor man a breach is made 
 through a vaporous firmament, he sees deeper into 
 the blue because of the framing clouds — sees up to 
 worlds invisible in the broad glare. I know not how 
 the born-rich, still less those who have given them- 
 selves with success to the making of money, can learn 
 that God is the all in all of men, for this world's 
 needs as well as for the eternal needs. I know they 
 may learn it, for the Lord has said that God can even 
 teach the rich, and I have known of them who seemed 
 to know it as well as any poor man ; but speaking 
 generally, the rich have not the same opportunity of 
 knowing God — nor the same conscious need of him 
 — that the poor man has. And when, after a few 
 years, all, so far as things to have and to hold are 
 concerned, are alike poor, and all, as far as any need 
 of them is concerned, are alike rich, the advantage 
 will all be on the side of such as, neither having nor 
 needing, do not desire them. In the meantime, the 
 rich man who, without pitying his friend that he is 
 not rich also, cheerfully helps him over a stone where 
 
300 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK 
 
 he cannot carry him up the hill of his difficulty, re- 
 joicing to do for him what God allows, is like God 
 himself, the great lover of his children, who gives a 
 man infinitely, though he will not take from him his 
 suffering until strength is perfected in his weak- 
 ness. 
 
 The laird called Cosmo, and they went out to- 
 gether for a walk in the fields, where they might 
 commune in quiet. There they talked over the cal- 
 culation the laird had made of the probable worth of 
 the horse ; and the father, unlike most prudent men, 
 did not think it necessary to warn his son against too 
 sure an expectation, and so prepare him for the con- 
 sequence of a possible mistake ; he did not imagine 
 that disappointment, like the small-pox, requires the 
 vaccination of apprehension — that a man, lest he 
 should be more miserable afterwards, must make 
 himself miserable now. In matters of hope as well 
 as fear, he judged the morrow must look after itself ; 
 believed the God who to-day is alive in to-morrow, 
 looks after our affairs there where we cannot be. I 
 am far from sure that the best preparation for a 
 disappointment is not the hope that precedes 
 it. 
 
 Friends, let us hold by our hopes. All colours are 
 shreds of the rainbow. There is a rainbow of the 
 cataract, of the paddle-wheel, of the falling wave : 
 none of them is the rainbow, yet they are all of it ; 
 and if they vanish, so does the first, the arch-rain- 
 bow, the bow set in the cloud, while that which set it 
 there, and will set it again, vanishes never. All 
 things here pass ; yet say not they are but hopes. It 
 
THE WATCHMAKER. 30 I 
 
 is because they are not the thuig hoped for that they 
 are precious — the very opals of the soul. By our 
 hopes are we saved. Tliere is many a thing we 
 could do better without than the hope of it, for our 
 hopes ever point beyond the thing hoped for. The 
 bow is the damask flower on the woven tear-drops of 
 the world ; hope is the shimmer on the dingy warp 
 of trouble shot with the golden woof of God's intent. 
 Nothing almost sees miracles but misery. 
 
 Cosmo never forgot that walk in the fields with his 
 father. When the money was long gone after the 
 melted horse, that hour spent chiefly amongst the 
 great horse-gmvans that adorned the thin soil of one 
 of the few fields yet in some poor sense their own, re- 
 mained with him — to be his for ever — a portion of 
 the inheritance of the meek. The joy had brought 
 their hearts yet closer to each other, for one of the 
 lovelinesses of true love is that it may and must always 
 be more. In a gravelly hollow, around which rose 
 hillocks, heaped by far off tides in times afar, they 
 knelt together on the thin grass, among the ox-eyes, 
 and gave God thanks for the golden horse on 
 which Cosmo was to ride to the temple of knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 After, they sat a long time talking over the strange 
 thing. All these years had the lump of gold been 
 lying in the house, ready for their great need ! For 
 what was lands, or family, or ancient name, to the 
 learning 'that opens doors, the hand-maiden of the 
 understanding, which is the servant of wisdom, who 
 reads in the heart of him who made the heaven and 
 the earth and the sea and the fountains of water and 
 
302 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 the conscience of man ! Then they began to imagine 
 together how the thing had come to pass. It could 
 hardly be that the old captain did not know what a 
 thing he gave ! Doubtless he had intended sometime, 
 perhaps in the knowledge of approaching death, to say 
 something concerning it, and in -the meantime, prob- 
 ably, with cunning for its better safety, had treated it 
 as a thing of value, but of value comparatively 
 slight ! How had it come into existence, they next 
 asked each other. Either it had belonged to some 
 wealthy prince, they concluded, or the old captain 
 had got it made for himself, as a convenient shape ir 
 which to carry with him, if not ready money, yei 
 available wealth. Cosmo suggested that possibly, 
 for better concealment, it had been silvered ; ancj 
 the laird afterwards learned from the jeweller to 
 whom he sold it, that such was indeed the case. I 
 may mention also that its worth exceeded the laird's 
 calculation, chiefly because of the tiny jewels with 
 which it was studded. 
 
 Cosmo repeated to his father the rime he had 
 learned from dreaming Grannie, and told him how he 
 heard it that time he lay a night in her house, and 
 what Grannie herself said about it, and now the laird 
 smiled, and now he looked grave ; but neither of 
 them saw how to connect the rime with the horse of 
 gold. For one thing, great as was the wealth it 
 brought them, the old captain could hardly have ex- 
 pected it to embolden any one to the degree of arro- 
 gance specified. What man would call the king his 
 brother on the strength of a hundred and fifty 
 pounds ? 
 
THE WATCHMAKER. 303 
 
 When Grizzie learned the result of her advice, she 
 said "Praise be thankit!" and turned away. The 
 next moment Cosmo heard her murmuring to herself, 
 
 " Whan the coo loups ower the mune, 
 The reid gowd rains intil men's shune.'' 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE LUMINOUS NIGHT. 
 
 yhat night Cosmo could not sleep. It was a warm 
 summer night, though not yet summer — a soft dewy 
 night, full of genial magic and growth — as if some 
 fire-bergs of summer had drifted away out into the 
 spring, and got melted up in it. He dressed himself, 
 and went out. It was cool, deliciously cool, and 
 damp, but with no shiver. The stars were bright- 
 eyed as if they had been weeping, and were so joy- 
 ously consoled that they forgot to wipe away their 
 tears. They were bright but not clear — large and 
 shimmering, as if reflected from some invisible sea, 
 not immediately present to his eyes. The gulfs in 
 which they floated were black blue with profundity. 
 There was no moon, but the night was yet so far 
 from dark, that it seemed conscious throughout of 
 some distant light that illumined it without shine. 
 And his heart felt like the night, as if it held a deeper 
 life than he could ever know. He wandered on till 
 he came to the field where he liad so lately been with 
 304 
 
THE LUMINOUS NIGHT. 305 
 
 his father. He was not thinking ; any effort would 
 break the world-mirror in which he moved ! For the 
 moment he would be but a human plant, gathering 
 comfort from the soft coolness and the dew, when the 
 sun had ceased his demands. The coolness and the 
 dew sank into him, and made his soul long for the 
 thing that waits the asking. He came to the spot 
 where his father and he had prayed together, and 
 there kneeling lifted up his face to the stars. Oh 
 mighty, only church ! whose roof is a vaulted infini- 
 tude ! whose lights come burning from the heart of 
 the Maker! church of all churches — where the Son 
 of Man prayed! In the narrow temple of Herod he 
 taught the people, and from it drove the dishonest 
 traders ; but here, under the starry roof, was his house 
 of prayer! church where not a mark is to be seen of 
 human hand ! church that is all church, and nothing 
 but church, built without hands, despised and desecra- 
 ted through unbelief ! church of God's building ! thou 
 alone in thy grandeur art fitting type of a yet greater, 
 a yet holier church, whose stars are the burning 
 eyes of unutterable, self-forgetting love, whose wor- 
 ship is a ceaseless ministration of self-forgetting 
 deeds — the one real ideal church, the body of the 
 living Christ, built of the hearts and souls of men 
 and women out of every nation and every creed, 
 through all time and over all the world, redeemed 
 alike from Judaism, paganism, and all the false Chris- 
 tianities that darken and dishonor the true. 
 
 Cosmo, I say, knelt, and looked up. Then will 
 awoke, and he lifted up his heart, sending aloft his 
 soul on every holy sail it could spread, on all the 
 
3o6 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 wings it could put forth, as if, through the visible, 
 he would force his way to the invisible. 
 
 Softly through the blue night came a gentle call : 
 
 " Cosmo." 
 
 He started, not with fear, looked round, but saw 
 no one. 
 
 " Cosmo ! " came the call again. 
 
 The sky was shining with the stars, and that other 
 light that might be its own ; other than the stars and 
 the sky he saw nothing. He looked all round his 
 narrow horizon, the edge of the hollow between him 
 and the sky, where the heaven and the earth met 
 among the stars and the grass, and the stars shim- 
 mered like glow-worms among the thin stalks : noth- 
 ing was there ; its edge was unbroken by other shape 
 than grass, daisies, ox-eyes, and stars. A soft dreamy 
 wind came over the edge, and breathed once on his 
 cheek. The voice came again — 
 
 " Cosmo ! " 
 
 It seemed to come from far away, so soft and 
 gentle was it, and yet it seemed near. 
 
 " It has called me three times ! " said Cosmo, and 
 rose to his feet. 
 
 There was the head of Simon Peter, as some 
 called him, rising like a dark sun over the top of 
 the hollow ! In the faint light Cosmo knew him 
 at once, gave a cry of pleasure, and ran to meet him. 
 
 " You called so softly," said Cosmo, " I did not 
 know your voice." 
 
 "And you are disappointed !_ You thought it was 
 a voice from some region beyond this world ! I am 
 sorry. I called softly, because I wanted to let )ou 
 
A VAULTED INFINITUDE. 
 
 307 
 
THE LUMINOUS NIGHT. 
 
 3°9 
 
 know I was coming, and was afraid of startling you." 
 " I confess," replied Cosmo, " a little hope was 
 beginning to flutter, that perhaps I was called from 
 somewhere in the unseen — like Samuel, you know ; 
 but I was too glad to see you to be much disap- 
 pointed. I do so.metimes wonder though, that, if 
 there is such a world beyond as we sometime talk 
 about, there should be so little communication be- 
 tween it and us. When I am out in the still time of 
 this world, and there is nothing to interfere, — when 
 I am not even thinking, so as to close my doors, why 
 should never anything come ? Never in my life have 
 I had one whisper from that world." 
 
 " You are saying a great deal more than you can pes 
 sibly know, Cosmo," answered Mr. Simon. " You hav 
 had no communication recognized by you as such, i 
 grant. And I, who am so much older than you, musf 
 say the same. If there be any special fitness in tht 
 night, in its absorbing dimness, and isolating silence, 
 for such communication — and who can well doubt 
 it ? — I have put myself in the heart of it a thous- 
 and times, when, longing after an open vision, I 
 should have counted but the glimpse of a ghostly 
 garment the mightiest boon, but never therefrom has 
 the shadow of a feather fallen upon me. Yet here I 
 am, hoping no less, and believing no less ! The air 
 around me may be full of ghosts — I do not know ; I 
 delight to think they may somehow be with us, foi 
 all they are so unseen ; but so long as I am abU 
 to believe and hope in the one great ghost, the Holy 
 Ghost that fills all, it would trouble me little to learn 
 Jhat betwixt me and the visible centre was nothing 
 
3IO WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 but what the senses of men may take account of. If 
 there be a God, he is all in all, and filleth all things, 
 and all is well. What matter where the region of the 
 dead may be ? Nowhere but here are they called 
 the dead. When, of all paths, that to God is alone 
 always open, and alone can lead the wayfarer to the 
 end of his journey, why should I stop to peer through 
 the fence either side of that path ? If he does not 
 care to reveal, is it well I should make haste to 
 know ? I shall know one day, why should I be eager 
 to know now ? " 
 
 " But why might not something show itself once — 
 just for once, if only to give one a start in the right 
 direction ? " said Cosmo. 
 
 " I will tell you one reason," returned Mr. Simon, 
 ' — the same why everything is as it is, and neither 
 this nor that other way — namely, that it is best for 
 us it should be as it is. But I think I can see a 
 little way into it. Suppose you saw something 
 strange — a sign or a wonder — one of two things, it 
 seems to me likely, would follow : — you would either 
 doubt it the moment it had vanished, or it would 
 grow to you as one of the common things of your 
 daily life — which are indeed in themselves equally 
 wonderful. Evidently, if visions would make us sure, 
 God does not care about the kind of sureness they 
 can give, or for our being made sure in that way. A 
 thing that gained in one way, might be of less than 
 no value to us, gained in another, might, as a vital 
 part of the process, be invaluable. God will have us 
 sure of a thing by knowing the heart whence it 
 comes ; that is the only worthy assurance. To know, 
 
THE LUMINOUS NIGHT. 31 I 
 
 he will have us go in at the great door of obedient 
 faith ; and if anybody thinks he has found a back- 
 stair, he will find it land him at a doorless wall. It 
 is the assurance that comes of inmost beholding of 
 himself, of seeing what he is, that God cares to 
 produce in us. Nor would he have us think we 
 know him before we do, for thereby thousands walk 
 in a vain show. At the same time I am free to 
 imagine if I imagine holily — that is, as his child. 
 And I imagine space full of life invisible ; imagine 
 that the young man needed but the opening of his 
 eyes to see the horses and chariots of fire around his 
 master, an inner circle to the horses and chariots 
 that encompassed the city to take him. As I came 
 now through the fields, I lost myself for a time in the 
 feeling that I was walking in the midst of lovely 
 people I have known, some in person, some by their 
 books. Perhaps they were with me — are with me — 
 are speaking to me now. For if all our thoughts, 
 from whatever source, whether immediately from God, 
 or through ourselves, seem to enter the chamber of 
 our consciousness by the same door, why may it not 
 be so with some that come to us from other beings ? 
 Why may not the dead speak to me, and I be unable 
 to distinguish their words from my thoughts ? The 
 moment a thought is given me, my own thought 
 .Tishes to mingle with it, and I can no more part 
 ,hem. Some stray hints from the world beyond may 
 ningle even with the folly and stupidity of my 
 ireams." 
 
 " But if you cannot distinguish, where is the 
 iood ? " Cosmo ventured to ask. 
 
312 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 " Nowhere for deductive certainty. Nor, if the 
 things themselves are not worth remembering, or 
 worthy of influencing us, is there any good in enquir 
 ing concerning them ? Shall I mind a thing that in 
 not worth minding, because it came to me in a dream 
 or was told me by a ghost ? It is the quality of s. 
 thing, not how it arrived, that is the point. But true 
 things are often mingled with things grotesque. For 
 aught 1 know, at one and the same time, a spirit may 
 be taking advantage of the door set ajar by sleep, to 
 whisper a message of love or repentance, and the 
 troubled brain or heart or stomach may be sending 
 forth fumes that cloud the vision, and cause evil 
 echoes to mingle with the hearing. When you look 
 at any bright thing for a time, and then ^ lose your 
 eyes, you still see the shape of it, but in different 
 colours. This figure has come to you from the out- 
 side world, but the brain has altered it. Even the 
 shape itself is reproduced with but partial accuracy; 
 some imperfection in the recipient sense, or in the re> 
 ceptacle, sends imperfection into the presentation. 
 In a way something similar may our contact with the 
 dwellers beyond fare in our dreams. My unknown 
 mother may be talking to me in my sleep, and up 
 rises some responsive but stupid dream-cloud of my 
 own, and mingles with and ruins the descended 
 grace. But it is well to remind you again that the 
 things around us are just as full of marvel as those 
 into which you are so anxious to look. Our people 
 in the other world, although they have proved these 
 earthly things before, probably now feel them strange, 
 and full of a marvel the things about them have lost 
 
THE LUMINOUS NIGHT. 313 
 
 All is well. The only thing worth a man's care is 
 the will of God, and that will is the same whether in 
 this world or in the next. That will has made this 
 world ours, not the next ; for nothing can be ours 
 until God has given it to us. Curiosity is but the 
 contemptible human shadow of the holy thing wonder. 
 No, my son, let us make the best we can of this life, 
 that we may become able to make the best of the 
 next also." 
 
 " And how make the best of this ?•" asked Cosmo. 
 
 " Simply by falling in with God's design in the 
 making of you. That design must be worked out — 
 cannot be worked out without you. You must walk 
 in the front of things with the will of God — not be 
 dragged in the sweep of his garment that makes the 
 storm- behind him ! To walk with God is to go hand 
 in. hknd with him, like a boy with his father. Then, 
 as to-^the other world, or any world, as to the past 
 sorrow, the vanished joy, the coming fear, all is well ; 
 for the design of the making, the loving, the pitiful, 
 the beautiful God, is marching on towards divine 
 completion, that is, a never ending one. Yea, if it 
 please my sire that his infinite be awful to me, yet 
 will I face it, for it is his. 'Let your prayer, my son, 
 be like this : ' O Maker of me, go on making me, and 
 let me help thee. Come, O Father ! here I am ; let 
 us go on. I know that my words are those of a child, 
 but it is thy child who prays to thee. It is thy dark 
 I walk in ; it is thy hand I hold.' " 
 
 The words of his teacher sank into the heart of 
 Cosmo, for his spirit was already in the lofty condition 
 of capacity for receiving ivisdom direct from another. 
 
314 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 It is a lofty condition, and they who scorn it but shov 
 they have not reached it — nor are likely to reach i( 
 soon. Such as will not be taught through eye or ear, 
 must be taught through the skin, and that is generall}' 
 a long as well as a painful process. All Cosmo's 
 superiority came of his having faith in those who 
 were higher than he. True, he had not yet been 
 tried; but the trials of a pure, honest, teachable 
 youth, must, however severe, be very different from 
 those of one unteachable. The former are foi 
 growth, the latter for change. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 AT COLLEGE. 
 
 The summer and autumn had yet to pass before he 
 left home for the university of tlie north. He spent 
 them in steady work with Mr. Simon. But the 
 steadier liis work, and the greater his enjoyment of it, 
 the dearer was his liberty, and the keener his delight 
 in the world around him. He worked so well that he 
 could afford to dream too ; and his excursions and 
 his imaginings alike took wide and wider sweeps ; 
 while for both, ever in the near or far distance, lay the 
 harbour, the nest of his home. It drew him even when 
 it lay behind him, and he returned to it as the goal he 
 had set out to seek. It was as if, in every excursion 
 or flight, he had but sought to find his home afresh, 
 to approach it by a new path. But — the wind-fall ? 
 — nay, the God-send of the golden horse, gave him 
 such a feeling of wealth and freedom, that he now 
 began to dream in a fresh direction, namely, of things 
 he. would do if he were rich ; and as he was of a con- 
 structive disposition, his fancies in this direction 
 315 
 
3l6 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 turned chiefly on the enlarging and beautifying of the 
 castle — but always with the impossibility understood 
 of destroying a feature of its ancient dignity and his- 
 toric worth. 
 
 A portion of the early summer he spent in enlarg- 
 ing the garden on the south side or back of the house. 
 One portion of the ground there seemed to him to 
 have been neglected — the part which lay between 
 the block in which was the kitchen, and that in which 
 was the drawing-room. These stood at right angles 
 to each other, their gables making two sides of a 
 square. But he found the rock so near the surface, 
 that he could not utilize much of it. This set him 
 planning how the space might be used for building 
 In the angle, the rock came above ground entirely, 
 and had been made the foundation of a wall connect- 
 ing the two corners, to defend the court — a thick 
 strong wall of huge stones, that seemed as solid as 
 the rock. He grew fond of the spot, almost forsak- 
 ing for it his formerly favoured stone, and in the 
 pauses of his gardening would sit with his back 
 against this wall, dreaming of the days to come. 
 Here also he would bring his book, and read or write 
 for hours, sometimes drawing plans of the changes 
 and additions he would make, of the passages and 
 galleries that might be contrived to connect the va- 
 rious portions of the hou;^, and of the restoration of 
 old defences. The whole thing was about as vision- 
 ary as his dream of Tree-top-city, but it exercised his 
 constructive faculty, and exercise is growth, and 
 growth in any direction, if the heart be true, is growth 
 in all directions. 
 
AT COLLEGE. 31; 
 
 The days glided by. The fervid Summer slid away 
 round the shoulder of the world, and made room for 
 her dignified matron sister ; my lady Autumn swept 
 her frayed and discoloured train out of the great hall- 
 door of the world, and old brother Winter, who so 
 assiduously waits upon the house, and cleans its in- 
 nermost recesses, was creeping around it, biding his 
 time, but eager to get to his work. The day drew 
 near when Cosmo must leave the house of his fathers, 
 the walls that framed almost all his fancies, the home 
 where it was his unchanging dream to spend his life, 
 until he went to his mother in heaven. 
 
 I will not follow his intellectual development. The 
 real education of the youth is enough for my narra- 
 tive. 
 
 His mind was too much filled with high hopes and 
 lofty judgments, to be tempted like a common nature 
 in the new circumstances in which he found himself. 
 There are not a few who, believing of others as they 
 are themselves, and teaching as they practise, repre- 
 sent the youth of the nation as necessarily vile ; but 
 let not the pure thence imagine there is no one pure 
 but himself. There is life in our nation yet, and a 
 future for her yet, none the less that the weak and 
 cowardly and self-indulgent neither enter into the 
 kingdom of God, nor work any salvation in the earth. 
 Cosmo left the university a^least as clean as he went 
 
 to it. '*■:, 
 
 He had few companions. Those whom he liked 
 best could not give him much. They looked up to 
 him far more than he knew, for they had a vague 
 suspicion that he was a genius ; but they ministered 
 
3l8 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 almost only to his heart. The unworthy amongst 
 his fellow-students scorned him with looks askance, 
 and called him Baby Warlock — for on more than 
 one of them he had literally turned his back when 
 his conversation displeased him. None of them 
 however cared to pick a quarrel with him. The 
 devil finds it easier to persuade fools that there is 
 dignity in the knowledge of evil, and that ignorance 
 of it is contemptible, than to give them courage. 
 Truly, if ignorance is the foundation of any man's 
 goodness, it is not worth the wind that upsets it, but 
 in its mere self, ignorance of evil is a negative good. 
 It is those who do not love good that require to be 
 handed over to evil. The grinders did not care about 
 Cosmo, for neither was he of their sort. Now and 
 then, however, one of them would be mildly startled 
 by a request from him for assistance in some pas- 
 sage, which, because he did not go in for what they 
 counted scholarship, they could hardly believe him 
 interested. Cosmo regarded everything from amidst 
 associations of which they had none. In his instinc- 
 tive reach after life, he assimilated all food that 
 came in his way. His growing life was his sole im- 
 pulsive after knowledge. And already he saw a 
 glimmer here and there in regions of mathematics 
 from which had never fallen a ray into the corner of 
 an eye of those grinding men. That was because he 
 read books of poetry and philosophy of which they 
 had never heard. For the rest, he passed his exami- 
 nations creditably, and indeed, in more than one 
 cjase, with unexpected as unsought distinction. I 
 •vmust mention, however, that he did all liis set work 
 
AT COLLEGE. 
 
 319 
 
 first, and thoroughly, before giving himself what he 
 hungered after. 
 
 Of society in the city he had no knowledge. 
 Amongst the tradespeople he made one or two ac- 
 quaintances. 
 
 His father had been so much pleased with the 
 jeweller to whom he parted with the golden horse, 
 that he requested Cosmo to call upon him as soon as 
 he was settled. Cosmo found him a dignified old 
 gentleman — none the less of a gentleman, and all 
 the more of a man, that he had in his youth worked 
 with his own hands. He took a liking to Cosmo, 
 and, much pleased with his ready interest in what- 
 ever he told him, for Cosmo was never tired of lis- 
 tening to anyone who talked of what he kriew, made 
 him acquainted with many things belonging to his 
 trade, and communicated many of his experiences. 
 Indifferent to the opinion of any to whom he had not 
 first learned to look up, nobody ever listened better 
 than Cosmo to any story of human life, however 
 humble. Everybody seemed to him of his own fam- 
 ily. The greater was the revulsion of his feeling 
 when he came upon anything false in character or 
 low in behaviour. He was then severe, even to utter 
 breach. In^capable of excusing himself, he was inca- 
 pable also of excusing others. But though gentleness 
 towards the faults of others is an indispensable fruit 
 of life, it is perhaps well it should be a comparatively 
 late one : there is danger of foreign excuse reacting 
 on home conduct. Excuse ought to be rooted in 
 profoundest obedience, and outgoing love. To say 
 anything is too small to matter, is of the devil ; to say 
 
320 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 anything is too great to forgive, is not of God. He 
 who would soonest die to divide evil and his fellows, 
 will be the readiest to make for them all honest ex- 
 cuse. 
 
 Cosmo liked best to hear Mr. Burns talk about 
 precious stones. There he was great, for he had a 
 passion for them, and Cosmo was more than ready to 
 be infected with it. By the hour together would he 
 discourse of them ; now on the different and compar- 
 ative merits of individual stones which had at one 
 time and another passed through his hands, and on 
 the way they were cut, or ought to ha^-e been cut ; now 
 on the conditions of size, shape, and water, as indicat- 
 ing the special best way of cutting them ; now on the 
 various settings, as bringing out the qualities of dif- 
 ferent kinds and differing stones. 
 
 One day he came upon the subject of the weather 
 in relation to stones : on such a sort of day you ought 
 to buy this or that kind of stone ; on such another 
 you must avoid buying this or that kind, and seek 
 rather to sell. 
 
 Up to this moment, and the mention of this last 
 point, Cosmo had believed Mr. Burns an immaculate 
 tradesman, but here the human gem was turned at 
 that angle to the light which revealed the flaw in it. 
 There are tradesmen not a few, irreproachable in re- 
 gard to money, who are not so in regard to the quality 
 of their wares in relation to the price : they take and 
 do not give the advantage of their superior knowledge ; 
 and well can I imagine how such a one will laugh at 
 the idea that he ought not : to him every customer is 
 more or less of a pigeon. 
 
AT COLLEGE. 32 i 
 
 " If I could but buy plenty of such sapphires," said 
 Mr. Burns, " on a foggy afternoon like this, when the. 
 air is as yellow as a cairngorm, and sell them the first 
 summer-like day of spring, I should make a fortune in 
 a very few years." 
 
 " But you wouldn't do it, Mr. Burns ? " Cosmo ven- 
 tured to suggest, in some foreboding anxiety, caused 
 by the tone in which the naan had spoken : he would 
 fain have an express repudiation of the advantage thus 
 to be obtained. 
 
 " Why not ? " rejoined Mr. Burns, lifting his keen 
 gray eyes, with some wonder in them, and looking 
 Cosmo straight in the face. His mind also was 
 crossed by a painful doubt : was the young man a 
 mere innocent ? was he " no a' there ? " 
 
 " Because it is not honest;" replied Cosmo. 
 " Not honest ! " exclaimed the jeweller, in a tone loud 
 with anger, and deep with a sense of injury — whether 
 at the idea that he should be capable of a dishonest 
 thing, or at the possibility of having, for honesty's 
 sake, to yield a money-making principle, I do not 
 know ; " I present the thing as it is, and leave my 
 customer to judge according to his knowledge. Is 
 mine to be worth nothing to me ? There is no decep- 
 tion in the affair. A jeweller's business is not like a 
 horse-dealer's. The stone is as God made it, and the 
 day is as God made it, only my knowledge enables me 
 to use both to better purpose than my neighbour can." 
 " Then a man's knowledge is for himself alone — 
 for his own behoof exclusively — not for the common 
 advantage of himself and his neighbour ? " said 
 Cosmo, 
 
32 2 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Mine is so far for my neiglrbour, tliat I never offer 
 _him a stone that is not all I say it is. He gets the 
 advantage of his knowledge, let us say, in selling me 
 wine, which he understands to fit my taste with ; and 
 I get the advantage of my knowledge in selling him 
 the ring that pleases him. Both are satisfied. Neither 
 asks the other what he paid for this or that. But why 
 make any bones about it ; the first acknowledged 
 principle in business is, to buy in the cheapest market 
 and sell in the dearest." 
 
 "Where does the love of your neighbour come in 
 then ? " 
 
 " That has nothing to do with business ; it belongs 
 to the relations of social life. No command must be 
 interpreted so as to make it impossible to obey it. 
 Business would come to a stand-still — no man could 
 make a fortune that way." 
 
 " You think then that what we are sent here for is 
 to make a fortune ? " 
 
 " Most people do. I don't know about sent for. 
 That's what, I fancy, I find myself behind this coun- 
 ter for. Anyhow the world would hardly go on upon 
 any other supposition." 
 
 " Then the world bad better stop. It wasn't worth 
 making," said Cosmo. 
 
 " Young man," rejoined Mr. Burns, " if you are 
 going to speak blasphemy, it shall not be on my 
 premises." 
 
 Bewildered and unhappy, Cosmo turned away, left 
 the shop, and for years never entered it again. 
 
 Mr. Burns had been scrupulous to half a grain in 
 giving Mr. Warlock the full value of his gold and of 
 
AT COLLEGE. - 323 
 
 his Stones. Nor was this because of the liking he had 
 taken to the old gentleman. There are not a few who 
 will be carefully honest, to a greater or less compass, 
 with persons they like, but leave those they do not 
 like to protect themselves. But Mr. Burns' was not 
 of their sort. His interest in the laird, and his 
 wounded liking for Cosmo, did, however, cause him 
 to take some real concern in the moral condition of 
 the latter; while, at the same time, he was willing 
 enough to think evil of him who had denounced as 
 dishonest one of his main principles in the conduct of 
 affairs. It but added venom to the sting of Cosmo's 
 words that although the jeweller was scarcely yet con- 
 scious of the fact, he was more unwilling to regard as 
 wrong the mode he had defended, than capable of justi- 
 fying it to himself. That same evening he wrote to the 
 laird that he feared his son must have taken to keep- 
 ing bad company, for he had that day spoken in his 
 shop in a manner most irreverent and indeed wicked 
 — so as he would never, he was certain, have dared to 
 speak in his father's hearing. But college was a ter- 
 rible place for ruining the good principles learned at 
 home. He hoped Mr. Warlock would excuse the in- 
 terest he took in his son's welfare. Nothing was 
 more sad than to see the seed of the righteous turning 
 from the path of righteousness — and so on. 
 
 The laird made reply that he was obliged to Mr. 
 Burns for his communication and the interest he took 
 in his boy, but could only believe there had been 
 some mistake, for it was impossible his boy should 
 have been guilty of anything to which his father would 
 apply the epithets used by Mr. Burns. And so little 
 
324 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 did the thing trouble the laird, that he never troubled 
 Cosmo with a word on the matter — only, when he 
 came, home asked him what it meant. 
 
 But in after days Cosmo repented of having so 
 completely dropped the old gentleman's acquaint- 
 ance ; he was under obligation to him ; and if a man 
 will have to do only with the perfect, he must needs 
 cut himself first, and go out of the world. He had 
 learned a good deal from him, but nothing of art : his 
 settings were good, but of the commonest ideas. In the 
 kingdom of heaven tradesmen will be teachers, but on 
 earth it is their business to make fortunes ! But a stone, 
 its colour, light, quality, he enjoyed like a poet. Many 
 with a child's delight in pure colours, have no feeling 
 for the melodies of their arrangement, or the harmo- 
 nies of their mingling. So are there some capable 
 of delight in a single musical tone, who have but 
 little reception for melody or complicate harmony. 
 Whether a condition analogical might not be found 
 in the moral world, and contribute to the explanation 
 of such as Mr. Burns, I may not now enquire. 
 
 The very rainbow was lovelier to Cosmo after 
 learning some of the secrets of precious stones. 
 Their study served also his metaphysico-poetic nature, 
 by rousing questions of Ihe relations between beauty 
 fixed and beauty evanescent ; between the beauty of 
 stones and the beauty of flowers ; between the beau- 
 ties of art, and the beauties of sunsets and faces. He 
 saw that where life entered, it brought greater beauty, 
 with evanescence and reproduction, — an endless 
 fountain flow and fall. Many were the strange, glad- 
 some, hopeful, corrective thoughts born in him of the 
 
AT COLLEGE. 325 
 
 gems in Mr. Burns's shop, and he owed the reform 
 much to the man whose friendship he had cast from 
 him. For every question is a door-handle. 
 
 Cosmo lived as simply as at home — in some re- 
 spects more hardly, costing a sum for his mainte- 
 nance incredibly small. Some may hint that the 
 education was on a par with the expense ; and, if 
 education consists in the amount and accuracy of 
 facts learned, and the worth of money in that poor 
 country be taken into the account, the hint might be 
 allowed to pass. But if education is the supply of 
 material to a growing manhood, the education there 
 provided was all a man needed who was man enough 
 to aid his own growth ; and for those who have not 
 already reached that point, it is matter of infinite 
 inconsequence what they or their parents find or miss. 
 But I am writing of a period long gone by. 
 
 In his second .year, willing to ease his father how- 
 ever little, he sought engagements in teaching; and 
 was soon so far successful that he had two hours 
 every day occupied — one with a private pupil, and 
 the other in a public school. The master of that 
 school used afterwards to say that the laird of Glen- 
 warlock had in him the elements of a real teacher. 
 But indeed Cosmo had more teaching power than the 
 master knew, for not in vain had he been the pupil of 
 Peter Simon — whose perfection stood in this, that 
 he not only taught, but taught to teach. Life is prop- 
 agation. The perfect thing, from the Spirit of God 
 downwards sends itself orwizxd, not its work only, but 
 its life. And in the reaction Cosmo soon found that, 
 for making a man accurate, there is nothing like bar 
 
326 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 ing to impart what he possesses. He learned more 
 by tiyhig to teach what he thought he knew, than 
 by trying to learn what he was sure he did not 
 know. 
 
 In his third year it was yet more necessary he 
 should gain what money he could. For the laird 
 found that his neighbour, Lord Lick-my-loof, had 
 been straining every means in his power to get his 
 liabilities all into his own hands, and had in great 
 part succeeded. The discovery sent a pang to the 
 heart of the laird, for he could hardly doubt his lord- 
 ship's desire was to foreclose every mortgage, and com- 
 pel him to yield the last remnant of the possessions 
 of his ancestors. He had refused him James Grade's 
 cottage, and he would have his castle ! But the day 
 was not yet come ; and as no one knew what was 
 best for his boy, no one could foretell what would 
 come to pass, or say what deliverance might not be 
 in store for them ! The clouds must break somehow, 
 and then there was the sun ! So, as a hundred times 
 before, he gathered heart, and went on, doing his 
 best, and trusting his hardest. 
 
 The summers at home between the sessions, were 
 times of paradise to Cosmo. Now first he seemed to 
 himself to begin to understand the simple greatness 
 of his father, and appreciate the teaching of Mr. 
 Simon. He seemed to descry the outlines of the 
 bases on which they stood so far above him. 
 
 And now the question came up, what was Cosmo to 
 do after he had taken his degree. It was impossible 
 he should remain at home. There was nothing for 
 him to do there, except the work of a farm labourer. 
 
AT COLLEGE. 327 
 
 That he would have undertaken gladly, had the 
 property been secure, for the sake of being with his 
 father ; but the only chance of relieving the land was 
 to take up some profession. The only one he had a 
 leaning to was that of chemistry. This science was 
 at the time beginning to receive so much attention in 
 view of agricultural and manufacturing purposes, that 
 it promised a sure source of income to the man who 
 was borne well in front upon its rising tide. But 
 alas, to this hope, money was yet required ! A large 
 sum must yet be spent on education in that. direction, 
 before his knowledge would be of money-value, fit for 
 offer in the scientific market! He must go to Ger- 
 many to Liebig, or to Edinburgh to Gregory ! There 
 .was no money, and the plan was not, at least for the 
 present, to be entertained. There was nothing left 
 but go on teaching. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A TUTORSHIP. 
 
 It cannot but be an unpleasant change for a youth, 
 to pass from a house and lands where he is son — ah, 
 how much better than master! and take a subordi- 
 nate position in another; but the discipline is invalu- 
 able. To meet what but for dignity would be humil- 
 iation, to do one's work in spite of misunderstanding, 
 and accept one's position thoroughly, intrenching it 
 with recognized duty, is no easy matter. As to how 
 Cosmo stood this ordeal of honesty, I will only say 
 that he never gave up trying to do better. 
 
 His great delight and consolation were hh father's 
 letters, which he treasured as if they had been a 
 lover's, as indeed they were in a much deeper and 
 truer sense than most love-letters. The two wrote 
 regularly, and shared their best and deepest with 
 each other. The letters also of Mr. Simon did much 
 to uplift him, and enable him to endure and strive- 
 
 Nobody knows what the relation of father and son 
 may yet come to. Those who accept the Christian 
 328 
 
A TUTORSHIP. 329 
 
 revelation are bound to recognize that there must be 
 in it depths infinite, ages off being fathomed yet. 
 For is it not a reproduction in small of the loftiest 
 mystery in human ken — that of the infinite Father 
 and infinite Son ? If man be made in the image of 
 God, then is the human fatherhood and sonship the 
 image of the eternal relation between God and 
 Jesus. 
 
 One happy thing was that he had a good deal of 
 time to himself. He set his face against being with 
 the children beyond school hours, telling their parents 
 it would be impossible for him otherwise to do his 
 work with that freshness which was as desirable for 
 them as for him. 
 
 The situation his friends of the university had suc- 
 ceeded in finding for him, was in the south of Scot- 
 land, almost on the bqrders. His employers were 
 neither pleasant nor interesting — but more from stu- 
 pidity than anything worse. Had they had some 
 knowledge of Cosmo's history, they would have taken 
 pains to be agreeable to him, for, having themselves 
 nothing else, they made much of birth and family. 
 But Cosmo had no desire to come nearer where it was 
 impossible to be near, and was content with what 
 they accorded him as a poor student and careful 
 teacher. They lived in the quietest way; for the heir 
 of the house, by a former marriage, was a bad subject, 
 and kept them drained of more than the superfluous 
 money about the place. 
 
 Cosmo remained with them two years, and during 
 that time did not go home, for so there was the more 
 money to send ; but as he entered his third year, he 
 
33° WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 began to feel life growing heavy upon him, and longed 
 unspeakably after his father. 
 
 One day, the last of the first quarter, Mr. Baird 
 sent a message, desiring his presence, and with some 
 hesitation and difficulty informed him that, because 
 of certain circumstances over which unhappily he had 
 no control, he was compelled to dispense with his 
 services. He regretted the necessity much, he said, 
 for the children were doing well with him. He would 
 always be glad to hear from him, and know that he 
 was getting on. A little indignant, for his father's 
 sake more than his own, Cosmo remarked that it was 
 customary, he believed, to give a tutor a quarter's 
 notice, which brought the reply, that nothing would 
 please Mr. Baird better than that he should remain 
 another qiiarter — if it was any convenience to him ; 
 but he had had great misffertunes within the last 
 month, and had no choice but beg him to excuse 
 some delay in the payment of his quarter's salary 
 now due. In these circumstances he had thought it 
 the kindest thing to let him look out for another situ- 
 ation. 
 
 Hearing tjiis, Cosmo was sorry, and said what he 
 could to make the trouble, so far as he was concerned, 
 weigh lightly. He did not know that what he had 
 fairly earned went to save a rascal from the punish- 
 ment he deserved ^ — 'the best thing man could give 
 him. Mr. Baird judged it more for the honour of his 
 family to come between the wicked and his deserts 
 than to pay the workman his wages. Of that money 
 Cosmo never received a farthing. The worst of it to 
 to him was, that he had almost come to the bottom 
 
A TUTORSHIP. 
 
 333 
 
 of his purse — had not nearly enough to take him 
 home. 
 
 He went to his room in no small perplexity. He 
 could not, would not trouble his father. There are 
 not a few sons, I think, who would be more consid- 
 erate, were they trusted like Cosmo from the first, 
 and allowed to know thoroughly the circumstances of 
 their parents. The sooner mutual confidence is initi- 
 ated the better. A servant knocked at the door, 
 and, true to the day, came the expected letter from 
 his father — this time enclosing one from Lady Joan. 
 
 The Warlocks and she had never had sight of each 
 otlier since the dreary day she left them, but they had 
 never lost hearing of each other. Lady Joan re- 
 tained a lively remembrance of her visit, and to both 
 father and son the occasional letter from her was a 
 rare pleasure. Some impression of the dignity and 
 end of life had been left with Joan from their influ- 
 ences, old man as^ was the one, and child as was 
 the other ; and to the imagination of Cosmo she was 
 still the type of all beauty — such as his boyish eyes 
 had seen her, and his boyish heart received her. But 
 from her letters seemed to issue to the inner ear of 
 the laird a tone of oppression for which they gave 
 him no means of accounting ; while she said so little 
 concerning her outward circumstances, hardly ever 
 even alluding to her brother, that he could not but 
 fear things did not go well with her at home. The 
 one he had now sent was even sad, and had so 
 touched his heart, that in his own he suggested the 
 idea of Cosmo's paying her a visit in his coming hol- 
 idays. It might comfort her a little, he said, to see 
 
334 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 one who cared so much, though he could do so little 
 for her. 
 
 Cosmo jumped up, and paced about the room. 
 What better could he do than go at once ! He had 
 not known what to do next, and here was direction ! 
 He was much more likely to find a situation in 
 England than in Scotland ! And for his travelling 
 expenses, he knew well how to make a little go a 
 great way ! He wrote therefore to his father telling 
 him what had occurred, and saying he would go at 
 once. The moment he had dispatched his letter, he 
 set about his preparations. Like a bird the door 
 of whose cage had been opened, he could hardly 
 endure his captivity one instant longer. To write 
 and wait a reply from Joan was simply impossible. 
 He must start the very next morning. Alas, he had 
 no wings either real or symbolic, and must foot 
 it ! It would take him days to reach Yorkshire, on 
 the northern border of which she lived, but the idea 
 o.f such a journey, with such a goal before him, not 
 to mention absolute release from books and boys, 
 was entrancing. To set out free, to walk on and on for 
 days, not knowing what next would appear at any 
 turn of the road — it was like reading a story that 
 came to life as you read it ! And then in the last 
 chapter of it to arrive at the loveliest lady in the 
 world, the same whose form and face mingled 
 with his every day-dream — it was a chain of gold 
 with a sapphire at the end of it — a flowery path to 
 the gate of heaven ! 
 
 That night he took his leave of the family, to start 
 early in the morning. The father and mother were 
 
A TUTORSHIP. 
 
 335 
 
 plainly sorry ; the children looked grave, and one of 
 them cried. He wrote to Mr. Baird once after, but 
 had no answer — nor ever heard anything of them 
 but that they had to part with everything, and retire 
 into poverty. 
 
 It was a lovely spring morning when with his stick 
 and his knapsack he set out, his heart as light as 
 that of the sky-lark that seemed for a long way to ac- 
 company him. It was one after another of them that 
 took up the song of his heart and made it audible to 
 his ears. Better convoy in such mood no man could 
 desire. He walked twenty miles that day for a be- 
 ginning, and slept in a little village, whose cocks 
 that woke him in the morning seemed all to have 
 throats of silver, and hearts of golden light. He in- 
 creased his distance walked every day, and felt as if 
 he could go on so for years. 
 
 But before he reached his destination, what people 
 call a misfortune befell him. I do not myself believe 
 there is any misfortune ; what men call such is merely 
 the shadow-side of a good. 
 
 He had one day passed through a lovely country, 
 and in the evening found himself upon a dreary 
 moorland. As night overtook him, it came on to 
 rain, and grew very cold. He resolved therefore to 
 seek shelter at the first house he came to ; and just 
 ere it was quite dark, arrived at some not very in- 
 viting abodes on the brow of the descent from the 
 moor, the first of which was an inn. The landlady 
 received him, and made him as comfortable as she 
 could, but as he did not find his quarters to his taste, 
 he rose even earlier than he had intended, and 
 
336 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 started in a pouring rain. He had paid his bill the 
 night before, intending to break his fast at the first 
 shop where he could buy a loaf. 
 
 The clouds were sweeping along in great gray 
 masses, with yellow lights between, and every now 
 and then they would let the sun look out for a moment, 
 and the valley would send up the loveliest smile from 
 sweetest grass or growing corn, all wet with the rain 
 that made it strong for the sun. He saw a river, and 
 bridges, and houses, and in the distance the ugly 
 chimneys of a manufacturing town. Still it rained 
 and still the sun would shine out. He had grown 
 \'ery hungry before at length he reached a tin)- ham- 
 let, and in it a cottage with a window that dispkyed 
 loaves. He went in, took the largest he saw, and 
 was on the point of tearing a great piece out of 
 it, when he thought it would be but polite to pay for 
 it first, and put his hand in his pocket. It was well 
 he did so, for in his pocket was no purse ! Either it 
 had been stolen at the inn, or he had lost it on the 
 way. He put down the loaf. 
 
 "I am very sorry," he said, "but I find I have lost 
 my purse." 
 
 The woman looked him in the face with keen en- 
 quiring eyes ; then apparently satisfied with her 
 scrutiny, smiled, and said, 
 
 " Ne'er trouble yoursel', sir. Yo can pey mo as 
 coom back. Aw hope you 'n lost noan so mich ? " 
 
 " Not much, but all I had," answered Cosmo. " I 
 ajn much obliged to yoiu but I'm not likely ever to 
 be this way again, sn I can't accept \our kindness. 
 I am sorry to have troubled you, but after all I 
 
A TUTORSHIP. 
 
 339 
 
 have the worst of it," he added, smiling, " for I am 
 very hungry." 
 
 As he spoke, he turned away, and had laid his 
 hand on the latch of the door, when the woman 
 spoke again. 
 
 '• Tak th' loaf," she said ; " it'll be aw the same in 
 less than a hunder year." 
 
 She spoke crossly, almost angrily. Cosmo seemed 
 to himself to understand her entirely. Had she 
 looked well-to-do, he would have taken the loaf, 
 promising to send the money ; but he could not 
 bring himself to trouble the thoughts of a poor 
 woman, possibly with a large family, to whom the 
 price of such a loaf must be of no small consequence. 
 He thanked her again, but shook his head. The 
 woman looked more angry than before : having 
 constrained herself to give, it was hard to be re- 
 fused. 
 
 " Yo micht tak what's offered yo ! " she said. 
 
 Cosmo stood thinking : was there any way out of 
 the difficulty ? Almost mechanically he began 
 searching his pockets : he had very few things either 
 in his pockets or anywhere else. All his fingers en- 
 countered was a penknife too old and worn to repre- 
 sent any value, a stump of cedar-pencil, and an 
 ancient family-seal his father had given him when he 
 left home. This last he took out, glanced at it, felt 
 that only the duty of saving his life could make him 
 part with it, put it back, turned once more, said 
 " Good morning," and left the shop. 
 
 He had not gone many steps when, he heard the 
 shop-bell ring; the woman came running after him. 
 
340 WAR[,0_K O CLENWARL'ICK. 
 
 Her eyes were full of tears. What fountain had been 
 opened, I cannot tell; perhaps only that of sympa- 
 thy with the hungry youth. 
 
 "Tak th' loaf," she said again, but in a very differ- 
 ent voice this time, and held it out to him. " Dunnot 
 be vexed with a poor woman. Sometimes hoo dunnot 
 knaw wheer to get the bread for her own." 
 
 " Tiiat's why I wculdn't take it," rejoined Cosmo. 
 " If I liad thought you were well off, I would not hare 
 hesitated." 
 
 "Oh! aw'm noan so pinched at present,'' she an- 
 swered with a smile. "Tak th' loaf, an' welcome, an' 
 pey mo when yo' can." 
 
 Cosmo put down lier name and address in his 
 pocket-book, and as he took the loaf, kissed the toil- 
 worn hand that gave it him. She uttered a little cry 
 of remonstrance, threw her apron over her head, and 
 went back to the house, sobbing. 
 
 The tide rose in Cosmo's heart too, but he left the 
 hamlet eating almost ravenously. Another might 
 have asked himself where dinner was to come from, 
 and spared a portion ; but that was not Cosmo's way. 
 He would have given half his loaf to any hungry man 
 he met, but he would not save the half of it in view 
 of a possible need that might never come. Every 
 minute is a to-morrow to the minute that goes before 
 it, and is bound to it by the same duty-roots that 
 make every moment one with eternity; but there is 
 no more occasion to bind minute to minute with the 
 knot-grass of anxiety, tlian to ruin both to-day and the 
 grand future with the cares of a poor imaginary to- 
 morrow. To-day's duty is the only true provision for 
 
A TUTORSHIP. 
 
 341 
 
 to-morrow ; and those who are careful about the mor- 
 row are but the more likely to bring its troubles upon 
 them by the neglect of duty which care brings. Some 
 say that care for the morrow is what distinguishes the 
 man from the beast ; certainly it is one of the many 
 things tliat distinguish the slave of Nature from tlie 
 child of God. 
 
 Cosmo ate his loaf with as hearty a relish as ever 
 Grizzle's porridge, and that is saying- as much for his 
 appetite, if not necessarily for the bread, as words 
 can. He had swallowed it almost before he knew, 
 and felt at first as if he could eat another, but after a 
 drink of water from a well by tlie road-side, found 
 that he had had enough, and strode on his way, as 
 strong and able as if he had had coffee and eggs and 
 a cutlet, and a dozen things besides. 
 
 He was passing the outskirts of the large manufac- 
 turing town he had seen in the distance, leaving it 
 on one hand, when he- became again aware of the ap- 
 proach of hunger. One of the distinguishing features 
 of Cosmo's character, was a sort of childlike boldness 
 towards his fellow-men ; and coming presently to 
 a villa with a smooth-shaven lawn, and seeing a man 
 leaning over the gate that opened from the road, he 
 went up to him and said, 
 
 " Do you happen to have anything you want done 
 about the place, sir ? I want my dinner and have no 
 money." 
 
 The man, one with whom the world seemed to 
 .'lave.gone to his wish, looked him all over. 
 
 "A fell.-Av like you ought to be ashamed to beg," 
 he said. 
 
342 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " That is precisely what I was not doing," returned 
 Cosmo, " — except as everybody more or less must 
 be a beggar. It is one thing to beg for work, and 
 another to beg for food. I didn't ask you to make a 
 job for me ; I asked if there was any work about the 
 place you wanted done. Good morning, sir." 
 
 He turned, and the second time that day was 
 stopped as he went. 
 
 " I say ! — if you can be as sharp with your work 
 as you are with your tongue, I don't care if I give 
 you a job. Look here : my coachman left me in a 
 huff this morning, and it was time too, as I find now 
 he is gone. The stable is in a shocking mess : if 
 you clean it out, and set things to rights — but 
 I don't believe you can — I will give you your 
 dinner." 
 
 " Very well, sir," returned Cosmo. " I give you 
 warning I'm very hungry ; only on the other hand, I 
 don't care what I have to eat." 
 
 " Look here," said the man : " your hands look a 
 precious siglit more like loafing than work ! I don't 
 believe your work will be worth your dinner." 
 
 "Then don't give me any," rejoined Cosmo, laugh- 
 ing. " If the proof of the pudding be in the eating, 
 the proof of the stable must be in the cleaning. Let 
 me see the place." 
 
 Much pondering what a fellow scouring the country 
 with a decent coat and no money could be, the 
 dweller in the villa led the way to his stable. 
 
 In a mess that stable certainly was. 
 
 "The new man is coming this evening," said the 
 man, " and I would rather he didn't see things in 
 
A TUTORSHIP. 343 
 
 such a state. He might think anything good enough 
 after this ! The rascal took to drink — and that, 
 young man," he added in a monitory tone, " is the 
 end of all things." 
 
 " I'll soon set the place to rights," said Cosmo. 
 " Let's see — where shall I find a graip.' " 
 
 " A. grape .' what the deuce do you want with 
 grapes in a stable ? " 
 
 " I forgot where I was, sir," answered Cosmo, 
 laughing. " I am a Scotchman, and so I call things 
 by old-fashioned names. That is what we call a 
 three or four-pronged fork in my country. The word 
 comes from the same root as the German gr'eifen, and 
 our own grip, and gripe, and grope, and grab — and 
 grub too ! " he added, " which in the present case is 
 significant." 
 
 " Oh, you are a scholar — are you ? Then you are 
 either a Scotch gardener on the tramp after a situa- 
 tion, or a young gentleman who has made a bad use 
 of his privileges ! " 
 
 " Do you found that conclusion on my having no 
 money, or on my readiness to do the first honest 
 piece of work that comes to my hand ? " asked 
 Cosmo, who having lighted on a tool to serve his 
 purpose, was already at work. " — But never mind ! 
 here goes for a clean stable and a good dinner." 
 
 " How do you know your dinner will be good ? " 
 
 " Because I am so ready for it." 
 
 " If you're so sharp set, I don't mind letting you 
 have a snack before you go further," said his 
 employer. 
 
 " No, thamk you, sir," replied Cosmo ; " I am too 
 
344 WARLOCK O GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 self-indulgent to enjoy my food before I have finished 
 my \\ork." 
 
 " Not a bad way of being self-indulgent, that ! " 
 said the man. " — But what puzzles me is, that a 
 young fellow with such good principles should be 
 going about the country like — " 
 
 "Like a tinker — would you say, sir — or like 
 Abraham of old when he had no abiding city ? " 
 
 " You seem to know your Bible too ! — Come now, 
 there must be some reason for your being adrift like 
 this ! " 
 
 " Of course there is, sir ; and if I were sure you 
 would believe me, I would tell you enough to make 
 you understand it." 
 
 " A cautious Scotchman ! " 
 
 " Yes. Whatever I told you, you would doubt ; 
 therefore I tell you nothing." 
 
 "You have been doing something wrong!" said 
 the man. 
 
 " You are rude," returned Cosmo quietly, without 
 stopping his work. — " But," he resumed, " were you 
 never in any difficulty? Have you always had your 
 pockets full when you were doing right ? It is not 
 just to suspect a man because he is poor. The best 
 men have rarely been rich." 
 
 Receiving no repl)', Cosmo raised his head. The 
 man was gone. 
 
 " Somebody has been teUing him about me ! " he 
 said to himself, and went. For the stable Cosmo 
 was then cleaning out, the horses that lived in it, and 
 the house to which it belonged, were the proceeds of 
 a late judicious failure. 
 
A TUTORSHIP. 
 
 345 
 
 He finished his job, set everything right as far as 
 he could, and going to the kitchen door, requested 
 the master might be invited to inspect his work. But 
 the master only sent orders to the cook to give tlie 
 young man his dinner, and let him go about his busi- 
 ness. 
 
 Cosmo ate none the less heartily, for it was his 
 own; and cook and maid were more po"'te than their 
 master. He thanked them and went his way, and in 
 the strength of that food walked many miles into the 
 night — for now he set no goal before him but the 
 last. 
 
 It was a clear, moonless, starry night, cold after 
 the rain, but the easier to walk in. The wind now 
 and then breathed a single breath and ceased ; but 
 that breath was piercing. He buttoned his coat, 
 and trudged on. The hours went and went. He 
 could not be far from Cairncarque, and hoped by 
 break of day to be, if not within sight of it, at 
 least within accurate hearing of it. 
 
 Midnight was not long past when a pale old moon 
 came up, and looked drearily at him. For some 
 time he had been as if walking in a dream ; and now 
 the moon mingled with the dream right strangely. 
 Scarce was she above the hill when an odd-shaped 
 cloud came upon her ; and Cosmo's sleep-bewildered 
 eyes saw in the cloud the body and legs of James 
 Grade's cow, straddling across the poor, withered 
 heel-rind of the moon. Then another cloud, high 
 among the stars, began to drop large drops of rain 
 upon his head. "That's the reid gowd rainin'," 
 he said to himself. He was gradually sinking under 
 
346 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 the power of invading sleep. Every now and then 
 he would come to himself for the briefest instant, 
 and say he must seek some shelter. The next 
 moment he was asleep again. He had often won- 
 dered that horses could get over the road and sleep: 
 here he was doing it himself and not wondering 
 ut all ! The wind rose, and blew sharp stings, of rain 
 in his face, which woke him up a little. He looked 
 about him. Had he been going through a town, who 
 would have taken him in at that time of the mid- 
 night-morning ? and here he was in a long lane without 
 sign of turning ! To him it had neither beginning nor 
 end, like a lane in a dream. It might be a lane in a 
 dream ! He could remember feeling overwhelmed 
 with sleep in a dream ! Still he did not think he was 
 dreaming: for one thing, he had never been so un- 
 comfortable in a dream ! 
 
 The lane at last opened on a triangular piece of 
 sward, looking like a village green. In the middle 
 of it stood a great old tree, with a bench round it. 
 He dropped on the bench and was asleep in a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 The wind blew, and the rain fell. Cold and discom- 
 fort ruled his dim consciousness, but he slept like one 
 of the dead. When the sun rose, it found him at full 
 length on the bare-worn earth at the foot of the tree. 
 But, shining full upon him, it did not for a long time 
 break his sleep. When at last it yielded and he came 
 to himself, it was to the consciousness of a body that 
 was a burden, of a tabernacle that ached as if all its 
 cords were strained, yet all its stakes loosened. With 
 nightmare difficulty he compelled his limbs to raise 
 
"HE DROPPED ON THE BENCH." 
 
A TUTORSHIP. 349 
 
 him, and then was so ill able to govern them, that 
 he staggered like a drunken man, and again and 
 again all but dropped. Such a night's-rest after 
 such a day's-weariness had all but mastered him. 
 Seeing a pond in the green, he made for it, and 
 having washed his face, felt a little revived. On the 
 other side of the green, he saw a little shop, in the 
 unshuttered window of which was bread. Mechani- 
 cally he put his hand in his pocket. To his surprise, 
 he found there sixpence : the maid that waited on 
 him at dinner had dropped it in. Rejoiced by the 
 gift, he tried to run, to get some warmth into his 
 limbs, but had no great success. The moment the 
 shop was opened, he spent his sixpence, and learned 
 that he was but about three miles off the end of his 
 journey. He set out again therefore with good 
 courage ; but alas ! the moment he tried to eat, 
 mouth and throat and all refused their office. He 
 had no recollection of any illness, but this was so 
 unlike his usual self, that he could not help some 
 apprehension. As he walked he got a little better, 
 however, and trudged manfully on. By and by he 
 was able to eat a bit of bread, and felt better still. 
 But as he recovered, he became aware that with fa- 
 tigue and dirt his appearance must be disreputable 
 in the extreme. How was he to approach Lady 
 Joan in such a plight ? If she recognized him at 
 once, he would but be the more ashamed ! What 
 could she take him for but a ne'er-do-weel, whose 
 character had given way the moment he left the 
 guardianship of home, and who now came to sponge 
 upon her ! And if he should be ill ! He would 
 
35° WARLOCK O GLENWARLnCK. 
 
 rather lie down and die on the roadside than present 
 himself dirty and ill at Cairncarque ! — rather go to 
 the workhouse, than encounter even the momentary- 
 danger of such a misunderstanding ! These reflec- 
 tions were hardly worthy of the faith he had hitherto 
 shown, but he was not yet perfect, and unproved ill- 
 ness had clouded his judgment. 
 
 Coming to a watering-place for horses on the road- 
 side, he sat down by it, and opening his bag, was 
 about to make what little of a toilet was possible to 
 him — was thinking whether he might venture, as it 
 seemed such a lonely road, to change his shirt, when 
 round a near corner came a lady, walking slowly, and 
 reading as she came. It was she ! And there he 
 stood without coat or waistcoat ! To speak to her 
 thus would be to alarm her ! He turned his back, 
 and began to wash in the pool, nor once dared look 
 round. He heard her slowly pass, fancied he heard 
 her stop one step, felt her presence from head to 
 foot, and washed the harder. When he thought she 
 was far enough off, he put on the garments he had re- 
 moved, and hastened away, drying himself as he went. 
 
 At the turn of the road, all at once rose the towers 
 of Cairncarque. There was a castle indeed ! — 
 something to call a castle ! — with its huge square 
 tower at every corner, and its still huger two towers 
 in the middle of its front, its moat, and the causeway 
 where once had been its drawbridge ! — Yes ! there 
 were the spikes of the portcullis, sticki'ng down from 
 the top of the gateway, like the long upper teeth of a 
 giant or ogre ! That was a real castle — such as he 
 had read of in books, such as he had seen in pictures ! 
 
A TUTORSHIP. 351 
 
 Castle Warlock would go bodily into half a quarter 
 of it — would be swallowed up like a mouthful, and 
 never seen again ! Castle Warlock was twice as old 
 — that was something ! but why had not Lady Joan 
 told him hundreds of stories about Cairncarque, in- 
 stead of letting him gabble on about their little 
 place ? But she could not love her castle as he did 
 his, for she had no such father in it ! That must be 
 what made the difference ! That was why she did 
 not care to talk about it ! Was he actually going to 
 see her again ? and would she be to him the same as 
 before ? For him, the years between had vanished ; 
 the entrancing shadows of years far away folded him 
 round, and he was no more a man, but the boy who 
 had climbed the wintry hills with her, and run down 
 them again over the snow hand in hand with her. 
 But as he drew nigh the great pile, which grew as he 
 approached it, his heart sank within him. His head 
 began to ache : a strange diffidence seized him ; he 
 could not go up to the door. He would not mind, 
 he said to himself, if Joan would be there the mo- 
 ment the door opened. But would any servant in 
 England admit a fellow like him to the presence of a 
 grand lady ? How could he walk up to the great 
 door in the guise of one who had all night had his 
 lodging on the cold ground ! He would reconnoitre 
 a little, find some quiet way of approaching the 
 house, perhaps discover some shelter where he might 
 rectify what was worst in his personal appearance ! 
 He turned away therefore from the" front of the cas- 
 tle, and following the road that skirted the dilapi- 
 dated remnants of fortification, passed several farm- 
 
352 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK 
 
 like sheds, and arrived at a door in a brick wall, 
 apparently that of a garden — ancient, and green and 
 gray with lichens. Looking through it with the eyes 
 of his imagination, he saw on the other side the 
 loveliest picture of warmth, order, care, and ancient 
 peace, — regions stately with yews and cedars, fruit- 
 trees and fountains, clean-swept walks and shady 
 alleys. The red wall, mottled and clouded with its 
 lichens, and ruffed with many a thready weed, looked 
 like the reverse of some bit of gorgeous brocade, on 
 the sunny side of which must hang blossoming 
 peaches and pears, nectarines and apricots and apples, 
 on net-like trees, that spread out great obedient arms 
 and multitudinous twigs against it, holding on by it, 
 and drinking in the hot sunshine it gathered behind 
 them. Ah, what it would be to have such a garden 
 at Glenwarlock I 
 
 He turned to the door, with difficulty opened it, 
 and the vision vanished. Not a few visions vanish 
 when one takes them for fact, and not for the vision 
 of fact that has to be wrought out with the energy of 
 a God-born life. 
 
HE TURNED TO THE DOOK, 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE GARDENER. 
 
 There was a garden indeed, but a garden whose 
 ragged, ugly, degraded desolation looked as if the 
 devil had taken to gardening in it. Rather than a 
 grief, it was a pain and disgust to see. Fruit-trees 
 there were on the wall, but run wild with endless 
 shoots, which stuck like a hog's mane over the top of 
 it, and out in every direction from the face of it 
 with a look of impertinent daring. All the fasten- 
 ings were broken away, and only the old branches, 
 from habit, kept their places against it. Everything 
 all about seemed striving back to a dear disorder and 
 salvage liberty. The walks were covered with weeds, 
 and almost impassable with unpruned branches, 
 while here lay a heap of rubbish, there a smashed 
 flower-pot, here a crushed water-pot, there a broken 
 dinner-plate. Following a path that led away from 
 the wall, he came upon a fountain without any water, 
 in a cracked basin dry as a lizard-haunted wall, a 
 sundial without a gnomon, leaning wearily away from 
 
 3SS 
 
356 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 the sun, a marble statue without a nose, and streaked 
 about with green : like an army of desolation in single 
 file, they revealed to Cosmo the age-long neglect of 
 the place. Next appeared a wing built out from the 
 back of the inner court of the castle — in a dilapi- 
 dated, almost dangerous condition. Then he came 
 to a great hedge of yew, very lofty, but very thin, like 
 a fence of old wire that had caught cartloads of 
 withered rubbish in its meshes. Here he heard the 
 sound of a spade, and by the accompanying sounds 
 judged the implement was handled by an old man. 
 He peeped through the hedge, and caught sight of 
 him. Old he was — bent with years, but tough, wiry, 
 and sound, and it seemed to Cosmo that the sighs 
 and groans, or rather grunts, which he uttered, were 
 more of impatience and discontent than oppression or 
 weakness. As he stood regarding him for a moment, 
 anxious to discover with what sort of man he had to 
 deal, he began to mutter. Presently he ceased dig- 
 ging, drew himself up as straight as he could, and, 
 leaning on his spade, went on, as if addressing his 
 congregation of cabbages over the book-board of a 
 pulpit. And now his muttering took, to the ears of 
 Cosmo, an indistinct shape like this : 
 
 " Wha cares for an auld man like me ? I kenna 
 what for there sud be auld men made ! The banes o' 
 me micht melt i' the inside o' me, an' never a sowl 
 alive du mair for me nor berry me to get rid o' the 
 stink ! No 'at I'm that dooms auld i' mysel' them 'at 
 wad hae my place wad hae me ! " 
 
 Here was a chance for him, Cosmo thought ; for 
 at least here was a fellow-countryman. He went 
 
THE GARDENER. 357 
 
 along the hedge therefore until he found a place 
 where he could get through, and approached the 
 man, who had by this time resumed his work, though 
 after a listless fashion, turning over spadeful after 
 spadeful, as if neither he nor the cabbages cared 
 much, and all would be in good time if done by the. 
 end of the world. As he came nearer, Cosmo read 
 peevishness and ill-temper in every line of his coun- 
 tryman's countenance, yet he approached him with 
 confidence, for Scotchmen out of their own coun- 
 try are of good report for hospitality to each other. 
 
 " Hoo's a' wi' ye ? " he cried, sending his mother- 
 tongue as a pursuivant in advance. 
 
 "Wha's speirin? an' what richt hae ye to speir?" 
 returned the old man in an angry voice, and lifting 
 himself quickly, though with an aching sigh, looked 
 at him vsfith hard blue eyes. 
 
 " A countryman o' yer ain," answered Cosmo. 
 
 " Mony ane's that 'at 's naething the better nor the 
 walcomer. Gie an accoont o' yersel', or the doags '11 
 be lowsed upo' ye here in a jiffey. Haith, this is no 
 the place for lan'loupers ! " 
 
 " Hae ye been lang aboot the place ? " asked 
 Cosmo. 
 
 " Langer nor ye're like to be, I'm thinkin', gien ye 
 keep na the ceeviler tongue i' yer heid, my man — 
 Whaur come ye frae ? " 
 
 The old man had dropt his spade ; Cosmo took it 
 up, and began to dig. 
 
 " Lay doon that spaud," cried its owner, and would 
 have taken it from him, but Cosmo delayed rendi- 
 tion. 
 
3§8 
 
 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Hoot, man ! " he said, " I wad but lat ye see I'm 
 nae lan'louper, an' can weel han'le a spaud. Stan' 
 ye by a bit, an' rist yer banes, till I caw throuw a 
 trifle o' yer wark." 
 
 " An' what du ye expec' to come o' that ? Ye're 
 efter something, as sure's the deevil at the back yelt 
 though ye're nae freely sae sure to win at it." 
 
 " What I expec,' it wad be ill to say ; but what 1 
 dinna expec' is to be traitit like a vaggabon. Come, 
 I'll gie ye a guid boor's wark for a place to wash my- 
 sel', an' put on a clean sark." 
 
 " Hae ye the sark ? " 
 
 " I hae 't here i' my bag." 
 
 " An' what du ye want to put on a clean sark for ? 
 What'll ye du whan ye hae 't on ? " 
 
 " Gie ye anither boor's wark for the heel o' a loaf 
 an' a drink o' watter." 
 
 " Ye'll be wantin' to be taen on, I s' wad (wager) 
 ye a worm ! " 
 
 "Gien ye cud gie me a day's wark, or maybe 
 twa, — " began Cosmo, thinking how much rather he 
 would fall in with Lady Joan about the garden than 
 go up to the house. 
 
 " I weel thoucht there sud be mair intil't nor ap. 
 peart ! Ye wad fain hae the auld man's shune, an' 
 mak sur o' them afore he kickit them frae him ! Ay ! 
 It's jist like the likes o' ye ! Mine's a place the like 
 o' you's keen set efter ! Ye think it's a' ait an' play ! 
 Gang awa' wi' ye, an' latna me see the face o' ye 
 again, or I s' ca' to them 'at '11 tak accoont o' ye." 
 
 " Hoot, man ! " returned Cosmo, and went on turn- 
 ing the ground over, " ye're unco hard upon a neebor ! " 
 
THE GARDENER. 359 
 
 ft 
 
 " Neebor ! ye're no neebor o' mine! Gang awa' 
 wi' ye, I tell ye ! " 
 
 "Did naebody never gie' yoic a helpin' han', 'at 
 ye're sae dooms hard upo' ane 'at needs ane ? " 
 
 " Gien onybody ever did, it wasna you." 
 
 " But dinna ye think ye're a kin' o' b'un' to du the 
 like again ? " 
 
 " Ay, to him 'at did it — but I tell ye ye're no the 
 man ; sae gang aboot yer business." 
 
 " Someday ye may want somebody ance mair to du 
 ye a guid turn ! " 
 
 " I hae dune a heap to gie me a claim on consider- 
 ation. I hae grown auld upo' the place. What hae 
 ye dune, my man ? " 
 
 " I wadna hae muckle chance o' duin' onything 
 gien a' body was like you. But did ye never heai 
 tell o' ane 'at said : ' Ye wad du naething for nane o' 
 mine, sae ye refeesed mysel' ' ? " 
 
 " Deed, an'- I wull refeese yersel'," returned the 
 old man. "Sic a chield for jaw an' cheek — saw I 
 never nane — as the auld sang says ! Whaur on this 
 earth cam ye frae ? " 
 
 As he spoke, he gave Cosmo a round punch on 
 the shoulder next him that made him look from his 
 work, and then began eying him up and down in the 
 most supercilious manner. He was a small, with- 
 ered, bowed man, with a thin wizened face, crowned 
 by a much worn fur cap. His mouth had been so 
 long drawn down at each corner as by weights of 
 discontent, that it formed nearly a half-circle. His 
 eyebrows were lifted as far as they would go above 
 his red-lidded blue eyes, and there was a succession 
 
360 WARLOCK O' GLKNWARLOCK. 
 
 « = 
 
 of ripply wrinkles over each of them, which met in 
 the middle of his forehead, so that he was all over 
 arches. Under his cap stuck out enormous ears, 
 much too large for his face. Huge veiny hands 
 hung trembling by his sides, but they trembled more 
 from anger than from age. 
 
 " I tellt ye a'ready," answered Cosmo ; " I come 
 frae the auld country." 
 
 "Deil tak the auld country! What care I for the 
 auld country ! It's a braid place, an' langer nor it's 
 braid, an' there's mony ane intil't an' oot on't 'at's no 
 warth the parritch his mither pat intil 'ira. Eh, the 
 fowth o' fushionless beggars I hae seen come to me 
 like yersel' ! — Ow ay! it was aye wark they wad 
 hae ! — an' cudna du mair nor a flee amo' triacle ! — 
 What coonty are ye frae, wi' the lang legs an' the 
 lang back-bane o' ye ? " 
 
 Cosmo told him. The hands of the old man rose 
 from his sides, and made right angles of his elbows. 
 
 " Weel," he said slowly, "that's no an ill coonty to 
 come frae. I may say that, for I belang til't my- 
 sel'. But what pairt o' 't ran ye frae whan ye cam 
 awa' ? " 
 
 " I ran frae nae pairt, but I cam frae hame i' the 
 north pairt o' that same," answered Cosmo, and bent 
 again to his work. 
 
 The man came a step nearer, and Cosmo, without 
 looking up, was aware he was regarding him intently. 
 
 " Ay ! ay ! " he said at last, in a tone of reflection 
 mingled with dawning interest, " I ance kent a terri- 
 ble rascal cam frae owerby that gait : what ca' they 
 the perris ye're frae ? " 
 
THE GARDENER. 361 
 
 Cosmo told him. 
 
 " Lord bless me ! " cried the old man, and came 
 
 close up to him. — "But na ! " he resumed, and 
 
 stepped a pace back, " somebody's been tallin ye ! " 
 
 Cosmo gave him no answer. He stood a moment 
 
 expecting one, then broke out in a rage. 
 
 "What for mak ye nae answer whan a body speirs 
 ye a queston ? That wasna mainners whan I was a 
 bairn. Lord ! ye micht as weel be ceevil ! Isna it 
 easy eneuch to lee ? " 
 
 " I would answer no man who was not prepared to 
 believe me," said Cosmo quietly. 
 
 The dignity of his English had far more effect on 
 the man than the friendliness Of their mother-tongue. 
 "Maybe ye wadna objec' to mak mention by name 
 o' the toon nearest to ye whan ye was at hame.'" 
 said the old man, and from his altered manner and 
 tone Cosmo felt he might reply. 
 
 " It was ca'd Muir o' Warlock,'' he answered. 
 " Lord, man ! come into the hoose. Ye maun be 
 sair in need o' something to put intil ye ! A' the gait 
 frae Muir o' Warlock ! A toonsman o' my ain ! Scot- 
 Ian' 's a muckle place — but Muir o' Warlock! Guid 
 guide 's ! Come in, man ; come in ! " 
 
 So saying he took the spade from Cosmo's hands, 
 threw it down with a contemptuous cast, and led the 
 way towards the house. 
 
 The old man had a heart after all ! Strange the 
 power of that comparatively poor thing, local asso- 
 ciation, to bring to light the eternal love at the root 
 of the being ! Wonderful sign also of the presence of 
 God wherever a child may open eyes ! This man's 
 
362 WARLOCK 0' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 heart was not yet big enough to love a Scotsman, but 
 it was big enough to love a Muir-o'-Warlock-man ; 
 and was not that a precious beginning ? — a begin- 
 ning as good as any ? It matters nothing where or 
 how one begins, if only one does begin ! There are 
 many, doubtless, who have not yet got farther in love 
 than their own family ; but there are others who have 
 learned that for the true heart there is neither 
 Frenchman nor Englishman, neither Jew nor Greek, 
 neither white nor black — only the sons and daugh- 
 ters of God, only the brothers and sisters of the one 
 elder brother. There may be some who have learned 
 to love all the people of their own planet, but 
 have not yet learned to look with patience upon 
 those of Saturn or Mercury ; while others there must 
 be, who, wherever there is a creature of God's mak- 
 ing, love each in its capacity for love — from the 
 arch-angel before God's throne, to the creeping thing 
 he may be compelled to destroy — from the man of 
 this earth to the man of some system of worlds which 
 no human telescope has yet brought within the ken 
 of heaven-poring sage. And to that it must come 
 with every one of us, for not until then are we true 
 men, true women — the children, that is, of him in 
 whose image we are made. 
 
 Cosmo followed very willingly, longing for water 
 and a clothes-brush rather than for food. The cold 
 and damp, fatigue and exposure of ^he night were 
 telling upon him more than he knew, and all the 
 time he was at work, he had been craijiped by hitherto 
 unknown pains in his limbs. 
 
 The gardener brought him to the half-ruinous wing 
 
THE GARDENER. 363 
 
 already mentioned, to a small kitchen, opening under 
 a great sloping buttress, and presented him to his 
 wife, an English woman, some ten years younger than 
 himself. She received him with a dignified retraction 
 of the feelers, but the moment she understood his 
 needs, ministered to them, and had some breakfast 
 ready for him by the time he had made his toilet. 
 He sat down by her little fire, and drank some tea, 
 but felt shivery, and could not eat. In dread lest, 
 if he- yielded a moment to the invading sickness, it 
 should at once overpower him, he made haste to 
 get out again into the sun, and rejoined the old 
 man, who had gone back to his cabbage-ground. 
 There he pulled off his coat, and once more seized 
 the spade, for work seemed the only way of meet- 
 ing his enemy hand to hand. But the moment he 
 began, he was too hot, and the moment he took 
 breath he was ready to shiver. As long as he 
 could stand, however, he would not give in. 
 
 " How many years have you been gardener here? " 
 he asked, forcing himself to talk. 
 
 "Five an' forty year, an' I'm nearhan' tired 
 o' 't." 
 
 " The present lord is a young man, is he not ? " 
 
 "Ay; he canna be muckle ayont five an' thirty." 
 
 " What sort of a man is he ? " 
 
 "Weel, it's hard to say. He's ane o' them 'at nae- 
 body says weel o', an' naebody's begud to say ill 
 o'— yet." 
 
 '■There can't be much amiss with him then, 
 
 surely ! " 
 
 " Weel, I wadna gang freely sae far as say that. 
 
364 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 You 'at's a man o' sense, maun weel un'erstan', 
 gien it was only frae yer cariitchis (catechism), 'at 
 there's baith sins o' o-mission, an' sins o' co-mission. 
 Noo, what sins o' co-mission may lie at my lord's 
 door, I dinna ken, an' feow can ken, an' we're no 
 to jeedge ; but for the o-mission, ye hae but to see 
 hoo he neglects that bonny sister o' his, to be far 
 eneuch frae thinkin' a sant o' Im." 
 
 Silence followed. Cosmo would go no farther in 
 that direction : it would be fair neither to Lady 
 Joan nor the gardener, who spoke as to one who 
 knew nothing of the family. 
 
 "Noo the father," resumed his new friend," — 
 puir man, he's deid an' damned this mony a day ! — 
 an' eh, but he was an ill ane ! — but as to Leddy 
 Joan, he wad hardly bide her oot o' his sicht. He 
 cudna be jist that agreeable company to the likes o' 
 her, puir leddy ! for he was a rouch-spoken, sweirin' 
 auld sinner as ever lived, but sic as he had he gae 
 her, an' was said to hae been a fine gentleman in 's 
 yoong days. Some wad hae 't he cheenged a' 
 thegither o' a suddent. An' they wad hae 't it cam o' 
 bluid-guiltiness — for they said he had liftit the reid 
 han' agen his neebor. An' they warnt me, lang as it 
 was sin' I left it, no to lat 'im ken I cam frae yon 
 pairt 0' the country, or he wad be rid o' me in a jiffey, 
 ae w'y or anither. — Ay, it was a gran' name that o' 
 Warlock i' thae pairts ! though they tell me it gangs 
 na for sae muckle noo. I hae h'ard said, 'at ever sin' 
 the auld lord here made awa' wi' the laird o' Glen- 
 warlock, the faimily there never had ony luck. I 
 wad like to ken what you, as a man o' sense, think o' 
 
THE GARDENER. 365 
 
 that same. It appears to me a' some queer kin' o' 
 justice ! No' 'at I'm daurin' or wad daur to say a 
 word agen the w'y 'at the warl' 's goverrnt, but there's 
 some things 'at naebody can un'erstan' — I defy 
 them ! — an' yon's ane o' them — what for, cause oor 
 graceless auld lord — ^ he was yoong than — tuik the 
 life o' the laird o' Glenwarlock, the fainiily o' Warlock 
 sud never thrive frae that day to this ! — Read me 
 that riddle, yoong man, gien ye can." 
 
 " Maybe it was to hand them 'at cam efter frae ony 
 mair keepin' o' sic ill company,'' Cosmo ventured to 
 suggest ; for, knowing what his father was, and some- 
 thing also of what most of those who preceded him 
 were, he could see no such inscrutable dispensation in 
 the fact mentioned. 
 
 "That wad be hard lines, though," insisted the gar- 
 dener, unwilling to yield the unintelligibility of the 
 ways of providence. 
 
 " But," said Cosmo, " they say doon there, it was 
 a brither o' the laird, no the laird himsel', 'at the 
 English lord killt." 
 
 "Na, na; they're a' wrang there, whaever says 
 that. For auld Jean, wham I min' a weel faured 
 wuman, though doobtless no sae bonny as whan he 
 broucht her wi' 'im a yoong lass — maybe to gar her 
 haud her tongue — auld Jean said as I say. But 
 that waslang efter the thing was ower auld to be 
 ta'en ony notice o' mair. Forby, you 'at's a man o' 
 sense, gien it wasna the laird himsel' 'at he killt, hoo 
 wad there, i' that case, be onything worthy o' remark 
 i' their no thrivin' efter't ? I' that case, the no thrivin' 
 cud hae had naething ava to du wi' the killin'. Na, 
 
366 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 na, it was the laird himsel' 'at the maisier killt — the 
 father o' the present laird, I'm thinkin'. What aged- 
 man micht he be — did ye ever hear tell ? " 
 
 " He's a man well on to seventy,'' answered Cosmo, 
 with a pang at the thought. 
 
 " Ay ; that'll be aboot it ! There can be no doobt 
 it was his father cor lord killt — an' as little 'at after 
 he did it he gaed doon the braid ro"d to the deevil as 
 fest 's ever he cud rin. It was jist like as wi' Judas 
 — he maun gang fill's ain. Some said he had sellt 
 himsel' to the deevil, but I'm thinkin' that wasna 
 necessar'. He was to get him ony gait ! An' wad 
 ye believe't, it's baith said and believt — 'at he cam 
 by 's deith i' some exterordnar w'y, no accoontable 
 for, but plainly no canny. Ae thing's sure as deith 
 itsel', he was ta'en suddent, an' i' the verra hoose 
 whaur, mony a lang year afore, he commitit the deed 
 o' darkness ! " 
 
 A pause followed, and then the narrator, or rather 
 commentator, resumed. 
 
 " I'm thinkin' whan he begud to ken himsel' growiu' 
 auld, his deed cam back upon 'im fresh-like, an' that 
 wad be hoo he cudna bide to hae my lady oot o' the 
 sicht o' his een, or at least ayont the cry o' his tongue. 
 Troth ! he wad whiles come aboot the place efterher, 
 whaur I wad be at my wark, as it micht be the day, 
 cursin' an' sweirin' as gien he had sellt his sowl to a' 
 the deevils thegither, an' sae micht tak his wull o' 
 onything he cud get his tongue roon' ! But I never 
 heedit him that muckle, for ye see it wasna him 'at 
 peyt me — the mair by token 'at gien it had been 
 him 'at had the peyin' o' me, it's never a baubee wad 
 
THE GARDENER. 367 
 
 I hae seen o' my ain siller ; but the trustees peyt me, 
 ilka plack, an' sae I was indepen'ent like, an' luit him 
 say his say. But it was aye an oonsaitisfactory kin' 
 o' a thing, for the trustees they caredna a bodle 
 aboot keepin' the place dacent, an' tuik sae sma' 
 delicht in ony pleesurin' o' the auld lord, 'at they jist 
 allooed him me, an' no a man mair nor less — to the 
 gairden, that is. That's hoo the place comes to- be 
 in sic a disgracefu' condeetion. Gien it hadna been 
 for rizzons o' my ain, I wad hae gane, mony's the 
 time, for the sicht o' the ruin o' things was beyon' 
 beirin'. But I bude to beir't ; sae I bore't an' 
 bore't till I cam by beirin' o' 't to tak it verra quaiet, 
 an' luik upo' the thing as the wull o' a Providence 'at 
 sudna be meddlet wi'. I broucht mysel' in fac' to 
 that degree o' submission, 'at I gae mysel' no trouble 
 more, but jist confint my ainergies to the raisin' o' 
 the kail an' cabbage, the ingons an' pitawtas wantit 
 aboot the place." 
 
 "And are things no better," asked Cosmo, "since 
 the present lord succeeded ? " 
 
 "No a hair — 'cep' it be 'at there's no sae mony ill 
 words fleein' aboot the place. My lord never sets his 
 nose intil the gairden, or speirs — no ance in a twal- 
 month, hoo's things gangin' on. He does naething 
 but rowt aboot in 's boaratory as he ca's 't — bore-a- 
 whig, or bore-a-tory, it's little to me ■ — makin' stinks 
 there fit to scomfish a whaul, an' gar 'im stick his 
 nose aneth the watter for a glamp o' fresh air. He's 
 that hard-hertit 'at he never sae muckle as aits his 
 denner alongside o' his ain sister, 'cep' it be whan he 
 has company, an' wad luik like ither fowk. Gien it 
 
368 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 gaedna ower weel wi' her i' the auld man's time, it 
 gangs waur wi' her noo ; for sae lang as he was abune 
 the yird there was aye somebody to ken whether she 
 was livin' or deid. To see a bonnie lass like her 
 strayin' aboot the place nae better companied nor 
 wi' an auld bulk — it's jist eneuch to brak a man's 
 hert, but that age kills rage." 
 
 " Do the neighbours take no notice of hei ? " 
 
 " Nane o' her ain dignity, like. Ye see she's naeth- 
 ing but bonny. She has naething. An' though she's 
 as guid a cratur as ever lived, the cauld grun' o' her 
 poverty gaithers the fog o' an ill report. Troth, for 
 her faimily, the ill's there, report or no report ; but, a' 
 the same, gien she had been rich, an' her father — 
 I'll no say the hangman, but him 'at he last hangt, 
 there wad be fowth {plenty) o' coonty-fowk wad hae 
 her til her denner wi' them. An' I'm thinkin' maybe 
 she's the prooder for her poverty, an' winna gang til 
 her inferriors sae lang as her aiquals dinna invete her. 
 She gangs whiles to the doctor's — but he's a kin' o' 
 a freen' o' the yerl's, 'cause he likes stinks — but 
 that's the yoong doctor." 
 
 " Does her brother never go out to dinner anywhere, 
 and take her with him ? " 
 
 " Naebody cares a bodle aboot his lordship i' the 
 haill country-side, sae far as I can learn. There's 
 ane or twa — great men, I daursay — whiles comes 
 doon frea Lon'on, to smell hoo he's gettin' on wi' 's 
 stinks, but deil a neebor comes nigh the hoose. 0\\ , 
 he's a great man, I mak nae doobt, awa' frae hame ! 
 He's aye writin' letters to the newspapers, an' they 
 prent them— aboot this an' aboot that — aboot 
 
THE GARDENER. 369 
 
 beasties i' the watter, an' lectreesity, an' I kenna 
 what a'; an' some says 'at hoo he'll be a rich man 
 some day, the moment he's dune fin'in' oot something 
 or itherhe's been warslin' at for the feck o' a ten year 
 or sae ; but the gentry never thinks naething o' a man 
 sae lang as he's onlyduin' his best — or his warst, as 
 the case may be — -to lay his han' upo' the siller 'at's 
 fleein' aboot him like a snaw-drift. Bide ye a bit, 
 though! JV/ia/i he's gotten't, it's doon they're a' 
 upo' their k-nees til 'im thegither. But gien they be 
 prood, he's prooder, an' lat him ance get his heid up, 
 an' rid o' the trustees, an' fowk upo' their marrow- 
 banes til 'im, haith, he'll lat them sit there, or I'm 
 mistaen in 'im." 
 
 "Then has my lady no companions at all?" 
 "She gangs whiles to see the doctor's lass, an' 
 whiles she comes here an' has her denner wi' her, 
 themsel's twa : never anither comes near the place." 
 All this time, Cosmo had been turning over the 
 cabbage-ground, working the harder that he still 
 hoped to work off the sickness that yet kept growing 
 upon him. The sun was hot, and his head, which 
 had been aching more or less all day, now began to 
 throb violently. 
 
 The spade dropt from his hands, and he fell on his 
 face in the soft mould. 
 
 " What's this o' 't ? " cried the old man, going up to 
 him in a fright. 
 
 He caught hold of him by an arm, and turned him 
 on his back. His face was colourless, and the life 
 seemed to have gone out of him. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 LOST AND FOUND, 
 
 When Cosmo came to himself, he had not a notion 
 where he was, hardly indeed knew what he was. His 
 chief consciousness was of an emptiness and a weight 
 combined, that seemed to paralyze him. He would 
 have turned on his side, but felt as if a ponderous 
 heap of bed-clothes prevented him from even raising 
 an arm — and yet he was cold. He tried to think 
 back, to find what he knew of himself last, but could 
 for a long time recall only a confused dream of multi- 
 tudinous discomfort and painful effort. At last, 
 however, came the garden, the spade-work, and the 
 old man's talk ; and then it seemed as if the cracked 
 complaining voice had never left his ears. 
 
 " I've been ill ! " he said to himself. " Perhaps I 
 dropped down. I hope they haven't buried me ! " 
 
 With a straining agony of will he got in motion an 
 
 arm, which was lying like that of another man outside 
 
 the coverlid, and felt feebly about him. His hand 
 
 struck against something solid, and what seemed a 
 
 37° 
 
LOST AND FOUND. 371 
 
 handful of earth fell with a hollow rumble. Alas, this 
 seemed ominous ! Where could he be but in his 
 coffin ? The thought was not a pleasant one, certainly, 
 but he was too weak, and had been wandering too 
 long in the miserable limbo of vain fancies, to be 
 much dismayed. He said to himself he would not 
 have to suffer long — he must soon go to sleep, and so 
 die. 
 
 Fatigued with that one movement, he lay for some 
 time motionless. His eyes were open, though he did 
 not know it, and by and by he became aware of light. 
 Thin, dim, darkly gray, a particle at a time, it grew 
 about him. For some minutes his eyes seemed of 
 themselves, without any commission from him, to 
 make inquiry of his surroundings. They discovered 
 that, if he was in a coffin, or even in a sepulchre with- 
 out a coffin, it was a large one: there' was a wall — 
 miles away ! The light grew, and with it the convic- 
 tion that he was in no sepulchre. But there the con- 
 solation ceased, for the still growing light revealed no 
 siffn of ministration or comfort. Above him was a 
 bare, dirty, stained ceiling, with a hole in it, through 
 which stuck skeleton ribs_ of lath ; around him were 
 bare, dirty-white walls, that seemed to grow out of 
 the gray light of a wet morning as the natural deposit 
 from such a solution. Two slender poles, meant to 
 support curtains, but without a rag of drapery upon 
 them, rose at his feet, like the masts of a Charon's 
 boat. Was he indeed in the workhouse he had pre- 
 ferred to Cairncarque ? It could hardly be, for there 
 was the plaster fallen in great patches from the walls 
 as well as the ceiling, and surely no workhouse would 
 
372 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 be allowed to get into such a disrepair ! He tried 
 again, and this time succeeded in turning on his side, 
 discovering in the process how hard the bed was, and 
 how sharp his bones. A wooden chair stood a little 
 beyond his reach, and upon it a bottle and tea- 
 cup. Not another article could he discover. Right 
 under the hole in the ceiling a board was partly 
 rotted away in the floor, and a cold, damp air, smell- 
 ing of earth, and decaying wood, seemed to come 
 steaming up through it. A few minutes more, he 
 said to himself, and he would get up, and out of the 
 hideous place, but he must lie a little longer first, just 
 to come to himself! — Now he would try! — What 
 had become of his strength ? Was it gone utterly ? 
 Could one night's illness have reduced him thus ? 
 
 He seemed to himself unable to think, yet the pro- 
 foundest thought went on as if thinking itself in him. 
 Where had his strength lain before he lost it ? Could 
 that ever have been his which he could not keep ? If 
 a thing were ours, nothing could ever take it from 
 us! Was his strength ever his then? Yes, for God 
 had given it him. Then he could not have lost it ! 
 He had it still ! The branches of it were gone, but 
 the root remained, hid in God. All was well. If 
 God chose that his child should lie there, for this 
 day, and to-morrow, or till the next year, or if it 
 pleased him that he should never rise again with the 
 same body, was that a thing to trouble him ? He 
 turned his back on the ugly room, and was presently 
 fast asleep again. 
 
 Not a few read the poems of a certain king 
 brought up a shepherd lad. From Sunday to Sunday 
 
LOST AND FOUND. 373 
 
 they read them. Amongst them, in their turn, they 
 read these : " I will both lay me down in peace and 
 sleep, for thou, Lord, only makest me to dwell in 
 safety." Yet not only do these readers never have 
 such a feeling in their own hearts in consequence, 
 but they never even imagine that David really had it 
 in his. Deeper and grander things still, uttered by 
 this same shepherd-warrior, do they read, and yet 
 in their wisdom will declare it preposterous that any 
 Scotch lad should have such a feeling towards God 
 as I have represented ! " Doth God care for oxen ? " 
 says St. Paul. Doth God care for kings ? I ask, or 
 for Jew-shepherds .' Or does he not care all over for 
 all of us — oxen and kings and sparrows and Scotch 
 lairds ? According to such blind seers, less is to be 
 expected of humanity since th» son of David came, 
 than it was capable of in his father David. Such 
 men build stone houses, but never a spiritual nest. 
 They cannot believe the thing possible which yet 
 another man does. Nor ever may they believe it be- 
 fore they begin to do it. I wonder little at so many 
 rejecting Christianity, while so many would-be cham- 
 pions of it hold theirs at arm's length — in their 
 bibles, in their theories, in their church, in their cler- 
 gyman, in their prayer-books, in the last devotional 
 page they have read — a separable thing — not in their 
 hearts on their beds in the stillness ; not their comfort 
 in the night-watches ; not the strength of their days, 
 the hope and joy of their conscious being ! God is 
 nearer to me than the air I breathe, nearer to me 
 than the heart of wife or child, nearer to me than my 
 own consciousness of myself, nearer to me than .the 
 
374. WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 words in which I speak to him, nearer than the 
 thought roused in me by the story of his perfect son 
 — or he is no God at all. The unbelievers might 
 well rejoice in the loss of such a God "as many Chris- 
 tians would make of him. But if he be indeed the 
 Father of our Lord Christ, of that Jew who lived and 
 died doing the will of his Father, and nothing but that 
 will, then, to all eternity, " Amen, thy will be done, 
 O God ! and nothing but thy will, in or through 
 me!" 
 
 Cosmo had been ill a whole week — in fever and 
 pain, and was now helpless almost as an infant. The 
 old man had gone for his wife, and between them 
 they had persuaded him, though all but unconscious, 
 to exert himself sufficiently to reach the house. This 
 effort he could recall, i« the shape of an intermina- 
 ble season during which he supported the world for 
 Atlas, that he might get a little sleep ; but it was 
 only the aching weight of his own microcosm that he 
 urged Atlanlean force to carry. They took him direct 
 to the room where he now lay, for they had them- 
 selves but one chamber, and if they tpok him there, 
 what would become of the old bones to which the 
 gardener was so fond of referring in his colloquies 
 with himself ? Also, it might be some fever he had 
 taken, and their own lives were so much the more 
 precious that so much of them was gone ! Like most of 
 us, they were ready to do their next best for him. They 
 spared some of their own poor comforts to furnish 
 tha skeleton bed for him ; and there he lay, like one 
 adrift in a rotten boat on the ebbing ocean of life, 
 while the old woman trudged away to the village to 
 
LOST AND FOUND. 375 
 
 tell the doctor that there was a young Scotch gar- 
 dener taken suddenly ill at their quarters in the castle. 
 
 The doctor sent his son, a man about thirty, who 
 after travelling some years as medical attendant to a 
 nobleman, had settled in his native village as his fa- 
 ther's partner. He prescribed for Cosmo, and gave 
 hope that there was nothing infectious about the 
 case. Every day during the week he had come to 
 see him, and the night before had been with' him 
 from dark to dawn. 
 
 The gardener's wife had informed Lady Joan that a 
 young Scotchman who had come to her husband 
 seeking employment, had been taken suddenly ill, 
 and was lying in a room in the old wing ; and Lady 
 Joan had said she would speak to the housekeeper 
 to let her have whatever she wanted for him. The 
 doctor saw Lady Joan most every time he came to 
 see Cosmo, and she would enquire how his patient 
 was going on ; she would also hear the housekeeper's 
 complaints of the difficulty she had in getting wine 
 from the butler — of which there was no lack, only 
 he grudged it, for he was doing his best to drink up 
 the stock the old lord had left behind him, intending 
 to take his departure with the last bottle — but she 
 took no farther interest in the affair. The castle 
 was like a small deserted village, and there was no 
 necessity for a person in one part of it knowing what 
 was taking place in another. 
 
 But that same morning she had a letter from the 
 laird, saying he was uneasy about his boy. He had 
 been so inconsiderate, he informed her, as to set out 
 to visit her without asking her leave, or even warning 
 
376 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 her of his intent ; and since the letter announcing 
 his immediate departure, received a fortnight before, 
 he had not heard of or from him. This set Joan 
 thinking. And the immediate result was, tliat she 
 went to the gardener's wife, and questioned her con- 
 cerning the appearance of her patient. In the old 
 woman's answers she certainly ' could recognize no 
 likeness to Cosmo; but he must have altered much 
 in seven years, and she could not be satisfied without 
 seeing the young man. 
 
 Cosmo lay fast asleep, and dreaming — but pleas- 
 ant dreams now, for the fever gone, life was free to 
 build its own castles. He thought he was dead, and 
 floating through the air at his will, volition all that 
 was necessary to propel him like a dragon-fly, in any 
 direction he desired to take. He was about to go to 
 his father, to receive Tiis congratulations on his death, 
 and to say to him that now the sooner he too died 
 the better, that the creditors might have the property, 
 everybody be paid, and they two and his mother be 
 together for always. But first, before he set out, he 
 must have one sight of Lady Joan, and in that hope 
 was now hovering about the towers of the castle. He 
 was slowly circling the two great ones of the gateway, 
 crossing a figure of eight over the gallery where stood 
 the machinery of the portcullis, when down he 
 dropped, and lay bruised and heavy, unable by 
 fiercest effort of the will to move an inch from the 
 spot. He was making the reflection how foolish it 
 was to begin to fly before assuring himself that he 
 was dead, and was resolving to be quite prudent 
 another time, when he felt as if a warm sunny cloud 
 
LOST AND FOUND. 377 
 
 came over him, which made him open his eyes. They 
 gradually cleared, and above him he saw the face of 
 his many dreams — a little sadder than it was in 
 them, but more beautiful. 
 
 Cosmo had so much of the childlike in him that 
 illness made him almost a very child again, and when 
 he saw Joan's face bending over him like a living sky, 
 just as any child might have done, he put his arms 
 round her neck, and drew her face down to his. 
 Hearts get uppermost in illness, and people then be- 
 have as they would not in health. More is in it than 
 is easily found. There is such a dumb prayer in the 
 spirit to be taken! 
 
 Till he opened his eyes Lady Joan had been un- 
 able to satisfy herself whether the pale, worn, yet 
 grand-looking youth could indeed be the lad Cosmo, 
 and was not at all prepared for such precipitate famil- 
 iarity : the moment she was released, she drew back 
 with some feeling, if not of oiifence, yet of annoyance. 
 But such a smile flooded Cosmo's face, mingled with 
 such a pleading look of apology and excuse, which 
 seemed to say, ■' How could I help it ? " that she was 
 ashamed of herself. It was the same true face as 
 the boy's, with its old look of devotion and gentle 
 worship ! To make all right she stooped of her own 
 accord, and kissed his forehead. 
 
 " Thank you," murmured Cosmo, his own voice 
 sounding to him like that of another. "Don't be 
 vexed with me. I am but a baby, and have no mother. 
 When I saw you, it was as if heaven had come down 
 into hell, and I did not think to help it. How beauti- 
 ful you are ! How good of you to come to me ! " 
 
378 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Oh, Cosmo ! " cried Lady Joan — and now large 
 silent tears were running down her cheeks — "to 
 think of the way you and your father took me and 
 mine in, and here you have been lying ill — I don't 
 know how long — in a place not fit for a beggar ! " 
 
 " That's just what I am ! " returned Cosmo with a 
 smile, feeling already almost well. " I have such a 
 long story to tell you, Joan ! I remember all about 
 it now." 
 
 " Why didn't you write, — ? " said Joan, and 
 checked herself, for alas ! if he had written, what 
 would she not have found herself compelled to do ! — 
 " Why didn't you send for me at once ? They told 
 me there was a young gardener lying ill, and of 
 course I never dreamed it could be you. But I 
 know if you had heard at Castle Warlock that- a 
 stranger was lying ill somewhere about the place, you 
 would have gone to him at once ! It was very wrong 
 of me, and I am sorely punished ! " 
 
 " Never mind," said Cosmo ; " it's all right now. I 
 have you, and it makes me well again all at once. 
 When I see you standing there, looking just as you 
 used, all the time between is shrivelled up to nothing, 
 and the present joins right on to the past. But 
 you look sad, Joan ! — I may call you Joan still, 
 mayn't I?" 
 
 "Surely, Cosmo. What else? I haven't too many 
 to call me Joan ! " 
 
 " But what makes you look sad ? " 
 
 "Isn't it enough to think how I have treated 
 you ? " 
 
 "You didn't know it was me," said Cosmo. 
 
LOST AND FOUND. 37g 
 
 " That is true. But if, as your father taught you, I 
 had done it to Him — " 
 
 "Well, there's one thing, Joan — you'll do differ- 
 ently another time." 
 
 " 1 can't be sure of that, for my very heart grows 
 stupid, living here all alone." 
 
 " Anyhow, you will have trouble enough with me 
 for awhile, fast as your eyes can heal me," said 
 Cosmo, who began to be aware of a reaction. 
 
 Lady Joan's face flushed with pleasure, but the 
 next moment grew pale again at the thought of how 
 little she could do for him. 
 
 " The first thing," she said, " is to write to your 
 father. When he knows I have got you, he won't be 
 uneasy. I will go and do it at once." 
 
 Almost the moment she left him, Cosmo fell fast 
 asleep again. 
 
 But now was Lady Joan, if not in perplexity, yet 
 in no small discomfort. It made her miserable to 
 think of Cosmo in such a place, yet she could not 
 help saying to herself it was well he had not written, 
 for she must then have asked him not to come : now 
 that he was in the house, she dared not- tell her 
 brother ; and were she to move him to any comforta- 
 ble room in the castle, he would be sure to hear of it 
 from the butler, for the less faith carried, the more 
 favour curried ! One thing only was in her power ; 
 she could make the room he was in comparatively 
 comfortable. As soon, therefore, as she had written 
 a hurried letter to the laird, she went hastily through 
 some of the rooms nearest the part in which Cosmo 
 lay, making choice of this and of that for her purpose : 
 
380 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 in the great, all but uninhabited place there were 
 naturally many available pieces of stuff and of furni- 
 ture. These she then proceeded, with her own 
 hands, and the assistance of the gardener and his 
 wife, to carry to his room ; and when she found he 
 was asleep, she put forth every energy to get the 
 aspect of the place altered before he should wake. 
 With noiseless steps she entered and left the room 
 fifty times ; and by making use of a door which had 
 not been opened for perhaps a hundred years, she 
 avoided attracting the least attention. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A TRANSFORMATION. 
 
 When Cosmo the second time opened his eyes, he 
 was afresh bewildered. Which was the dream — 
 that vision of wretchedness, or this of luxury ? If it 
 was not a dream, how had they moved him witliout 
 once disturbing his sleep ? It was as marvellous as 
 anything in the Arabian Nights ! Could it be the 
 same chamber .' Not a thing seemed the same, yet in 
 him was a doubtful denial of transportance. Yes, 
 the ceiling was the same ! The power of the good 
 fairy- had not reached to the transformation of that ! 
 But the walls ! Instead of the great hole in the 
 plaster close by the bed, his eyes fell on a piece of 
 rich old tapestry ! Curtains of silk damask, all be- 
 spotted with quaintest flowers, each like a page of 
 Chaucer's poetry, hung round his bed, quite other 
 than fit sails for the Stygian boat. They had made 
 the bed as different as the vine in summer from the 
 vine in winter. A quilt of red satin lay in the place 
 of the patchwork coverlid. Everything had been 
 
 381 
 
382 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 changed. He thought the mattress felt soft under 
 him — but that was only a fancy, for he saw before 
 the fire the feather-bed intended to lie between him 
 and it. He felt like a tended child, in absolute 
 peace and bliss — or like one just dead, while yet 
 weary with the struggle to break free. He seemed 
 to recall the content, of which some few vaguest fila 
 mentSj a glance and no more, still float in the sum- 
 mer-air of many a memory, wherein the child lies, but 
 just awaked to consciousness and the mere bliss of 
 being, before wrong has begun to cloud its pure at- 
 mosphere. For Cosmo had nothing on his con- 
 science to trouble it ; his mind was stored with lovely 
 images and was fruitful in fancies, because in tem- 
 perament, faith, and use, he was a poet; the evil 
 vapours of fever had just lifted from his brain, and 
 were floating away in the light of the sun of life ; he 
 felt the pressure of no duty — was like a bird of 
 the air lying under its mother's wing, and dreaming 
 of flight ; his childhood's most cherished dream had 
 grown fact : there was the sylph, the oriad, the naiad 
 of all his dreams, a living lady before his eyes ^- nor 
 the less a creature of his imagination's heart ; from 
 her, as the centre of power, had all the marvellous 
 transformation proceeded ; and the lovely strength 
 had kissed him on the forehead ! The soul of Cosmo 
 floated in rapturous quiet, like the evening star in a 
 rosy cloud. 
 
 But I return to the earthly shore that bordered 
 this heavenly sea. The old-fashioned, out-swelling 
 grate, loose and awry in its setting, had a keen little 
 fire burning in it, of which, summer as it was, the 
 
A TRANSFORMATION. 383 
 
 mustiness of the atmosphere, and the damp of the 
 walls, more than merely admitted. The hole in the 
 floor had vanished under a richly faded Turkey car- 
 pet ; and a luxurious sofa, in blue damask, faded 
 almost to yellow, stood before the fire, to receive 
 him the moment he should cease to be a chrysalis. 
 And there in an easy chair by the corner of the 
 hearth, wonder of all loveliest wonders, sat the fairy- 
 godmother herself, as if she had but just waved her 
 wand, and everything had come to her will ! — the 
 fact being, however, that the poor fairy was not a little 
 tired in legs and arms and feet and hands and head, and 
 preferred contemplating what she had already done, 
 to doing anything more for the immediate present. 
 
 Cosmo lay watching her. ^ He dared not move a 
 hand, lest she should move ; for, though it might 
 be to rise and come to him, would it not be to change 
 what he saw ? — and what he saw was so much 
 enough, that he would see it forever, and desired 
 nothing else. She turned her eyes, and seeing the 
 laro-e orbs of the youth fixed upon her, smiled as she 
 had not smiled before, for a great weight was off her 
 heart now that the room gave him a little welcome. 
 True, it was after all but a hypocrite of a room, — a 
 hypocrite, however, whose meaning was better than 
 its looks ! 
 
 He put out his hand, and she rose and came and 
 laid hers in it. Suddenly he let it go. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said. " I don't know 
 when my hands were washed ! The last I remember 
 is digging in the garden. I wish I might wash my 
 face and hands ! " 
 
384 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " You mustn't think of it ! you can't sit up yet," 
 said Lady Joan. " But never mind : some people 
 are always clean. You should see my brother's 
 hands sometimes ! I will, if you like, bring you a 
 towel with a wet corner. I dare say that will do you 
 good." 
 
 She poured water into a basin from a kettle on the 
 hob, and dipping the corner of a towel in it, brought 
 it to him. He tried to use it, but his hands obeyed 
 him so ill that she took it from him, and herself 
 wiped with it his face and hands, and then dried them 
 — so gently, so softly, he thought that must be how 
 his mother did with him when he was a baby. All 
 the time, he lay looking up at her with a grateful 
 smile. She then set about preparing him some tea 
 and toast, during which he watched her every 
 motion. When he had had the tea, he fell asleep, 
 and when he woke next he was alone. 
 
 An hour or so later, the gardener's wife brought him 
 a basin of soup, and when he had taken it, told him 
 she would then leave him for the night : if he wanted 
 anything, as there was no bell, he must pull the 
 string she tied to the bed-post. He was very weary, 
 but so comfortable, and so happy, his brain so full of 
 bright yet soft-coloured things, that he felt as if he 
 would not mind being left ages alone. He was 
 but two and twenty, with a pure conscience, and an 
 endless hope ^ so might he not well lie quiet in his 
 bed? 
 
 By the middle of the night, however, the tide of 
 returning health showed a check ; there came a 
 Strong reaction, with delirium ; his pulse was high, 
 
A TRANSFORMATION. 385 
 
 and terrible fancies tormented him, through which 
 passed continually with persistent recurrence the 
 figure of the old captain, always swinging a stick 
 about his head, and crooning to himself the foolish 
 rime, 
 
 " Catch yer naig an' pu' his tail ; 
 In his hin' heel caw a nail ; 
 Rug his lugs frae ane' anither ; 
 Stan' up, an' ca' the king yer brither." 
 
 At last, at the moment when once more his perse- 
 cutor was commencing his childish ditty, he felt as if, 
 from the top of a mountain a hundred miles away, a 
 cold cloud came journeying through the sky, and de- 
 scended upon him. He opened his eyes : there was 
 Joan, and the cold cloud was her soft cool hand on his 
 forehead. The next thing he knew was that she was 
 feeding him like a child. But he did not know that 
 she never left him again till the morning, when, 
 seeing him gently asleep, she stole away like a ghost 
 in the gray dawn. 
 
 The next day he was better, but for several nights 
 the fever returned, and always in his dreams he was 
 haunted by variations on the theme of the auld 
 captain ; and for several days he felt as if he did not 
 want to get better, but would lie forever a dreamer 
 in the enchanted palace of the glamoured ruin. But 
 that was only his weakness, and gradually he gained 
 strength. 
 
 Every morning and every afternoon Lady Joan 
 visited him, waited on him, and staid a longer or 
 shorter time, now talking, now reading to him ; and 
 
386 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 seldom would she be a whole evening absent — then 
 only on the rare occasion when Lord Mergwain, 
 having some one to dine with him of the more ordi- 
 nary social stamp, desired her presence as lady of 
 the house. Even then she would almost always have 
 a peep at him one time or another. She did not 
 know much about books, but would take up this or 
 that, almost as it chanced to her hand in the library ; 
 and Cosmo cared little what she read, so long as he 
 could hear her voice, which often beguiled "him into 
 the sweetest sleep with visions of home and his 
 father. If the story she read was foolish, it mattered 
 nothing; he would mingle with it his own fancies, 
 and weave the whole into the loveliest of foolish 
 dreams, all made up of unaccountably reasonable in- 
 congruities : the sensible look in dreams of what to 
 the waking mind is utterly incoherent, is the most 
 puzzling of things to him who would understand his 
 own unreason. And the wild mdrchenhaft lovelinesses 
 that fashioned themselves thus in his brain, out- 
 wardly lawless, but inwardly so harmonious as to be 
 altogether credible to the dreamer, were not lost in 
 the fluttering limbo of foolish invention, but, in 
 altered shape and less outlandish garments, appeared 
 again, when, in after years, he sought vent for the all 
 but unspeakable. During this time he would often 
 talk verse in his sleep, such as to Lady Joan, at least, 
 sometimes seemed lovely, though she never could 
 get a hold of it, she said ; for always, just as she 
 seemed on the point of understanding it, he would 
 cease, and her ears would ache with the silence. 
 One warm evening, when now a good deal better 
 
A TRANSFORMATION. 387 
 
 and able to sit up a part of the day, Cosmo was lying 
 on the sofa, -watching her face as she read. Through 
 the age-dusted window came the glowing beams of 
 the setting sun, lined and dulled and blotted. They 
 fell on her hands, and her hands reflected them, in a 
 pale rosy gleam, upon her face. 
 
 " How beautiful you are in the red light, Joan ! " 
 said Cosmo. 
 
 " That's the light, not me," she returned. 
 
 " Yes, it is you. The red light shows you more as 
 you are. In the dark even you do not look beautiful. 
 Then you may say if you like, ' That is the dark, not 
 me.' Don't you remember what Portia says in The 
 Merchant of Venice, 
 
 ' The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark 
 When neither is attended ; and I thinlc 
 The nightingale, if she should sing by day 
 When every goose is cackling, would be thought 
 No better a musician than the wren. 
 How niany things by reason reasoned are 
 To their right praise and true perfection !' 
 
 You see he says, not that beautiful things owe their 
 beauty, but the right seeing of their beauty, to cir- 
 cumstance. So the red light makes me see you more 
 beautiful — not than you are — that could not be — 
 but than I could see you in another light — a gray 
 one for instance." 
 
 " You mustn't flatter me, Cosmo. You don't know 
 what harm you may do me.'' 
 
 " I love you too much to flatter you," he said. 
 
 She raised the book, and began to read again. 
 
388 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Cosmo had gone on as he began — had never nar- 
 rowed the channels that lay wide and free betwixt 
 his soul and his father and Mr. Simon ; Lady Joan 
 had no such aqueducts to her ground, and many a 
 bitter wind blew across its wastes ; it ought not there- 
 fore to be matter of surprise that, although a little 
 younger, Cosmo should be a good way ahead of Joan 
 both in knowledge and understanding. Hence the 
 conversations they now had were to Joan like water 
 to a thirsty soul — the hope of the secret of life, where 
 d^ath had seemed waiting at the door. She would 
 listen to the youth, rendered the more enthusiastic 
 by his weakness, as to a messenger from the land of 
 truth. In the old time she had thought Cosmo a 
 wonderful boy, saying the strangest things like com- 
 mon tilings everybody knew : now he said more won- 
 derful things still, she thought, but as if he knew 
 they were strange, and did his best to make it easier 
 to receive them. She wondered whether, if he had 
 been a woman with a history like hers, he would have 
 been able to keep that bright soul shining through 
 all the dreariness, to see through the dusty windows 
 the unchanged beauty of things, and save alive his 
 glorious hope. She began to see that she had not 
 begun at the beginning with anything, had let things 
 draw her this way and that, nor put forth any effort 
 to master circumstance by accepting its duty. 
 
 On Cosmo's side, the passion of the believer in the 
 unseen had laid hold upon him ; and as the gardener 
 awaits the blossoming of some strange plant, of whose 
 loveliness marvellous tales have reached his ears, so 
 did he wait for something entrancing to issue from 
 
A TRANSFORMATION. 389 
 
 the sweet twilight sadnesses of her being, the gleams 
 that died into dusk, the deep voiceless ponderings 
 into which she would fall. 
 
 They talked now about any book they were read- 
 ing, but it mattered little more what it was, for even a 
 stupid book served as well as another to set their 
 own fountains flowing. That afternoon Joan was 
 reading from one partly written, partly compiled, in 
 the beginning of the century, somewhat before its 
 time in England. It might have been the work of 
 an imitator at once of de la Motte Fouqu^, and the 
 old British romancers. And this was what she read. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE KNIGHT WHO SPOKE THE TRUTH. 
 
 There was once a country in which dwelt a kniglit 
 whom no lady of the land would love, and that be- 
 cause he spake the truth. For the other knights, all 
 in that land, would say to the ladies they loved, that 
 of all ladies in the world they were the most beauti- 
 ful, and the most gracious, yea in all things the very 
 first; and thereby the ladies of that land were taught 
 to love their own praise best, and after that the knight 
 who was the best praiser of each, and most enabled 
 her to think well of herself in spite of doubt. And 
 the knight who would not speak save truly, they 
 mockingly named Sir Verity, which name some of 
 them did again miscall Severity, — for the more he 
 loved, the more it was to him impossible to tell a liJ. 
 And thus it came about that one after another he was 
 hated of them all. For so it was, that, greedy of his 
 commendation, this lady and that would draw him 
 on to speak of that wherein she made it her pleasure 
 to take to herself excellences ; but nowise so could 
 390 
 
THE STORY OF THE KNIGHT. 391 
 
 any one of them all gain from him other than a true 
 judgment. As thus : one day said unto him a lady, 
 " Which of us, think you, Sir Verity, hath the darkest 
 eyes of all the ladies here at the court of our lord 
 the king ? " And he thereto made answer, " Verily, 
 methinketh the queen." Then said she unto him, 
 " Who then hath the bluest eyes of all the ladies a' 
 the court of our lord the king? " — for that her own 
 were of the colour of the heavens when the year is 
 young. And he answered, " I think truly the Lady 
 Coryphane hath the bluest of all their blue eyes. 
 Then said she, " And I think truly by thine answer. 
 Severity, that thou lovest me not, for else wouldst 
 thou have known that mine eyes are as blue as Cory- 
 phane's." " Nay truly," he answered; " for my heart 
 knoweth well that thine eyes are blue, and that they 
 are lovely, and to me the dearest of all eyes, but to 
 say they are the bluest of all eyes, that I may not, 
 for therein should I be no true man." Therewith was 
 the lady somewhat shamed, and seeking to cover 
 her vanity, did answer and say, " It may well be, sir 
 knight, for how can I tell who see not mine own eyes, 
 and would therefore know of thee, of whom men say, 
 some that thou speakest truly, other some that thou 
 speakest naughtily. But be the truth as it may, every 
 knight yet saith to his own mistress that in all things 
 she is the paragon of the world." " Then," quoth 
 the knight, " she that knoweth that every man saith 
 so, must know also that only one of them all saith the 
 thing that is true. Not willingly would I add to the 
 multitude of the lies that do go about the world ! " 
 " Now verily am I sure that thou dost not love me," 
 
392 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 cried the lady ; " for all men do say of mine eyes — " 
 Thereat she stayed words, and said no more, that he 
 might speak again. "Lady," said Sir Verity, and 
 spake right solemnly, " as I said before I do say 
 again, and in truth, that thine eyes are to me the 
 dearest of all eyes. But they might be the bluest or 
 the blackest, the greenest or the grayest, yet would 
 I love them all the same. For for none of those 
 colours would they be dear to me, but for the cause 
 that they were thine eyes. For I love thine eyes be- 
 cause they are thine, not thee because thine eyes are 
 or this or that." Then that lady brake forth into 
 bitter weeping, and would not be comforted, neither 
 thereafter would hold converse with the knight. For 
 in that country it was the pride of a lady's life to lie 
 lapt in praises, and breathe the air of the flatteries 
 blown into her ears by them who would be counted 
 her lovers. Then said the knight to himself, "Verily, 
 and yet again, her eyes are not the bluest in the 
 world ! It seemeth to me as that the ladies in this 
 land should never love man aright, seeing, alas ! they 
 love the truth from no man's lips ; for save they may 
 each think herself better than all the rest, then is 
 not life dear unto them. I will forsake this land, and 
 go where the truth may be spoken nor the speaker 
 thereof hated." He put on his armour, with never 
 lady nor squire nor page to draw thong or buckle 
 spur, and mounted his horse and rode forth to leave 
 the land. And it came to pass, that on his way he 
 entered a great wood. And as he went through the 
 wood, he heard a sobbing and a crying in the wood. 
 And he said to himself, " Verily, here is some one 
 
THE STORY OF THE KNIGHT. 393 
 
 wronged and lamenteth greatly ! I will go and help." 
 So about he rode searchingly, until he came to the 
 place whither he was led. And there, at the foot of 
 a great oak, he found an old woman in a gray cloak, 
 with her face in her hands, and weeping right on, 
 neither ceased she for the space of a sigh. " What 
 aileth thee, good mother ? " he said. " I am not 
 good, and I am not thy mother," she answered, and 
 began again to weep. " Ah ! " thought the knight, 
 " here is one woman that loveth the truth, for she 
 speaks the truth, and would not that aught but the 
 truth be spoken! — How can I help thee, woman," 
 he said then, " although in truth thou art not my 
 mother, and I may not call thee good?" "By 
 taking thyself from me," she answered. " Then will 
 I ride on my way," said the knight, and turning, rode 
 on his way. Then rose the woman to her feet, and 
 followed him. "Wherefore followest thou me," said 
 the knight, " if I may do nothing to serve thee ? " "I 
 follow thee," she answered him, " because thou speak- 
 est the truth, and because thou art not true." " If 
 thou speakest the truth, in a mystery speakest thou 
 it," said he. " Wherefore then ridest thou about the 
 world?" she asked. And he replied, "Verily, to 
 succour them that are oppressed, for I have no mis- 
 tress to whom I may do honour." " Nay, sir knight, 
 said she, " but to get thee a name and great glory, 
 thou ridest about the world. Verily thou art a man 
 who loveth not the truth." At these words of the 
 woman the knight clapped spurs to his horse, and 
 would have ridden from her, for he loved not to be 
 reviled, and so he told her. But she followed him, 
 
394 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 and kept by his stirrup, and said to him as she ran, 
 " Yea, thine own heart whispereth unto thee that I 
 speak but the truth. It is from thyself thou wouldst 
 flee." Then did the knight listen, and, lo ! his own 
 heart was telling him that what the woman said was 
 indeed so. Then drew he the reins of his bridle, 
 and looked down upon the woman and said to her, 
 " Verily thou hast well spoken, but if I be not true, 
 yet would I be true. Come with me. I will take 
 thee upon my horse behind me, and together we will 
 ride through the world; thou shalt speak to me the 
 truth, and I will hear thee, and with my sword will 
 plead what cause thou hast against any ; so shall it 
 go well with thee and me, for fain would I not only 
 love what is truly spoken, but be in myself the true 
 thing." Then reached he down his hand, and she 
 put her hand in his hand, and her foot upon his foot, 
 and so sprang lightly up behind him, and they rode 
 on together. And as they rode, he said unto her, 
 " Verily thou art the first woman I have found who 
 hath to me spoken the truth, as I to others. Only 
 thy truth is better than mine. Truly thou must love 
 the truth better than I ! " But she returned him no 
 answer. Then said he to her again, " Dost thou not 
 love the truth ? " And again she gave him no answer, 
 whereat he marvelled greatly. Then said he unto 
 her yet again, " Surely it may not be thou art one of 
 those who speak the truth out of envy and ill-will, 
 and on their own part love not to hear it spoken, but 
 are as the rest of the children of vanity ! Woman, 
 lovest thou the truth, nor only to speak it when it is 
 sharp?" "If I love not the truth," she answered, 
 
THE STORY OF THE KNIGHT. 395 
 
 "yet love I them that love it. But tell me now, sir 
 knight, what thinkest thou of me ? " " Nay," an- 
 swered the knight, " that is what even now I would 
 fain have known from thyself, namely what to think 
 of thee." " Then will I now try thee," said she, 
 " whether indeed thou speakest the truth or no. — 
 Tell me to my face, for I am a woman, what thou 
 thinkest of that face." Then said the knight to him- 
 self, " Never surely would I, for the love of pity, of 
 my own will say to a woman she was evil-favoured. 
 But if she will have it, then must she hear the truth." 
 " Nay, nay ! " said the woman, " but thou wilt not 
 speak the truth." " Yea, but I will," answered he. 
 " Then I ask thee again," she said, '• what thinkest 
 thou of me ? " And the knight replied, " Truly I 
 think not of thee as of one of the well-favoured among 
 women." " Dost thou then think," said she, and 
 her voice was full of anger, which yet it seemed as 
 she would hide, " that I am not pleasant to look 
 upon ? Verily no man hath yet said so unto me, 
 though many have turned away from me, because I 
 spoke unto them the truth ! " " Now surely thou sayest 
 the thing tnat is not so ! " said the knight, for he was 
 grieved to think she should speak the truth but of 
 contention, and not of love to the same, inasmuch as 
 she also did seek that men should praise her. 
 " Truly I say that which is so," she answered. Then 
 was the knight angered, and spake to her roughly, 
 and said unto her, " Therefore, woman, will I tell 
 thee that which thou demandest of me : Verily I 
 think of thee as one, to my thinking, the worst 
 favoured, and least to be desired among women 
 
396 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 whom I have yet looked upon ; nor do I desire ever 
 to look upon thee again." Then laughed she aloud, 
 and said to him, " Nay, but did I not tell thee thou 
 didst not dare speak the thing to my face ? for now 
 thou sayest it not to my face, but behind thine own 
 back ! " And in wrath the knight turned him in his 
 saddle, crying, " I tell thee, to thy ill-shaped and 
 worse-hued countenance, that — " and there ceased, 
 and spake not, but with open mouth sat silent. For 
 behind him he saw a woman the glory of her kind, 
 more beautiful than man ever hoped to see out of 
 heaven. "I told thee,'' she said, "thou couldst not 
 say the thing to my face ! " " For that it would be 
 the greatest lie ever in this world uttered," answered 
 the knight, " seeing that verily I do believe thee the 
 loveliest among women, God be praised ! Neverthe- 
 less will I not go with thee one step farther, so to 
 peril my soul's health, except, as thou thyself hast 
 taught me to inquire, thou tell me thou lovest the 
 truth in all ways, in great ways as well as small." 
 " This much will I tell thee," she answered, " that I 
 love thee because thou lovest the truth. If I say not 
 more, it is that it seemeth to me a mortal must be 
 humble speaking of great things. Verily the truth is 
 mighty, and will subdue my heart unto itself." " And 
 wilt thou help me to do the truth ? " asked the knight. 
 " So the great truth help me ! " she answered. And 
 they rode on together, and parted not thereafter. 
 Here endeth the story of the knight that spoke the 
 truth. 
 
 Lady Joan ceased, and there was silence in the 
 chamber, she looking back over the pages, as if she 
 
THE STORY OF THE KNIGHT. , 397 
 
 had not quite understood, and Cosmo, who had un- 
 derstood entirely, watching the lovely, dark, anxious 
 face. He saw she had not mastered the story, but, 
 which was next best, knew she had not. He began 
 therefore to search her difficulty, or rather to help it 
 to take shape, and thereon followed a conversation 
 neither of them ever forgot concerning the degrees 
 of truth : as Cosmo designated them — the truth of 
 fact, the truth of vital relation, and the truth of 
 action. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 NEW EXPERIENCE. 
 
 Soon Cosmo began to recover more rapidly — as 
 well he might, he told Joan, with such a heavenly- 
 servant to wait on him ! The very next day he was 
 up almost the whole of it. But that very day was 
 Joan less with him than hitherto, and therefrom came 
 not so often and stayed a shorter time. She would 
 bring him books and leave them, saying he did not 
 require a nurse any more now that he was able to 
 feed himself. And Cosmo, to his trouble, could not 
 help thinking sometimes that her manner towards him 
 was also a little changed. What could have come be- 
 tween them he asked himself twenty times a day. 
 Had he hurt her anyhow ? Had he unconsciously 
 put on the schoolmaster with her? Had he pre- 
 sumed on her kindness ? With such questions he 
 plagued himself, but found to them no answer. At 
 times he could even have imagined her a little cross 
 with him, but that never lasted. Yet still when they 
 met, Joan seemed farther off than when they parted 
 39S 
 
NEW EXPERIENCE. 
 
 399 
 
 the day before. It is true they almost always seemed 
 to get back to nearly the same place before they 
 parted again, and Cosmo tried to persuade himself 
 that any change there might be was only the result 
 of growing familiarity ; but not the less did he find 
 himself ever again mourning over something that was 
 gone — a delicate colour on the verge of the meeting 
 sky and sea of their two natures. 
 
 But how differently the hours went when she was 
 with him, and when he lay thinking whether she was 
 coming ! His heart swelled like a rose-bud ready to 
 burst into a flaming flower when she drew near, and 
 folded itself together when she went, as if to save up 
 all its perfume and strength for her return ! Every- 
 thing he read that pleased him, must be shared with 
 Joan — must serve as an atmosphere of thought in 
 which to draw nigh to each other. Everything beau- 
 tiful he saw twice — with his own eyes namely, and 
 as he imagined it in the eyes of Joan : he was always 
 trying to see things as he thought she would see 
 them. Not once while recovering did he care to 
 read a thing he thought she would not enjoy — 
 though everything he liked, he said to himself, she 
 must enjoy some day. 
 
 Soon he made a discovery concerning himself that 
 troubled him greatly : not once since he was ill had 
 he buried himself in the story of Jesus ! not once 
 had he lost himself in prayer ! not once since finding 
 Joan had he been flooded with a glory as from the 
 presence of the living One, or had any such vision of 
 truth as used every now and then to fill him like the 
 wine of the new world which is the old ! Lady Joan 
 
400 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 saw that he was sad, and questioned him. But even 
 to her he could not open his mind on such a matter : 
 near as they were, they had not yet got near enough 
 to each other for that. 
 
 In the history, which is the growth, of the individual 
 man, epochs of truth and moods of being follow 
 in succession, the one for the moment displac- 
 ing the other, until the mind shall at length have 
 gained power to blend the new at once with the pre- 
 ceding whole. But this can never be until our idea 
 of the Absolute Life is large enough and intense 
 enough to fill and fit into every necessity of our 
 nature. A new mood is as a dry well for the water 
 of life to fill. The man who does not yet understand 
 God as the very power of his conscious as well as un- 
 conscious being, as more in him than intensest con- 
 sciousness of bliss or of pain, must have many a 
 treeless expanse, many a mirage-haunted desert, many 
 an empty cistern and dried up river, in the world of 
 his being ! There was not much of this kind of waste 
 in Cosmo's world, but God was not yet inside his 
 growing love to Joan — that is, consciously to him — 
 and his spirit was therefore of necessity troubled. 
 Was it not a dreadful thing, he thought with himself, 
 and was right in so thinking, that love to any lovely 
 thing — how much more to the loveliest being God 
 had made ! — whose will is the soul of all loveliness, 
 should cause him, in any degree, or for any time, to 
 forget him and grow strange to the thought of him ? 
 The lack was this, that, having found his treasure 
 he had not yet taken it home to his Father ! Jesus 
 himself, after he was up again, could not be alto- 
 
NEW EXPERIENCE. 401 
 
 gether at home with his own, until he had first been 
 home to his Father and their Father, to his God and 
 their God. For as God is the source, so is he the 
 bond of all love. There are Christians who in 
 portions of their being, of their life, their judgments, 
 and aims, are absolute heathens, for with these, so far 
 as their thought or will is concerned, God has nothing 
 to do. There God is not with them, for there they 
 are not with God. Do they heed St. Paul when he 
 says, " Whatsoever is not of faith is sin " ? 
 
 So, between these two, an unrest had come in, and 
 they were no more sure of ease in each other's 
 presence, although sometimes, for many minutes 
 together, thought and word would go well between 
 them, and all would be as simple and shining as ever. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 CHARLES JERMYN, M. D. 
 
 The only house in the neighbouring village where 
 Lady Joan sometimes visited, was, as the gardener 
 had told Cosmo, that of the doctor, with whose 
 daughter she had for some years, if not cultivated, 
 yet admitted a sort of friendship. Their relation 
 however would certainly have been nothing such, so 
 different were the two, had it not been that Joan had 
 no other acquaintance of her own age, and that Miss 
 Jermyn had reasons for laying herself out to please 
 her — the principal of which was that her brother, a 
 man about thirty, had a great admiration for Lady 
 Joan, and to please him his sister would do almost 
 anything. Their father also favoured his son's am- 
 bition, for he hated the earl, and would be glad of 
 his annoyance, while he liked Lady Joan, and was 
 far from blind to the consequence his family would 
 gain by such an alliance. But he had no great hope, 
 for experience, of which few have more than a coun- 
 try doctor, had taught him that, in every probability, 
 402 
 
CHARLES JERMYN, M. D. 403 
 
 his son's first advance would be for Lady Joan the 
 signal to retire within the palisades of her rank ; for 
 there are who will show any amount of familiarity 
 and friendliness with agreeable inferiors up to the 
 moment when the least desire of a nearer approach 
 manifests itself : that moment the old Adam, or per- 
 haps rather the old Satan, is up in full pride like a 
 spiritual turkey-cock, with swollen neck, roused fea- 
 thers, and hideous gabble. His experience however 
 did not bring to his mind in the company of this re- 
 flection the fact that such a reception was precisely 
 that which he had himself given to a prayer for the 
 hand of his daughter from one whom he counted her 
 social inferior. But the younger man, who also had had 
 his experiences, reflected that the utter isolation of 
 Lady Joan, through the ill odour of her family, the 
 disgraceful character of her father, the unamiability 
 of her brother, and the poverty into which they had 
 sunk, gave Mm incalculable advantages. 
 
 The father had been for many years the medical 
 adviser of the house ; and although Lord Mergwain 
 accorded the medical practice of his day about the 
 same relation to a science of therapeutics that old 
 alchemy had to modern chemistry, yet the moment 
 he felt ill, he was sure to send for young Jermyn. 
 Charles had also attended Lady Joan in several ill- 
 nesses, for she had not continued in such health as 
 when she used to climb hills in snow with Cosmo. 
 It is true she had on these occasions sent. for the 
 father, but for one reason and another, more likely to 
 be false than true, he had always, with many apolo- 
 gies, sent his son in his stead. She was at first 
 
404 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 annoyed, and all but refused to receive him ; but 
 from dislike of seeming to care, she got used to his 
 attendance, and to him as well. He gained thus the 
 opportunity of tolerably free admission to her, of 
 which he made use with what additional confidence 
 came of believing that at least he had no rival. 
 
 Nor indeed was there anything absurd in his 
 aspiring in those her circumstances to win her. He 
 was a man of good breeding, and more than agreea- 
 ble manners — with a large topographical experience, 
 and a social experience far from restricted, for, as I 
 have already mentioned, he had travelled much, and 
 in the company of persons of high position ; and had 
 Joan been less ignorant of things belonging to her 
 proper station, she would have found yet more to 
 interest her in him. But being a man of some in- 
 sight, and possessed also of considerable versatility, 
 so that, readily discovering any perculiarity, he was 
 equally ready to meet it, he laid himself out to talk 
 to her of the things, and in the ways, which he 
 thought she would like. To discover, however, is 
 not to understand. No longer young enough, as he 
 said to himself, to be greatly interested in anything 
 but getting on, he could yet, among the contents of 
 the old property-room in his brain, easily lay his 
 hands on many things to help him in the part he 
 chose as the fittest to represent himself. The greater 
 part of conventionally honest men try to look the 
 thing they would like to be — that being at the same 
 time the way they would like others to see them ; 
 others, along with what they would like to be, act that 
 which they would only like to appear ; the downright 
 
CHARLES JERMYN, M. D. 405 
 
 rascal cares only to look what will serve his purpose ; 
 and the honest man thinks only of being, and of 
 being to his fellows. 
 
 But even had Jermyn only taken upon him to 
 imagine himself in love with a woman like Lady 
 Joan, he must soon have become, more or less, actu- 
 ally in love with her. This did not however destroy 
 his caution ; and so far as his attentions had gone, 
 they were pleasant to her ; — they were at least a 
 break in the ennui of her daily life, helping her to 
 reach the night in safety. She was not one of those 
 who, unable to make alive the time, must kill it lest 
 it kill them ; but neither was she of those who make 
 their time so living, that the day is- too short for them. 
 Hence it came when he called, that by and by she 
 would offer him tea, and when he went, would walk 
 with him into the garden, and at length even accom- 
 pany him as far as the lodge on his way home. 
 
 Charles Jermyn was a tall, well-made man, with a 
 clever and refined face, which, if not much feeling, 
 expressed great intelligence. By the ladies of the 
 neighbourhood he was much admired, by some of 
 them pronounced very manly and good-looking, by 
 others declared to be beautiful. Certain of them said 
 he was much too handsome for a doctor. He had a 
 jolly air with him, which was yet far from unrefined, 
 and a hearty way of shaking hands which gave an 
 impression of honesty ; and indeed I think honesty 
 would have been comparatively easy to him, had he 
 set himself to cultivate it ; but he had never given 
 himself trouble about anything except "getting on." 
 You might rely on his word if he gave it solemnly. 
 
4o6 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 but not otherwise. Absolute truth he would have felt 
 a hindrance in the exercise of his profession, neither 
 out of it did he make his yea yea, and his nay nay. 
 His oath was better than his word, and that is a 
 human shame. 
 
 Women, even more than men, I presume, see in 
 any one who interests them, not so much what is 
 there, as a reflection of what they construct from the 
 hints that have pleased them. Some of them it takes 
 a miserable married lifetime to undeceive ; for some, 
 not even that will serve; they continue to see, if not 
 an angel, yet a very pardonable mortal, therefore 
 altogether loveable man, in the husband in whom 
 everybody else sees only a vile rascal. Whether 
 sometimes the wife or the world be nearer the truth, 
 will one day come out : the wife may be a woman of 
 insight, and see where no one else can. 
 
 In his youth the doctor had read a good deal of 
 poetry, and enjoyed it in a surface-sort of fashion : 
 discovering that Lady Joan had a fine taste in verse, 
 he made use of his acquaintance there ; and effected 
 the greater impression, that one without experience 
 is always ready to take familiarity as indicative of 
 real knowledge, and think that he, for instance, who 
 can quote largely, must have vital relation with the 
 things he quotes. But it had never entered the doc- 
 tor's head that poetry could have anything to do with 
 life — even in the case of the poet himself — how 
 much less in that of his admirer ! Never once had 
 it occurred to him to ask how he could be such a 
 fool as enjoy anything false — beingless save in the 
 brain of the poet — a mere lie ! For that which has 
 
CHARLES JERMYN, M. D. 407 
 
 nothing to do with life, what can it be but a lie ? 
 Not the less Jermyn got down book after book, for 
 many a day undusted on his shelves, and read and 
 re-read many a passage which had once borne him 
 into the seventh heaven of feeling, suggesting some- 
 where a better world, in which lovely things might be 
 had without too much trouble : now as he read, he was 
 ^truck with a mild surprise at finding how much had 
 lost even the appearance of the admirable ; how 
 much of what had seemed bitter, he could thoroughly 
 accept. He did not ask whether the change came of 
 a truer vision or a sourer judgment, put all down to 
 the experience that makes a man wise, none to a loss 
 within. He was not able to imagine himself in any- 
 thing less than he had been, in anything less than he 
 would be. Yet poetry was to him now the mere muni- 
 tion of war ! mere feathers for the darts of Cupid ! — 
 that was how the once poetic man to himself expressed 
 himself! He was laying in store of weapons, he 
 said ! For when a man will use things in which he 
 does not believe, he cannot fail to be vulgar. But 
 Lady Joan saw no vulgarity in the result — it was hid 
 in the man himself. To her he seemed a profound 
 lover of poetry, who knew much of which she had 
 never even heard. Once he contrived to spend a 
 whole afternoon with her in the library, for of the 
 outsides of books, their title-pages, that is, he had a 
 good deal of knowledge, and must make opportunity 
 to show it. One of his patients, with whom he first 
 travelled, then for a time resided, was a book-collec- 
 tor, and with him he learned much, chiefly from old- 
 book-catalogues. With Lady Joan this learning, 
 
408 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 judiciously poured out, passed for a marvellous 
 knowledge of books, and the country doctor began 
 to assume in her eyes the proportions of a man of 
 universal culture. He knew at least how to bring all 
 he had into use, and succeeded in becoming some- 
 thing in the sweet lonely life, so ignorant and un- 
 supported. He could play the violin too, and that 
 with no mean expression — believing only in the ex- 
 pression, nowise in the feeling expressed : this ac- 
 complishment also he contrived she should, as if by 
 accident, become acquainted with. 
 
 In the judgment of most who knew him, he was an 
 excellent and indeed admirable man. " No nonsense 
 about him, don't you know? — able to make himself 
 agreeable, but not losing sight of the main chance 
 either!" men would say; and "A thorough family- 
 doctor, knowing how to humour patients out of their 
 fancies ! " would certain mammas add, who, instead of 
 being straight-forward with their children, were 
 always scheming, and dodging, and holding private 
 confabulations about them with doctor and clergyman. 
 
 In that part of his professional duty which bordered 
 on that of the nurse, the best that was in Jermyn 
 came out. Few men could handle a patient at the 
 same time so firmly and tenderly as he ; few were less 
 sparing of self in the endeavour to make him com- 
 fortable. And from the moment when the simple- 
 minded Cosmo became aware of his attendance and ■ 
 ministration, his heart went out to him — from the 
 moment, that is, when, in the afternoon of the same 
 day on which Joan transformed his chamber, he lifted 
 him in his arms that the gardener and his wife might 
 
CHARLES JERMYN, M. D. 409 
 
 place a feather-bed and mattress under him, oblitera- 
 ting in softness the something which had seemed to 
 find out every bone in his body : as soon as he was 
 laid down again, his spirit seemed to rise on clouds 
 of ease to thank his minister. And Cosmo was one 
 in whom the gratitude was as enduring as ready. 
 Next to the appearance of Lady Joan, all the time he 
 was recovering, he looked for the dgiily visit of the 
 doctor. Nor did the doctor ever come without re- 
 ceiving his reward in an interview with the lady. 
 And herein Jermyn gained another advantage. For 
 Joan found herself compelled to take him into her 
 confidence concerning her brother's ignorance of 
 the presence of Cosmo in the house ; and so he 
 shared a secret with her. He did not, of course, al- 
 together relish the idea of this Scotch cousin, but 
 plaii\ly he was too young for Joan, and he would soon 
 find out whether there was any need to beware, of 
 him, by which time he would know also what to do 
 with him, should action be necessary. 
 
 For the first week or so Joan did not mind how 
 often the doctor found her with Cosmo, but after that 
 she began to dislike it, she could scarcely have told 
 why, and managed to be elsewhere when he came. 
 After the third time the doctor began to cherish 
 suspicion, and called cunning to his aid. Having 
 mentioned an hour at which he would call the next 
 day, he made his appearance an hour earlier, and 
 with an excuse on his lips for the change he had been 
 " compelled to make," walked into the room without 
 warning, as of course he might without offence, 
 where his patient was a young man. There, as he 
 
41 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 had feared, he found Lady Joan. But she had heard oi 
 felt his coming, and as he entered she was handing 
 Cosmo the newspaper, with the words, 
 
 " There ! you are quite able to read to yourself to- 
 day. I will go and have another search for the book 
 you wanted ; " and with that she turned, and gave a 
 little start, for there stood the doctor ! 
 
 " Oh, Doctor Jermyn ! " she exclaimed, " I did not 
 know you were there ! " and held out her hand. " Our 
 patient is going on wonderfully now. You will let 
 me see you before you leave the castle ? " 
 
 Therewith she left the room, and hastening to her 
 own, saw in the mirror the red of a lie, said to her- 
 self, " What will Cosmo think ? " and burst into tears 
 — the first she had shed since the day she found him. 
 
 The doctor was not taken in, but Cosmo was troub- 
 led and puzzled. In Jermyn's talk, however, and his 
 own simplicity, he soon forgot the strangeness of this 
 her behaviour. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 COSMO AND THE DOCTOR. 
 
 To the eyes of Jermyn, Cosmo appeared, mainly 
 from his simplicity, younger than he was, while the 
 doctor's manners, and his knowledge of the world, 
 made Cosmo regard him as a much greater man 
 than, in any sense or direction, he really was. His 
 kindness having gained the youth's heart, he was 
 ready to see in him everything that love would see in 
 the loved. 
 
 " You are very good to me, Doctor Jermyn," he 
 said, one day, " — so good, that I am the more sorry 
 though the less unwilling — "—The doctor could not 
 kecD his hold of the thread of Cosmo's speach, yet 
 did not interrupt him — " to tell you what is now 
 weighing on my mind : I do not know how or when I 
 shall be able to hand you your fees. I hope you will 
 not come to see me once more than is necessary ; 
 and the first money I earn, you shall be paid part at 
 least of what I owe you." 
 
 The doctor laughed. It was such a school-boy 
 411 
 
412 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 speech, he thought ! It was a genuine relief to Cos- 
 mo to find him take the thing so lightly. 
 
 "You were robbed on the way, Lady Joan tells 
 me," Jermyn said. 
 
 " I am not sure that I was robbed," returned Cos- 
 mo ; " but in any case, even had I brought every 
 penny I started with, I could not have paid you. My 
 father and I are very poor, Mr. Jermyn." 
 
 " And my father and I are pretty well to do," said 
 the doctor, laughing again. 
 
 " But," resumed Cosmo, " neither condition is a 
 reason why you should not be paid. Mine is only 
 the cause why you are not paid at once." 
 
 " My dear fellow," said the doctor, laying his hand 
 on the boy's, " I am not such a very old man — it is 
 not so very long since I was a student myself — in 
 your country too — at Edinburgh — that I should 
 forget what it is to be a student, or how often money 
 is scarce in the midst of every other kind of plenty 
 and refinement." 
 
 " But I am not exactly a student now. I have 
 been making a little money as tutor ; only — " 
 
 " Don't trouble your head about it, I beg of you,'' 
 interrupted the doctor. " It is the merest trifle. Be- 
 sides, I should never have thought of taking a fee 
 from you ! I am well paid in the pleasure of making 
 your acquaintance. — But there is one way," he ad- 
 ded, " in which you could make me a return." 
 
 " What is that ? " asked Cosmo eagerly. 
 
 " To borrow a little money of me for a few months .' 
 I am not at all hard up at present. I had to borrow 
 many a' time when I was in Edinburgh." 
 
COSMO AND THE DOCTOR. 413 
 
 The boy-heart of Cosmo swelled in his bosom, and 
 for a time he could not answer. He thought with 
 himself, "Here is a man of the true sort! — a man 
 after my father's own heart ! who in the ground of his 
 rights plants fresh favours, and knows the inside of 
 a fellow's soul as well as his body ! This is a rare 
 man ! " 
 
 But he felt it would be to do Joan a wrong to bor- 
 row money, from the doctor and not from her. So 
 with every possible acknowledgment he declined the 
 generous offer. Now the doctor was quite simple in 
 behaving thus to Cosmo. He was a friendly man and 
 a gentleman, and liked Cosmo as no respectable soul 
 could help liking him. It had not yet entered into 
 him to make him useful. That same night, however, 
 he began to ask himself whether he might not make 
 Cosmo serve instead of hindering his hope, and very 
 soon had thought the matter out. He was by no 
 means too delicate to talk at once about his love, but 
 would say nothing of it until he had made more sure 
 of Cosmo, and good his ground by sowing another 
 crop first : he must make himself something in the 
 eyes of the youth, plant himself firmly in his estima- 
 tion, cause his idea of him to blossom ; and for the 
 sake of this he must first of all understand the boy ! 
 
 Nor was it long before the doctor imagined he did 
 understand the boy ; and indeed, sceptical as both 
 his knowledge of himself and of the world had made 
 him, he did so far understand him as to believe him 
 as innocent of evil as the day he was born. His eyes 
 could not shine so, his mouth could not have that 
 childlike — the doctor called it childish — smile 
 
414 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Otherwise. He put out various feelers to satisfy him- 
 self there was no pretence, and found his allusions 
 either passed over him like a breath of merest air, or 
 actually puzzled him. It was not always that Cosmo 
 did not know what the suggestion might mean, but 
 that he could not believe Jermyn meant that ; and 
 perceiving this, the doctor would make haste to alter 
 the shadow into something definitely unobjectionable. 
 Jermyn had no design of corrupting the youth ; he 
 was above that, even could he have fancied anything 
 to be gained by it, whereas his interest lay in the op- 
 posite direction, his object being to use the lad un- 
 consciously to himself. He discovered also concern- 
 ing him that he had lofty ideas of duty in everything ; 
 that he was very trusting, and unready to doubt ; and 
 that with him poetry was not, as with Lady Joan, a 
 delight, but an absolute passion. After such discov- 
 eries, he judged it would not be hard to make for 
 himself, as for an idol, a high place in the imagina- 
 tion of the boy. For this end he brought to bear 
 upon him his choicest fragments of knowledge, and 
 all his power to interest ; displayed in pleasing har- 
 monies his acquaintance with not a few of the more 
 delicate phases of humanity, and his familiarity with 
 the world of imagination as embodied in books ; 
 professed much admiration he did not feel, in the 
 line of Cosmo's admiration, going into raptures, for 
 instance, over Milton's profoundest gems, whose 
 beauty he felt only in a kind of reflected cold-moony 
 way, through the external perfection of their colour 
 and carving ; brought to his notice Wordsworth's 
 Happy Warrior, of which he professed, and truly, 
 
COSMO AND THE DOCTOR. 41 5 
 
 that he had pasted it on his wall when a student, 
 that at any moment he might read it ; and introduced 
 him to the best poems of Shelley, a favour for which 
 alone Cosmo felt as if he must serve him for life. 
 
 Cosmo was so entire, so utterly honest, so like a 
 woman, that he could not but regard the channel 
 through which anything reached him, as of the nature 
 of that which came to him through it ; how could that 
 serve to transmit which was not one in spirit with the 
 thing transmitted ? To his eyes, therefore, Jermyn 
 sat in the reflex glory of Shelley, and of every other 
 radiant spirit of which he had widened his knowledge. 
 How could Cosmo for instance regard him as a 
 common man through whom came to him first that 
 thrilling trumpet-cry, full of the glorious despair of a 
 frustrate divinity, beginning, 
 
 O wild west wind, thou breath of autumn's being, 
 
 — the grandest of all pagan pantheistic utterances he 
 was ever likely to hear ! The whole night, and many 
 a night after, was Cosmo haunted with the asolian 
 music of its passionate, self-pitiful self-abandonment. 
 And in his dreams, the "be thou me, impetuous one ! " 
 of the poem, seemed fulfilled in himself — for he and 
 the wind were one, careering wildly along the sky, 
 combing out to their length the maned locks of the 
 approaching storm, and answering the cry of weary 
 poets everywhere over the world. 
 
 As he sat by his patient's bed, Jermyn would also 
 tell him about his travels, and relate passages of ad- 
 venture in various parts of the world ; and he came 
 
4l6 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 oftener, and staid longer, and talked more and more 
 freely, until at length in Cosmo's vision, the more 
 impressible perhaps from his weakness, the doctor 
 seemed a hero, an admirable Crichton ; a paragon of 
 doctors. 
 
 In all this, Jermyn, to use his own dignified imagery, 
 was preparing an engine of assault against the heart 
 of the lady. He had no very delicate feeling of the 
 relation of man and woman, neither any revulsion 
 from the loverly custom in low plays of making a 
 friend of the lady's maid, and bribing her to chaunt 
 the praises of the briber in the ears of her mistress. 
 In his intercourse with Lady Joan, something seemed 
 always to interfere and prevent him from showing 
 himself to the best advantage — which he never 
 doubted to be the truest presentation ; but if he 
 could send her a reflection of him in the mind of 
 such an admirer as he was making of Cosmo, she 
 would then see him more as he desired to be seen, 
 and as he did not doubt he was. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE NAIAD. . 
 
 At length Cosmo was able to go out, and Joan did 
 not let him go by himself. For several days he 
 walked only a very little, but sat a good deal in the 
 sun, and rapidly recovered strength. At last, one 
 glorious morning of summer, they went out together, 
 intending to have a real little walk. 
 
 Lady Joan had first made sure that her brother was 
 occupied in his laboratory, but still she dared not 
 lead her patient to any part of the garden or grounds 
 ever visited by him. She took him, therefore, through 
 walks, some of them wide, and bordered with stately 
 trees, but all grown with weeds and moss, to the de- 
 serted portion with which he had already made a 
 passing acquaintance. There all lay careless of the 
 present, hopeless of the future, and hardly dreaming 
 of the past. It was long since foot of lady had 
 pressed these ancient paths, long since laugh or merry 
 speech had been heard in them. Nothing is lovelier 
 than the result of the half-neglect which often falls 
 417 
 
4l8 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 upon portions of great grounds, when the owner's 
 fancy has changed, and his care has turned to some 
 newer and more favoured spot; when there is moss 
 on the walks, but the weeds are few and fine ; when 
 the trees stand in their old honour, yet no branch is 
 permitted to obstruct a path ; when flowers have 
 ceased to be sown or planted, but those that bloom 
 are not disregarded ; while yet it is only through 
 some stately door that admission is gained, and no 
 chance foot is free to stray in. But here it was alto- 
 gether different. That stage of neglect was long 
 past. The place was ragged, dirty, overgrown. 
 There was between the picture I have drawn and this 
 reality, all the painful difference between stately and 
 beautiful matronhood, and the old age that, no longer 
 capable of ministering to its own decencies, has 
 grown careless of them. 
 
 "At this time of the day there is plenty of sun 
 here," said his nurse, in a tone that seemed to savour 
 of apology. 
 
 "I think," said Cosmo, "the gardener told me 
 some parts of the grounds were better kept than 
 this." 
 
 "Yes," answered Joan, "but none of them are 
 anything like what they should be. My brother is so ' 
 poor." 
 
 " I don't believe you know what it is to be poor," 
 said Cosmo. 
 
 "Oh, don't I!" returned Joan with a sigh. "You 
 see Constantine requires for his experiments all the 
 little money the trustees allow." 
 
 "I know this part," said Cosmo. "I made ac- 
 
THE NAIAD. 42 I 
 
 quaintance with it the last thing as I was growing ill. 
 It looks to me so melancholy ! If I were here, I 
 should never rest till I had with my own hands got it 
 into some sort of. order." 
 
 " Are you as strong as you used to be, Cosmo — I 
 mean when you are well ? " asked Joan, willing to 
 change the direction of the conversation. 
 
 " A good deal stronger, I hope," answered Cosmo. 
 " But I am glad it is not just this moment, for then I 
 should have no right to be leaning on you, Joan." 
 
 " Do you like to lean on me, Cosmo ? " 
 
 " Indeed I do ; I am proud of it ! — But tell me 
 why you don't take me to a more cheerful part." 
 
 She made him no answer. He looked in her face. 
 It was very pale, and tears were in her eyes. 
 
 " Must I tell you, Cosmo ? " she said. 
 
 " No, certainly, if you would rather not." 
 
 " But you might think it something wrong." 
 
 " I should never imagine you doing anything 
 wrong, Joan." 
 
 " Then I must tell you, lest it should be wrong. — 
 My brother does not know that you are here." 
 
 Now Cosmo had never imagined that Lord Mer- 
 gwain did not know he was at the castle. It was 
 true he had not come to see him, but nothing was 
 simpler if Lord Mergwain desired to see Cosmo as little 
 as Cosmo desired, from his recollection of him at 
 Castle Warlock, to see Lord Mergwain. It almost 
 took from him what little breath he had to learn that 
 he had been all this time in a man's house without 
 his knowledge. No doubt, in good sense and justice, 
 the house was Joan's too, however little the male 
 
42 2 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 aristocracy may be inclined to admit such a state- 
 ment of rights, but there must be some one at the 
 head of things, and, however ill he might occupy it, 
 that place was naturally his lordship's, -and he had at 
 least a right to know who was in the house. Huge 
 discomfort thereupon invaded Cosmo, and a restless 
 desire to be out of the place. His silence frightened 
 Joan. 
 
 " Are you very angry with me, Cosmo," she said. 
 
 " Angry ! No, Joan ! How could I be angry with 
 you? Only it makes me feel myself where I have no 
 business to be — rather like a thief in fact." 
 
 " Oh, I am so sorry ! But what could I do ? You 
 don't know my brother, or you would not wonder. 
 He seems to have a kind of hatred to your family ! — 
 I do not in the least know why. Could my father 
 have said anything about you that he misunderstood ? 
 
 — But no, that could not be ! — And yet my father 
 did say he knew your house many years before ! " 
 
 " I don't care how Lord Mergwain regards me," 
 said Cosmo ; " what angers me is that he should 
 behave so to you that you dare not tell him a thing. 
 Now I am sorry I came without writing to you first ! 
 
 — I don't know though! — and I can't say I am 
 sorry I was taken ill, for all the trouble I have been 
 to you; I should never have known otherwise how 
 beautiful and good you are." 
 
 "I'm not good! and I'm not beautiful!" cried 
 Joan, and burst into tears of humiliation and sore- 
 heartedness. What a contrast was their house and 
 its hospitality, she thought, to those in which Cosmo 
 lived one heart and one soul with his father ! 
 
THE NAIAD. 423 
 
 " But," she resumed the next moment, wiping away 
 her tears, " you must not think I have no right to do 
 anything for you. My father left all his personal 
 properly to me, and I know there was money in his 
 bureau, saved up for me — I know it; and I know 
 too that my brother took it ! I said never a word 
 about it to him or any one — -.never mentioned the 
 subject before ; but I can't have you feehng as if you 
 had been taking what I had no right to give ! " 
 
 They had come to the dry fountain, with its great 
 cracked basin, in the centre of which stood the 
 parched naiad, pouring an endless nothing from her 
 inverted vase. Forsaken and sad she looked. All 
 the world had changed save her, and left her a memo- 
 rial of former thoughts, vanished ways, and forgotten 
 things : she, alas ! could not alter, must be still the 
 same, the changeless centre of change. All the win- 
 ters would beat upon her, all the summers would 
 burn her ; but never more would the glad water pour 
 plashing from her dusty urn ! never more would the 
 birds make showers with their beating wings in her 
 cool basin ! The dead leaves would keep falling 
 year after year to their rest, but she could not fall, 
 must, through the slow ages, stand, until storm and 
 sunshine had wasted her atom by atom away. 
 
 On the broad rim of the basin they sat down. 
 Cosmo turned towards the naiad, such thoughts as I 
 have written throbbing in his brain like the electric 
 light in an exhausted receiver, Joan with her back to 
 the figure, and her eyes on the ground, thinking 
 Cosmo brooded vexed on his newly discovered posi- 
 tion. It was a sad picture. The two were as the 
 
42 4 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 type of Nature and Art, the married pair, here at 
 strife — still together, but only the more apart — 
 Oberon and Titania, with ruin all about them. 
 Through the straggling branches appeared the totter- 
 ing dial of Time where not a sun-ray could reach it ; 
 for Time himself may well go to sleep where prog- 
 ress is but disintegration. Time himself is nothing, 
 does nothing ; he is but the medium in which the 
 forces work. Time no more cures our ills, than 
 space unites our souls, because they cross it to 
 mingle. 
 
 Had Cosmo suspected Joan's thought, he would 
 have spoken ; but the urn of the naiad had brought 
 back to him his young thoughts and imaginations 
 concerning the hidden source of the torrent that 
 rushed for ever along the base of Castle Warlock* 
 the dry urn was to him the end of all life that know!; 
 not its source — therefore, when the water of its con 
 sciousness fails, cannot go back to the changeless, 
 ever renewing life, and unite itself afresh with the 
 self-existent, parent spring. A moment more and he 
 began to tell Joan what he was thinking — gave her 
 the whole metaphysical history of the development in 
 him of the idea of life in connection with the torrent 
 and its origin ever receding, like a decoy-hope that 
 entices us to the truth, until at length he saw in God 
 the one only origin, the fountain of fountains, the 
 Father of all lights — that is, of all things, and all 
 true thoughts. 
 
 " If there were such an urn as that," he said, point- 
 ing to the naiad's, " ever renewing the water inside 
 it without pipe or spring, there would be what we call 
 
THE NAIAD. 425 
 
 a miracle, because, unable to follow the appearance 
 farther back, we should cease thought, and wonder 
 only in the presence of the making God. And such 
 an urn would be a true picture of the heart of God, 
 ever sending forth life of itself, and of its own will, 
 into the consciousness of us receiving the same." 
 
 He grew eloquent, and talked as even Joan had 
 never heard him before. And she understood him, 
 for the lonely desire after life had wrought, making 
 her capable. She felt more than ever that he was a 
 messenger to her from a higher region, that he had 
 come to make it possible for her to live, to enlarge 
 her being, that it might no more be but the half life 
 of mere desire after something unknown and never to 
 be attained. 
 
 Suddenly, with that inexplicable breach in the 
 chain of association over which the electric thought 
 seems to leap, as over a mighty void of spiritual 
 space, Cosmo remembered that he had not yet sent 
 the woman whose generous trust had saved him from 
 long pangs of hunger, the price of her loaf. He 
 turned quickly to Joan : was not this a fresh chance 
 of putting trust in her ? What so precious thing be- 
 tween two lives as faith ? It is even a new creation 
 in the midst of the old. Would he not be wrong to 
 ask it from another ? And ask it he must ; for there 
 was the poor woman, on whom he had no claim of 
 individual, developed friendship, in want of her 
 money ! Would he not feel that Joan wronged him, 
 if she asked some one else for any help he could give 
 her ? He told her therefore the whole story of his 
 adventures on his way to her, and ending said, 
 
426 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Lend me a half-sovereign — please — to put in a 
 letter for the first woman. I will find something for 
 the girl afterwards." 
 
 Joan burst into tears. It was some time before 
 she could speak, but at last she told him plainly that 
 she had no money, and dared not ask her brother, 
 because he would want to know first what she meant 
 .to do with it. 
 
 " Is it possible ? " cried Cosmo. " Why, my father 
 would never ask me what I wanted a little money 
 for ! " 
 
 " And you would be sure to tell him without his 
 asking!" returned Joan. " But I dare not tell Con- 
 stantine. Last week I could have asked him, be- 
 cause then, for )'our sake, I would have told a lie ; 
 but I dare not do that now." 
 
 She did not tell him she gave her last penny to a 
 beggar on the road the day he came, or that she 
 often went for months without a coin in her 
 pocket. 
 
 Cosmo was so indignant he could not speak ; 
 neither must he give shape in her hearing to what he 
 thought of her brother. She looked anxiously in his 
 face. 
 
 " Dear Cosmo," she said, " do not be angry with 
 me. I will borrow the money from the housekeeper. 
 I have never done such a thing, but for your sake I 
 will. You shall send it tomorrow." 
 
 " No, no, dearest Joan ! " cried Cosmo. "I will 
 not hear of such a thing. I should be worse than 
 Lord Mergwain to lay a feather on the burden he 
 makes you carry." 
 
THE NAIAD. 427 
 
 " I shouldn't mind it much. It would be sweet to 
 hurt my pride for your sake." 
 
 "Joan, if you do," said Cosmo, " I will not touch 
 it. Don't trouble your dear heart about it. God is 
 taking care of the woman as well as of us. I will 
 send it afterwards." 
 
 They sat silent — Cosmo thinking how he was to 
 escape from this poverty-stricken grandeur to his own 
 humble heaven — as poor, no doubt, but full of the 
 dignity lacking here. He knew the state of things 
 at home too well to imagine his father could send 
 him the sum necessary without borrowing it, and he 
 knew also how painful that would be to him who 
 had been so long a borrower ever struggling to 
 pay. 
 
 Joan's eyes were red with weeping when at length 
 she looked pitifully in his face. Like a child he put 
 both his arms about her, seeking to comfort her. 
 Sudden as a flash came a voice, calling her name in 
 loud, and as it seemed to Cosmo, angry tones. She 
 turned white as the marble on which they sat, and 
 cast a look of agonized terror on Cosmo. 
 
 " It is Constantine ! " said her lips, but hardly her 
 voice. 
 
 The blood rushed in full tide from Cosmo's heart, 
 as it had not for many a day, and coloured all his 
 thin face. He drew himself up, and rose with the 
 look of one ready for love's sake to meet danger joy- 
 ously. But Joan threw her arms round him now, 
 and held him. 
 
 " No, no ! " she said ; " — this way ! this way ! " 
 
428 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 and letting him go, darted into the pathless shrub- 
 bery, sure he would follow her. 
 
 Cosmo hated turning his back on any person oi 
 thing, but the danger here was to Joan, and he must 
 do as pleased her. He followed instantly. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE GARDEN-HOUSE. 
 
 She threaded and forced her way swiftly through 
 the thick-grown shrubs, regardless of thorns and 
 stripping twigs. It was a wilderness for many yards, 
 but suddenly the bushes parted, and Cosmo saw be- 
 fore him a neglected building, overgrown with ivy, 
 of which it would have been impossible to tell the 
 purpose, for it was the product of a time when 
 everything was made to look like something else. 
 The door of it, thick with accumulated green paint, 
 stood half open, as if the last who left it had failed 
 in a feeble endeavour to shut it. Like a hunted 
 creature Joan darted in, and up the creaking stair 
 before her. Cosmo followed, every step threatening 
 to give way under him. 
 
 The place was two degrees nearer ruin than his 
 room. Great green stains were on the walls ; plaster 
 was lying here and there in a heap ; the floors, rotted 
 everywhere with damp, were sinking in all directions. 
 Yet there had been no wanton destruction, for the 
 
 429 
 
43° WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 glass in the windows was little broken. Merest 
 neglect is all that is required to make of both man 
 and his works a heap ; for will is at the root of well- 
 being, and nature speedily resumes what the will of 
 man does not hold against her. 
 
 At the top of the stair, Joan turned into a room, 
 and keeping along the wall, went cautiously to the 
 windpw, and listened. 
 
 " I don't think he will venture here," she panted. 
 " The gardener tells me his lordship seems as much 
 afraid of the place as he and the rest of them. I 
 don't mind it much — in the daytime. — You are 
 never frightened, Cosmo ! " 
 
 As she spoke, she turned on him a face which, for 
 all the speed she had made, was yet pale as that of a 
 ghost. 
 
 " I don't pretend never to be frightened," said 
 Cosmo; "ail I can say is, I hope God will help me 
 not to turn my back on anything, however frightened 
 I may be." 
 
 But the room he was in seemed to him the most 
 fearful place he had ever beheld. His memory of 
 the spare room at home, with all its age and worn 
 stateliness and evil report, showed mere innocence 
 beside this small common-looking, square room. If 
 a room dead and buried for years, then dug up again, 
 be imaginable, that is what this was like. It was 
 furnished like a little drawing-room, and many of the 
 niceties of work and ornament that are only to be 
 seen in a lady's room, were yet recognizable here 
 and there, for everything in it was plainly as it had 
 been left by the person who last occupied it. But 
 
THE GARDEN-HOUSE. 43 I 
 
 the aspect of the whole was indescribably awful. 
 The rottenness and dust and displacement by mere 
 decay, looked enough to scare even the ghosts, if 
 they had any scare left in them. No doubt the rats 
 had at one time their share in the destruction, but it 
 was long since they had forsaken the house. There 
 was no disorder. The only thing that looked as if 
 the room had been abandoned in haste, was the door 
 of a closet standing wide open. The house had a 
 worse repute than ghost could give it — worse than 
 Joan knew, for no one had ever told her what must 
 add to her father's discredit. 
 
 Something in a corner of the closet just mentioned, 
 caught Cosmo's eye, and he had taken one step 
 towards it, when a sharp moan from the lips of his 
 companion arrested him. He turned, saw her face 
 agonized with fresh fear, and was rushing to the 
 window, when she ran at him, pushed him back, and 
 Stood shaking. He thought she would have fallen, 
 and supported her. They stood listening speechless, 
 with faces like two moons in the daytime. Presently 
 Cosmo heard the rustling of twigs, and the sounds of 
 back-swinging branches. These noises came nearer 
 and nearer. Joan gazed with expanding eyes of ter- 
 ror in Cosmo's face, as if anywhere else she must see 
 what would kill her. 
 
 " Joan ! " cried the same voice Cosmo had heard 
 in the garden. She shook, and held so to Cosmo-'s 
 arm that she left as sure marks of her fingers there 
 as ever did ghost. The sympathy of her fear m- 
 vaded him. He would have darted to meet the 
 enemy, but she would not let him go. The .shucae. 
 
432 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 of a new resolve passed through her, and she began 
 to pull him towards the closet. Involuntarily for a 
 moment he resisted, for he feared the worse risk to 
 her ; but her action and look were imperative, and he 
 yielded. 
 
 They entered the closet and he pulled the door to 
 close it upon them. It resisted ; he pulled harder ; 
 a rusted hinge gave way, and the door dropped upon 
 its front corner, so that he had partly to lift it to get 
 it to. Just as he succeeded, Joan's name on the 
 voice of her fear echoed awfully through the mouldy 
 silences of the house. In the darkness of the closet, 
 where there was just room for two to stand, she clung 
 like a child to Cosmo, trembling in his arms like one 
 in a fit of the ague. It is mournful to think what a 
 fear many men are to the women of their house. The 
 woman-fear in the world is one of its most pitiful out- 
 cries aiter a saviour. 
 
 Hesitating steps were heard below. They went 
 from one to another of the rooms, then began to as- 
 cend the stair. 
 
 "Now, Joan," said Cosmo, holding her to him, 
 " whatever you do, keep quiet. Don't utter a sound. 
 Please God, I will take care of you." 
 
 She pressed his shoulder, but did not speak. 
 
 The steps entered the room. Both Cosmo and 
 Wn seemed to feel the eyes that looked all about it. 
 ZTven tne bteps came towards the closet. Now was 
 the decisive moment ! Cosmo was on the point of 
 bursting out, with the cry of a wild animal, when 
 something checked him, and suddenly he made up 
 his mind to keep still to the very last. He put a 
 
THE GARDEN-HOUSE. 433 
 
 hand on the lock, and pressed the door down against 
 the floor. In the faint light that came through the 
 crack at the top of it, he could see the dark terror of 
 Joan's eyes fixed on his face. A hand laid hold of 
 the lock, and pulled, and pulled, but in vain. Prob- 
 ably then Mergwain saw that the door was fallen 
 from its hin^e. He turned the key, and the door 
 had not altered its position too far for his locking 
 them in. Then they heard him go down the stair, 
 and leave the house. 
 
 " He's not gone far ! " said Cosmo. " He ,^ill 
 have this closet open presently. You heard Uim 
 lock it ! We must get out of it at once ! Pleas^, let 
 me go, Joan, dear ! I must get the door open." 
 
 She drew back from him as far as the space would 
 allow. He put his shoulder to the door, and sent i* 
 into the middle of the room with a great crash, then 
 ran and lifted it. 
 
 " Come, Joan ! Quick ! " he cried. " Help me 
 to set it up again." 
 
 The moment something was to be done, Joan's 
 heart returned to her. In an instant they had the 
 door jammed into its place, with the bolt in the catch 
 as Mergwain had left it. 
 
 " Now," said Cosmo, " we must get down the stair, 
 and hide somewhere below, till he passes, and comes 
 up here again." 
 
 They ran to the kitchen, and made for a small cel- 
 lar opening off it. Hardly were they in it when they 
 heard him re-enter and go up the stair. The mo- 
 ment he was safely beyond them, they crept cut, and 
 keeping close to the wall of the house, went Tviina to 
 
434 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK.' 
 
 the back of it, and through the thicket to a footpath 
 near, which led to the highway. It was a severe 
 trial to Cosmo's strength, now that the excitement of 
 adventure had relaxed, and left him the weaker. 
 Again and again Joan had to urge him on, but as 
 soon as she judged it safe, she made him sit, and sup- 
 ported him. 
 
 " I believe,'' she said, " that wretched man of his 
 has put him up to it. Constantine has found out 
 something. I would not for the world he should 
 learn all ! You don't know — you are far too good to 
 know what he would think — yes, and tell me to my 
 face ! It was not an easy life with my father, Cosmo, 
 but I would rather be with him now, wherever 
 he is, than go on living in that house with my 
 brother." 
 
 " What had we better do ? " said Cosmo, trying to 
 hide his exhaustion. 
 
 " I am going to take you to the Jermyns'. They 
 are the only friends I have. Julia will be kind to you 
 for my sake. I will tell them all about it. Young 
 Dr. Jermyn knows already." 
 
 Alas, it was like being let down out of paradise 
 into purgatory ! But when we cannot stay longer in 
 paradise, we must, like our first parents, make the 
 best of our purgatory. 
 
 "You will be able to come and see me, will you 
 jOt. T<^an," he said sadly. 
 
 ■ Yes, indeed ! " she answered. " It will be easier 
 in some ways than before. At home I never could 
 get rid of the dread of being found out. As soon as 
 I get you safe in, I must hurry home. Oh, dear ! how 
 
THE GARDEN-HOUSE. 435 
 
 shall I keep clear of stories ! Only, when you are 
 safe, I shall not care so much." 
 
 In truth, although she had seemed to fear all for 
 herself, her great dread had been to hear Cosmo 
 abused. 
 
 " What you must have gone through for me ! " said 
 Cosmo. " It makes me ache to think of it! " 
 
 " It will be only pleasant to look back upon, 
 Cosmo," returned Joan with a sad smile. " But oh 
 for such days again as we used to have on the frozen 
 hills! There are the hills again every winter, but 
 will the old days ever come again, Cosmo ? " 
 
 " The old days never come again," answered 
 Cosmo. " But do you know why, Joan ? " 
 
 " No," murmured Joan, very sadly. 
 
 " Because they would be getting in the way of the 
 new better days, whose turn it is," replied Cosmo. 
 " You tell God, Joan, all about it ; he will give us 
 better days than those. To some, no doubt, it seems 
 absurd that there should be a great hearing Life in 
 the world ; but it is what you and I need so much 
 that we don't see how, by any possibility, to get on 
 without it ! It cannot well look absurd to us ! And 
 if you should ever find you ca.n/ioi pray any more, tell 
 me, and I will try to help you. I don't think that 
 time will ever come to me. I can't tell — but always 
 hitherto, when I have seemed to be at the last gasp, 
 things have taken a turn, and it has grown possible 
 to go on again." 
 
 " Ah, you are younger than me, Cosmo ! " said 
 Joan, more sadly than ever. 
 
 Cosmo laughed. 
 
436 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Don't you show me any airs on that ground," he 
 said. " Leave that to Agnes. She is two years 
 older than I, and used always to say when we were 
 children, that she was old enough to be my mother." 
 
 " But I am more than two years older than you, 
 Cosmo," said Joan. 
 
 "How much, then — exactly ? "asked Cosmo. 
 
 "Three years and a whole month," she answered. 
 
 " Then you must be old enough to be my grand- 
 mother ! But I don't mean to be sat upon for that. 
 Agnes gave me enough of that kind of thing ! " 
 
 Whether Joan began to feel a little jealous of 
 Agnes, or only more interested in her, it would be 
 hard to say, but Cosmo had now to answer a good 
 many questions concerning her ; and when Joan 
 learned what a capable girl Agnes was, understand- 
 ing Euclid and algebra, as Mr. Simon said, better 
 than any boy, Cosmo himself included, he had ever 
 had to teach, the earl's daughter did feel a little pain 
 at the heart because of the cotter's. 
 
 They reached at last the village and the doctor's 
 house, where, to Joan's relief, the first person they 
 met was Charles, to whom at once she told the main 
 part of their adventure that day. He proposed just 
 what Joan wished, and was by no means sorry at the 
 turn things had taken — putting so much more of 
 the game, as he called it, into his hands. 
 
 Things were speedily arranged, all that was neces- 
 sary told his father and sister, and Joan invited to 
 stay to lunch, which was just ready. This she thought 
 it better to do, especially as Jermyn and his sister 
 would then w^lk home with her. What the doctor 
 
THE GARDEN-HOUSE. 437 
 
 would say if he saw Mergwain, she did not venture 
 to ask : she knew he would tell any number of sto- 
 ries to get lier out of a scrape, while Cosmo would 
 only do or endure anything, from thrashing her brother 
 to being thrashed himself. 
 
 A comfortable room was speedily prepared for 
 Cosmo, and Jermyn made him go to bed at once. 
 Nor did he allow him to see Joan again, for he told 
 her he was asleep, and she had better not disturb 
 him — which was not true — but might have been, 
 for all the doctor knew as he had not been to see., 
 
 Joan did not fall in with her brother for a week, 
 and when she saw him he did not allude to the affair. 
 What was in his mind she did not know for months. 
 Always, however, he was ready to believe that the 
 mantle of the wickedness of his fathers, which he 
 had so righteously refused to put on, had fallen upon 
 his sister instead. Only he had no proof. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 CATCH YOUR HORSE. 
 
 When Cosmo was left alone in his room, with or- 
 ders from the doctor to put himself to bed, he sank 
 wearily on a chair that stood with its back to the 
 light ; then first his eye fell upon the stick he carried. 
 Joan had brought him his stick when he was ready to 
 go into the garden, but this was not that stick. He 
 must have caught it up somewhere instead of his own ! 
 Where could it have been ? He had no recollection 
 either of laying down his own, or of thinking he took 
 it again. After a time he recalled this much, that, in 
 the horrible room they had last left, at the moment 
 when Joan cried out because of the sound of her 
 brother's approach, he was walking to the closet to 
 look at something in it that had attracted his atten- 
 tion — seeming in the dusk, from its dull shine, the 
 hilt of a sword. The handle of the walking stick 
 he now held must be that very thing ! But he could 
 not tell whether he had caught it up with any idea 
 of defence, or simply in the dark his hand had come 
 
 438 
 
CATCH YOUR HORSE. 439 
 
 into contact with it and instinctively closed upon it, 
 he could not even conjecture. But why should he 
 have troubled his head so about a stick ? Because 
 this was a notably peculiar one : the handle of that 
 stick was in form a repetition of the golden horse 
 that had carried him to the university ! Their com- 
 mon shape was so peculiar, that not only was there 
 no mistaking it, but no one who saw the two could 
 have avoided the conviction that they had a common 
 origin, and if any significance, then a common one. 
 There was an important difference however : even if 
 in substance this were the same as the other, it 
 could yet be of small value : the stick thus capped 
 was a bamboo, rather thick, but handle and all, very 
 light. 
 
 Proceeding to examine it, Cosmo found that every 
 joint was double-mounted and could be unscrewed. 
 Of joints there were three, each forming a small box. 
 In the top one were a few grains of snuff, in the mid- 
 dle one a little of something that looked like gold 
 dust, and the third smelt of opium. The top of the 
 cane had a cap of silver, with a screw that went into 
 the lower part of the horse, which thus made a sort 
 of crutch-handle to the stick. He had screwed off, and 
 was proceeding to replace this handle, when his eye 
 was arrested, his heart seemed to stand still, and the 
 old captain's foolish rime came rushing into his head. 
 He started from his chair, took the thing to the win- 
 dow, and there stood regarding it fixedly. Beyond a 
 doubt this was his great grand-uncle's, the auld cap- 
 tain's, stick, the only thing missed when his body 
 was found ! but whence such an assured conviction ? 
 
440 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 and why di4 the old captain's rime, whose appUcation 
 to the goldi'ft^ horse his father and he had rejected, 
 return fat • sight of this one, so much its inferior? 
 In a word, whence the eagerness of curiosity that 
 now possessed Cosmo ? 
 
 In turning the handle upside down, he saw that 
 from one of the horse's delicately finished shoes, a 
 nail was missing, and its hole left empty. It was a 
 hind shoe too ! 
 
 " Caitch yer naig, an' pu' his tail ; 
 In his hin' heel caw a nail I 
 
 I do believe," he said to himself, "this is the horse 
 that was in the old villain's head every time he uttered 
 the absurd rime ! " 
 
 There must then be in the cane a secret, through 
 which possibly the old man had overreached himself ! 
 Had that secret, whatever it was, been discovered, or 
 did it remain for him now to discover ? 
 
 A passion of curiosity seized him, but something 
 held him back. What was it ? The stick was not 
 his property ; any discovery concerning or by means 
 of it, ought to be made with the consent and in the 
 presence of the owner of it — her to whom tht old 
 lord had left his personal property ! 
 
 And now Cosmo had to go througk an experience 
 as strange as it was new, for, in general of a quietly 
 expectant disposition, he had now such a burning de- 
 sire to conquer the secret of the stick, as appeared to 
 him to savour oi possession. It was so unlike himself, 
 that he was both angry and ashamed. He set it 
 
CATCH YOUR HORSE. 44 1 
 
 aside and went to bed. But the haunting eagerness 
 would not let him rest ; it kept him tossing from side 
 to side, and was mingled with strangest fears lest the 
 stick should vanish as mysteriously as it had come 
 — lest when he wojce he should find it had been car- 
 ried away. He got out of bed, unscrewed the horse, 
 and placed it under his pillow. But there it tor- 
 mented him like an aching spot. It went on draw- 
 ing him, tempting him, mocking him. He could not 
 keep his hands from it. A hundred times he re- 
 solved he would not touch it again, and of course 
 kept his resolution so long as he thought of it ; but the 
 moment he for.got it, which he did repeatedly in won- 
 dering why Joan did not come, the horse would be in 
 his hand. Every time he woke from a moment's 
 sleep, he found it in his hand. 
 
 On his return from accompanying Lady Joan, Jer- 
 myn came to him, found him feverish, and prescribed 
 for him. Disappointed that Joan was gone without 
 seeing him, his curiosity so entirely left him that he 
 could not recall what it was like, and never imagined 
 its possible return. Nor did it reappear so long as 
 he was awake, but all through his dreams the old 
 captain kept reminding him that the stick was his 
 own. " Do it; do it ; don't put off," he kept saying; 
 but as often as Cosmo asked him what, he could 
 never hear his reply, and would wake yet again with 
 the horse in his hand. In the morning he screwed 
 it on the stick again, and set it by his bed-side 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 PULL HIS TAIL. 
 
 About noon, when both the doctors happened to 
 be out, Joan came to see him, and was more Uke her 
 former self than she had been for many days. 
 Hardly was she seated when he took the stick, and 
 said, 
 
 " Did you ever see that before, Joan ? " 
 
 " Do you remember showing me a horse just like 
 that one, only larger ? " she returned. " It was in 
 the drawing-room." 
 
 " Quite well," he answered. 
 
 " It made me think of this," she continued, " which 
 I had often seen in that same closet where I suppose 
 you found it yesterday." 
 
 Cosmo unscrewed the joints and showed her the 
 different boxes. 
 
 "There's nothing in them," he said; "but I sus- 
 pect there is something about this stick more than 
 we can tell. Do you remember the silly Scotch rime 
 I repeated the other day, when you to-ld me I had 
 been talking poetry in my sleep ? " 
 442 
 
PULL HIS TAIL. 443, 
 
 " Yes, very well," she answered. 
 
 " Those are words an uncle of my father, whom 
 you may have heard of as the old captain, used to re- 
 peat very often." — At this Joan's face turned pale, 
 but her back was to the ght, and he did not see it. 
 — "I will say them presently in English, that you 
 may know what sense there may be in the foolish- 
 ness of them. Now I must tell you that I am all but 
 certain this stick once belonged to that same great 
 uncle of mine — how it came i. .to your father's pos- 
 session I cannot say — and last night, as I was look- 
 ing at it, I saw something that made me nearly sure 
 this is the horse, insignificant as it looks, that was in 
 my uncle's head when he repeated the rirn^. But I 
 would do nothing without you." 
 
 " How kind of you, Cosmo ! " 
 
 " Not kind ; I had no right ; the stick is yours." 
 
 " How can that be, if it belonged to youf great 
 uncle ? " said Joan, casting down her eyes. 
 
 " Because it was more than fifty years in your 
 father's possession, and he left it to you. Besides, I 
 cannot be absolutely certain it is the same." 
 
 " Then I give it to you, Cosmo." 
 
 " I will not accept it, Joan — at least before you 
 know what it is you want to give me. — And now for 
 this foolish rime — in English ! 
 
 " Catch your horse and pull his tail ; 
 In his hind heel drive a nail ; 
 Pull his ears from one another : 
 Stand up and call the king your brother I 
 
 What's to come of it. I know no more than you do, 
 
444 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 t 
 
 Joan," continued Cosmo ; " but if you will allow me, 
 I will do with this horse what the rime says, and if 
 they belong to each other, we shall soon see." 
 
 " Do whatever you please, Cosmo," returned Joan, 
 with a tremble in her voice. 
 
 Cosmo began to screw off the top of the stick. 
 Joan left her chair, drew nearer to the bed, and pres- 
 ently sat down on the edge of it, gazing with great 
 wide eyes. She was more moved than Cosmo ; there 
 was a shadow of horror in her look ; she dreaded 
 some frightful revelation. Her father's habit of mut- 
 tering his thoughts aloud, had given her many things 
 to hear, although not many to understand. When 
 the horse yfas free in Cosmo's hand, he set the stick 
 aside, looked up, and said, 
 
 " The first direction the rime gives, is to pull his- 
 tail." 
 
 With that he pulled the horse's tail — of silver, 
 apparently, like the rest of him — pulled it hard ; but 
 it seemed of a piece with his body, and there was no 
 visible result. The first shadow of approaching dis- 
 appointment came creeping over him, but he looked 
 up at Joan, and smiled as he said, 
 
 " He doesn't seem to mind that ! We'll try the 
 next thing — which is, to drive a nail in his hind heel. 
 — Now look here, Joan ! Here, in one of his hind 
 shoes, is a hole that looks as if one of the nails had 
 come out ! That is what struck me, and brought the 
 rime into my head ! But how drive a nail into such 
 a hole as that ? " 
 
 " Perhaps a tack would go in," said Joan, rising, 
 " I shall pull one out of the carpet." 
 
PULL HIS TAIL. 
 
 445 
 
 " A tack would be much too large, I think,'' said 
 !osmo. " Perhaps a brad out of the gimp of that 
 hair would do. — Or, stay, I know ! Have you got 
 
 hair-pin you could give me ? " 
 
 Joan sat down again on the bed, took off her bon- 
 et, and searching in her thick hair soon found one. 
 losmo took it eagerly, and applied it to the hole in 
 le shoe. Nothing the least larger would have gone 
 1. He pushed it gently, then a little harder — felt 
 s if something yielded a little, returning his pressure, 
 nd pushed a little harder still. Something gave way, 
 nd a low noise followed, as of a watch nmning down, 
 'he two faces looked at each other, one red, and one 
 ale. The sound ceased. They waited a little, in 
 Imost breathless silence. Nothing followed. 
 
 " Now," said Cosmo, " for the last thing ! " 
 
 " Not quite the last," returned Joan, with what 
 as nearly an hysterical laugh, trying to shake off- 
 le fear that grew upon her ; " the last thing is to 
 :and up and call the king your brother." 
 
 " That much, as non-essential, I daresay we shall 
 mit," replied Cosmo. — " The next then is, to pull his 
 ars from each other." 
 
 He took hol'd of one of the tiny ears betwixt the 
 nger and thumb of each hand, and pulled. The 
 Ddy of the horse came asunder, divided down the 
 ick, and showed inside of it a piece of paper. Cosmo 
 lok it out. It was crushed, rather than folded, 
 )und something soft. ^ He handed it to Joan. 
 
 " It is. your turn now, Joan," he said; "you open 
 , I have done my part." 
 
 Cosmo's eyes were now fixed on the movements of 
 
446 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Joan's fingers undoing the little parcel, as hers had 
 been on his while he was finding it. Within the 
 paper was a piece of cotton wool. Joan dropped the 
 paper, and unfolded the wool. Bedded in the middle 
 of that were two rings. The eyes of Cosmo fixed 
 themselves on one of them — the eyes of Joan upon 
 the other. In the one Cosmo recognized a large 
 diamond ; in the other Joan saw a da'rk stone en- 
 graved with the Mergwain arms. 
 
 " This is a very valuable diamond," said Cosmo, 
 looking closely at it. 
 
 " Then that shall be your share, Cosmo," returned 
 Joan. " I will keep this if you don't mind.'' 
 
 " What have you got ? " asked Cosmo. 
 
 " My father's signet-ring, I believe," she answered. 
 "I have often heard him — bemoan the loss of 
 it." 
 
 Lord Mergwain's ring in the old captain's stick! 
 Things began to put themselves together in Cosmo's 
 mind. He lay thinking. 
 
 The old captain had won these rings from the 
 young lord and put them for safety in the horse ; 
 Borland suspected, probably charged him with false 
 play ; they fought, and his lordship carried away the 
 stick to recover his own ; but had failed to find the 
 rings, taking the boxes in the bamboo for all there 
 was of stowage in it. 
 
 It was by degrees, however, that this theory formed 
 itself in his mind ; now he saw only a glimmer of it 
 here and there. 
 
 In the meantime he was not a little disappointed. 
 Was this all the great mystery of the berimed horse ? 
 
PULL HIS TAIL. 447 
 
 It was as if a supposed opal had burst, and proved but 
 a soap-bubble ! 
 
 Joan sat silent, looking at the signet-ring, and the 
 tears came slowly in her eyes. 
 
 " I may keep this ring, may I not, Cosmo ? " she 
 said. ^ 
 
 " My dear Joan ! " exclaimed Cosmo, " the ring is 
 not mine to give anybody, but if you will give me the 
 stick, I shall be greatly obliged to you." 
 
 "I will give it you on one condition, Cosmo," an- 
 swered Joan, " — that you take the ring as well. I 
 do not care about rings." 
 
 "I do," answered Cosmo; "but sooner than take 
 this from you, Joan, I would part with the hope of 
 ^ver seeing you again. Why, dear Joan, you don't 
 know what this diamond is worth! — and you have no 
 money ! " 
 
 "Neither have you," retorted Joan. " — What is 
 the thing worth?" 
 
 " I do not like to say lest I should be wrong. If I 
 :ould weigh it, I should be better able to tell you. 
 But its worth must anyhow be, I think — somewhere 
 :owards two hundred pounds." 
 
 "Then take it, Cosmo. Or if you won't have it, 
 jive it to your father, with my dear love." 
 
 " My father would say to me — ' How could you 
 jring it, Cosmo!' But I will not forget to give 
 lim the message. That he will be delighted to 
 lave." 
 
 " But, Cosmo ! it is of no use to me. How could I 
 ret the money you speak of for it ? If I were to 
 nake an attempt of the kind, my brother would be 
 
448 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 sure to hear of it. It would be better to give it him 
 at once." 
 
 "That difficulty is easily got over," answered 
 Cosmo. " When I go, I will take it with me ; I know 
 where to get a fair price for it — not always easy for 
 anything ; I will send you the money, and you will be 
 quite rich for a little while." 
 
 "My brother opens all my letters," replied Joan. 
 " I don't think he cares to read them, but he sees who 
 they are from." 
 
 " Do you have many letters, Joan ? " 
 
 " Not many. Perhaps about one a month, or so." 
 
 "I could send it to Dr. Jermyn." 
 
 Joan hesitated a moment, but did not object. The 
 next instant they heard the doctor's step at the door, 
 and his hand on the lock. Joan rose hastily, caught 
 up her bonnet, and sat down a little way off. Cosmo 
 drew the ring and the pieces of the horse under the 
 bed-clothes. , 
 
 Jermyn cast a keen glance on the two as he entered, 
 took for confusion the remains of excitement, and 
 said to himself he must make haste. He felt Cosmo's 
 pulse, and pronounced him feverish, then, turning to 
 Joan, said he must not talk, for he had not got over 
 yesterday ; it might be awkward if he had a relapse. 
 Joan rose at once, and took her leave, saying she 
 would come and see him the next morning. Jermyn 
 went down with her, and sent Cosmo a draught. 
 
 When he had taken it, he felt inclined to sleep, and 
 turned himself from the light. But the stick, which 
 was leaning against the head of the bed, slipped, and 
 fell on a oart of the floor where there was no caroet: 
 
PULL HIS TAIL. 
 
 449 
 
 the noise startled and roused him, and the thought 
 came that he had better first of all secure the ring — 
 for which purpose undoubtedly there could be no 
 better place than the horse! There, however, the 
 piece of cotton wool would again be necessary, for 
 without it the ring would rattle. He put the ring in 
 the heart of it, replaced both in the horse,. and set 
 about discovering how to close it again. 
 
 This puzzled him not a little. Spring nor notch, 
 nor any other means" of attachment between the two 
 halves of the animal, could he find. But at length he 
 noted that the tail had slipped a little way out, and 
 was loose ; and experimenting with it, by and by dis- 
 covered that by holding the parts together, and wind- 
 ing the tail round and round, the horse — how, he 
 could'not tell — was restored to its former apparent 
 solidity. 
 
 And now where would the horse be safest ? Clearly 
 in its own place on the stick. He got out of bed 
 therefore to pick the stick up, and in so doing saw on 
 the carpet the piece of paper which had been round 
 the cotton. This he picked up also, and getting again 
 into bed, had begun to replace the handle of the 
 bamboo, when his eyes fell again on the piece of 
 paper, and he caught sight of crossing lines on it, 
 which looked like part of a diagram of some sort. 
 He smoothed it out, and saw indeed a drawing, but 
 one quite unintelligible to him. It must be a sketch 
 or lineation of something — but of what? or of what 
 kind of thing ? It might be of the fields constituting 
 a property; it might, be of the stones in a wall; it 
 might be of an irregular mosaic ; or perhaps it might 
 
45° WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 be only a school-boy's exercise in trigonometry for 
 land-measuring. It must mean something; but it 
 could hardly mean anything of consequence to any- 
 body! Still it had been the old captain's probably — 
 or perhaps the old lord's : he would replace it also 
 where he had found it. Once more he unscrewed the 
 horse from the stick, opened it with Joan's hair-pin, 
 placed the paper in it, closed all up again, and .lay 
 down, glad that Joan had got such a ring, but think- 
 ing the old captain- had made a good deal of fuss 
 about a small matter. He fell fast asleep, slept 
 soundly, and woke much better. 
 
 In the evening came the doctor, and spent the 
 whole of it with him, interesting and pleasing him 
 more than ever, and displaying one after another 
 traits of character which Cosmo, more than pre- 
 judiced in his favour already, took for additional 
 proofs of an altogether exceptional greatness of char- 
 acter and aim. Nor am I capable of determining 
 how much or how little Jermyn may have deceived 
 himself in regard of the same. 
 
 Now that Joan had this ring, and his personal 
 attachment to the doctor had so greatly increased, 
 Cosmo found himself able to revert to the offer 
 Jermyn once made of lending him a little money, 
 which he had then declined. He would take the 
 ring to Mr. Burns on his way home, and then ask 
 Joan to repay Dr. Jermyn out of what he sent her for 
 it. He told Jermyn therefore, as he sat by his bed- 
 side, that he found himself obliged after all to accept 
 the said generous proposal, but would return the 
 money before he got quite home. 
 
PULL HIS TAIL. 451 
 
 The doctor smiled, with reasons for satisfaction 
 more than Cosmo knew, and taking out his pocket- 
 book, said, as he opened it, 
 
 " I have just cashed a cheque, fortunately, so you 
 had better have the money at once. — Don't bother 
 yourself about it," he added, as he handed Rim the 
 notes ; " there is no hurry. I know it is safe." 
 
 " This is too much," said Cosmo. 
 
 " Never mind ; it is better to have too much than 
 too little ; it will be just as easy to repay." 
 
 Cosmo thanked him, and put the money under his 
 pillow. The doctor bade him good night, and left 
 him. 
 
 The moment he was alone, a longing greater than 
 he had ever yet felt, arose in his heart to see his 
 father. The first hour he was able to travel, be 
 would set out for home ! His camera obscura haunted 
 with flashing water and speedwells and daisies and 
 horse-gowans, he fell fast asleep, and dreamed that 
 his father and he were defending the castle from a 
 great company of pirates, with the old captain at the 
 head of them. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE THICK DARKNESS. 
 
 The next day he was still better, and could not 
 think why the doctor would not let him get up. As 
 the day went on, he wondered yet more why Joan 
 did not come to see him. Not once did the thought 
 cross him that it was the doctor's doing. If it had, 
 he would but have taken it for a precaution — as in- 
 deed it was, for the doctor's sake, not his. Jermyn 
 would have as little intercourse between them as 
 might be, till he should have sprung his spiritual 
 mine. But he did all he could to prevent him from 
 missing her, and the same night opened all his heart 
 to Cosmo — that is, all the show-part of it. 
 
 In terms extravagant, which he seemed to use be- 
 cause he could not repress them, he told his frozen 
 listener that his whole nature, heart and soul, had been 
 for years bound up in Lady Joan ; that he had again 
 and again been tempted to deliver himself by death 
 from despair ; that if he had to live without her, he 
 would be of no use in the world, but would cease to 
 4S2 
 
THE NEXT DAY HE WAS STILL BETTER. 
 
 4'i- 
 
THE THICK DARKNESS. 455 
 
 care for anything. He begged therefore his friend 
 Cosmo Warlocl<, seeing he stood so well with the 
 lady, to speak what he honestly could in his behalf ; 
 for if she would not favour him, he could no longer 
 endure life. His had never been overfull, for he had 
 had a hard youth, in which he had often been driven 
 to doubt whether there was indeed a God that cared 
 how his creatures went on. He must not say all 
 he felt, but life, he repeated, would be no longer 
 worth leading without at least some show of favour 
 from Lady Joan. 
 
 At any former time, such words would have been 
 sufficient to displace Jermyn from the pedestal on 
 which Cosmo had set him. What ! if all the ladies 
 in the world should forsake him, was not God yet the 
 all in all ? But now as he lay shivering, the words 
 entering his ears seemed to issue from his soul. He 
 listened like one whom the first sting has paralyzed, 
 but who feels the more every succeeding invasion of 
 death. It was a silent, yet a mortal struggle. He 
 held down his heart like a wild beast, which, if he let 
 it up for one moment, would fly at his throat and 
 strangle him. Nor could the practiced eye of the 
 doctor fail to perceive what was going on in him. 
 He only said to himself — " Better him than me ! He 
 is young and will get over it better than I should." 
 He read nobility and self-abnegation in every shadow 
 that crossed the youth's countenance, telling of the 
 hail mingled with fire that swept through his uni- 
 verse- and said to himself that all was on his side, 
 that he had not miscalculated a hair 's-breadth. He 
 saw at the same time Cosmo's heroic efforts to hide 
 
456 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 his sufferings, and left him to imagine himself suc- 
 cessful. But how Cosmo longed for his departure, 
 that he might in peace despair ! — for such seemed to 
 himself his desire for solitude. 
 
 What is it in suffering that makes man and beast 
 long for loneliness ? I think it is an unknown some- 
 thing, more than self, calling out of the solitude — 
 " Come to me ! — Come ! " How little of the tender- 
 ness our human souls need, and after which 
 consciously or unconsciously they hunger, do we give 
 or receive ! The cry of the hurt heart for solitude, 
 seems to me the call of the heart of God — changed 
 by the echo of the tiny hollows of the heart of his 
 creature — " Come out from among them : come to 
 me, and I will give you rest ! " He alone can give us 
 the repose of love, the peace after which our nature 
 yearns. 
 
 Hurt by the selfishness and greed of men, to es- 
 cape from which we must needs go out of the 
 world, worse hurt by our own indignation at their 
 wrong, and our lack of patience under it, we are his 
 creatures and his care still. The right he claims as 
 his affair, and he will see it done ; but the wrong is 
 by us a thousand times well suffered, if it but drive 
 us to him, that we may learn he is indeed our very 
 lover. 
 
 That was a terrible night for Cosmo — a night bil- 
 lowy with black fire. It reminded him afterwards 
 of nothing so much as that word of the Lord — the 
 power of darkness. It was not merely darkness with 
 no light in it, but darkness alive and operative. He- 
 had hardly dared suspect the nature, and only now 
 
THE THICK DARKNESS. 457 
 
 knew the force, and was about to prove the strength 
 of the love with which he loved Joan. Great things 
 may be foreseen, but they cannot be known until 
 they arrive. His illness had been ripening him to 
 this possibility of loss and suffering. His heart was 
 now in blossom : for that some hearts must break ; 
 
 — I may not say in full blossom, for what the full 
 blossom of the human heart is, the holiest saint with 
 the mightiest imagination cannot know — he can but 
 see it shine from afar. 
 
 It was a severe duty that was now required of him 
 
 — I do not mean the performance of the final request 
 the doctor had made — that Cosmo had forgotten, 
 neither could have attempted with honesty ; for the 
 emotion he could not but betray, would have pleaded 
 for himself, and not for his friend ; it was enough 
 that he must yield the lady of his dreams, become 
 the lady as well of his waking and hoping soul. 
 Perhaps she did not love Jermyn — he could not 
 tell ; but Jermyn was his friend and had trusted in 
 him, confessing that his soul was bound up in the 
 lady ; one of them must go to the torture chamber, 
 and when the 'question lay between him and another, 
 Cosmo knew for which it must be. He alone was in 
 Cosmo's hands ; his own self was all he held and 
 had power over, all he could offer, could yield. Mr. 
 Simon had taught him that, as a mother gives her 
 children money to give, so God gives his children 
 selves, with their wishes and choices, that they may 
 have the true offering to lay upon the true altar ; for 
 on that altar nothing else will burn than selves. 
 
 " Very hard ! A tyrannical theory ! " says my 
 
458 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 reader ? So will it forever appear to the man who has 
 neither the courage nor the sense of law to enable 
 him to obey. But that man shall be the eternal 
 slave who says to Duty I will not. Nor do I care to 
 tell such a man of the " thousand fold" — of the 
 truth concerning that altar, that it is indeed the nest 
 of God's heart, in which the poor, unsightly, un- 
 fledged offering shall lie, until they come to shape 
 and lovehness, and wings grow upon them to bear 
 them back to us divinely precious. Cosmo thought 
 none of all this now — it had vanished from his con- 
 sciousness, but was present in his life — that is, in 
 his action : he did not feel, he did it all — did it 
 even when nothing seemed worth doing. 
 
 How much greater a man than he was Jermyn ! 
 How much more worthy of the love of a woman like 
 Joan ! How good he had been to him ! What a 
 horrible thing it would be if Jermyn had saved his 
 life that he might destroy Jermyn's ! Perhaps Joan 
 might have come one day to love him ; but in the 
 meantime how miserable she was with her brother, 
 and when could he have delivered her ! while here 
 was one, and a far better than he, wKo could, the 
 moment she consented, take her to a house of her 
 own where she would be a free woman ! For him to 
 come in the way, would be to put his hand also to 
 the rack on which the life of Joan lay stretched ! 
 
 Again I say I do not mean that all this passed 
 consciously through the mind of Cosmo during that 
 fearful night. His suffering was too intense, and any 
 doubt concerning duty too far from him, to allow of 
 anything that could be called thought; but such were 
 
THE THICK DARKNESS. 
 
 459 
 
 the fundamental facts that lay below his unselfques 
 tioned resolve — such was the soil in which grew the 
 fruits, that is, the deeds, the outcome of his nature. 
 For himself, the darkness billowed and rolled about 
 him, and life was a frightful thing. 
 
 For where was God this awful time.' Nowhere 
 within the ken of the banished youth. In his own 
 feeling Cosmo was outside the city of life — not even 
 among the dogs — outside with bare nothingness — 
 cold negation. Alas for him who had so lately of 
 fered to help another to pray, thinking the hour 
 would never come to him when he could not pray ! 
 It had come ! He did not try to pray. The thought 
 of prayer did not wake in him ! Let no one say he 
 was punished for his overconfidence — for his pre- 
 sumption ! There was no presumption in the matter ; 
 there was only ignorance. He had not learned — 
 nor has any one learned more than in part — what 
 awful possibilities lie the existence we call we. He 
 had but spoken from what he knew — that hitherto 
 life for him had seemed inseparable from prayer to 
 his Father And was it separable ? Surely not. He 
 could not pray, true — but neither was he alive. To 
 live, one must chose to live. He was dead with a 
 death that was heavy upon him. There is a far 
 worse death — the death that is content and suffers 
 nothing ; but annihilation is not death — is nothing 
 like it. Cosmo's condition had no evil in it — only 
 a ghastly imperfection — an abyssmal lack — an ex- 
 haustion at the very roots of being. God seemed 
 away, as he could never be and be God. But every 
 commonest day of his life, he who would be a live 
 
460 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 child of the living has to fight with the God-denying 
 look of things, and believe that in spite of that look, 
 seeming ever to assert that God has nothing to do 
 with them, God has his own way — the best, the 
 only, the live way, of being in everything, and taking 
 his own pure, saving will in them; and now for a 
 season Cosmo had fallen in the fight, and God seemed 
 gone, and things rushed in upon him and over- 
 whelmed him. It was death. He did not yet know 
 it — but it was not the loss of Joan, but the seeming 
 loss of his God, that hollowed the last depth of his 
 misery. But that is of all things the surest to pass ; 
 for God changing not, his life must destroy every 
 false show of him. Cosmo was now one of those 
 holy children who are bound hand and foot in the 
 furnace, until the fire shall have consumed their 
 bonds that they may pace their prison. Stifled with 
 the smoke and the glow, he must yet for a time lie 
 helpless ; not yet could he lift up his voice and call 
 upon the ice and the cold, the frost and the snow 
 to bless the Lord, to praise and exalt him forever. 
 But God was not far from him. Feelings are not 
 scientific instruments for that which surrounds them ; 
 they but speak of themselves when they saj', " I am 
 cold ; I am dark." Perhaps the final perfection will 
 be when our faith is utterly and absolutely indepen- 
 dent of our feelings. I dare to imagine this the firal 
 victory of our Lord, when he followed the cry of 
 Why hast thou forsaken me 1 with the words, Father, 
 into thy hands I commend my spirit. 
 
 Shall we then bemoan any darkness.' Shall we 
 not rather gird up our strength to encounter it, that 
 
THE THICK DARKNESS. 46I 
 
 we too from our side may break the passage for the 
 light beyond ? He who fights with the dark shall 
 know the gentleness that makes man great — the 
 dawning countenance of the God of hope. But that 
 was not for Cosmo just yet. The night must fulfil 
 its hours. Men are meant and sent to be troubled — ■ 
 that they may rise above the whole region of storm, 
 above all possibility of being troubled. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE DAWN. 
 
 Strange to say, there was no return of his fever. 
 He seemed, through the utter carelessness of mental 
 agony, so to have abandoned his body, that he no 
 longer affected it. A man must have some hope, to 
 be aware of his body at all. As the darkness began 
 to yield he fell asleep. 
 
 Then came a curious dream. For ages Joan had 
 been persuading him to go with her, and the old cap- 
 tain to go with him — the latter angry and pulling 
 him, the former weeping and imploring. He would 
 go with neither, and at last they vanished both. He 
 sat solitary on the side of a bare hill, and below him 
 was all that remained of Castle Warlock. He had 
 been dead so many years, that it was now but a half- 
 shapeless ruin of roofless walls, haggard and hollow 
 and gray and desolate. It stood on its ridge like a 
 solitary tooth in the jaw of some skeleton beast. But 
 where was his father ? How was it he had not yet 
 found him, if he had been so long dead ? He musi 
 462 
 
THE DAWN. 463 
 
 rise and seek him ! He must be somewhere in the 
 universe ! Therewith came softly staling up, at first 
 hardly audible, a strain of music from the valley be- 
 low. He listened. It grew as it rose, and held him 
 bound. Like an upward river, it rose, and grew with 
 a strong rushing, until it flooded all his heart and 
 brain, working in him a marvellous good, which yet 
 he did not understand. And all the time, his eyes 
 were upon the dead home of his fathers. Wonder 
 of wonders, it began to change — to grow before his 
 eyes ! It was growing out of the earth like a plant ! 
 It grew and grew until it was as high as in the old 
 days, and then it grew yet higher ! A roof came 
 upon it, and turrets and battlements — all to the sound 
 of that creative music ; and like fresh shoots from 
 its stem, out from it went wings and walls. Like a 
 great flower it was rushing visibly on to some mighty 
 blossom of grandeur, when the dream suddenly left 
 him, and he woke. 
 
 But instead of the enemy coming in upon him like 
 a flood as his consciousness returned, to his astonish- 
 ment he found his soul as calm as it was sad. God 
 had given him while he slept, and he knew him near as 
 his own heart ! The first thought that came was, that 
 his God was Joan's God too, and therefore all was 
 well ; so long as God took care of her, and was with 
 him, and his will was done in them both, all was on 
 the way to be well so as nothing could be better. 
 And with that he knew what he had to do — knew it 
 without thinking — and proceeded at once to do it. 
 He rose, and dressed himself. 
 
 It was still the gray sunless morning. The dream, 
 
464 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 with its dream-ages of duration, had not crossed the 
 shallows of the (Jawn. Quickly he gathered his few 
 things into his knapsack — fortunately their number 
 had nowise increased — took his great-uncle's bam- 
 boo, saw that his money was safe, stole quietly down 
 the stair, and softly and safely out of the house, and, 
 ere any of its inhabitants were astir, had left the vil- 
 lage by the southward road. 
 
 When he had walked about a mile, he turned into 
 a road leading eastward, with the design of going a 
 few miles in that direction, and then turning to the 
 north. When he had travelled what to his weakness 
 was a long distance, all at once, with the dismay of a 
 perverse dream, rose above the trees the towers of 
 Cairncarque. Was he never to escape them, in the 
 body any more than in the spirit ? He turned back, 
 and again southwards. 
 
 But now he had often to sit down ; as often, how- 
 ever, he was able to get up and walk. Coming to a 
 village he learned that a coach for the north would 
 pass within an hour, and going to the inn had some 
 breakfast, and waited for it. Finding it would pass 
 through the village he had left, he took an inside 
 place ; and when it stopped for a moment in the one 
 street of it, saw Charles Jerir.yn cross it, evidently 
 without a suspicion that his guest was not where he 
 had left him. 
 
 When he had travelled some fifty miles, partly to 
 save his money, partly because he felt the need of ex- 
 ercise, not to stifle thought, but to clear it, he left the 
 coach, and betook himself to his feet. Alternately 
 walking and riding, he found his strength increase as 
 
THE DAWN. 465 
 
 he went on ; and his sorrow continued to be that of a 
 cloudy summer day, nor was ever, so long as the 
 journey lasted, again that of the fierce wintry tem- 
 pest. 
 
 At length he drew nigh the city where he had spent 
 his student years. On foot, weary, and dusty, and 
 worn, he entered it like a returning prodigal. Few 
 Scotchmen would think he had made good use of 
 his learning! But he had made the use of it God re- 
 quired, and some Scotchmen, with and without otJ.xjt 
 learning, have learned to think that a good use, and 
 in itself a sufficient success — for that man came into 
 the world not to make money, but to seek the king- 
 dom and righteousness of God. 
 
 He walked straight into Mr. Burns's shop. 
 
 The jeweller did not know him at first; but the 
 moment he spoke, recognized him. Cosmo had been 
 dubious what his reception might be — after the way 
 in which their intimacy had closed ; but Mr. Burns 
 held out his hand as if they had parted only the day 
 before, and said, 
 
 " I thought of the two you would be here before 
 Death! Man, you ought to give a body time." 
 
 "Mr. Burns," replied Cosmo, "I am very sorry I 
 behaved to you as I did. I am not sorry I said what 
 I did, for I am no less sure about that than I was 
 then ; but I am sorry I never came again to see you. 
 Perhaps we did not quite understand on either side." 
 
 "We shall understand each other better now, I 
 fancy," said Mr. Burns. "I am glad you have not 
 changed your opinion, for I I'ave changed mine. If 
 it weren't for you, I should be retired by this time, 
 
466 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 and you would have found another name over the 
 door. But we'll have a talk about all that. Allow 
 me to ask you whither you are bound." 
 
 "I am on my way home," answered Cosmo. "I 
 have not seen my father for several — for more than 
 two years." 
 
 " You'll do me the honour to put up at my house 
 to-night, will you not ? I am a bachelor, as you 
 know, but will do my best to make you comfortable.'' 
 
 Cosmo gladly assented ; and as it was now evening, 
 Mr. Burns hastened the shutting of his shop ; and in 
 a few minutes they were seated at supper. 
 
 As soon as the servant left them, they turned to 
 talk of divine righteousness in business ; and thence 
 to speak of the jeweller's ; after which Cosmo intro- 
 duced that of the ring. Giving a short narrative of 
 the finding of it, and explaining the position of Lady 
 Joan with regard to it, so that his host might have no 
 fear of compromising himself, he ended with telling 
 him he had brought it to him, and with what object. 
 
 "I am extremely obliged to you, Mr. Warlock," re- 
 sponded the jeweller, "for placing such confidence in 
 me, and that notwithstanding the mistaken principles 
 I used to advocate. I have seen a little farther since 
 then, I am happy to say ; and this is how it was : the 
 words you then spoke, and I took so ill, would keep 
 coming into my mind, and that at the most inconven- 
 ient moments, until at last I resolved to look the 
 thing in the face, and think it fairly out. The result 
 is, that, although I daresay nobody has recognized 
 any difference in my way of doing business, there is 
 one who must know a great difference : I now think 
 
THE DAWN. 467 
 
 of my neighbour's side of the bargain as well as of 
 my own, and abstain from doing what it would \'ex me 
 to find I had not been sharp enough to prevent him 
 from doing with me. In consequence, I am not so 
 rich this day as I might otherwise have been, but I 
 enjoy life more, and hope the days of my ignorance 
 God has winked at." 
 
 Cosmo could not reply for pleasure. Mr. Burns 
 saw his emotion, and understood it. From that hour 
 they were friends who loved each other. 
 
 " And now for the ring ! " said the jeweller. 
 
 Cosmo produced it. 
 
 Mr. Burns looked at it as if his keen eyes would 
 pierce to the very heart of its mystery, turned it every 
 way, examined it in every position relative to the 
 light, removed it from its setting, went through the 
 diamond catechism with it afresh, then weighed it, 
 thought over it, and said, 
 
 "What do you take the stone to be worth, Mr. 
 Warlock ? " 
 
 " I can only guess, of course," rephed Cosmo ; 
 "but the impression on my mind is, that it is worth 
 more nearly two hundred than a hundred and fifty 
 pounds." 
 
 "You are right," answered Mr. Burns, "and you 
 ought to have followed my trade ; I could make a 
 good jeweller of you. This ring is worth two hundred 
 guineas, fair market-value. But as I can ask from no 
 one more than it is absolutely worth, I must take my 
 profit off you : do you think that is fair ? " 
 
 " Perfectly," answered Cosmo. 
 
 " Then I must give you only two hundred pounds 
 
468 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 for it, and take the shillings myself. You see it may be 
 some time before I get my money again, so I think five 
 percent on the amount is not morethan the fair thing." 
 
 " It seems to me perfectly fair, and very moderate," 
 replied Cosmo. 
 
 As soon as dinner was over, he sat down to write 
 to Joan. While there was nothing that must be said, 
 he had feared writing. This was what he wrote : 
 
 " My dearest Joan, 
 
 " As you have trusted me hitherto, so trust me still, and wait 
 for an explanation of my peculiar behaviour in going away with- 
 out bidding you good-by, till the proper time comes — which 
 must come one day, for our master said, more than once, that 
 there was nothing covered which should not be revealed, neither 
 hid that should not be known. I feel sure therefore, of being 
 allowed to tell you everything sometime. 
 
 " I herewith send you a cheque as good as bank-notes, much 
 safer to send, and hardly more difficult for Dr Jermyn to turn 
 into sovereigns. 
 
 " I borrowed of him fifteen pounds — a good deal more than 
 I wanted. I have therefore got Mr. Burns, my friend, the jew- 
 eller, in this city, to add five pounds to the two hundred which 
 he gives for the ring, and beg you, Joan, for the sake of old 
 times, and new also, to pay for me the fifteen pounds to Dr. 
 Jermyn, which I would much rather owe to you than to him. 
 The rest of it, the other ten pounds, I will pay you when I can 
 — it may not be in this world. And in the next — what then, 
 Joan ? Why then — but for that we will wait — who more ear- 
 nestly than I f 
 
 " To all the coming eternity, dear Joan, I shall never cease to 
 love you —first for yourself, then for your great lovely goodness 
 to me. May the only perfection, whose only being is love, take 
 you to his heart — as he is always trying to do with all of us I 
 I mean to let him have me out and out. 
 
 " Dearest Joan, Your far-off cousin, but near friend, 
 
 " Cosmo Warlock." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 HOME AGAIN. 
 
 Early the next day, while the sun was yet casting 
 huge diagonal shadows across the wide street, Cosmo 
 climbed to the roof of the Defiance coach, his heart 
 swelling at the thought of being so soon in his fath- 
 er's arms. It was a lovely summer morning, cool 
 and dewy, fit for any Sunday — whence the eyes and 
 mind of Cosmo turned to the remnants of night that 
 banded the street, and from them he sank into meta- 
 physics, chequered with the champing clank of the 
 bits, the voices of the ostlers, passengers, and guard, 
 and the perpendicular silence of the coachman, who 
 sat like a statue in front of him. 
 
 How dark were the shadows the sun was casting ! 
 
 Absurd ! the sun casts no shadows — only light. 
 
 How so ? Were the sun not shining, would there 
 be one single shadow ? 
 
 Yes ; there would be just one single shadow ; all 
 would be shadow. 
 
 There would be none of those things we call 
 shadows. 
 
 469 
 
470 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 True ; all would be shade ; there would be no 
 shadows. 
 
 By such a little stair was Cosmo landed at a door 
 of deep question. For now evil took the place of 
 shadow in his solo disputation, and the law and the 
 light and the shadow and the sin went thinking 
 about with each other in his mind ; and he saw how 
 the Jews came to attribute evil to the hand of God 
 as well as good, and how St. Paul said that the law 
 gave life to sin — as by the sun is the shadow. He 
 saw too that in the spiritual world we need a live sun 
 strong enough to burn up all the shadows by shining 
 through the things that cast them, and compelling 
 their transparency — and that sun is the God who is 
 light, and in whom is no darkness at all — which 
 truth is the gospel according to St, John. And 
 where there is no longer anything covered or hid, 
 could sin live at all ? These and such like thoughts 
 held him long — till the noisy streets of the granite 
 city lay far behind. 
 
 Swiftly the road flew from under the sixteen flash- 
 ing shoes of the thorough-breds that bore him along. 
 The light and hope and strength of the new-born day 
 were stirring, mounting, swelling — even in the heart 
 of the sad lover ; in every honest heart more or less, 
 whether young or old, feeble or strong, the new sum- 
 mer day stirs, and will stir while the sun has heat 
 enough for men to live on the earth. Surely the 
 live God is not absent from the symbol of his gloiy ! 
 The light and the hope are not there without him ! 
 When strength wakes in my heart, shall I be the 
 slave to imagine it comes only as the sap rises in the 
 
HOME AGAIN. 47 I 
 
 Stem of the re-diving plant, or the mercury in the tube 
 of the thermometer ? that there is no essential life 
 within my conscious life, no spirit within my spirit ? 
 If my origin be not life, I am the poorest of slaves ! 
 
 Cosmo had changed since first he sat behind such 
 horses, on his way to the university ; it was the 
 change of growth, but he felt it like that of decay — 
 as if he had been young then and was old now. 
 Little could he yet imagine what age means ! De- 
 vout youth as he was, he little understood how much 
 more than he his father felt his dependence on, that 
 is his strength in God. Many years had yet to pass 
 ere he should feel the splendour of an existence 
 rooted in changeless Life ripening through the grow- 
 ing weakness of the body ! It is the strength of God 
 that informs every muscle and arture of the .youth, 
 but it is so much his own — looks so natural to him 
 — as it well may, being God's idea for him — that, 
 in the glory of its possession, he does not feel it as 
 the presence of the making God. But when weak- 
 ness begins to show itself, — a shadow-back-ground, 
 against which the strength is known and outlined — 
 when every movement begins to demand a distinct 
 effort of the will, and the earthly house presses, a 
 conscious weight, not upon its own parts only, biat 
 upon the spirit within, then indeed must a man have 
 God, believe in him with an entireness independent 
 of feeling, and going beyond all theory, or be de- 
 voured by despair. In the growing feebleness of old 
 age, a man may well come to accept life only because 
 it is the will of God ; but the weakness of such a 
 man is the matrix of a divine strength, whence a 
 
472 
 
 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK.. 
 
 gladness unspeakable shall ere long 'be born — the 
 life which it is God's intent to share with his chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Cosmo was on the way to know all this, but now 
 his trouble sat sometimes heavy upon him. Indeed 
 the young straight back, if it feels the weight less, 
 feels the irksomeness of the burden more than the 
 old bowed one. With strength goes the wild love of 
 movement, and the cross that prevents the free play 
 of a single muscle is felt grievous as the fetter that 
 chains a man to the oar. But this day — and what 
 man has to do with yesterday or to-morrow ? — the 
 sun shone as if he knew nothing, or as if he knew all, 
 and knew it to be well ; and Cosmo was going home, 
 and the love of his father was a deep gladness, even 
 in the presence of love's lack. Seldom is it so , but 
 between the true father, and true son it always will be 
 so. 
 
 When he came within a mile of Muir of Warlock, 
 he left the coach, and would walk the rest of the way. " 
 He desired to enjoy, in gentle, unruffled flow, the 
 thoughts that like swallows kept coming and going 
 between him and his nest as he approached it. 
 Everything, the commonest, that met him as he went, 
 had a strange beauty, as if, although he had known it 
 so long, now first was its innermost revealed by some 
 polarized light from source unseen. How small and 
 poor the cottages looked — but how home-like I and 
 how sweet the smoke of their chimneys ! How cold 
 they must be in winter — but how warm were the 
 hearts inside them ! There was Jean Elder's Sunday 
 linen spread like snow on her gooseberry bushes ; 
 
HOME AGAIN. 473 
 
 there was the shoemaker's cow eating her hardest, as 
 if she would devour the very turf that made a border 
 to the road — held from the corn on the other side of 
 the low fence by a strong chain in the hand of a child 
 of seven ; and there was the first dahlia of the season 
 in Jonathan Japp's garden ! As he entered the 
 village, the road, which was at once its street and the 
 queen's highway, was empty of life save for one half- 
 grown pig — "prospecting," a hen or two j)icking 
 about, and several cats that lay in the sun. " There 
 must be some redemption for the feline races," 
 thought Cosmo, "when the cats have learned so 
 much to love the sun ! — But, alas ! it is only his heat, 
 not his light they love ! " He looked neither on this 
 side nor that as he walked, for he was in no mood 
 for the delay of converse, but he wondered neverthe- 
 less that he saw nobody. It was the general dinner 
 hour, true, but .that would scarcely account for the 
 deserted look of the street ! Any passing stranger 
 was usually enough to bring people to their doors — 
 their windows not being of much use for looking out 
 of ! Sheltered behind rose-trees or geraniums or 
 hydrangeas, however, not a few of whom he saw 
 nothing were peering at him out of those windows as 
 he passed. 
 
 The villagers had learned from some one on the 
 coach that the young laird was coming. But, strange 
 to say, a feeling had got abroad amongst them to his 
 prejudice. They had looked to hear great things of 
 their favourite, but he had not made the success they 
 expected, and from their disappointment they imag- 
 ined his blame. It troubled them to think of the old 
 
474 ' WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 man, whom they all honoured, sending his son to col- 
 lege on the golden horse, whose history had ever 
 since been the cherished romance of the place, and 
 after all getting no good of him ! so when they saw 
 him coming along, dusty and shabby — not so well 
 dressed indeed as would have contented one of them- 
 selves on a Sunday, they drew back from their peep- 
 holes with a sigh, let him pass, and then looked 
 again. 
 
 Nothing of all this however did Cosmo suspect, but 
 held on his way unconscious of the regards that pur- 
 sued him as a prodigal returning the less satisfac- 
 torily that he had not been guilty enough to repent. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 
 
 Every step Cosmo took after leaving the village, 
 was like a revelation and a memory in one. When 
 he turned out of the main road, the hills came rush- 
 ing to meet and welcome him, yet it was only that 
 they stood there changeless, eternally the same, just 
 as they had been : that was the welcome with which 
 they met the heart that had always loved them. 
 
 When first he opened his eyes, they were as the 
 nursing arms the world spread out to take him ; and 
 now, returning from the far countries where they were 
 unknown, they spread them out afresh to receive him 
 home. The next turn was home itself, for that turn 
 was at the base of the ridge on which the castle stood. 
 
 The moment he took it, a strange feeling of still- 
 ness came over him, and as he drev/ nearer, it deep- 
 ened. When he entered the gate of the close, it was 
 a sense, and had grown almost appalling. With 
 sudden inroad his dream returned ! Was the place 
 empty utterly ? Was there no life in it ? Not yet 
 
 47 S 
 
476 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 had he heard a sound ; there was no sign from cow- 
 house or stable. A cart with one wheel stood in the 
 cart-shed ; a harrow lay, spikes upward, where he had 
 hollowed the mound of snow. The fields themselves 
 had an unwonted, a haggard sort of look. A crop of 
 oats was ripening in that nearest the close, but they 
 covered only the half of it : the rest was in potatoes, 
 and amongst them, sole show of labour or life, he saw 
 Aggie : she wa;s pulling the plums off their stems. 
 The doors were shut all round the close — all but the 
 kitchen-door; that stood as usual wide open. A 
 sickening fear came upon Cosmo : it was more than a 
 week since he had heard from home ! In that time 
 his father might be dead, and therefore the place be 
 so desolate ! He dared not enter the house. He 
 would go first into the garden, and there pray, and 
 gather courage. 
 
 He went round the kitchen-tower, as the nearest 
 block was called, and made for his old seat, the big, 
 smooth stone. Some one was sitting there, with his 
 head bent forward on his knees ! By the red night- 
 cap it must be his father, but how changed the whole 
 aspect of the good man! His look was that of a 
 worn-out labourer — one who has borne the burden 
 and heat of the day, and is already half asleep, wait- 
 ing for the night. Motionless as a statue of weari- 
 ness he sat ; on the ground lay a spade which looked 
 as if it had dropped from his hand as he sat upon the 
 stone ; and beside him on that lay his Marion's 
 Bible. Cosmo's heart sank within him, and for a 
 moment he stood motionless. 
 
 But the first movement he made forward, the old 
 
THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 477 
 
 man lifted his head with an expectant look, then rose 
 in haste, and, unable to straighten himself, hurried, 
 stooping, with short steps, to meet him. Placing his 
 hands on his son's shoulders, he raised himself up, 
 and laid his face to his ; then for a few moments they 
 were silent, each in the other's arms. 
 
 The laird drew back his head and looked his son 
 in the face. A heavenly smile crossed the sadness of 
 his countenance, and his wrinkled old hand closed 
 tremulous on Cosmo's shoulder. 
 
 " They canna tak f rae me my son ! " he murmured — 
 and from that time rarely spoke to him save in the 
 mother-tongue. 
 
 Then he led him to the stone, where there was jus! 
 room enough for two that loved each other, and the), 
 sat down together. 
 
 The laird put his hand on his son's knee, as, wher 
 a boy, Cosmo used to put his on his father's. 
 
 "Are ye the same, Cosmo? " he asked. " Are ye 
 my ain bairn ? " 
 
 "Father," returned Cosmo, "gien it be possible, I 
 loe ye mair nor ever. I'm come hame to ye, no to 
 lea' ye again sae lang as ye live. Gien ye be in ony 
 want, I s' better 't gien I can, an' share 't ony gait. 
 Ay, I may weel say I'm the same, only mair o' 't." 
 
 "The Lord's name be praist!" murmured the laird. 
 " — But du ye loe him the same as ever, Cosmo?" 
 again he asked. 
 
 "Father, I dinna loe him the same — I loe him a 
 heap better. He kens noo 'at he may tak his wull o' 
 me. Naething' at I ken o' comes 'atween him an' me." 
 
 The old man raised his arm, and put it round his 
 
478 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 boy's shoulders : he was not one of the many Scotch 
 fathers who make their children fear more than love 
 them. 
 
 "Then, Lord, let me die in peace," he said, "for 
 mine eyes hae seen thy salvation! — But ye dinna 
 luik freely the same, Cosmo ! — Hoo is 't ? " 
 
 "I hae come throuw a heap, lately, father," an- 
 swered Cosmo. " I hae been ailin' in body, an' sair 
 harassed in hert. I'll tell ye a' aboot it, whan we hae 
 time — and o' that we'll hae plenty, I s' warran', for I 
 tell ye I winna lea' ye again ; an' gien ye had only 
 latten me ken ye was failin', I wad hae come hame 
 lang syne. It was sair agen the grain 'at I baid 
 awa'." 
 
 "The auld sudna lie upo' the tap o' the yoong, 
 Cosmo, my son." 
 
 " Father, I wad willin'ly be a bed to ye to lie upo', 
 gien that wad ease ye; but I'm thinkin' we baith may 
 lie saft upo' the wull o' the great Father, e'en whan 
 that's hardest.'' 
 
 "True as trowth ! " returned the laird. " — But 
 ye're luikin' some tired-like, Cosmo ! " 
 
 " I am some tired, an' unco dry. I wad fain hae a 
 drink o' milk." 
 
 The old man's head dropped again on his bosom, 
 and so for the space of about a minute he sat. 
 Then he lifted it up, and said, looking with calm 
 clear eyes in those of his son, 
 
 "I winna greit, Cosmo; I'll say yet, the will o' the 
 Lord be dune, though it be sair upo' me the noo, 
 whan I haena a drap o' milk aboot the place to set 
 afore my only-begotten son whan he comes hame to 
 
THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 479 
 
 me frae a far country ! — Eh, Lord ! whan yer ain so( 
 cam hame frae his sair warstle an' lang sojourn amo' 
 them 'at kenned na him nor thee, it wasna til an auld 
 shabby man he cam hame, but til the Lord o' glory 
 an' o' micht ! An' whan we a' win hame til the 
 Father o' a', it'll be to the leevin' stren'th o' the uni- 
 verse. — Cosmo, the han' o' man 's been that heavy 
 upo' me 'at coo efter coo's gane frae me, an' the last 
 o' them, bonny Yally, left only thestreen. Ye'U hae 
 to drink cauld watter, my bairn ! " 
 
 Again the old man's heart overcame him ; his head 
 sank, and he murmured, — " Lord, I haena a drap o' 
 milk to gie my bairn — me 'at wad gie 'im my hert's 
 bluid ! But, Lord, wha am I to speyk like that to 
 thee, wha didst lat thine ain poor oot his verra sowl's 
 bluid for him an' me ! " 
 
 " Father," said Cosmo, " I can du wi' watter as 
 weel's onybody. Du ye think I'm nae mair o' a man 
 nor to care what I pit intil me ? Gien ye be puirer 
 nor ever, I'm prooder nor ever to share wi' ye. Bide 
 ye here, an' I'll jist rin an' get a drink, an' come 
 back to ye." 
 
 "Na; I maun gang wi' ye, man," answered the 
 laird, rising. " Grizzie's a heap taen up wi' yer gran'- 
 mither. She's been weirin' awa' this fortnicht back. 
 She's no in pain, the Lord be praised ! an' she'll 
 never ken the straits her hoose is com till ! Cosmo, I 
 hae been a terrible cooard — dreidin' day an' nicht 
 yer hame-comin', no submittin' 'at ye sud see sic a 
 broken man to the father o' ye ! But noo it's ower, 
 an' here ye are, an' my hert's lichter nor it's been this 
 mony a lang ! " 
 
480 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Cosmo's own sorrow drew back into the distance 
 from before the face of his father's, and he felt that 
 the business, not the accident of his life, must hence- 
 forth be to support and comfort him. And with that 
 it was as if a new well of life sprung up suddenly in 
 his being. 
 
 " Father," he said, '' we'll baud on thegither i' the 
 stret ro'd. There's room for twa abreist in 't — 
 ance ye're in ! " 
 
 " Ay ! ay ! " returned the laird with a smile ; " that's 
 the bonniest word ye cud hae come hame wi' til me ! 
 We maun jist perk up a bit, an' be patient, that pa- 
 tience may hae her perfe't wark. I s' hae anither try 
 — an' weel I may, for the licht o' my auld e'en is this 
 day restored til me ! " 
 
 " An' sae gran'mother's weirin awa', father ! " 
 
 " To the Ian' o' the leal, laddie." 
 
 " Wull she ken me ? " 
 
 " Na, she winna ken ye ; she'll never ken onybod) 
 mair i' this warl' ; but she'll ken plenty whaur she's 
 gaein' ! " 
 
 He rose, and they walked together towards the 
 kitchen. There was nobody there, but they heard 
 steps going to and fro in the room above. The 
 laird made haste, but before he could lay his hand 
 on a vessel, to get for Cosmo the water he so much 
 desired. Grizzle appeared on the stair, descending. 
 She hurried down, and across the floor to Cosmo, 
 and seizing him by the hand, looked him in the face 
 with the anxiety of an angel-hen. Her look said 
 what his father's voice had said just before — "Are 
 ye a' there — a' 'at there used to be ? " 
 
THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 481 
 
 " Hoo's gran'mamma? " asked Cosmo. 
 
 " Ow, duin' weel eneuch, sir — wairin awa' bonny. 
 She has naither pang nor knowledge o' sorrow to 
 tribble her. The Lord grant the sowls o' 's a' sic 
 anither lowsin' ! " 
 
 " Hae ye naething better nor cauld watter to gie 
 'im a drink o', Grizzie, wuman ? " asked tlie laird, 
 but in mere despair. 
 
 " Nae 'cep he wad condescen' til a grainie meal 
 intil 't," returned Grizzie mournfully, and she looked 
 at him again, with an anxious deprecating look now, 
 as if before the heir she was ashamed of the poverty 
 of the house, and dreaded blame. " — But laird," she 
 resumed, turning to her master, " ye hae surely a 
 drap o' something i' yer cellar ! Weel I wat ye hae 
 made awa' wi' nane o' 't yersel ! " 
 
 "Weel, there ye wat wrang, Grizzie, my bonny 
 wuman ! " replied the laird, with the flicker of a hu- 
 mourous smile on his wrinkled face; " for I sellt the 
 last bottle oot o' 't a month ago to Stronach o' the 
 distillery. I thought it cudna du muckle ill there, 
 for it wadna make his nose sae reid as his ain 
 whusky. Whaur, think ye, wad the sma' things ye 
 wantit for my mother hae come frae, gien I hadna 
 happent to hae that property left ? We're weel taen 
 care o', ye see, Grizzie ! That wad hae tried my 
 faith, to hae my mother gang wi'oot things ! But he 
 never suffers us to be tried ayont what we're able to 
 beir; an' sae lang as my faith bauds the grup, I 
 carena for back nor belly ! Cosmo, I can bide bet- 
 ter 'at ye sud want. Ye're mair like my ain nor even 
 my mother, an' sae we bide it thegither. It maun 
 
482 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 be 'cause ye're pairt o' my Mar'on as weel 's o' 
 mysel'. Eh, man ! but this o' faimilies is a won- 
 'erfu' Godlike contrivance ! Gien he had taen ony 
 ither w'y o' makin' fowk, whaur wad I hae been this 
 day wantin' you, Cosmo ? " 
 
 While he spoke, Cosmo was drinking the water 
 Grizzie had brought him — with a little meal on the 
 top of it — the same drink he used to give his old 
 mare, now long departed to the place prepared for 
 her, when they were out spending the day together. 
 
 " There's this to be said for the watter, father," he 
 remarked, as he set down the wooden bowl in which 
 Grizzie had thought proper to supply it, " that it 
 comes mair direc' frae the han' o' God himsel' — 
 maybe nor even the milk. But I dinna ken ; for I 
 doobt organic chemistry maun efter a' be nearer his 
 han' nor inorganic ! Ony gait, I never drank better 
 drink ; an' gien ae day he but saitisfee my sowl's 
 hunger efter his rrchteousness as he has this minute 
 saitisfeed my body's drowth efter watter. Is' be a 
 happier man nor ever sat still ohn danced an' 
 sung." 
 
 " It's an innocent cratur' at gies thanks for cauld 
 watter^ I hae aye remarkit that!" said Grizzie. 
 "But I maun awa' to my bairn up the stair; an' 
 may it please the Lord to lift her or lang, for they 
 maun be luikin for her yont the burn by this time. 
 Whan she wauks i' the mornin', the' 'ill be nae mair 
 scornin' ! " 
 
 This was Grizzie's last against her mistress. The 
 laird took no notice of it: he knew Grizzie's devo- 
 tion, and, well as he loved his mother, could not 
 
THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 483 
 
 but know also that there was some ground for her un- 
 devised couplet. 
 
 Scarcely a minute had passed when the voice of 
 the old woman came from the top of the stair, calling 
 aloud and in perturbation, 
 
 "Laird! laird! come up direc'ly. Come up, lairds 
 baith ! She's comin' til hersel' ! " 
 
 They hastened up, Cosmo helping his father, and 
 approached the bed together. 
 
 With smooth, colourless face, unearthly to look 
 upon, the old lady lay motionless, her eyes wide open, 
 looking up as if they saw something beyohd the 
 tester of the bed, her lips moving, but uttering no 
 sound. At last came a murmur, in which Cosmo's 
 ears alone were keen enough to discern the articula- 
 tion. 
 
 "Mar'on, Mar'on," she said, " ye're i' the Ian' o' 
 forgiveness ! I hae dune the lad no ill. He'll come 
 hame to ye nane the waur for ony words o' mine. 
 We're no' a' made sae guid to begin wi' as yersel', 
 Mar'on ! " 
 
 Here her voice became a mere murmur, so far as 
 human ears could distinguish, and presently ceased. 
 A minute or so more and her breathing grew inter- 
 mittent. After a few long respirations, at long inter- 
 vals, it stopped. 
 
 " She'll be haein' 't oot wi' my ain mistress or 
 lang ! " remarked Grizzle to herself as she closed her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Mother ! mother ! " cried the laird, and kneeled 
 by the bedside. Cosmo kneeled also, but no word 
 of the prayers that ascended was audible. The laird 
 
484 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 was giving thanks that another was gone home, and 
 Cosmo was praying for help to be to his father a true 
 son, such as the Son of Man was to the Father of 
 Man. They rose from their knees, and went quietly 
 down the stair; and as they went from the room, 
 they heard Grizzle say to herself, 
 
 " She's gang whaur there's mair — eneuch an' to 
 spare ! " 
 
 The remains of Lady Joan's ten pounds was enough 
 to bury her. 
 
 They invited none, but all the village came to her 
 funeral. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE LABOURER. 
 
 Such power had been accumulated and brought to 
 bear against Glenwarlock, that at length he was re- 
 duced almost to the last extremity. He had had to 
 part with his horses before even his crops were all 
 sown, and had therefore dismissed his men, and tried 
 to sell what there was as it stood, and get some 
 neighbouring farmer to undertake the rest of the land 
 for the one harvest left him ; but those who might 
 otherwise have bought and cultivated were afraid of 
 offending Lord Lick-my-loof, whose hand was pretty 
 generally seen in the turn of affairs, and also of in- 
 volving themselves in an unsecure agreement. So 
 things had come to a bad pass with the laird and his 
 household. A small crop of oats and one of potatoes 
 were coming on, for which the laird did what little he 
 could, assisted bj- Grizzie and Aggie at such times 
 when they could leave their respective charges, but in 
 the meantime the stock of meal was getting low, and 
 the laird did not see where more was to come from. 
 48s 
 
486 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 He and Grizzle had only porridge, with a little salt 
 butter, for two, and not unfrequently the third also of 
 their daily meals. Grizzle for awhile managed to 
 keep alive a few fowls that picked about everywhere, 
 finally making of them broth for her invalid, and per- 
 suading the laird to eat the little that was not boiled 
 away, till at length there was neither cackle nor crow 
 about the place, so that to Cosmo it seemed dying 
 out into absolute silence — after which would come 
 the decay and the crumbling, until the castle stood 
 like the great hollow mammoth-tooth he had looked 
 down upon in his dream. 
 
 At once he proceeded to do what little could yet 
 be done for the on-coming crops, resolving to hire 
 himself out for the harvest to some place later than 
 Glenwarlock, so that he might be able to mow the 
 oats before leaving, when his father and Grizzle with 
 the help of Aggie would secure them. 
 
 Nothing could now prevent the closing of the net 
 of the last mortgage about them ; and the uttermost 
 Cosmo could hope for thereafter was simply to keep 
 his father and Grizzle alive to the end of their 
 natural days. Shelter was secure, for the castle was 
 free. The winter was drawing on, but there would 
 be the oats and the potatoes, with what kail the 
 garden would yield them, and they had, he thought, 
 plenty of peats. Yet not unfrequently, as he wan- 
 dered aimless through the dreary silence, he would 
 be speculating how long, by a judiciously ordered 
 consumption of the place, he could keep his father 
 warm. The stables and cow-houses would afford a 
 large quantity of fuel ; the barn too had a great deal 
 
THE LABOURER. 487 
 
 of heavy wood-work about it ; and there was the third 
 tower or block of the castle, for many years used for 
 nothing but stowage, whose whole thick floors he 
 would thankfully honour, burning them to ashes in 
 such a cause. In the spring there would be no land 
 left them, but so long as he could save the house and 
 garden, and find means of keeping his two alive in 
 them, he would not grieve over that. 
 
 Agnes was a little shy of Cosmo ■ — he had been 
 away so long ! but at intervals her shyness would 
 yield and slie would talk to him with much the same 
 freedom as of old when they went to school together. 
 In his rambles Cosmo would not pass her grand- 
 father's cottage without going in to inquire after him 
 and his wife, and having a little chat with Aggie. 
 Her true-hearted ways made her, next to his father 
 and Mr. Simon, the best comforter he had. 
 
 She was now a strong, well-grown, sunburnt 
 woman, with rough hands and tender eyes. Occa- 
 sionally she would yet give a sharp merry answer, but 
 life and its needs and struggles had made her grave, 
 and in general she would, like a soft cloud, brood a 
 little before she gave a reply. She had by nature 
 such a well balanced mind, and had set herself 
 so strenuously to do the right thing, that her cross 
 seemed already her natural choice, as indeed it 
 always is — of the deeper nature. In her Cosmo 
 always found what strengthened him for the life he 
 had now to lead, though, so long as at any hour he 
 could have his father's company, and saw the old 
 man plainly reviving in his presence, he could not for 
 a moment call or think it hard, save in so far as he 
 
WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 could not make his father's as easy as he would. 
 When the laird heard that his son, the heir of Glen- 
 warlock, had hired himself for the harvest on a neigh- 
 bouring farm, he was dumb for a season. It was 
 heavy both on the love and the pride of the father, 
 which in this case were one, to think of his son as a 
 hired servant — and that of a rough, swearing man, 
 who had made money as a butcher. The farm too 
 was at such distance that he could not well come 
 home to sleep ! But the season of this dumbness, 
 measured by the clock, at least, was but of a few min- 
 utes duration ; for presently the laird was on his knees 
 thanking God that he had given him a son who 
 would be an honour to any family out of heaven : in 
 there, he knew, every one was an honour to every 
 other ! 
 
 Before the harvest on the farm of Stanewhuns 
 arrived, Cosmo, to his desire, had cut their own corn, 
 with Grizzle to gather, Aggie to bind, and his father 
 to stook, and so got himself into some measure of 
 training. He found it harder, it is true, at Stane- 
 whuns, where he must keep up with more experienced 
 scythe-men, but, just equal to it at first, in two days 
 he was little more than equal, and able to set his 
 father's heart at ease concerning his toil. 
 
 With all his troubles, it had been a blessed time so 
 long as he spent most of the day and every even- 
 ing in his father's company. Not unfrequently would 
 Mr. Simon make one, seated with them in the old 
 drawing-room or on some hillside, taking wisest share 
 in every subject of talk that came up. In the little 
 council Cosmo represented the rising generation with 
 
THE LABOURER. 489 
 
 its new thought, its new consciousness of need, and 
 its new difficulties ; and was delighted to find how 
 readily his notions were received, how far from strange 
 they were to his old-fashioned friends, especially his 
 preceptor, and how greatly true wisdom suffices for 
 the hearing and understanding of new cries after the 
 truth. For what all men need is the same — only the 
 look of it changes as its nature expands before the 
 growing soul or the growing generation, whose hunger 
 and thirst at the same time grow with it. And, com- 
 ing from the higher to the lower, it must be ever in 
 the shape of difficulty that the most precious revela- 
 tions first appear. Even Mary, to whom first the 
 highest revelation came, and came closer than to 
 any other, had to sit and ponder over the great mat- 
 ter, yea and have the sword pass through her soul, 
 ere the thoughts of her heart could be revealed to her. 
 But Cosmo of the new time, found himself at home 
 with the men of the next older time, because both 
 he and they were true ; for in the truth there is 
 neither old nor flew ; the well instructed scribe of the 
 kingdom is familiar with the new as well as old 
 shapes of it, and can bring either kind from his treas- 
 ury. There was not a question Cosmo could start, 
 but Mr. Simon had something at hand to the point, and 
 plenty more within digging-scope of his thought-spade. 
 But now that he had to work all day, and at night 
 see no one with whom to take sweet counsel, Cosmo 
 did feel lonely — yet was it an unfailirtg comfort to 
 remember that his father was within his reach, and he 
 would see him the next Sunday. And the one thing 
 .he had dreaded was spared him — namely, having to 
 
490 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 share a room with several other men, who might prove 
 worse than undesirable company. For the ex-butcher, 
 the man who was a byword in the country-side for his 
 rough speech, in this showed himself capable of be- 
 coming a gentleman, that he had sympathy with a 
 gentleman : he would neither allow Cosmo to eat 
 with the labourers— to which Cosmo himself had no 
 objection, nor would hear of his sleeping anywhere 
 but in the best bedroom they had in the house. Also, 
 from respect to the heir of a decayed family and val- 
 ueless inheritance, he modified even his own habits 
 so far as almost to cease swearing in his presence. 
 Appreciating this genuine kindness, Cosmo in his 
 turn tried to be agreeable to those around him, and 
 in their short evenings, for, being weary, they retired 
 early, would in his talk make such good use of his 
 superior knowledge as to interest the whole family, 
 so that afterwards most of them declared it thepleas- 
 antest harvest-time they had ever had. Perhaps it 
 was a consequence that the youngest daughter, who 
 had been to a boarding-school, and had never before 
 appeared in any harvest-field, betook herself to that 
 in which they were at work towards the end of the 
 first week, and gathered behind Cosmo's scythe. But 
 Cosmo was far too much occupied — thinking to the 
 rhythmic swing of his scythe, to be aware of the 
 honour done him. Still farther was he from suspect- 
 ing that it had anything to do with the appearing of 
 Agnes one afternoon, bringing him a letter from his 
 father, with which she had armed herself by telling 
 him she was going thitherward, and could take a mes- 
 sage to the young laird. 
 
THE LABOURER. 49! 
 
 The harvest began upon a Monday, and the week 
 passed without his once seeing his father. On the 
 Sunday he rose early, and set out for Castle War- 
 lock. He would have gone the night before, but at 
 the request of his master remained to witness the 
 signing of his will. As he walked he found the 
 week had given him such a consciousness of power 
 as he had never had before : with the labour of his 
 own hands he knew himself capable of earning bread 
 for more than himself ; while his limbs themselves 
 seemed to know themselves stronger than hitherto. 
 On the other hand he was conscious in his gait of 
 the intrusion of the workman's plodding swing upon 
 the easy walk of the student. 
 
 His way was mostly by footpaths, often up and 
 down hill, now over a moor, now through a valley by 
 a small stream. The freshness of the morning he 
 found no less reviving than in the old boyish days, 
 and sang as he walked, taking huge breaths of the 
 life that lay on the heathery hill-top. And as he 
 sang the words came — nearly like the following. 
 He had never wondered at the powers of the im- 
 provvisatore. It was easy to him to extemporize. 
 
 Win' that blaws the simmer plaid, 
 Ower the hie hill's shouthers laid, 
 Green wi' gerse, an' reid wi' heather, 
 Welcome wi' yer soul-like weather I 
 Mony a win' there has been sent 
 Oot 'aneth the firmament ; 
 Ilka ane its story has ; 
 Ilka ane began an' was ; 
 Jlka ane fell quaiet an' mute 
 
492 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Whan its angel wark was oot. 
 First gaed ane oot ower the mirlc, 
 Whan the maker gan to work ; 
 Ower it gaed and ower the sea, 
 An' the warl' Legud to be. 
 Mony ane has come an' gane 
 Sin' the time there was but ane : 
 Ane was great an' strong, an' rent 
 Rocks an' mountains as it went 
 Afore the Lord, his trumpeter, 
 Waukin' up the prophet's ear ; 
 Ane was like a steppin' soun' 
 I' the mulberry taps abune ; 
 Them the Lord's ain steps did swing, 
 Walkin' on afore his king ; 
 Ane lay doon like scoldit pup 
 At his feet an' gatna up. 
 Whan the word the maister spak 
 Drave the wull-cat billows back; 
 Ane gaed frae his lips, an' dang 
 To the earth the sodger thrang ; 
 Ane comes frae his hert to mine, 
 Ilka day, to mak it fine. 
 Breath o' God, eh < come an' blaw 
 Frae my hert ilk fog awa' ; 
 Wauk me up, an' mak me Strang, 
 Fill my hert wi' mony a sang, 
 Frae my lips again to stert, 
 Fillin' sails o' mony a hert, 
 Blawin' them ower seas dividin' 
 To the only place to bide in. 
 
 " Eh, Mr. Warlock ! is thai yon sing:in' o' the 
 Sawbath day.?" said the voice of a young woman 
 beliin^: him, in a tone of gentle raillerv - xther than 
 expostulation. 
 
THE LABOURER. 
 
 493 
 
 ' Cosmo turned and saw Elspeth, his master's 
 daughter already mentioned. 
 
 " Whaur's the wrang o' that, Miss Elsie ? " he 
 answered. " Arena we tellt to sing an' mak melody 
 to the Lord ? " 
 
 " Ay, but i' yer hert, no lood oot — 'cep' it be i' 
 the kirk. That's the place to sing upo' Sundays. 
 Yon wasna a psalm-tune ye was at ! " 
 
 " Maybe nc. Maybe I was a bit ower happy for 
 ony tune i' the tune-buiks, an' bude to hae ane 'at 
 cam o' 'tsel' !" 
 
 " An' what wad mak ye sae happy — gien a body 
 micht speir ? " 'asked Elspeth, peeping from under 
 long lashes, with a shy, half frightened, sidelong 
 glance at the youth. 
 
 She was a handsome girl of the milkmaid type, 
 who wore a bonnet with pretty ribbons, thought of 
 herself as a 3'oung lady, and had many admirers, 
 whence she had grown a little bold, without knowing 
 it. 
 
 " Ye haena ower muckle at hame to make ye 
 blithe, gien a' be true," she added sympathetically. 
 
 " I hae a'thing at hame to make me blithe — 'cep' 
 it be a wheen mair siller," answered Cosmo ; " but 
 maybe that'll come neist — wha kens ? " 
 
 " Ay ! wha kens ? " returned the girl with a sigh. 
 " There's mony ane <ioobtless wad be ready eneuch 
 wi' the siller anent what ye hae wantin' 't ! " 
 
 " I hae naething but an auld hoose — no sae auld 
 as lat the win' blaw through 't, though," said Cosmo, 
 amused. " But whaur are ye for sae ear. Miss 
 Elsie ? " 
 
494 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " I'm for the Muir o' Warlock, to see my sister, the 
 schuilmaister's wife. Puir man ! he's been ailin' ever 
 sin' the spring. I little thoucht I was to hae sic guid 
 company upd' the ro'd ! Ye hae made an unco differ 
 upo' my father, Mr. Warlock. I never saw man sae 
 altert. In ae single ook ! " 
 
 She had heard Cosmo say he much preferred good 
 Scotch to would-be English, and therefore spoke with 
 what breadth she could compass. In her head, not- 
 withstanding, she despised everything homely, for she 
 had been to school in the city, where, if she had 
 learned nothing else, she had learned the ambition to 
 appear; of being anything she had no notion. She 
 had a loving heart, though — small for her size, but 
 lively. Of what really goes to make a lady — the 
 end of her aspiration — she had no more idea than 
 the swearing father of whom, while she loved him, as 
 did all his family, she was not a little ashamed. She 
 was an honest girl too in a manner, and had by nature 
 a fair share of modesty ; but now her heart was sadly 
 fluttered, for the week that had wrought such a change 
 on her father, had not been without its effect upon 
 her — witness her talking vulgar, broad Scotch ! 
 
 " Your father is very kind to me. So are you all," 
 said Cosmo. " My father will be grateful to you for 
 being so friendly to me." 
 
 . " Some wad be gien they daurec^! " faltered Elspeth. 
 " Was ye content wi' my getherin' to ye — to your 
 scythe, I mean, laird ? " 
 
 " Wha could hae been ither. Miss Elsie ? Try 'at 
 I wad, I couldna lea' ye ahin' me." 
 
 " Did ye want to lea' me ahin' ye ? " rejoined Elsie, 
 
THE LABOURER. 495 
 
 with a sidelong loolc and a blush, which Cosmo never 
 saw. "I wadna seek a better to gether til. — But 
 maybe ye dinna like my ban's!" 
 
 So far as I can see, the suggestion was entirely ir- 
 relevant to the gathering, for what could it matter to 
 the mower what sort of hands the woman had who 
 gathered his swath. But then Miss Elspeth had, if 
 not very pretty, at least very small hands, and 
 smallness was the only merit she knew of in a 
 hand. 
 
 What Cosmo might have answered, or in what per- 
 plexity between truth and unwillingness to hurt she 
 might have landed him before long, I need not specu- 
 late, seeing all danger was suddenly swept away by a 
 second voice, addressing Cosmo as unexpectedly as 
 the first. 
 
 They had just passed a great stone on the roadside, 
 at the foot of which Aggie had been for some time 
 seated, waiting for Cosmo, whom she expected with 
 the greater confidence that, having come to meet him 
 the night before, and sat where she now was till it 
 was dark, she had had to walk back without him. 
 Recognizing the voices that neared her, she waited 
 until the pair had passed her shelter, and then ad- 
 dressed Cosmo with a familiarity she had not used 
 since his return — for which Aggie had her reasons. 
 
 " Cosmo ! " she called, rising as she spoke, " winn^ 
 ye bide for me .'' Ye hae a word for twa as weel 's 
 for ane. The same sairs whaur baith hae lugs." 
 
 The moment Cosmo heard her voice, he turned to 
 meet her, glad enough. 
 
 " Eh, Aggie ! " he said, " I'm pleased to see ye. It 
 
496 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 was richt guid o' ye to come to meet me ! Hoo's 
 your father, an' hoo's mine ? " 
 
 "They're baith brawly," she answered, "an' bUthe 
 eneuch, baith, at the thoucht o' seein' ye. Gien ye 
 couldna luik in upo' mine the day, he wad stap doon 
 to the castle. Sin' yesterday mornin' the laird. 
 Grizzle tells me, hasna ristit a minute in ae place, 
 'cep' in his bed. What for camna ye thestreen ? " 
 
 As he was answering her question, Aggie cast a 
 keen searching look at his companion : Elsie's face 
 was as red as fire could have reddened it, and tears 
 of vexation were gathering in her eyes. She turned 
 her head away and bit her lip. 
 
 The two girls were hardly acquainted, nor would 
 Elsie have dreamed of familiarity with the daughter of 
 a poor cotter. Aggie seemed much farther below her, 
 than she below the young laird of Glenwarlock. Yet 
 here was the rude girl addressing him as Cosmo — 
 with the boldness of a sister, in fact ! and he taking 
 it as matter of course, and answering in similar 
 style ! It was unnatural ! Indignation grew fierce 
 within her. What might she not have waked in him 
 before they parted but for this shameless hussey ! 
 
 " Ye'll be gaein' to see yer sister. Miss Elsie ? " 
 said Agnes, after a moment's pause. 
 
 Elspeth kept her head turned away, and made her 
 no answer. Aggie smiled to herself, and reverting to 
 Cosmo, presently set before him a difficulty she had 
 met with in her algebra, a study which, at such few 
 times as she could spare, she still prosecuted with 
 the help of Mr. Simon. So Elsie, who understood 
 nothing of the subject, was thrown out. She dropped 
 
THE LABOURER. 
 
 497 
 
 a little behind, and took the role of the abandoned 
 one. When Cosmo saw this, he stopped, and they 
 waited for her. When she came up, 
 
 " Are we gaein' ower fest for ye. Miss Elsie ? " he 
 said. 
 
 "Not at all;" she answered, English again; "I 
 can walk as fast as any one." 
 
 Cosmo turned to Aggie and said, 
 
 " Aggie, we're i' the wrang. We had no richt to 
 speik aboot things 'at only twa kent, whan there was 
 three walkin' thegither. — Ye see. Miss Elsie, her an' 
 me was at the schuil thegither, an' we happetit to 
 tak' up wi' the same kin' o' thing, partic'larly algebra 
 an' geometry, an' can ill haud oor tongues frae them 
 whan we forgather. The day, it's been to the preju- 
 dice o' oor mainners, an' I beg ye to owerluik it." 
 
 " I didn't think it was profitable conversation for 
 the Sabbath day," said Elsie, with a smile meant to 
 be chastened, but which Aggie took for bitter, and 
 laugh.ed in her sleeve. A few minutes more and the 
 two were again absorbed, this time with a point in 
 conic sections, on which Aggie professed to require 
 enlightenment, and again Elsie was left out. Nor did 
 this occur either through returning forgetfulness on 
 the part of Aggie; or the naturally strong under- 
 tow of the tide of science in her brain. Once more 
 Elsie adopted the neglected role, but being allowed to 
 play it in reality, dropped farther and farther behind, 
 until its earnest grew heavy on her soul, and she sat 
 down by the roadside and wept — then rising in 
 anger, turned back, and took another way to the 
 village. 
 
498 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Poor girl-heart ! How many tears do not fancies 
 doomed to pass cost those who give them but as it 
 were a night's lodging ! And the tears are bitter 
 enough, although neither the love, nor therefore the 
 sorrow, may have had time to develop much individ- 
 uality. One fairest soap-bubble, one sweetly devised 
 universe vanishes with those tears ; and it may be 
 never another is blown with so many colours, and 
 such enchanting changes ! What is the bubble but 
 air parted from the air, individualized by thinnest 
 skin of slightly glutinous water ! Does not swift com- 
 fort and ready substitution show first love rather the 
 passion between man and woman than between a 
 man and a woman ? How speedily is even a Romeo 
 consoled to oblivion for the loss of a Rosaline by the 
 gain of a Juliet ! And yet I mourn over even such 
 evanishment ; mourn although I know that the bubble 
 of paradise, swift revolving to annihilation, is never 
 a wasted thing : its influence, its educating power on 
 the human soul, which must at all risks be freed of 
 its shell and taught to live, remains in that soul, to 
 be, I trust, in riper worlds, an eternal joy. At the 
 same time therefore I would not be too sad over such 
 as Elsie, now seated by a little stream, in a solitary 
 hollow, alone with her mortification — bathing her 
 red eyes with her soaked handkerchief, that she 
 might appear without danger of inquisition before the 
 sister whom marriage had not made more tender, or 
 happiness more sympathetic. 
 
 But how is it that girls ready to cry more than 
 their eyes out for what they call love when the case 
 V their own, are so often hard-hearted when the case 
 
THE LABOURER. 
 
 499 
 
 is that of another ? There is something here to be 
 looked into — if not by an old surmiser, yet by the 
 young women themselves ! Why are such relentless 
 towards every slightest relaxation of self restraint, 
 who would themselves dare not a little upon occa- 
 sion ? Here was Agnes, not otherwise an ill-natured 
 girl, positively exultant over Elsie's discomfiture and 
 disappearance ! The girl had done her no wrong, and 
 she had had her desire upon her: she had defeated 
 her, and was triumphant; yet this was how she 
 talked of her to her own inner ear : " The impident 
 limmer! — makin' up til a gentleman like oor laird 'at 
 is to be ! Cudna he be doon a meenute but she 
 maun be upon 'im to devoor 'im ! — an' her father 
 naething but the cursin' flesher o' Stanedyhes ! — 
 forby 'at a'body kens she was promised to Jock 
 Rantle, the mason lad, an wad hae lied him, gien the 
 father o' her hadna sworn at them that awfu' 'at 
 naither o' them daured gang a fit further ! Gien I 
 had loed a lad like Jock, wad I hae latten him gang 
 for a screed o' ill words ! They micht hae sworn at 
 likit for me ! I wad ha latten them sweir ! Na, na ! 
 Cosmo's for Elsie's betters ! " 
 
 Elsie appeared no more in any field that season — 
 staid at Muir o' Warlock, indeed, till the harvest was 
 over. 
 
 But what a day was that Sunday to Cosmo ! 
 Labour is the pursuivant of joy to prepare the way 
 before him. His father received him like a king 
 come home with victory. And was he not a king? 
 Did not the Lord say he was a king, because he came 
 into the world to bear witness to the truth ? 
 
500 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 They walked together to church — and home again 
 as happy as two boys let out of school — home to 
 their poor dinner of new potatoes and a little milk, 
 the latter brought by Aggie with her father's compli- 
 ments "to his lairdship," as Grizzie gave the message. 
 What ! was I traitor bad enough to call it a poor 
 dinner? Truth and Scotland forgive me, for I know 
 none so good ! And after their dinner immediately, 
 for there was no toddy now for the laird, they went 
 to the drawing-room — an altogether pleasant place 
 now in the summer, and full of the scent of the 
 homely flowers Grizzie arranged in the old vases on 
 the chimney-piece — and the laird laid himself down 
 on the brocade-covered sofa, and Cosmo sat close 
 beside him on a low chair, and talked, and told him 
 this and that, and read to him, till at last the old 
 man fell asleep, and then Cosmo, having softly spread 
 a covering upon him, sat brooding over things sad 
 and pleasant, until he too fell asleep, to be with Joan 
 in his dreams. 
 
 At length the harvest was over, and Cosmo went 
 home again, and in poverty-stricken Castle Warlock 
 dwelt the most peaceful, contented household imagin- 
 able. But in it reigned a stillness almost awful. So 
 great indeed was the silence that Grizzie averred she 
 had to make much more noise than needful about her 
 afifairs that she might not hear the ghosts. She did 
 not mind them, she said, at night ; they were natural 
 then ; but it was ugsome to hear them in the day- 
 time ! The poorer their fare, the more pains Grizzie 
 took to make it palatable. The gruel the laird now 
 had always for his supper, was cooked with love 
 
THE LABOURER. 50I 
 
 rather than fuel. With what a tender hand she 
 washed his feet ! What miracles of the laundress-art 
 were the old shirts he wore ! Now that he had no 
 other woman to look after him, she was to him like a 
 mother to a delicate child, in all but the mother's 
 familiarity. But the cloud was cold to her also ; she 
 seldom rimed now ; and except when unusually ex- 
 cited, never returned a sharp answer. 
 
CHAPTER XL. 
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 It is time I told my readers something about Joan. 
 But it is not much I have to tell. Cosmo received 
 from her an answer to his letter conperning the ring 
 •within a week ; and this is what she wrote : 
 
 "My Dear Cosmo, of course I cannot understand why you 
 went away as you did. It makes me very unhappy, lest I should 
 be somehow to blame. But I trust you entirely. I too hope 
 for the day when it will be impossible to hide anything. I 
 always find myself when I wake in the morning, trying to under- 
 stand why you went away so, and one reason after another 
 comes, but I have not got the real one yet — at least I think not. 
 I will pay Dr. Jermyn the money with all my heart. I cannot 
 pay him just yet, because the same day you left he was called to 
 London upon medical business, and has not yet returned. Give 
 my love to your father. I hope you are safe and happy with 
 him by this time. I wish I were with you ! Will that day ever 
 come again ? I cannot tell you how I miss you. It is not won- 
 derful, if you will only think of it. I hope, dear Cosmo, it was 
 not my fault that you went away. I know my behaviour was 
 such as to most people would have seemed very strange, but 
 you are not most people, and I did and do think you understood 
 
 502 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTER. 503 
 
 it, and made all the allowance for me that conld be made. I 
 had almost forgot to thank you for the money. I do thank you, 
 Cosmo, but I should have been much more grateful had you 
 kept it. It is all so stupid — and next to no use without you or 
 your father ! And to know I have such a large sum in the 
 house that my brother knows nothing about, quite frightens me 
 sometimes. I wish you had left me the horse to hide it in. I 
 feel very much like a thief, and I am sure my brother would 
 think of me as one if he knew. I feel sometimes as if there 
 were an evil imp in the drawer where it lies. Mind you do not 
 make the slightest allusion to it in any of your letters, and ask 
 your father not to do so either. It has just one comfort in it — 
 that I could now, if driven to it, run away. My love to your 
 father. Your loving cousin, Joan." 
 
 Long before this letter arrived, Cosmo had told 
 his father everything ; and he, although he could not 
 believe there was anything between Joan and the 
 doctor, quite approved of his conduct. 
 
 " Wait upon the Lord," he said, after listening with 
 the excitement of a young heart, the ache of an old 
 one, and the hope of a strong one, to his son's narra- 
 tive ; " wait patiently on him, and he will give thee 
 thy heart's desire." 
 
 They waited, and patiently. 
 
 What was there now that Cosmo could do to make 
 a little money ? With Mr. Simon he held many an 
 anxious conference on the matter, but nothing could 
 either think of except the heart-wearing endeavour 
 after favour with one or other of the magazines — in- 
 volving an outlay of much time, a sick deferment of 
 hope, and great discouragement ; for how small were 
 the chances of his work proving acceptable to this or 
 that man who, with the best intentions for the success 
 
504 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 of the magazine in his charge, and a keen enough 
 perception of the unworthy in literature, had most 
 likely no special love for the truth, or care to teach 
 it, and was besides under the incapacitating influence, 
 the deadening, debilitating, stupefying effect of 
 having continually to judge — not to mention the 
 enervating hopelessness that at length falls, I presume, 
 uponevery editor of a popular magazine, of finding one 
 pearl among the cartloads of oysters sent him by 
 unknown divers in the gulf of literature — filling him 
 with amazement that there should be so many to 
 write so well, and so few to write better. Mr. Simon 
 nevertheless encouraged Cosmo to make the attempt, 
 seeing that to one who had nothing else to do, it in- 
 volved no loss, and would be certain gain to both head 
 and heart, with just the possibility as well of a little 
 return in money. So he set to work, and wrote, and 
 wrote, and sent, and sent, but heard nothing and 
 nothing. 
 
 The weeks came and went, and the frosts came 
 and went, and then came and staid : and the snow 
 fell and melted, and then fell and lay ; and winter 
 settled down with moveless rigour upon Castle War- 
 lock. Nor had it lasted long, before it became evi- 
 dent that the natural powers of the laird had begun 
 to fail more rapidly. But sufficient unto the day 
 is the evil thereof, and that in the matter of death as 
 well as of life ; if we are not to forestall the difficul- 
 ties of living, surely we are not to forestall the sorrows 
 of dying. There was one thing, however, that did 
 trouble him : the good old man's appetite had begun 
 to fail, and how was he to get for him what might 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTER, 505 
 
 tempt him to eat ? He was always contented, nor 
 ever expressed a desire for anything not in the house ; 
 but this was what sent Cosmo on his knees oftenest 
 of all — oftener even than his own spiritual necessities. 
 Never surely did household, even in Scotland, live 
 upon less ! Cosmo had to watch Grizzle to know 
 that she ate at all, and once came nearly to the con- 
 clusion that she ate only dry meal. 
 
 He would have had his father take his grandmother's 
 room now she was gone, but he would not leave the 
 one he had last occupied with his wife. From that 
 he would go, he said, as she had gone. So Cosmo 
 took his grandmother's, and there wrote and read — 
 and when his father could not, in the very cold weather; 
 leave his bed, was within the call of the slightest 
 knock upon his floor. But every now and then, when 
 the cold would abate a little, the laird would revive, 
 and hope grow strong in the mind of his son : his 
 father was by no means an old man yet, he would 
 persuade himself, and might be intended to live many 
 3'ears ; and thereupon he would set to work with 
 fresh vigour. But it is hard to labour without en- 
 couragement, or apparent prospect of result. 
 
 Many a time did the Grades go without milk that 
 they might send for the laird the little their cow gave ; 
 but, though Cosmo never refused their kindness, as 
 indeed he had no right, it went to his heart that the 
 two old people should go without what was as need- 
 ful for them as for his father. Mr. Simon too would 
 everv now and then send something from his house 
 or from the village — oftener than Cosmo knew, for 
 he had taken Grizzle into his confidence, and she was 
 
5o6 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 discreet. But now at length fell a heavenly crumb to 
 keep the human sparrows picking. 
 
 The schoolmaster at the Muir, he who had behaved 
 so insolently to the Warlocks, father and son, had re- 
 turned to his duties at the end of the hairst-play, but 
 had been getting worse for some time, and was at 
 length unable to go on. He must therefore provide 
 a substitute, and Cosmo heard that he was on the 
 outlook for one. 
 
 Now Cosmo knew that, if he had desired to be 
 made parish-schoolmaster, the influence of Lord Lick- 
 my-loof would have been too strong against him, but 
 it seemed possible that his old master might have so 
 far forgotten by-gones as to be willing to employ him. 
 He went to him therefore the same hour, and being 
 shown into the room where he sat wrapt in blankets, 
 laid before him his petition. 
 
 Now the schoolmaster, although both worldly in 
 his judgment, and hasty in his temper, was not a 
 heartless man. Keen feelings are not always disso- 
 ciated from brutality even. One thing will reach the 
 heart that another will not ; and much that looks 
 like heartlessness, may be mainly stupidity. He had 
 never ceased, after the first rush of passion, to regret 
 he had used the word that incensed fhe boy ; and 
 although he had never to his own heart confessed 
 himself wrong in knocking down the violator of the 
 sacredness of the master's person, yet, unconsciously 
 to himself, he had for that been sorry also. Had he 
 been sorrier, his pride would yet have come between 
 him and confession. When the boy, then, on whom 
 for years he had not set his eyes, stood unexpectedly 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTER. 507 
 
 before him, a fine youth, down in the world, and 
 come, as he anticipated the moment he saw him, 
 to beg a favour — ■ beliold an opportunity, not only of 
 making reparation without confession, but of induing 
 the dignity of forgiveness ! He received Cosmo, 
 therefore, with the stiffness of a condescending 
 inferior, it is true, but with kindness notwithstanding, 
 and, having heard his request, accorded immediately 
 a gracious assent, which so filled Cosmo with grati- 
 tude that he could not help showing some emotion, 
 whereupon the heart of the schoolmaster in its turn 
 asserted itself ; and from that moment friendly rela- 
 tions were established between them. 
 
 Things were soon arranged. Cosmo was to be 
 paid by the week, and should commence his work the 
 next morning. He returned therefore in great con- 
 solation, carrying with him for his father one or two 
 simple luxuries the village afforded. That night he 
 hardly could sleep for joy. 
 
 He set about his new duties with zeal. Teaching 
 itself is far from easy work to anyone anxious to 
 make it genuine ; and Cosmo had besides to leave 
 home early in all kinds of wintry weather, and walk 
 to it through the bitterness of black frost, the shifting 
 toil of deep snow, or the assault of fierce storm. 
 But he thought nothing of the labour or its acces- 
 sories of discomfort; the only thing he felt hard was 
 having to leave his father all the winter-day alone, for 
 it was generally five o'clock before he got back to 
 him. 
 
 And now in the heart of the laird arose a fresh 
 gratitude for the son God had given him. His hours 
 
5o8 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 passed mainly in devotion and anticipation. Every 
 time he received liis son from the arms of the winter 
 to his own, it was lilce the welcoming of one lost and 
 found again. 
 
 Into the stern weather of their need had stolen a 
 summer-day to keep hope alive. Cosmo gave up his 
 writing, and spent all the time he had at home in 
 waiting with mind and body upon his father. He 
 read to him — sometimes his own poetry, — and that 
 his father liked best of all, because therein he came 
 nearer to his boy ; now and then, when he was too 
 weary for thought, he would play backgammon with 
 him ; and sometimes, when he was himself more 
 tired than usual, would get Grizzle to come and tell 
 yet again the stories she used to tell him when he was 
 a child — some of which his father enjoyed the more 
 that he remembered having heard them when he was 
 himself a child. Upon one of these occasions. Grizzle 
 brought from her treasury a tale which the laird re- 
 membered his grandmother's saying she too had 
 heard when she was a child, and therewith it came 
 into Cosmo's head to write it out, as nearly as he 
 could, in Grizzle's words, and try a magazine with it. 
 For the first time he received an answer — the most 
 agreeable part of which was a small cheque, and the 
 next most agreeable the request that he would send 
 another paper of like character. Grizzle's face, 
 when she learned in what way, and how largely, as it 
 seemed to her, she had commenced contributing to 
 the income of the family, was a sight worth a good 
 deal more than a good dinner to both father and son. 
 At first she imagined Cosmo was making game of 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 509 
 
 her, and stood upon the dignity of her legends ; but 
 convinced at length of the fact of the case, she stared 
 into nowhere for a minute, and then said, 
 
 " Eh, sirs ! Oot o' the moo' o' babes an' sucklin's ! 
 The Lord be praist, whan herts is raist ! " 
 
 "Amen, Grizzle!" responded the laird. "Eh, 
 wuman ? gien ever ane wana place in a faimily, her 
 ain by foreordeenment o' the fatherly providence 'at 
 luiks efter the faimilies o' men. Grizzle, ye're that 
 wuman ! " 
 
 Word to please Grizzle better the laird could not 
 have found. It sunk in and in, for her pleasure could 
 make no show, there being no room for any growth in 
 the devotion of her ministrations. 
 
 And now Cosmo would take no more of the 
 Grades' milk, but got Aggie to go every day to a farm 
 near, and buy what was required for his father, and 
 Aggie was regular as the clock, sunshine or 
 storm. 
 
 But there was another thing in which she was 
 not quite so regular, but which yet she never missed 
 when she could help it ; so that, as often as three 
 and occasionally four times in the week, Cosmo would 
 find her waiting for him somewhere on his way home, 
 now just outside the village, now nearer Glenwarlock, 
 according to the hour when she had got through her 
 work. The village talked, and Aggie knew it, but 
 did not heed it ; for she had now in her own feeling 
 recovered her former position towards him ; and it 
 was one of the comforts of Cosmo's labour, when the 
 dulness or contrariety of the human animal began to 
 be too much for him, to think of the talk with Agnes 
 
5IO WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 he might hope was waiting him. Under Mr. 
 Simon f,he had made much progress, and was now 
 a companion fit for any thinking man. The road 
 hom'', was- not half the length to Cosmo when Agnes 
 wslked it too. Thinking inside, and labouring outside, 
 she waS; in virtue of the necessities of her life, such a 
 woman is not the most vaunted means of education, 
 without the weight and seeming hindrances of strug- 
 gle, can produce. One of the immortal women she 
 was — for she had set out to grow forevermore — for 
 whom none can predict an adequate future, save him 
 who knows what lie is making of her. 
 
 Her behaviour to Cosmo was that of a half sister, 
 who, born in a humbler position, from which she could 
 not rise, was none the less his sister, and none the 
 less loved him. Whether she had anything to strug- 
 gle with in order to keep this position, I am not pre- 
 pared to say ; but I have a suspicion that the beha- 
 viour of Elspeth, which so roused her scorn, had 
 something to do with the restoring of the old relation 
 between them. The most jealous of reasonable moth- 
 ers could hardly have complained of her behaviour in 
 Cosmo's company, however much she might have dis- 
 approved of her seeking it as she did. But it is well 
 that God, and not even reasonable mothers, has the 
 ordering of those things in which they consider them- 
 selves most interested, and are not unfrequently in- 
 trusive. Next to his father and Mr. Sunon, Agnes 
 Gracie was the most valued of Cosmo's friends. Mr. 
 Burns came next. For Lady Joan, he never thought 
 of her by the side of anybody else. If he had not 
 learned to love her, I think he might now very well 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 S" 
 
 have loved Agnes. And if Cosmo had askecf her 
 now, when marriage was impossible, to marry him 
 when he could marry, I do not know what Agnes 
 might have answered. But he did not, and they re- 
 mained the best of trusting friends. 
 
CHAPTER XLI, 
 
 GRANNIE AND T^E STICK. 
 
 This winter, the wind that drops the ripened fruit 
 not plucked before, blew hard upon old Grannie, who 
 had now passed her hundredth year. For some time 
 Agnes had not been able to do much for her, but 
 another great-grandchild, herself a widow and a 
 mother, was spending the winter with her. On his 
 way to or from school, Cosmo every day looked in to 
 see or enquire after her ; and when he heard she had 
 had a bad night he would always think how with her 
 would fail the earthly knowledge of not a little of the 
 past of his family , and upon one of these occasions 
 resolved that he would at least find out whether she 
 remembered the bamboo he had brought from Cairn- 
 carque. 
 
 Calling when school was over, he heard she was a 
 little better, and the next morning brought with him 
 the cane. In the afternoon he learned that she had 
 had a better night, and going in found her in her 
 chair by the fireside, and took his place by her so that 
 S'2 
 
GRANNrE AND THE STICK. 5 13 
 
 the light from the window at her back should fall 
 upon the stick. 
 
 He had not sat more than a minute, when he saw 
 her eyes fixed upon the horse. 
 
 " What's that ye hae there, Cosmo ? " she said. 
 
 " This ? " returned Cosmo. " It's a cane I pickit 
 up upo' my traivels. What think ye o' 't ? " 
 
 He held it out to her, but she did not move her 
 hand towards it. 
 
 " Whaur got ye 't ? " she asked, her eyes growing 
 larger as she looked. 
 
 " What gars ye speir, grannie ? " he returned, with 
 assumed indifference. 
 
 " I dinna believe there was anither like the ane 
 that's like," she replied. 
 
 " In which case," rejoined Cosmo, " it maun be the 
 same. Ken ye onything aboot it ? " 
 
 " Ay ; an' sae du ye, or ye hae less sense nor I 
 wad hae mintit o' a Warlock. That stick's no a stick 
 like ither sticks, an' I wuss I was nearer hame." 
 
 " Ye dinna mean, grannie, there's onything no 
 canny aboot the stick ? " said Cosmo. 
 
 " I wadna like to think him near me 'at aucht it." 
 she replied. 
 
 " Wha aucht it, grannie ? " 
 
 " Rive 't a' to bits, laddie ; there's something by 
 ordnar aboot it. The auld captain made o' 't as gien 
 it had been his graven image. That was his stick ye 
 hae i' yer han', whaurever ye got it ; an' it was 
 seldom oot o' his frae mornin' till nicht. Some wad 
 hae't he tuik it til 's bed wi' him. I kenna aboot 
 that; but gien by ony accident he set it oot frae 
 
514 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 'atween his knees, it was never oot o' the sicht o' his 
 e'en. I hae seen him mysel', missin' 't like, luik up 
 o' a suddent as gien his sowl hed been requiret o' 
 'im, an' grip at it as gien it hed been his proadigal 
 son come hame oonexpeckit." 
 
 Cosmo told her where he had found it. 
 
 " I tellt ye sae ! " she cried. " The murderin' 
 villian cairriet it wi' him, weel kennin what was intil 
 't!" 
 
 Cosmo showed her the joints and their boxes, 
 telling her he had searched them all, but had found 
 nothing. She shook her head. 
 
 " Ower late ! ower late ! " she murmured. " The 
 rievin' English lord was aforehan' wi' the heir ! " 
 
 She seemed then to fall into a kind of lethargic 
 musing, and' as Cosmo had not yet made up his mind 
 to show her the paper he had found in the top of the 
 cane, and ask her opinion concerning it, for the 
 present he bade her good-night — little thinking he 
 was not to see her again in this world. For that 
 same night she died. 
 
 And now when his opportunity was over, and he 
 could learn no more from her, the mind of Cosmo 
 was exercised afresh concerning the bamboo. Ac- 
 cording to Grannie, its owner habitually showed 
 anxiety for its safety, and had it continually under his 
 eye. It did not seem likely that tjie rings had been 
 in it long when it was taken from him, neither that at 
 any time he would have chosen to carry like valua- 
 bles about with him in such a receptacle. It could 
 hardly therefore be because of those or of similar 
 precious things concealed in it, that he was always so 
 
GRANNIE AND THE STICK. 515 
 
 watchful over it. It was possible, indeed, that from 
 often using it for temporary concealment, he had come 
 to regard it with constant anxiety ; but the conjecture 
 did not satisfy Cosmo. And as often as he turned the 
 thing over in his mind, his speculation invariably set- 
 tled on the unintelligible paper. It was true the said 
 paper had seemed not so much there for its own safety, 
 as by chance employment for the protection of the 
 jewels round which it was, after all, rather squeezed than 
 folded ; but a man may crumple up his notes and 
 thrust them in his pocket, yet care more for them 
 than for anything else in the same place. 
 
 Thinking of the thing one night after he was in 
 bed, it occurred to him suddenly to ask himself what 
 he had done with the paper, for he could not remem- 
 ber when he had last seen it. He got up, took the 
 stick, which being Joan's gift he always carried to 
 his room, and opening the horse, which he could now 
 do without his eyes, found it empty. This made him 
 uneasy, and he lay down again to think what he could 
 have done with it. It was dark night, and his anxiety 
 was not so great but that sleep presented its claim 
 upon him. He resisted it however, unwilling to 
 yield until he had at least thought of some probability 
 with regard to the paper. But, like a soundless tide, 
 sleep kept creeping upon him, and he kept starting 
 from it with successive spur-pricks of the will which 
 had not yet consented to the nightly annihilation. 
 Bethinking himself in one of these revivals that he 
 might have put it in his pocket-book, he stretchea 
 his hand to the chair beside the bed on which lay his 
 clothes. Then came a gap in his consciousness, and 
 
5l6 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 the next thing he knew was the pocket-book in his 
 hand, with the memory or the dream, he could not 
 afterwards tell which, of having searched it in 
 vain. 
 
 He now felt so anxious that he could rest no longer, 
 but must get up and look for the paper until he found 
 it. He rose and lighted his candle, went down the 
 stair to the kitchen, and out of the house — then 
 began to doubt whether he was awake, but, like one 
 compelled, went on to the great door, and up to the 
 drawing-room, when first he became aware that the 
 moon was shining, and all at once remembered a 
 former dream, and knew it was coming to him again : 
 there it was ! — the old captain, seated in his chair, 
 with the moon on his face, and a ghastly look ! He 
 felt his hair about to stand on end with terror, but 
 resisted with all his might. The rugged, scarred 
 countenance gazed fixedly at him, and he did his best 
 to return the gaze. The appearance rose, and walked 
 from the room, and Cosmo knew he had to follow it 
 to the room above, which he had not once entered 
 since his return. There, as before, it went to the 
 other side of the bed, and disappeared. But this 
 time the dream went a little farther. Despite his 
 fear, Cosmo followed, and in the wall, by the head of 
 the bed, saw an open door. He hurried up to it, but 
 seemed to strike against the wall, and woke. He 
 was in bed, but his heart was beating a terribly quick 
 march. His pocket-book was in his hand : he struck 
 a light, and searching in it, found the missing 
 paper. 
 
 The next night, he told his dream to his father anc' 
 
GRANNIE AND THE STICK. 517 
 
 Mr. Simon, and they had a talk about dreams and 
 apparitions ; then all three pored over the paper, but 
 far from arriving at any conclusion, seemed hardly to 
 get a glimpse of anything that could be called light 
 upon its meaning. 
 
CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 OBSTRUCTION. 
 
 All this time Cosmo had never written agaii to 
 Joan ; both his father and he thought it better he 
 former only should for the present keep up the cor- 
 respondence. But months had passed without tneir 
 hearing from her. The laird had written the third 
 time, and received no answer. 
 
 The day was now close upon them when the last of 
 their land would be taken, leaving them nothing but 
 the kitchen-garden — a piece of ground of about half 
 an acre, the little terraced flower-garden to the south 
 of the castle, and the croft tenanted by James Oracle. 
 They applied to Lord Lick-my-loof to grant them a 
 lease of the one field next the castle, which the laird 
 with the help of the two women had cultivated the 
 spring before, but he would not — his resentment 
 being as strong as ever, and his design deeper than 
 they saw. 
 
 The formal proceedings took their legal course ; and 
 upon and after a certain day Lord Lick-my-loof ihight 
 Si8 
 
OBSTRUCTION. 519 
 
 have been seen from not a few of the windows of the 
 castle, walking the fields to the north and east, and 
 giving orders to his bailiff concerning them. Within 
 a fortnight those to the north were no more to be 
 entered from the precincts of the castle except by 
 climbing over a dry-stane dyke; and before many ad- 
 ditional days were gone by, they found him more 
 determined than they could have imagined, to give 
 them annoyance. 
 
 He had procured a copy of an old plan of the 
 property, and therein discovered, as he had expected 
 and hoped, that that part of the road from the glen 
 of the Warlock which passed the gate of the castle, 
 had been made by the present laird only about thirty 
 j'ears before ; whereupon — whether he was within 
 his legal rights or not, I do not know, but everybody 
 knew the laird could not go to law — he gave orders 
 that it should be broken up from the old point of 
 departure, and a dry dyke built across the gate. But 
 the persons to whom the job was committed, either 
 ashamed or afraid, took advantage of an evening on 
 which Cosmo had a class for farm-labourers, to do 
 the work after dark ; whence it came that, plodding 
 homewards without a suspicion, he found himself as 
 he approached the gate all at once floundering among 
 stones and broken ground, and presently brought up 
 standing, a man built out from his own house by a 
 mushroom wall — the entrance gone which seemed to 
 him as old as the hills around it, for it was older than 
 his earthly life. With a great shove he hurled half 
 the height of it over, and walking in, appeared before 
 his father in such a rage as bewildered and troubled 
 
520 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 him far more than any insolence of Lord Lick-my- 
 loof could have done. 
 
 " The scoundrel ! " cried Cosmo ; " I should like 
 to give him a good drubbing — only he's an old man! 
 But I'll make him repent it — and heartily, tOo ! " 
 
 " Cosmo, my boy," said the old man, " you are 
 meddling with what does not belong to you." 
 
 " I know it's your business, father, not mine ; 
 but — " 
 
 " It's no more my business than yours, my son ! 
 ' Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.' — An' the best o' 't 
 is," he went on, willing, by a touch of humour in 
 the truth he had to speak, to help turn the tide of 
 Cosmo's wrath, " he'll tak' no more than's guid for 
 the sinner; whereas yersel', Cosmo, i' the tune ye're 
 in noo, wad damn puir auld Lick-my-loof for ever and 
 ever ! Man, he canna hurt me to the worth o' sic a 
 heap o' firin' ! " Then changing his tone to absolute 
 seriousness, " Min' ye tu, Cosmo," he went on, " 'at 
 the maister never threatent but aye left the thing 
 whatever it was, to him 'at judges richteously. Ye 
 want nothing but fair play, my son, an' whether ye 
 get it frae Lick-my-loof or no, there's ane winna haud 
 it frae ye. Ye 's get it, my son ; ye 's get it ! The 
 maister '11 hae a' thing set richt at the lang last ; an' 
 gien he binna in a hurry, we may weel bide. For 
 mysel', the man has smitten me upo' the tae cheek, 
 an' may hae the tither to lat drive at whan he likes. 
 It's no worth liftin' my auld airm to haud aff the 
 smack." 
 
 He laughed, and Cosmo laughed too — but grimly 
 and out of tune. Then the laird told him that just 
 
OBSTRUCTION. 
 
 S2I 
 
 that piece of the road was an improvement of his 
 own, and had cost him a good bit of blasting : it used 
 to cross the stream twice before it got to the yard- 
 gate. He hardly thought, he said, that his lordship 
 would like to have to restore it ; for, besides the ex- 
 pense, it would cost him so much out of one of his 
 best fields. In the meantime they must contrive how 
 to connect themselves with that part of the road 
 which he dared not touch. The worst of it was that 
 there was no longer any direct communication across 
 the fields ^ith James Grape's cottage. To follow 
 the road was to make a tremendous round. 
 
 Grizzle being already in bed when Cosmo came 
 home, learned nothing that night of the evil news. 
 
 At break of day Cosmo was up to see what could 
 be done, and found that a few steps cut in the rocky 
 terraces of the garden would bring one with ease to 
 the road. He set about it immediately, and before 
 breakfast-time had finished the job. 
 
 The rage and indignation of Grizzle when she 
 learned what had been done, far surpassed Cosmo's, 
 and served to secure hiiii from any return of the at- 
 tack. The flood of poetic abuse that she poured 
 out seemed inexhaustible, sweeping along with it tale 
 after tale to the prejudice of " that leein' Lick-my- 
 loof." But, poetic as was her speech, not a single 
 rime did she utter for the space of an hour during 
 which she thus unloaded her heart. 
 
 " Ay ! " she concluded, and thereafter sank into 
 smouldering silence, " there was a futpath there afore 
 ye was born, laird, blast or no blast ; an' to that I 
 can fess them 'at can beir testimony, ane o' them 
 
522 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 bein' nane ither nor Jeames Gracie himsel', wha's ten 
 lang years aheid o' yer lairdship ! an' lat me see man 
 or dog 'at '11 baud me ohn taen my wull o' my richts 
 intil 't ! They canna hang me, and for less I 
 carena." 
 
 The schoolmaster was at length fit to resume his 
 labours, and about a week after the event just re- 
 corded, Cosmo ceased to attend the school in his 
 stead. 
 
CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 grizzie's rights. 
 
 In those days Mistress Gracie fell sick, and though 
 for a while neither husband nor grand-daughter 
 thought seriously of her ailment, it proved more than 
 her age, worn with labour, could endure, and she be- 
 gan to sink. Then Grizzie must go and help nurse 
 her, for, Cosmo being at home all day long, the laird 
 could well enough spare her. 
 
 Father and son were now seldom out of each 
 other's sight. When Cosmo was writing, the laird 
 would be reading in the same room ; and when, after 
 their dinner, the laird slept, Cosmo would generally 
 read his New-testament beside him, and as often as 
 he woke fresh from his nap, the two would talk about 
 what the one had been reading, and Cosmo would 
 impart what fresh light the Greek had given him. 
 The capacity of the old man for taking in what was 
 new, was wonderful, and yet not to be wondered at, 
 seeing it was the natural result of the constant prac- 
 tice of what he learned — for all truth understood 
 523 
 
524 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 becomes duty. To him that obeys well, the truth 
 comes easy ; to him who does not obey, it comes not, 
 or comes in forms of fear and dismay. The true, 
 that is the obedient man, cannot help seeing the 
 truth, for it is the very business of his being — the 
 natural concern, the correlate of his soul. The reli- 
 gion of these two was obedience and prayer ; their 
 theories only the print of their spiritual feet as they 
 walked homeward.' ■. " ■ ' 
 
 The road which Lord Lick-my-loof had broken up, 
 went nearly straight- from Castle Warlock to the cot- 
 tage of the Grades, where it joined the road that 
 passed' his lodge. And now came Grizzie's call to 
 action ! The moment she found her services required 
 for Mistress Gracie, she climbed the gate of the close, 
 from the top of it stepped upon the new wall, thence 
 let herself down on the disfeatured road, and set out 
 to follow its track, turn for turn, through the ploughed 
 land. In the evening she came back the same way, 
 scrambled over the \\a\\ and the gate, and said never 
 a word, nor was asked a question. To visit his ten- 
 ants the laird himself went a mile about, but most 
 likely he was not prepared to strain his authority with 
 Grizzle, and therefore was as one who knew noth- 
 ing. 
 
 Before the week was out, her steps, and hers alone, 
 had worn a visible and very practicable footpath 
 across the enemy's field ; and whether Lord Lick-my- 
 loof was from home, or that he willad the trespass to 
 assume its most defined form and yield personal de- 
 tection ere lie moved in the matter, the week went by 
 without notice taken. 
 
grizzie's rights. 525 
 
 On the Sunday morning however, as Grizzle was 
 on her way to the cottage, she suddenly spied, over 
 the edge of a hollow through which her path ran, the 
 head of Lord Lick-my-loof : he was following the 
 track she had made, and would presently meet her. 
 Wide spread her nostrils, like those of the war-horse, 
 for she too smelt the battle from afar. 
 
 " Here's auld Belzebub at last ! 'gaein to an' fro i' 
 the earth, an' walkin' up an' doon intil 't ! " she said 
 to herself. " Noo's foi: me to priv the trowth 'o Scrip- 
 tur ! Whether he'll flee or no, we'll see : I s' resist 
 him. It's no me 'at'U rin, ony gait ! " 
 
 His lordship had been standing by his lodge on 
 the outlook, and when he saw Grizzle approaching, 
 had started to encounter her. As she drew near he 
 stopped, and stood in the path motionless. On she 
 came till within a single pace of him. He did not 
 move. She stopped. 
 
 " I doobt, my lord," she said, " I'll hae to mak the 
 ro'd a bit wider. There's hardly room for yer lord- 
 ship an' anither. But I'm gettin' on fine ! " 
 
 " Is the woman an idiot ! " exclaimed his lordship. 
 
 " Muckle siclike 's yersel', my lord ! " answered 
 Grizzie ; — "no that muckle wit but I might hae 
 mair, to guide my steps throuw the wilderness ye wad 
 mak o' no an ill warl'." 
 
 "Are you aware, woman, that you have made your- 
 self liable to a heavy fine for trespass ? This field is 
 mine ! " 
 
 "An' this fitpath's mine, my lord — made wi' my 
 ain feet, an' I coonsel ye to stan' aside, an' lat me by." 
 
 "Woman, you are' insolent." 
 
1:26 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 ^ • 
 
 "Troth, . I needna yer lordship to tell me that! 
 Nane the less ae auld wife may say 'at she likes til 
 anither.'' 
 
 " I tell you there is no thoroughfare here." 
 
 " An' I tell you there is a thoroughfare, an' ye hae 
 but to wull the trowth to ken 'at there is. There was 
 a ro'd here lang or yer lordship's father was merried 
 upo' yer lordship's mither, an' the law — what o"t 
 yer lordship hasna the makin' o' — is deid agen ye : 
 that I can priv. Hae me up : I can tak my aith as 
 weel's onybody whan I'm sure." 
 
 " I will do so ; but in the meantime you must get off 
 my property." 
 
 " Weel, Stan' by, an' I s' be aff o' 't in less time nor 
 yer lordship.'' 
 
 " You must go back." 
 
 " Hooly an' fairly ! Bide till the gloamin', an' I s' 
 gang back — never fear. I' the mids o' the mean- 
 time I'm gaein' aff o' yer property the nearest gait — 
 an' that's straucht efter my nose." 
 
 She tried, for the tenth time or so, to pass, but turn 
 as she might, he confronted her. She persevered. 
 He raised the stick he carried, perhaps involuntarily, 
 perhaps thinking to intimidate her. Then was the air 
 rent with such an outcry of assault as grievously 
 shook the nerves of his lordship. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, you howling jade ! " he cried — 
 and the epithet sufficed to destroy eveiy possible 
 remnant of forbearance in the mind of Grizzle. 
 
 " There's them 'at tells me, my lord," she said with 
 sudden calm, " 'at that's hoo ye misca'd Annie Fyfe, 
 puir lass, whan she cam efter ye, fifty year ago, to 
 
GRIZZIES RIGHTS. 527 
 
 yer father's hoose, an' gat na a plack to hand her an' 
 her bairn frae the roadside ! Ye needna girn like 
 that, my lord ! Spare yer auld teeth for the gnashin' 
 they'll hae to du. Though ye fear na God nor regaird 
 man, yer hoor '11 come, an' yer no like to bid it wal- 
 come." 
 
 Beside himself with rage, Lord Lick-my-loof would 
 have laid hold of her, but she uttered a louder cry 
 than before — so loud that James Grade's deaf colley 
 heard her, and, having a great sense of justice, more 
 courage than teeth, and as little regard to the law of 
 trespass as Grizzle herself, came, not bounding, but 
 tearing over the land to her rescue, as if a fox were at 
 one of his sheep. He made straight for his lordship. 
 
 Now this dog was one of the chief offences of the 
 cottage, for he had the moral instinct to know and 
 hate a bad man, and could not abide Lord Lick-my- 
 loof. He had never attacked him, for the colley cul- 
 tivated self-restraint, but he had made his lordship 
 aware that there was no friendship in his heart towards 
 him. 
 
 Silent almost as swift, he was nearly on the enemy 
 before either he or Grizzle saw him. His lordship 
 staggered from the path, and raised his stick with 
 trembling hand. 
 
 " Doon wi' ye ! doon. Covenant ! doon, ye tyke ! " 
 cried Grizzie. " Haud yer teeth gien ye wad keep 
 the feow ye hae ! Deil a bite but banes is there i' the 
 breeks o' 'im ! " 
 
 The dog had obeyed, and now stood worshipping 
 her with his tail, while with his eyes he watched the 
 enemy and his stick. 
 
528 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 "Hark ye, Covenant,'' she went on, "whan his 
 sowl he selled him, the deevil telled him, 'at never 
 mair sud he turn a Iiair at cry or moanin' in highway 
 or loanin', forgreitin' or sweirin' or grane o' despair. 
 Haud frae him. Covenant, my fine fallow, hand frae 
 him." 
 
 Grizzle talked to the dog nor lifted her eyes. When 
 she looked up, Lord Lick-my-loof was beyond the 
 hollow, hurrying as if to fetch help. In a few minutes 
 she was safe in the cottage, out of breath, but in high 
 spirits ; and even the dying woman laughed at her 
 tale of how she had served his lordship. 
 
 " But ye ken. Grizzle," suggested Jeames, " we're 
 no to return evil for evil, nor flytin' for flytin' ! " 
 
 " Ca' ye that flytin' .' " cried Grizzle. " Ye sud heat 
 what I didna say ! That was flytin' ! We'll be tried 
 by what we can do, no by what we canna ! An' for re- 
 turnin' evil, did I no haud the dog frae the deith- 
 shanks o' 'im ? " 
 
 The laird and Cosmo had spent as usual a quiet 
 and happy Sunday. It was now halfway down the 
 gloamin' towards night, and they sat together in the 
 drawing-room, the laird on the, sofa, and Cosmo at 
 one of the windows. The sky was a cold clear calm 
 of thin blue and translucent green, with a certain still- 
 ness which in my mind will more or less for ever be 
 associated with a Scotch Sunday. A long low cloud 
 of dark purple hung like a baldachin over the yet 
 glimmering coals on the altar of sunset, and the sky 
 above it was like a pale molten mass of jewels that 
 had run together with heat, and was still too bright 
 for the stars to show. They were both looking ouf 
 
grizzie's rights. 529 
 
 at the sky, and a peace as of the unbeginnings .of 
 eternity was sinking into their hearts.. Tlie laird's 
 thoughts were with , his Marion in the region beyond 
 the dream ; Cosmo's with Joan in the dream tha: had 
 vanished into itself. If love be religion, what matter 
 whether its object be in heaven or on the eartli ! 
 Love itself is the only true nearness. He who thinks 
 of his Saviour as far away can have made little 
 progress in the need of him ; and he who does not 
 need much cannot know much,* any more than he 
 who is not forgiven much can love much. ■ They sat 
 silent, their souls belonging rather to the heaven over 
 their heads than the earth under their feet, when 
 suddenly the world of stillness was invaded with 
 hideous discord, above which almost immediately 
 rose the well known voice of Grizzle in fierce opposi- 
 tion. They rushed out. Over the gate and ob- 
 structing wall they descried, indistinct in the dull 
 light, several heads, and hurrying thither, found 
 Grizzle in the grasp of Lord Lick-my-loof's bailiff, and 
 his lordship looking on with his hands in his pockets 
 and the smile that was his own. But it was not fol 
 her own sake Grizzle cried out: there were^two more 
 in the group — two of the dog-kind, worrj-ing each 
 other with all the fierceness of the devotion which 
 renders a master's quarrel more than the dog's own; 
 They were, however, far from equally matched, and 
 that was the cause of Grizzie's cry ; for the one was 
 the somewhat ancient colley named Covenant, whose 
 teeth were not what they had been, and the other 
 a mastiff belonging to Lord Lick-my-loof, young and 
 malevolent, loosed from_the chain the first time that 
 
530 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 night for a month. It looked ill for Covenant, but 
 he was a brave dog, incapable of turning his back on 
 death itself when duty called him, and what more is 
 required of dog or man ! Both the dogs were well 
 bred each in its kind ; Covenant was the more 
 human, Dander the more devilish ; and the battle 
 was fierce. 
 
 The moment Cosmo descried who the combatants 
 were, he knew that Covenant had no fair chance, 
 and was over the \vB.ll, and had thrown himself upon 
 them to part them ; whereupon the bailiff, knowing 
 his master desired the death of Covenant, let Grizzle 
 go, and would have rushed upon Cosmo. But it was 
 Grizzle's turn now, and she clung to the bailiff like 
 an anaconda. He cursed and swore ; nor were there 
 lacking on Grizzle's body the next xlay certain bruises 
 of which she said nothing except to Aggie ; but she 
 had got hold of his cravat, and did her best to 
 throttle him. Cosmo did the same for the mastiff 
 with less effect, and had to stun him with a blow on 
 the head from a great stone, when he caught up 
 Covenant in his arms, and handed him over the wall 
 and the gate to his father. The same moment the 
 bailiff got away from Grizzle, and made at him, 
 calling to the mastiff. But the dog, only half recov- 
 ered from the effects of Cosmo's blow, either mistak- 
 ing through bewilderment, or moved by some 
 influence ill explicable, instead of attacking Cosmo, 
 rushed at his master. Rage recalls dislike, and it 
 may be he remembered bygone irritations and 
 teasings. His lordship, however, suddenly became 
 aware of his treacherous intent, and in a moment his 
 
GRIZZIE S RIGHTS. 
 
 S3 I 
 
 legs had saved themselves over wall and gate, and 
 he stood panting and shaking beside the laird, 
 in his turn the trespasser. The dog would have 
 been over after him, had not Cosmo, turning his 
 back on the bailiff, who had not observed his 
 master's danger, knocked the dog, in the act of 
 leaping, once more to the earth, when a rush of 
 stones that came with him, and partly fell upon him, 
 had its share in cowing him. 
 
 " Haud him ! haud him ! baud the deevil, ye brute ! 
 Hand the brute, ye deevil ! " cried his lordship. 
 
 " It's yer ain dog, my lord,'' said the bailiff, what- 
 ever consolation there might be in the assurance, as 
 he took him by the collar. 
 
 " Am I to be worriet 'cause the dog's my ain ? 
 Haud him the sickerer. He s' be ayont mischeef the 
 morn ! " 
 
 " He 's the true dog 'at sides wi' the richt ; he'll be 
 in bliss afore his maister," said Grizzie, as she de- 
 scended from the gate, and stood on her own side 
 of the fence. 
 
 But the laird was welcoming his lordship with the 
 heartiness of one receiving an unexpected favour in 
 the visit. 
 
 " Weel loupen, my lord ! " he said. " Come in an' 
 rist yersel' a bit, an' I s' tak.ye back on to yer ain 
 property an easier gait nor ower a dry stane-dyke." 
 
 " Gien it ^^my property," returned his lordship, " I 
 wad be obleeged to ye, laird, to haud yer fowk aff 
 o' 't ! " 
 
 " Grizzie, wuman," said the laird, turning to her, 
 " ye dinna surely want to bring me to disgrace ! The 
 
532 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Ian' 's his lordship's — bought and paid for, an' 
 I hae no more riclit ower 't nor Jeames Grade's 
 colley here, puir beast ! " 
 
 " Ye may be richt aboot the Ian', laird, the mair's 
 the pity ! " answered Grizzle ; " but the futpath, 
 beggin' the pardon o' baith lairdship and lordship, 
 belangs to me as muckle as to aither o' ye. Here I 
 Stan', alane for mysel' ! That ro'd 's my neebor, an' 
 I'm bun' to see til 't, for it wad be a sair vex to mony 
 a puir body like mysel' to louse the richt til 't." 
 
 " You'll have to prove what you say, woman," said 
 his lordship. 
 
 " Surely, Grizzle," expostulated the laird, " his lord- 
 ship maun un'erstan' affairs o' this natur', as well 's 
 you or me ! " 
 
 " As to the un'erstan'in' o' them, laird, I mak nae 
 doobt," returned Grizzie ; " an' as little 'at he's o' 
 the wrang side o' the wa' this time." 
 
 " Na, Grizzie — for "he's upo' my side o' 't, an' 
 walcome." 
 
 " He's jist as walcome, naither mair nor less, to the 
 path I made wi' my ain feet throuw the rouchest 
 pleughed Ian' I ever crossed." 
 
 Therewith Grizzie, who hated compromise, turned 
 away, and went into tlie kitchen. 
 
 " Come this way, m.y lord," said the laird. 
 
 "Take the dog home,'' said his lordship to the 
 bailiff. " Have him shot the first thing tomorrow- 
 morning. If it were n't the Sabbath, I'd have it 
 done to-night." 
 
 " He's good watch, my lord," interceded the 
 man. 
 
GRI2ZIES RIGHTS. 533 
 
 " He may be a good watch, but he's a bad dog,'' 
 replied his lordsliip. " I'll have neitlier man nor 
 dog about me that doesn't know his master. You 
 may poison him if you prefer it.'' 
 
 " Come awa', come awa', my lord ! " said the laird. 
 " This, as ye hae said, 's the Sabbath-nicht, an' the 
 thoucht o' 't sud mak us mercifu'. I hae naething to 
 offer ye but a cheir to rist ye in, an syne we'll tak 
 the ro'd like neebors thegither an' I'll shaw ye the 
 w'y hame." 
 
 His lordship yielded, for his poor thin legs were 
 yet trembling with the successful effort they had 
 made under the inspiration of fear, and now that spur 
 was gone, the dyke seemed a rampart insurmount- 
 able, and he dared not attempt it. 
 
 " What are you keeping that cursed dog there 
 for ? " he said, catching sight, as he turned, of 
 Cosmo, who held Covenant by the back of the neck. 
 
 " I am only waiting till your lordship's mastiff is 
 out of the way," answered Cosmo, 
 
 " That you may set him at me again, as that old 
 hag of yours did this morning ! ' As he spoke they 
 had neared the kitchen-door, open as usual, and 
 Grizzle heard what he said. 
 
 " That's as big a lee as ever your lordship h'ard 
 tell i' the coort," she cried. " It's the natur o' dougs 
 to tak scunners. They see far ben. Fess the beast 
 in here, Cosmo ; I s' be answ;erable for 'im. The 
 puir animal canna bide my lord.'' 
 
 " Hoot, hoot. Grizzle," began the laird anew, with 
 displeasure in his tone, but already the dog was in, 
 and the kitchen-door closed. 
 
534 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Leave her alone, Mr. Warlock, if you don't want 
 to have the worst of it," said his lordship, trying to 
 laugh. " But seriously, laird," he went on, " it is not 
 neighbourly to treat me like this. Oblige me by giv- 
 ing orders to your people not to trespass on my prop- 
 erty. I have paid my money for it, and must be 
 allowed to do with it as I please." 
 
 " My lord," returned the laird, " I have not given, 
 and will not give you the smallest annoyance in my 
 own person. — I hope yet to possess the earth," he 
 interjected, half unconsciously, to himself, but aloud. 
 "But — " 
 
 " Hey ! hey ! " said his lordship, thinking the man 
 was sending his reason after his property. 
 
 " But," continued the laird, " I cannot interfere 
 with the rights of my neighbours. If Grizzle says she 
 has a right of way — and I think very probably she 
 knows what she is about — I have no business to 
 interfere." 
 
 " Confound your cant ! " cried his lordship. "You 
 care no more for your neighbours than I do. You 
 only want to make yourself unpleasant to me. Show 
 me the way out, and be damned." 
 
 "My lord," said Cosmo, "if you weren't an old 
 man, I would show you the quickes! way out ! How 
 dare you speak so to a man like my father ! " 
 
 " Hold your tongue, you young fool ! You stand 
 up for your father! — idling about at home and eat- 
 ing him up ! Why don't you list ? With your edu- 
 cation you could work your way up. I warn you, if 
 you fall into my hands, I will not spare you. The 
 
(iRIZZIE S RIGHTS. 535 
 
 country will be better to live in when such as you are 
 scarcer.'' 
 
 " Cosmo," said his father, " do not answer him. 
 Show his lordship the way out, and let him go." 
 
 As they went through the garden. Lord Lick-my- 
 loof sought to renew the conversation, but Cosmo 
 maintained a stern silence, and his lordship went 
 home incensed more than ever with the contumacious 
 paupers. 
 
 But the path in which Grizzie gloried as the work 
 of her own feet, hardened and broadened, and that 
 although she herself had very little /oof in it anymore. 
 For the following week Mistress Gracie died ; and 
 the day after she was buried, the old cotter came to 
 the laird, and begged him to yield, if he pleased, the 
 contested point, and part with the bit of land he oc- 
 cupied. For all the neighbours knew his lordship 
 greatly coveted it, though none of them were aware 
 what a price he had offered for it. 
 
 "Ye see, sir," he said, "noo 'at s/ie's gane, it mait- 
 ters naething to Aggie or me whaur we are or what 
 comes o' 's." 
 
 " But wadna she hae said the same, gien it had 
 been you 'at was gane, Jeames ? " asked the laird. 
 
 " 'Deed wad she ! She was aye a' thing ior ither 
 fowk, an' naething for hersel' ! The mair cause she 
 sud be considered the noo ! " 
 
 •" An' ca' ye that considerin' her — to du the min- 
 ute she's gane the thing wad hae grieved her by or- 
 dinar' whan she was wi' ye ? " 
 
 "Whan we war thegither," returned Jeames with 
 golemnity, " there was a heap o' things worth a han- 
 
536 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 tie; nooi 'at we're pairted there's jist nearhan' as 
 mony 'at 's no worth a strae." 
 
 " Weel du I un'erstan' ye, Jeames ! " returned the 
 laird with a sigh. " But what wad come o' yersel' an' 
 Aggie wi'oot, a place to lay yer held ? We're no to 
 mak oorsel's a' sae ill aff as was the Maister; we 
 maun lea' that to his wull. Ye wadna hae . her luik 
 doon an' see ye in less corrjfort nor whan she was wi' 
 ye!" 
 
 "Thereanent, sir, I had a word o' proposal to 
 mak,'' rejoined Jeames. " Ye hae nae men noo aboot 
 the place : what for sudna Aggie an' me come and 
 bide i' the men's quarters, and be at han' to len' a 
 han' whan it was wantit .' Aggie an' me wad help to 
 get mair oot o' the gairden ; I wad hae mair time for 
 weyvin' ; an' ye wad get a heap for the bit grun' fra 
 Lick-my loof. It wadna be an ill muv, I do believe, 
 laird, for aither pairt. Consider o' 't, sir." 
 
 The laird saw that they might at least be better 
 accommodated at the castle than the cottage. He 
 would consult his son, he said. Cosmo in his turn 
 consulted Aggie, and was satisfied. In tlie winter the 
 wind blew through the cottage bitterly, she said. 
 
 As soon as it was settled,' Cosmo went to call on 
 his lordship, and was shown into his library. 
 
 His lordship guessed his errand, for his keen eye 
 had that same morning perceived signs of change 
 about the cottage.. He received him with politeness, 
 and begged to know wherein he could serve him. 
 From his changed behaviour Cosmo thought he must 
 be sorry for the way he had spoken to the laird. 
 
 " My father sent me," he said, " to inform your 
 
GRIZZIE S RIGHTS. 537 
 
 lordship that he is now at length in a position to 
 treat with your lordsliip concerning the proposal to 
 purchase James Grade's croft." 
 
 " I am greatly obliged to your father," replied Lord 
 Lick-m3'-loof, softly wiping one hand with the other, 
 " for his attention, but I have no longer any desire to 
 secure the land. It has been so long denied me, 
 that at length I have grown indifferent to the posses- 
 sion of it. That is a. merciful provision of the 
 Creator, that the human mind should have the faculty 
 of accommodating itself to cj resistances, even of 
 positive nuisance." 
 
 Cosmo rose. 
 
 "As soon as you have made up your mind," added 
 his lordship, rising also, "to pari with what remains 
 of the property, including the caxtL; I should be glad 
 to. have the refusal of that. /t would make a pictu- 
 resque ruin from certain pointy ol vi.vivcn the estate." 
 
 Cosmo bowed, and left his lards"\\\<frinning with 
 pleasure. 
 
CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 ANOTHER HARVEST. 
 
 The harvest brought again the opportunity of 
 earning a pound or two, and Cosmo was not the man 
 to let it slip. But he would not go so far from home 
 again, for, though his father never pined or com- 
 plained, Cosmo could see that his days shrunk more 
 rapidly when he was not with him : left alone, he 
 began at once to go home the faster — as if another 
 dragging anchor were cast loose, and he was drawn 
 the more swiftly whither sets the tide of life. To the 
 old and weary man the life to come showed as rest ; 
 to the young and active Cosmo it promised more 
 work. It is all one ; what we need for rest as well as 
 for labour is life; more life we want, and that is 
 everything. That which is would be more. The 
 eternal root causes us to long for more existence, 
 more being, more of God's making, less of our own 
 unmaking. Our very desire after rest comes of 
 life, life so strong that it recoils from weariness. 
 The imperfect needs to be more — must grow. The 
 538 
 
ANOTHER HARVEST. 539 
 
 sense of growth, of ever enlarging existence, is 
 essential to the created children of an infinite Father ; 
 for in the children 'the paternal infinite goes on 
 working — by them recognizable, not as infinitude, 
 but as growth. 
 
 The best thing in sight for both father and son 
 seemed to Cosmo a place in Lord Lick-my-loof's har- 
 vest — an engagement to reap, amongst the rest, the 
 fields that had so lately been his own. He would 
 then be almost within sight of his father when not 
 with him. He applied, therefore, to the grieve, the 
 same man -with whom he had all but fought that mem- 
 orable Sunday of Trespass. Though of a coarse, the 
 man was not of a spiteful nature, and that he had 
 quarrelled with another was not to him sufficient rea- 
 son for hating him ever after ; yet, as he carried the 
 application to his lordship, for he dared not without 
 his master's leave engage to his service the man he 
 counted his enemy, it gave him pleasure to see what 
 he called poor pride brought to the shame of what he 
 called beggary — as if the labour of a gentleman's 
 hands were not a good deal further from beggary than 
 the living upon money gained anyhow by his ancestors ! 
 
 Lord Lick-my-loof smouldered awhile before giving 
 an answer. The question was, which would most 
 gratify the feelings he cherished towards the man of 
 old blood, high station, and evil fortunes — to accept 
 or refuse the offered toil. His deliberation ended in 
 his giving orders to the bailiff to fee the young laird, 
 but to mind he did not pay workmen's wages for gen- 
 tleman's work — which injunction the bailiff allowed 
 to reach Cosmo's ears. 
 
S40 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 The young laird, as they all called him, was a 
 favourite with his enemy's men — partly, that they did 
 not love their master, and were the more ready to 
 side with the man he oppressed ; partly, because they 
 admired the gentleman who so cheerfully descended 
 to their level, and, showing neither condescension nor 
 chagrin, was in all simplicity friendly with them; and 
 partly, because some of them had been to his evening- 
 school the last winter, and had become attached to 
 him. No honest heart indeed could be near Cosmo 
 long and not love him — for the one reason that hu- 
 manity was in him so largely developed. To him a 
 man was a man whatever his position or calling; he 
 beheld neither in the great man a divinity, nor in the 
 small jnan a slave ; but honoured in his heart every 
 image of the living God it had pleased that God to 
 make — honoured every man as, if not already such in 
 the highest sense, yet destined to be one day a 
 brother of Jesus Christ. 
 
 In the arrangement of the mowers, the grieve 
 placed Cosmo last, as presumably the least capable, 
 that he might not lower the rate of the field. But 
 presently Cosmo contrived to make his neighbour in 
 front a little uneasy about his legs, and when the man 
 humourously objected to having them cut off, asked 
 him, for the joke of the thing, to change places with 
 him. The man at once consented ; the rest behaved 
 with equal courtesy, showing no desire to contest with 
 him the precedence of labour ; before the end of the 
 long bout, Cosmo swung the leading scythe; and 
 many were the compliments he received from his 
 companions, as they stood sharpening for the next, in 
 
ANOTHER HARVEST. 54I 
 
 which they were of one mind he must take the lead, 
 some begging him however to be considerate, as they 
 were not all so young as he, while others warned him 
 that, if he went on as he had begun, he could not 
 keep it up, but the first would be the last before the 
 day was over. Cosmo listened, and thereafter re- 
 strained himself, having no right to overwork his 
 companions ; yet notwithstanding he had cause, many 
 a time in after life, to remember the too great exer- 
 tion of that day. Even in the matter of work a man 
 has to learn that he is not his own, but has a master, 
 whom he must not serve as if he were a hard one. 
 When our will goes hand in hand with God's, then 
 are we fellow-workers with him in the affairs of the 
 universe — not mere discoverers of his ways, watch- 
 ing at the outskirts of things, but labourers with him 
 at the heart of them. 
 
 The next day Lord Lick-my-loof's shadow was 
 upon the field, and there he spent some time watch- 
 ing how things went. 
 
 Now Grizzie and Aggie, irrespective of Cosmo's 
 engagement, of which at the time they were unaware, 
 had laid their heads together, and concluded that, 
 although they could not both be at once away from 
 the castle, they might between them, with the con- 
 nivance of the bailiff, do a day's work and earn a 
 day's wages ; and although the grieve would certainly 
 have listened to no such request from Grizzie in per- 
 son, he was incapable of refusing it to Aggie. 
 Hence it followed that Grizzie, in her turn that 
 morning, was gathering to Cosmo's scythe, hanging 
 her labour on that of the young laird with as devoted 
 
542 WARLOCK, O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 ^ a heart as if he had been a priest at the high altar, 
 and she his loving acolyte. 1 doubt if his lordship 
 would have just then approached Cosmo, had he 
 noted who the woman was that went stooping along 
 behind the late heir of the land, now a labourer 
 upon it for the bread of his household. 
 
 " Weel, Glenwarlock ! " said the old man, giving a 
 lick to the palm of his right hand as he stopped in 
 front of the nearing mower, " ye're a famous han' at 
 the scythe ! The corn boos doon afore ye like the 
 stooks to Joseph." 
 
 " I hae a guid arm an' a sharp scythe, my lord," 
 answered Cosmo cheerily. 
 
 " Whisht, whisht, my lord ! " said Grizzle. " Gien 
 the corn hear ye, it '11 stan' up again an' cry out. 
 Hearken til 't." 
 
 The morning had been very still, but that moment 
 a gust of wind came and set all the corn rust- 
 ling. 
 
 " What ! you here ! — Crawford, you rascal ! " cried 
 his lordship, looking round, " turn this old cat out of 
 the field." 
 
 But he looked in vain ; the grieve was nowhere in 
 sight. 
 
 " The deil sew up yer lordship's moo' wi' an awn 
 o' beer ! " {a beard of ba7-ley) cried Grizzle. " Haith, 
 gien I be a cat, ye s' hear me curse ! " 
 
 His lordship bethought himself that she would 
 certainly disgrace him in the hearing of his labourers 
 if he provoked her further, for a former encounter 
 had revealed that she knew things not to his credit. 
 They were all working away as if they had not an 
 
ANOTHER HARVEST. 
 
 543 
 
 ear amongst them, but almost all of them heard 
 every word. 
 
 " Hoots, wuman ! " he said, in an altered tone, 
 " canna ye tak a jeist ? " 
 
 "Na; there's ower raony o' ye lordship's jeisls 
 hae turnt fearsome earnest to them at tuik 
 them ! " 
 
 "What mean ye, wuman ? " 
 
 " Wuman ! quo' he ? My name's Grisel Grant. 
 Wha kens na auld Grizzle, 'at never turnt her back 
 on freen' or foe ? But I'm no gaein til affront yer 
 lordship wi' the sicht o' }erser afore fowk — sae 
 long, that is, as ye haud a quaiet souch. But gie the 
 yoong laird there ony o' the dirt ye're aye lickin' oot 
 o' yer loof, an' the auld cat '11 be 'cryin' upo' the 
 hoose-tap ! " 
 
 " Grizzle ! Grizzle ! " cried Cosmo, ceasing his 
 work and coming back to where they stood, " ye'll 
 ruin a' ! " 
 
 " What is there to ruin 'at he can ruin mair ? " 
 returned Grizzle. "Whan yer back's to the wa', 
 ye canna fa'. An angry chiel' 'ill ca' .up the dell ; 
 but an angry wife '11 gar him rin for 's life. When 
 I'm angert, I fear no aiven his lordship there ! " 
 
 Lord Lick-my-loof turned and went, and Grizzle 
 set to work like a fury, probably stung by the sense 
 that she had gone too far. Old woman as she was, 
 she had soon overtaken Cosmo, but he was sorely 
 ' vexed, and did not speak to her. When after a while 
 the heat of her wrath was abated. Grizzle could not en- 
 dure the silence, for in every motion of Cosmo's body 
 before her she read that she had hurt him grievously. 
 
544 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Laird ! " she cried at last, " my stren'tli's gane 
 frae me. Gien ye dinna speyk to me, I'll draf)." 
 
 Cosmo stopped his scythe in mid swing, and turned 
 to her. How could he resist such an appeal ! 
 
 " Grizzie," he said, " I winna deny 'at ye hae vext 
 me, — " 
 
 " Ye needna ; I wadna believe ye. But ye dinna 
 ken yon man as I du, or ye wadna be sae sair angert 
 at onything wuman cud say til 'im. Gien I was 
 to tell ye what I ken o' 'im, ye wad be affrontit afore 
 me, auld wife as I am. Haith, ye wadna du anither 
 stroke for 'im ! " 
 
 " It's for the siller, no for him, Grizzie. But gien 
 he war as ill as ye ca' 'im, a' the same, as ye weel 
 ken, the Lord -maks his sun to rise on the evil 
 an' on the good, an' sen's rain on the just an' 
 on the unjust ! " 
 
 " Ow ay ! the Lord can afoord it ! " remarked 
 Grizzie. 
 
 "An' them 'at wad be his, maun afoord it tu, 
 Grizzie ! " returned Cosmo. " Whaur's the guid 
 o' ca'in' ill names, 'uman ? " 
 
 " Ill's the trowth o' them 'at 's ill. What for no set 
 ill names to ill duers ? " 
 
 " Cause a christian 's b'un' to destroy the warks o' 
 the evil ane ; an' ca'in' names raises mair o' them. 
 The only thing 'at maks awa' wi' ill, is the man 
 himsel' turnin' again' 't, an' that he'll never du for ill 
 names. Ye wad never gar me repent that gait, ■ 
 Grizzie. Hae mercy upo' the auld sinner, 'uman." 
 
 The pace at which they were making up for 
 lost time was telling upon Grizzie, and she was 
 
ANOTHER HARVEST. 545 
 
 silent. When she spoke again it was upon another 
 subject. 
 
 " I cud jest tlirottle that grieve tliere ! " she said. 
 "To see 'im the nicht afore last come liame to the 
 verra yett wi' Aggie, was enouch to anger the sanct 
 'at I'm no." 
 
 Jealousy sent a pang through the heart of Cosmo. 
 Was not Aggie one of the family — more like a sister 
 to him than any other could ever be ? The thought 
 of her and a man like Crawford was unendurable. 
 
 " She cudna weel help hersel'," he rejoined ; " an' 
 whaur's the maitter, sae lang as she has naething to 
 say til 'im ? " 
 
 " An' wha kens hoo lang that may be ? " returned 
 Grizzle. " The hert o' a wuman 's no deceitfu' as the 
 Bulk says o' a juan 's, an' sae 's a heap the easier de- 
 ceivt. The chield's no ill-luikin' ! an' I s' warran' 
 he's no sae rouch wi' a yoong lass as wi' an auld 
 wife." 
 
 " Grizzle, ye wadna mint 'at oor Aggie's ane to be 
 ta'en wi' the luiks o' a man ! " 
 
 "What for no — whan it 's a' the man has! A 
 wuman's hert's that saft, whiles, 'at she'll jist tak 'im, 
 no to be sair upon 'im. I wadna warran' ony lass ! 
 Gien the fallow cairry a fair face, she'll sweir her con- 
 science doon he maun hae a guid hert." 
 
 Thus Grizzie 'turned the tables upon Cosmo, and 
 sheltered herself behind them. Scarcely a word did 
 he speak the rest of the morning. 
 
 At noon, when toil gladly made way for dinner, 
 they all sat down among the stooks to eat and drink 
 — all except Grizzie, who, appropriating an oatcake 
 
S46 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 the food she and Aggie had a right to between them, 
 carried it home, and laid the greater part aside. 
 Cosmo ate and drank with the rest of the labourers, 
 and enjoyed the homely repast as much as any of 
 them. By the time the meal was over, Aggie had ar- 
 rived to take Grizzle's place. 
 
 It was a sultry afternoon ; and what with the heat 
 and the annoyance of the morning from Grizzle's 
 tongue and her talk concerning Agnes, the scythe 
 hung heavy in Cosmo's hands, nor had Aggie to 
 work her hardest to keep up with him. But she was 
 careful to maintain her proper distance from him, for 
 she knew that the least suspicion of relaxing effort 
 would set him off like a thrashing machine. He led 
 the field, nevertheless, at fair speed; his fellow 
 labourers were content ; and the bailiff made no re- 
 mark. But he was so silent, and prolonged silence 
 was so unusual between them, that Aggie was dis- 
 quieted. 
 
 " Are ye no weel, Cosmo ? " she asked. 
 
 " Weel eneuch, Aggie," he answered. " What 
 gars ye speir ? " 
 
 "Ye're haudin' yer tongue sae sair. — And," she 
 added, for she caught sight of the bailiff approaching, 
 "ye hae lost the last inch or twa o' yer stroke." 
 
 "I'll tell ye a' aboot it as we gang hame," he an- 
 swered, swinging his scythe in the 'arc of a larger 
 circle. 
 
 The bailiff came up. 
 
 " Dinna warstle yersel' to death, Aggie," he said. 
 
 " I maun baud up wi' my man," she replied. 
 
 "He's a het man at the scythe — ower het! He'D 
 
ANOTHER HARVEST. 547 
 
 be fit for naething or the week be oot. He canna 
 haud on at this rate ! " 
 
 "Ay can he — fine that ! Ye dinna ken oor yoong 
 laird. He's worth twa ordinar' men. An' gien ye 
 dinna think me fit to gather til' 'im, I s' lat ye see 
 ye're mistaen, Mr. Crawford." 
 
 And Aggie went on gathering faster and faster. 
 
 " Hoots I " said the bailiff, going up to her, and 
 laying his hand on her shoulder, " I ken weel ye hae 
 the spunk to work till ye drap. But there's na occa- 
 sion the noo. Sit ye doon an' tak yer breath a meen- 
 ute — here i' the shaidow o' this stook. Whan Glen- 
 warlock's at the tither en', we'll set tu thegither an' 
 be up wi' him afore he's had time to put a fresh edge 
 on 's scythe. Come, Aggie I 1 hae lang been thinkin' 
 lang to hae a word wi' ye. Ye left me or I kent 
 whaur I was the ither nicht." 
 
 " My time's no my ain," answered Aggie. 
 
 " Whause is 't than ? " 
 
 " While's it's the laird's, an' while's it's my father's, 
 an' noo it's his lordship's." 
 
 " It's yer ain sae lang's I'm at the heid o'^ 's lord- 
 ship's affairs." 
 
 " Na ; that canna be. He's boucht my time, an' 
 he'll pey me for 't, an' he s' hae his ain." 
 
 " Ye needna consider 'im mair nor rizzon : he's 
 been nae freen' to you or yours.'' 
 
 " What's that to the p'int ? " 
 
 " A' tiling to the p'int — wi' me here to haud it 
 richt atween ye." 
 
 " Ca' ye that haudin' o' 't richt, to temp' me to 
 wrang 'im ? " said Aggie, going steadily on at her 
 
548 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 gatliering, while the grieve kept following her step 
 by step. 
 
 " Ye're unco short wi' a body, Aggie ! " 
 
 " I weel may be, whan a body wad hae me neglec' 
 my paid wark." 
 
 " Weel, I reckon ye're i' the richt o' 't efter a', sae 
 I'll jist fa' tu, an' len' ye a han'." 
 
 He had so far hindered her that Cosmo had gained 
 a little ; and now in pretending to help, he contrived 
 to hinder her yet more. Still she kept near enough 
 to Cosmo to prevent the grieve from saying much, 
 and by and by he left her. 
 
 When they dropped work for the night, he would 
 have accompanied her home, but she never left 
 Cosmo's side, and they went away together. 
 
 " -A^gg'S." said Cosmo, as soon as there was no one 
 within hearing, " I dinna like that chield hingin' 
 aboot ye — glowerin' at ye as gien he wad ate ye." 
 
 " He winna du that, Cosmo ; he's ceevil eneuch." 
 
 " Ye sud hae seen sae rouch as he was to Grizzie ! " 
 
 "Grizzie's some rouch hersel' whiles," remarked 
 Aggie quietly. 
 
 " Thafs ower true," assented Cosmo ; " but a man 
 sud never behave like that til a wuman." 
 
 " Say that to the man," rejoined Aggie. " Tiie 
 wuman can hand afif o' hersel'." 
 
 " Grizzie, I grant ye, 's mair nor a match for ony 
 man ; but ye're no sae lang i' the tongue, Aggie." 
 
 " Think ye a lang tongue 's a lass's safety, Cosmo ? 
 I wad awe nane til 't ! But what's ta'en ye the nicht, 
 at ye speyk to me sae ? I ken no occasion." 
 
 "Aggie, I wadna willinl'y say a word to vex ye," 
 
ANOTHER HARVEST. 549 
 
 answered Cosmo ; " but I hae notit an h'ard 'at the 
 best 'o wuman whiles tak oonaccootable fancies to men 
 no fit to haud a can'le to them." 
 
 Aggie turned her head aside. 
 
 " 1 wad ill like you, for instance, to be drawn to 
 yon Crawford," he went on. " It's eneuch to me 'at 
 he's been lang the factotum o' an ill man." 
 
 A slight convulsive movement passed across Aggie's 
 face, leaving behind it a shadow of hurtless resent- 
 ment, yielding presently to a curious smile. 
 
 " I micht mak a better man o' 'im," she said, and 
 again looked away. 
 
 " They a' think that, I'm thinkin' ! " returned 
 Cosmo with a sad bitterness. " An' sae they wall, 
 to the wad's en'. — But, Aggie," he added, after a 
 pause, " ye ken ye're no to be oonaiqually yokit." 
 
 "That's what I hae to heed, I ken," murmured 
 Aggie. "But what do ye un'erstan' by 't, Cosmo? 
 There's nae 'worshippers o' idols the noo, as i' the 
 days whan the apostle said that." 
 
 " There's idols visible, an' idols invisible," 
 answered Cosmo. "There's heaps o' idols amo' 
 them 'at ca's themsel's an' 's coontit christians. Gien 
 a man set himsel' to lay by siller, he's the worship- 
 per o' as oogly an idol as gien he said his prayers to 
 the fish-tailt god o' the Philistines." 
 
 " Weel' I wat that ! " returned Agnes, and a silence 
 followed. 
 
 " You an' me's aye been true til ane anither, Aggie," 
 resumed Cosmo at length, " an' I wad fain hae a 
 promise frae ye — jist to content me." 
 
 " What aboot, Cosmo ? " 
 
550 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Promise, an' I'll tell ye, as the bairnies say." 
 
 " But we're no bairnies, Cosmo, an' I daurna — 
 even to you 'at I wad trust like the Bible. Tell me 
 what it is, an' gien I may, I wull." 
 
 " It's no muckle atween you an' me, Aggie. It's 
 only this — 'at gien ever ye fa' in love wi' onybody, 
 ye'll let me ken." 
 
 Agnes was silent for a moment; then, with a 
 tremble in her voice, which in vain she sought to 
 smooth out, and again turning her head away, 
 answered : 
 
 " Cosmo, I daurna." 
 
 " I want naething mair," said Cosmo, thinking she 
 must hav , misapprehended, " nor the promise 'at 
 what ye ken I sail ken. I wad fain be wi' ye at sic a 
 time." 
 
 " Cosmo," said Aggie with much solemnity, 
 " there's ane at's aye at lian', ane that sticketh closer 
 nor a brither. The thing ye require o' me, micht be 
 what a lass could tell to nane but the father o' her — 
 him 'at 's in haiven." 
 
 Cosmo was silenced, as indeed it was time and 
 reason he should be ; for had she been his daughter, 
 he would have had no right to make such a request 
 of her. He did it in all innocence, and might well 
 have asked her to tell him, but not to promise to tell 
 him. He did not yet understand however that he 
 was wrong, and was the more troubled about her, 
 feeling as if, for the first time in their lives, Aggie and 
 he had begun to be divided. 
 
 They entered the kitchen. Aggie hastened to help 
 Grizzie lay the cloth for supper. Her grandfather 
 
ANOTHER HARVEST. Sgl 
 
 looked up with a smile from the newspaper he was 
 reading in the window. The laird, who had an old 
 book in his hand, called out, 
 
 " Here, Cosmo ! jist hearken to this bit o' wisdom, 
 my man — frae a hert doobtless praisin' God this 
 mony a day in higher warl's : — ' He that would 
 always know before he trusts, who would have from 
 his God a promise before he will expect, is the slayer 
 of his own eternity.' '' 
 
 The words mingled strangely with what had just 
 passed between him and Agnes. Both they and that 
 gave him food for thought, but could not keep him 
 awake. 
 
 The bailiff continued to haunt the goings and 
 comings of Agnes, but few supposed his attentions 
 acceptable to her. Cosmo continued more and less 
 uneasy. 
 
 The harvest was over at length, and the little 
 money earned mostly laid aside for the sad winter, 
 once more on its way. But no good hope dies with- 
 ■ out leaving a child, a younger and fresher hope, be- 
 hind it. The year's fruit must fall that the next 
 year's may come, and the winter is the only way to 
 the spring. 
 
CHAPTER XLV, 
 
 THE FINAL CONFLICT. 
 
 As there was no more weekly pay for teaching, and 
 no extra hands were longer wanted for farm-labour, 
 Cosmo, hearing there was a press of work and a 
 scarcity of workmen in the building-line, offered his 
 services, at what wages he should upon trial judge 
 them worth, to Sandy Shand, the mason, then erect- 
 ing a house in the village for a certain Mr. Pennycuik 
 — a native of the same, who, having left it long ago, 
 and returned from India laden with riches, now de- 
 sired, if not to end, yet to spend his days amid the 
 associations of his youth. Upon this house, his offer 
 accepted, Cosmo laboured, now doing the work of a 
 mason, now of a carpenter, and receiving fair wages, 
 until such time when the weather put a stop to all but 
 in-door work of the kind. But the strange thing was, 
 that, instead of reaping golden opinions for his read- 
 iness to turn his hand to anything honest by which he 
 could earn a shilling, Cosmo became in consequence 
 the object of endless blame — that a young man of 
 
 SS3 
 
THE FINAL CONFLICT. SS3 
 
 his abilities, with a college-education, should spend 
 his time — waste it, people said — at home, pottering 
 about at work that was a disgrace to a gentleman, in- 
 stead of going away and devoting himself to some 
 honourable calling. " Look at Mr. Pennycuik ! " they 
 said. " See how he has raised himself in the social 
 scale, and that without one of the young laird's advan- 
 tages ! There he stands, a rich man and employer of 
 labour, while the poor-spirited gentleman is one of 
 his hired labourers ! " Such is the mean idea most 
 men have of the self-raising that is the duty of a man ! 
 They speak after their kind, putting ambition in the 
 place of aspiration. Not knowing the spirit they 
 were of, these would have had Cosmo say to his 
 father, Korban. They knew nothing of, and were in- 
 capable of taking into the account certain moral re- 
 finements and delicate difficulties entailed upon him 
 by that father, such as might indeed bring him to beg- 
 gary, but could never allow him to gather riches like 
 those of Mr. Pennycuik. Like his father, he had a 
 holy weakness for the purity that gives arms of the 
 things within us. If there is one thing a Christian 
 soul recoils from, it is meanness — of action, of 
 thought, of judgment. What a heaven some must 
 think to be saved into ! At the same time Cosmo 
 would not have left his father to make a fortune the 
 most honourable. 
 
 Through stress of weather, Cosmo was therefore 
 thrown back once more upon his writing. But still, 
 whether it was that there was too little of Grizzle or 
 too much of himself in these later stories, his work 
 seemed to have lost either the power or the peculiar- 
 
554 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 ity that had recommended it. Things therefore did 
 not look promising. But they liad a fair stock of oat 
 meal laid in, and that was the staff of life, also a tol- 
 erable supply of fuel, which neighbours had lent them- 
 horses to bring from the peat-moss. 
 
 With the cold weather the laird began again to fail, 
 and Cosmo to fear that this would be the last of the 
 good man's winters. As the best protection from the 
 cold he betook himself to bed, and Cosmo spent his 
 life almost in the room, reading aloud when the old 
 man was able to listen, and reading to himself or 
 writing when he was not. The other three of the 
 household were mostly in the kitchen, saving fuel, 
 and keeping each other company. And thus the 
 little garrison awaited the closer siege of the slow-be- 
 leaguering winter, most of them in their hearts mak- 
 ing themselves strong to resist the more terrible ene- 
 mies which all winter-armies bring flying on their 
 flanks — the haggard fiends of doubt and dismay — 
 which creep through the strongest walls. To trust 
 in spite of the look of being forgotten ; to keep cry- 
 ing out into the vast whence comes no voice, and 
 where seems no hearing; to struggle after light, where 
 is no glimmer to guide ; at every turn to find a door- 
 less wall, yet ever seek a door; to see the machinery 
 of the world pauseless grinding on as if self-moved, 
 caring for' no life, nor shifting a hair's-breadth for all 
 entreaty, and yet believe that God is awake and ut- 
 terly loving ; to desire nothing but what comes meant 
 for us from his hand ; to wait patiently, willing to die 
 of hunger, fearing only lest faith should fail — such is 
 the victory that overcometh the world, such is faith 
 
THE FINAL CONFLICT. 555 
 
 indeed. After such victory Cosmo had to strive and 
 pray liard, sometimes deep sunk in tlie wave wlaile 
 his fatlier floated calm on its crest: the old man's 
 discipHne had been longer; a continuous communion 
 had for many years been growing closer between him 
 and the heart whence he came. 
 
 " As I lie here, warm and free of pain," he said 
 once to his son, " expecting the redemption of my 
 body, I cannot tell you how happy I am. I cannot 
 think how ever in my life I feared anything. God 
 knows it was my obligation to others that oppressed 
 me, but now, in my utter incapacity, I am able to 
 trust him with' my honour, and my duty, as well as my 
 sin." 
 
 " Look here, Cosmo," he said another time ; " I 
 had temptations such as you would hardly think, to 
 better my worldly condition, and redeem the land 
 of my ancestors, and the world would have com- 
 mended, not blamed me, had I yielded. But my 
 God was with me all the time, and I am dying a 
 poorer man than my father left me, leaving you a 
 poorer man still, but, praised be God, an honest one. 
 Be very sure, my son, God is the only adviser to be 
 trusted, and you must do what he tells you, even if it 
 lead you to a stake, to be burned by the slow fire of 
 poverty. — O my Father!" cried the old man, break- 
 ing out suddenly in prayer, " my soul is a flickering 
 flame of which thou art the eternal, inextinguishable 
 fire. I am blessed because thou art. Because thou art 
 life, I live. Nothing can hurt me, because nothing can 
 hurt thee. To thy care I leave my son, for thou 
 lovest him as thou hast loved me. Deal with him as 
 
5S6 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 thou hast dealt with me. I ask for nothing, care for 
 nothing but thy will. Strength . is gone from 
 me, but my life is hid in thee. I am a feeble old 
 man, but I am dying into the eternal day of thy 
 strength." 
 
 Cosmo stood and listened with holy awe and grow- 
 ing faith. For what can help our faith like the faith 
 of the one we most love, when, sorely tried, it is yet 
 sound and strong ! 
 
 But there was still one earthy clod clinging to the 
 heart of Cosmo. There was no essential evil in it, 
 yet not the less it held him back from the freedom of 
 the man who, having parted with everything, pos- 
 sesses all things. The place, the things, the immedi- 
 ate world in which he was born and had grown up, 
 crowded with the memories and associations of child- 
 hood and youth, amongst them the shadowy loveli- 
 ness of Ladi' Joan, had a hold of his heart that 
 savoured of idolatry. The love was born in him, had 
 come down into him through generation after genera- 
 tion of ancestors, had a power over him for whose 
 existence he was not accountable, but for whose 
 continuance, as soon as he became aware of its ex- 
 istence, he would know himself accountable. For 
 Cosmo was not one of those weaklings who, finding 
 in themselves certain tendencies with whose existence 
 they had nothing to do, and therefore in whose pres- 
 ence they have no blame, say to themselves, " I can- 
 not help it," and at once create evil, and make it 
 their own, by obeying the inborn impulse. Inheritors 
 of a lovely estate, with a dragon in a den, which they 
 have to kill that the brood may perish, they make 
 
THE FINAL CONFLICT. rey 
 
 friends with tlie dragon, and so think to save them- 
 selves trouble. 
 
 But I would not be misunderstood : I do not think 
 Cosmo loved his home too much; I only think he 
 did not love it enough in God. To love a thing di- 
 vinely, is to be ready to yield it without a pang when 
 God wills it ; but to Cosmo, the thought of parting 
 with the house of his fathers and the rag of land 
 that yet remained to it, was torture. This hero of 
 mine, instead of sleeping the perfect sleep of faith, 
 would lie open-eyed through half the night, hatching 
 scheme after scheme — not for the redemption of the 
 property — even to him that seemed hopeless, but for 
 the retention of the house. Might it not at least go 
 to ruin under eyes that loved it, and with the minis- 
 tration of tender hands that yet could not fast enough 
 close the slow-yawning chasms of decay ? His dream 
 haunted him, and he felt that, if it came true, he 
 would rather live in the dungeon wine-cellar of the 
 mouldering mammoth-tooth, than forsake the old 
 stones to live elsewhere in a palace. The love of his 
 soul for Castle Warlock was like the love of the 
 Psalmist for Jerusalem : when he looked on a stone 
 of its walls, it was dear to him. But the love of 
 Jerusalem became an idolatry, for the Jews no longer 
 loved it because the living God dwelt therein, but 
 because it was theirs, and then it was doomed, for it 
 was an idol. The thing was somewhat different with 
 Cosmo : the house was almost a part of himself — an 
 extension of his own body, as much his as the shell 
 of a snail is his. But because into this shell were 
 not continued those nerves of life which gi^'e the con- 
 
558 WARLOCK O' GLENWAR.LOCK. 
 
 sciousness of the body, and there was therefore no 
 reaction from it of tliose feelings of weakness and 
 need which, to such a man as Cosmo, soon reveal the 
 fact that he is not lord of his body, that he cannot 
 add to it one cubit, or make one hair white or black, 
 and must therefore leave the care of it to him who 
 made it, he had to learn in other ways that his castle 
 of stone was God's also. His truth and humility and 
 love had not yet reached to the quickening of the 
 idea of the old house with the feeling that God was 
 in it with him, giving it to him. Not yet possessing 
 therefore the soul of the house, its greatest bliss, 
 which nothing could take from him, he naturally 
 could not be content to part with it. It seemed an 
 impossibility that it should be taken from him — a 
 wrong to things, to men, to nature, that a man like 
 Lick-my-loof should obtain the lordship over it. As 
 he lay in the night, in the heart of the old pile, and 
 heard the wind roaring about its stone-mailed roofs, 
 the thought of losing it would sting him almost to 
 madness, — hurling him from his bed to the floor, to 
 pace up and down the room, burning, in the coldest 
 midnight of winter, like one of the children in the 
 fiery furnace, only the furnace was of worse fire, 
 being the wrath which worketh not the righteousness 
 of God. 
 
 Suddenly one such night he became aware that he 
 could not pray — that in this mood he never prayed. 
 In every other trouble he prayed — felt it the one 
 natural thing to pray ! Why not in this ? Some- 
 thing must be wrong — terribly wrong ! 
 
 It was a stormy night ; the snow-burdened wind 
 
THE FINAL CONFLICT. 559 
 
 was raving ; and Cosmo would have been striding 
 about the room but that now he was in his father's, 
 and dreaded disturbing him. He lay still, with 
 a stone on his heart, for he was now awake to the 
 fact that he could not say, " Thy will be done." He 
 tried sore to lift up his heart, but could not. Some- 
 thing rose ever between him and his God, and beat 
 back his prayer. A thick fog was about him — no 
 air wherewith to make a cry ! In his heart not one 
 prayer would come to life ; it was like an old nest 
 without bird or egg in it. 
 
 It was too terrible ! Here was a schism at the 
 very root of his being. The love of things was 
 closer to him than the love of God. Between him 
 and God rose the rude bulk of a castle of stone ! He 
 crept out of bed, laid himself on his face on the 
 floor, and prayed in an agony. The wind roared and 
 howled, but the desolation in his heart made of the 
 storm a mere play of the elements. How few of my 
 readers will understand even the possibility of such a 
 state ! How many of them will scorn the idea of it, 
 as that of a man on the high road to insanity ! 
 
 "God," he cried, "I thought I knew thee, and 
 sought thy will ; and I have sought thy ^vill in-greater 
 things than this wherein I now lie ashamed before 
 thee. I cannot even pray to thee. But hear thou 
 the deepest will in me, which, thou knowest, must 
 bow before thine, when once thou hast uttered 
 it. Hear the prayer I cannot offer. Be my perfect 
 Father to fulfil the imperfection of thy child. Be 
 God after thy own nature, beyond my feeling, beyond 
 my prayer — according to that will in me which now, 
 
560 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 for all my trying, refuses to awake and ari. e from the 
 dead. O Christ, who knowest me better a thousand 
 times than I know myself, whose I am, divinely 
 beyond my notions of thee and me, hear and save me 
 eternally, out of thy eternal might whereby thou 
 didst make me and give thyself to me. Make me 
 strong to yield all to thee. I have no way of con- 
 fessing thee before men, but in the depth of my 
 thought I would confess thee, yielding everything 
 but the truth, which is thyself ; and therefore, even 
 while my heart hangs back, I force my mouth to say 
 fhe words — Take from me what thou leiilt, only make 
 me clean, pure, divine. To thee I yield the house and 
 all that is in it. It is thine, not mine. Give it to 
 whom thou wilt. I would have nothing but what thou 
 choosest shall be mine. I have thee, and all things 
 are mine." 
 
 Thus he prayed, thus he strove with a reluctant 
 heart, forcing its will by the might of a deeper will, 
 that would be for God and freedom, in spite of the 
 cleaving of his soul to the dust. 
 
 Then for a time thought ceased in exhaustion. 
 When it returned, lo ! he was in peace, in the heart 
 of a cahn unspeakable. How it came he could not 
 tell, for he had not been aware of its approach ; but 
 the contest was over, and in a few minutes he was 
 fast asleep — ten times his own because a thousand 
 times another's — one with him whom all men in one 
 could not comprehend, whom yet the heart of every 
 true child lays hold upon and understands. 
 
 I would not have it supposed that, although the 
 crisis was past, there was no more stormy weather, 
 
THE FINAL CONFLICT. 561 
 
 Often it blew a gale — often a blast would come 
 creeping in — almost always in the skirts of the hope 
 that God would never require such a sacrifice of him. 
 Eut he never again found he could not pray. Re- 
 calling the strife and the great peace, he made haste 
 to his master, compelling the refractory slave in his 
 heart to be free, and cry, " Do thy will; not mine.' 
 Then would the enemy withdraw, and again he? 
 breathed the air of the eternal. 
 
 When a man comes to the point that he will no 
 longer receive anything save from the hands of him 
 who has the right to withhold, and in whose giving 
 alone lies the value of possession, then is he ap 
 preaching the inheritance of the saints in light, o£ 
 those whose strength is made perfect in weakness. 
 But there are those who for the present it is needless 
 to trouble any mc^re than the chickens about the yard. 
 Their hour will come, and in the meantime they are 
 counted the fortunate ones of the earth. 
 
CHAPTER XLVI, 
 
 A REST. 
 
 But now James Gracie fell sick. They removed 
 him therefore from the men's quarters, and gave him 
 Cosmo's room, that he might be better attended to, 
 and warmer than in his own. Cosmo put up a bed 
 for himself in his father's room, and Grizzle and 
 Aggie slept together ; so now the household was 
 gathered literally under one roof — that of the kitchen- 
 tower, as it had been called for centuries. 
 
 James's attack was serious, requiring much atten- 
 tion, and involving an increase of expenditure which 
 it needed faith to face. But of course Cosmo did 
 not shrink from it : , so long as his money lasted, his 
 money should go. James himself objected bitterly 
 to such waste, as he called it, saying what remained 
 of his life was not worth it. But the laird, learning 
 the mood the old man was in, rose, and climbed the 
 stair, and stood before his bed, and said to him sol- 
 emnly, " Jeames, wha are ye to tell the Lord it's time 
 he sud tak ye? what kin'' o' faith is 't, to refuse a sup, 
 562 
 
563 
 
 'cause ye see na anither spunefu' upo' the ro'd ahin' 
 't?" 
 
 James hid his old face in his old hands. The 
 laird went back to his bed, and nothing more ever 
 passed on the subject. 
 
 The days went on, the money ran fast away, no 
 prospect appeared of more, but still they had enough 
 to eat. 
 
 One morning in the month of January, still and 
 cold, and dark overhead, a cheerless day in whose 
 bosom a storm was coming to life, Cosmo, sitting at 
 his usual breakfast of brose, the simplest of all 
 preparations of oatmeal, bethought himself whether 
 some of the curiosities in the cabinets in the drawing- 
 room might not, with the help of his friend the 
 jeweller, be turned to account. Not waiting to finish 
 his breakfast, for which that day he had but little 
 relish, he rose and went at once to examine the 
 family treasures in the light of necessity. ' 
 
 The drawing-room felt freezing-dank like a tomb, 
 and looked weary of its memories. It was so still 
 that it seemed as if sound would die in it. Not a 
 mouse stirred. The few pictures on the walls looked 
 perishing with cold and changelessness. The very 
 shine of the old damask was wintry. But Cosmo 
 did not long stand gazing. He crossed to one of the 
 shrines of his childhood's reverence, opened it, and 
 began to examine the things with the eye of a seller. 
 Once they had seemed treasures inestimable, now he 
 feared they might bring him nothing in his sore need. 
 Scarce a sorrow at the thought of parting with them 
 woke in him, as one after another he set those aside. 
 
564 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 and took these from their places and put them on 
 a table. He was like a miner searching for golden 
 ore, not a miser whom hunger had dominated. The 
 sole question with him was, would this or that bring 
 money. When he had gone through the cabinet, he 
 turned from it to regard what he had found. There 
 was a dagger in a sheath of silver of raised work, 
 with a hilt cunningly wrought of the same ; a goblet 
 of iron with a rich pattern in gold beaten into it ; a 
 snuff-box with a few diamonds set round a monogram 
 in gold in the lid : these, with several other smaller 
 things that had an air of promise about them, he 
 thought it might be worth while to make the trial 
 with, and packed them carefully, thinking to take them 
 at once to Muir of Warlock, and commit them to 
 the care of the carrier. But when he returned to his 
 father, he found he had been missing him, and put off 
 going till the next day. 
 
 As the sun went down, the wind rose, and the 
 storm in the bosom of the stillness came to life — 
 the worst of that winter. It reminded both father 
 and son of the terrible night when Lord Mergwain 
 went out into the deep. The morning came, fierce 
 with gray cold age, a tumult of wind and snow. 
 There seemed little chance the carrier would go for 
 days to come. But the storm might have been more 
 severe upon their hills than in the opener country, 
 and Cosmo would go and see. Certain things too 
 had to be got for the invalids. 
 
 It was with no small difficulty he made his way 
 through the snow to the village, and there also he 
 found it so deep, that the question would have been 
 
A REST. 565 
 
 how to get the cart out of the shed, not whether the 
 horses were likely to get it through the Glens o' 
 Fowdlan. He left the parcel therefore with the 
 carrier's wife, and proceeded, somewhat sad at heart, 
 to spend the last of his money, amounting to half-a- 
 crown. Having done so, he set out for home, the 
 wind blowing fierce, and the snow falling thick. 
 
 Just outside the village he met a miserable-looking 
 woman, with a child in her arms. How she came to 
 be there he could not think. She moved him with 
 the sense of community in suffering: hers was the 
 greater share, and he gave her the twopence he had 
 left. Prudence is but one of the minor divinities, if 
 indeed she be anything better than the shadow of 
 a virtue, and he took no counsel with her, knowing 
 that the real divinity. Love, would not cast him out 
 for the deed. The widow who gave the two mites 
 was by no means a prudent person. Upon a certain 
 ancient cabinet of carved oak is represented Charity, 
 gazing at the child she holds on her arm, and beside 
 her Prudence, regarding herself in a mirror. 
 
 Cosmo had not gone far, battling. with wind and 
 snow above and beneath, before he began to feel his 
 strength failing him. It had indeed been failing for 
 some time. Grizzle knew, although he himself did 
 not, that he had not of late been eating so well; and 
 he had never quite recovered his exertions in Lord 
 Lick-my-loof's harvest-fields. Now, for the first time 
 in his life, he began to find his strength unequal to 
 elemental war. But he laughed at the idea, and held 
 on. The wind was right in' his face, and the cold was 
 bitter. Nor was there within him, though plenty of 
 
£66 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 courage, good spirits enotigh to supply any lack of 
 physical energy. His breath grew short, and his 
 head began to ache. He longed for home that he 
 might lie down and breathe, but a long way and a 
 great snowy wind were betwixt him and rest. He 
 fell into a reverie, and seemed to get on better for 
 not thinking about the exertion he had to make. 
 The monotony of it at the same time favoured the 
 gradual absorption of his thoughts in a dreamy medi- 
 tation. Alternately sunk in himself for minutes, and 
 waking for a moment to the consciousness of what 
 was around him, he had walked, as it seemed, for 
 hours, and at length, all notion of time and distance 
 gone, began to wonder whether he must not be near 
 the place where the parish-road turned off. He 
 stood, and sent sight into his eyes, but nothing was 
 to be seen through the drift saye more drift behind 
 it. Was he upon the road at all? He sought this 
 way and that, but could find neither ditch nor dyke. 
 He was lost! He knew well the danger of sitting 
 down, knew on the other hand that the more ex- 
 hausted he was when he succumbed, the sooner 
 would the cold get the better of him, and that even 
 now he might be wandering from the abodes of men, 
 diminishing with every step the likelihood of being 
 found. He turned his back to the wind and stood — 
 how long he did not know, but while he stood thus 
 'twixt waking and sleeping, he received a heavy blow 
 on the head — or so it seemed — from something soft. 
 It dazed him, and the rest was like a dream, in which 
 he walked on and on for ages, falling and rising 
 again, following something, he never knew what. 
 
A REST. 567 
 
 There all memory of consciousness ceased. He 
 came to himself in bed. 
 
 Aggie was the first to get anxious about him. 
 They had expected him home to dinner, and when it 
 l\egan to grow dark and he had not come, she could 
 bear it no longer, and set out to meet him. But she 
 had not far to go, for she had scarcely left the 
 kitchen-door when she saw some one leaning over the 
 gate. Through the gathering twilight and the storm 
 she could distinguish nothing more, but she never 
 doubted it was the young laird, though whether in 
 the body or out of it she did doubt not a little. She 
 hurried to the gate, and found him standing between 
 it and the wall. She thought at first he was dead, 
 for there came no answer when she spoke ; but pres- 
 ently she heard him murmur something about conic 
 sections. She opened the gate gently. He would 
 have fallen as it yielded, but she held him. Her 
 touch seemed to bring him a little to himself. She 
 supported and encouraged him ; he obeyed her, and 
 she succeeded in getting him into the house. It was 
 long ere Grizzle and she could make him warm be- 
 fore the kitchen-fire, but at last he came to himself 
 sufficiently to walk up the stairs to bed, though after- 
 wards he remembered nothing of it. 
 
 He was recovering before they let the laird under- 
 stand in what a dangerous plight Aggie had found 
 him, but the moment he learned that his son was ail- 
 ing, the old man seemed to regain a portion of his 
 strength. He rose from his bed, and for the two 
 days and three nights during which Cosmo was fever- 
 ish and wandering, slept only in snatches. On the 
 
568 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 third day Cosmo himself persuaded him to return to 
 his bed. 
 
 Tlie women had now their hands full — all the men 
 in the house laid up, and they two only to do every- 
 thing! The first night, when they had got Cosr»o 
 comfortable in bed, and had together gone down 
 again to the kitchen, in the middle of the floor they 
 stopped, and looked at each other: their turn had 
 come ! They understood each other, and words were 
 needless. Each had saved a little money — and now 
 no questions would be asked ! Aggie left the! room 
 and came back with her store, which she put into 
 Grizzle's hand. Grizzie laid it on the table, went in 
 her turn to her box, brought thence her store, laid it 
 on the other, took both up, closed her hands over 
 them, shook them together, murmured over them, 
 like an incantation, the words, "It's nae mair mine, 
 an' it's nae mair thine, but belangs to a', whatever 
 befa'," and put all in her pocket under her winsey 
 petticoat. Thence, for a time, the invalids wanted 
 nothing — after the moderate ideas of need, that is, 
 ruling in the house. 
 
 When Cosmo came to himself on the third day, he 
 found that self possessed by a wondrous peace. It 
 was as if he were dead, and had to rest till his 
 strength, exhausted with dying, came back to him. 
 Bodiless he seemed, and without responsibility of 
 action, with that only of thought. Those verses in 
 The Ancient Mariner came to him as if he spoke them 
 for himself : 
 
 " 1 thought that I had died in sleep. 
 And was a blessed ghost." 
 
A REST. 569 
 
 His soul was calm and trusting like that of a bird 
 on her eggs, who knows her one grand duty in the 
 economy of the creation is repose. How it was he 
 never could quite satisfy himself, but, remembering 
 he had spent their last penny, he yet felt no anxiety ; 
 neither, when Giizzie brought him food, felt inclina- 
 tion to ask her how she had procured it. The atmos- 
 phere was that of the fairy-palace of his childish- 
 visions, only his feelings were more solemn, and the 
 fairy, instead of being beautiful, was — well, was dear 
 old Grizzle. His sole concern was his father, and 
 the cheerful voice that invariably answered his every 
 inquiry was sufficient reassurance. 
 
 For three days more he lay in a kind of blessed 
 lethargy, with little or no suffering. He fancied he 
 could not recover, nor did he desire to recover, but 
 to go with his father to the old world, and learn its 
 ways from his mother. In his half slumbers he 
 seemed ever to be gently floating down a great gray 
 river, on which thousands more were likewise floating, 
 each by himself, some in canoes, some in boats, some 
 in the water without even an oar ; every now and then 
 one would be lifted and disappear, none saw how, 
 but each knew that his turn would come, when he 
 too would be laid hold of ; in the meantime all floated 
 helpless onward, some full of alarm at the unknown 
 before them, others indifferent, and some filled with 
 solemn expectation ; he himself floated on gently 
 waiting: the unseen hand would come with the hour, 
 and give him to his mother. 
 
 On the seventh day he began to regard the things 
 around him with some interest, began to be aware of 
 
570 WARLOCK O GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 returning strength, and the approach of duty : pres- 
 ently he must rise, and do his part to keep things 
 going ! Still he felt no anxiety, for the alarum of duty 
 had not yet called him. And now, as he lay passive 
 to the influences of restoring strength, his father from 
 his bed would tell him old tales he had heard from 
 his grandmother ; and sometimes they made Grizzle 
 sit between the two beds, and tell them stories she 
 had heard in her childhood. Her stock seemed 
 never exhausted. Now one, now the other would say, 
 " There, Grizzie ! I never heard that before ! " and 
 Grizzle would answer, " I daursay no, sir. IIoo sud 
 ye than ? I had forgotten 't mysel' ! " 
 
 Here is one of the stories Grizzie told them. 
 " In a cauld how, far amo' the hills, whaur the 
 winter was a sair thing, there leevit an honest 
 couple, a man 'at had a gey lot o' sheep, an' his wife 
 — fowk weel aff in respec' o' this warl's gear, an' 
 luikit up til amo' the neebours, but no to be envyed, 
 seein' they had lost a' haill bonny faimily, ane after 
 the ither, till there was na ane left i' the hoose but 
 jist ae laddie, the bonniest an' the best o' a', an' as 
 a maitter o' coorse, the verra aipple o' their e'e. — 
 Amo' the three o' 's laird," here Grizzie paused in her 
 tale to remark, "Ye'U be the only ane 'at can fully 
 un'erstan' hoo the hert o' a parent maun cleave to 
 the last o' his flock. — Weel, whether it was 'at their 
 herts was ower muckle wrappit up i' this ae human 
 cratur for the growth o' their sowls, I dinna ken — • 
 there bude to be some rizzon for 't — this last ane o' 
 a' begud in his turn to dwine an' dwin'le like the lave ■ 
 an' whaurever thae twa puir fowk turnt themsel's i' 
 
A REST. 571 
 
 their pangs, there stude deith, glowerin' at them oot 
 o' his toom e'en. Pray they did, ye may be sure, an' 
 greit whan a' was mirk, but prayers nor tears made 
 nae differ; the bairn was seiit for, an' awa' the bairn 
 maun gang. An' whan at len'th he lay streekit in his 
 last clean claes till the robe o' richteousness 'at wants 
 na washin' was put upon 'im, what cud they but think 
 the warl' was dune for them ! 
 
 " But the warl' maun wag, though the hert may 
 sag ; an' whan the deid lies streekit, there's a hoose 
 to be theekit. An' the freens an' the neebours 
 gatithert frae near an' frae far, till there was a heap 
 o' fowk i' the hoose, come to the beeryin' o' the 
 bonny bairn. An' fowk maun ait an' live nane the 
 less 'at the raaitter they come upo' be deith ; an' sae 
 the nicht afore the yerdin', their denner the neist day 
 whan they cam back frae the grave, had to be foreor- 
 deent. 
 
 " It was i' the spring-time o' the year, unco late i' 
 thae pairts. The maist o' the lambs hed come, but the 
 storms war laith to lea' the laps o' the hills, an' lang 
 efter it begud to be something like weather laicher 
 doon, the sheep cudna be lippent oot to pick their 
 bit mait for themsel's, but had to be keepit i' the 
 cot. Sae to the cot the gudeman wad gang, to fess 
 hame a lamb for the freens an' the neebours' den- 
 ners. An' as it fell oot, it was a fearsome nicht o' 
 win' an' drivin' snaw — v/aur, I wad reckon, nor ony- 
 thing we hae hereawa'. But he turnt na aside for 
 win' or snaw, for little cared he what cam til 'im or o' 
 'ira, wi' sic a how in his hert. O' the contrar', the 
 storm was like a freenly cloak til's grief, for upo' the 
 
572 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 ro'd he fell a greitin' an' compleenin' an' lamentin' 
 lood, jeedgin' nae doobt, gien he thoucht at a', he 
 micht du as he likit wi' naebody nigh. To the sheep 
 cot, I say, he gaed wailin' an' cryin' alood after 
 bonny bairn, the last o' his flock, oontimeous his 
 taen. 
 
 " Half blin' wi' the nicht an' the snaw an' his ain 
 tears, he cam at last to the door o' the sheep-cot. 
 An' what sud he see there but a man stan'in' afore 
 the door — straucht up, an' still i' the mirk ! It was 
 'maist fearsome to see onybody there — sae far frae 
 ony place — no to say upo' sic a nicht ! The stran- 
 ger was robed in some kin' o' a plaid, like the gude- 
 man himsel', but whether a lowlan' or a hielan' plaid, 
 he cudna tell. But the face o' the man — that was 
 ana no to be forgotten — an' that for the verra freen- 
 liness o' 't ! An' whan he spak, it was as gien a' the 
 v'ices o' them 'at had gane afore, war made up 
 intil ane, for the sweetness an' the pooer o' the 
 same. 
 
 " ' What mak ye here in sic a storm, man ? ' he said. 
 An' the soon' o' his v'ice was aye safter nor the 
 words o' his mooth. 
 
 " ' I come for a lamb,' answered he. 
 
 " ' What kin' o' a lamb .? ' askit the stranger. 
 
 " ' The verra bast I can lay my ban's upo' i' the 
 cot,' answered he, ' for it's to lay afore my freens and 
 neebours. I houp, sir, ye'll come hame wi' me an' 
 share o' 't. Ye s' be welcome.' 
 
 " ' Du yer sheep mak ony resistance whan ye tak 
 the lamb? or when it's gane, du they mak an 
 ootcry ! ' 
 
S73 
 
 " ' No, sir — never.' 
 
 " The stranger gae a kin' o' a sigh, an' says he, 
 
 " ' That's no Iioo they trait me ! Whau I gang to 
 my sheep-fold, an' tak the best an' the fittest, my 
 ears are deavt an' my hert torn \vi' the clamours — 
 the bleatin', an' ba'in' o' my sheep — my ain sheep !• 
 compleenin' sair agen me ; — an' me feedin' them, an' 
 cleedin' them, an' haudin' the tod frae them, a' their 
 lives, frae the first to the last ! It's some oongratefu', 
 an' some sair to bide.' 
 
 " By this time the man's held was hingin' doon ; 
 but whan the v'ice ceased, he luikit up in amaze. 
 The stranger was na there. Like ane in a dream 
 wharvin he kenned na joy frae sorrow, or pleesur' 
 frae pain, the man gaed into the cot, an' grat ower 
 the heids o' the 'oo'y craters 'at cam croodin' aboot 
 'im ; but he soucht the best lamb nane the less, an' 
 cairriet it wi' 'im. An' the next day he came hame 
 frae the funeral wi' a smile upo' the face whaur had 
 been nane for mony a lang ; an' the neist Sunday 
 they h'ard him singin' i' the kirk as naebody had ever 
 h'ard him sing afore. An' never frae that time was 
 there a moan or complaint to be h'ard frae the lips o' 
 aither o' the twa. They hadna a bairn to close their 
 e'en whan their turn sud come, but whaur there's 
 nane ahin', there's the mair to fin'." 
 
 Grizzle ceased, and the others were silent, for the 
 old legend had touched the deepest in them. 
 
 Many years after, Cosmo discovered that she had 
 not told it quite right, for having been brought up in 
 the Lowlands, she did not thoroughly know the an- 
 cient customs of the Highlands. But she had told it 
 
574 WARLOCK O GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 well after her own fashion, and she could not have 
 had a fitter audience.* 
 
 "It's whiles i' the storm, whiles i' the desert, 
 whiles i' the agony, an' whiles i' the calm, whaurever 
 he gets them richt them lanes, 'at the Lord visits his 
 people — in person, as a body micht say," remarked 
 the laird, after a long pause. 
 
 Cosmo did not get well so fast as he had begun 
 to expect. Nothing very definite seemed the matter 
 with him ; it was rather as if life itself had been 
 checked at the spring, therefore his senses dulled, 
 and his blood made thick and slow. A sleepy wear- 
 iness possessed hira,in which he would lie for hours, 
 supine and motionless, desiring nothing, fearing noth- 
 ing, suffering nothing, only loving. The time would 
 come when he must be up and doing, but now he 
 would not think of work ; he would fancy himself a 
 bird in God's nest — the nest into which the great 
 brother would have gathered all the children of 
 Jerusalem. Poems would come to him — httle songs 
 and little prayers — spiritual butterflies, with wings 
 whose spots matched ; sometimes humorous little 
 parables concerning life and its affairs would come ; 
 but the pity was that none of them would stay; 
 never, do what he might, could he remember so as to 
 recall one of them, and had to comfort himself with 
 the thought that nothing true can ever be lost ; if one 
 form of it go, it is that a better may come in its place. 
 He doubted if the best could be forgotten. A thing 
 may be invaluable, he thought, and the form in 
 which it presents itself worth but little, however at 
 
 * See Mrs. Grant's Essays on the Superstitions of the Highlanders. 
 
A REST. 5 7"; 
 
 the moment it may share the look of the invaluable 
 within it. But happy is the half-sleeper whose brain 
 is a thoroughfare for lovely things — all to be caught 
 in the nets of Life, for Life is the one miser that 
 never loses, never can lose. 
 
 When he was able to get up for a while every clay, 
 Grizzle yielded a portion of her right of nursing to 
 Aggie, and now that he was able to talk a little, the 
 change was a pleasant one. And now first the laird 
 began to discover how much there was in Aggie, and 
 expressing his admiration of her knowledge and good 
 sense, her intellect and insight, was a little surprised 
 that Cosmo did not seem so much struck with them 
 as himself. Cosmo, however, explained that her 
 gifts were no discovery to him, as he had been aware 
 of them from childhood. 
 
 "There are few like her, father," he said. "Mony's 
 the time she's hauden me up whan I was ready to sink.'' 
 
 " The Lord reward her ! " responded the laird. 
 
 All sicknesses are like aquatic plants of evil 
 growth: their hour comes, and they wither and die, 
 and leave the channels free. Life returns — in slow, 
 soft ripples at first, but not the less in irresistible 
 tide, and at last in pulses of might}- throb through 
 every pipe. Death is the final failure of all sickness, 
 the clearing away of the very soil in which the seed 
 of the ill plant takes root and prevails. 
 
 By degrees Cosmo recovered strength, nor left be- 
 hind him the peace that had pervaded his weakness. 
 The time for action was at hand. For weeks he had 
 been fed like the young ravens in the nest, and, know- 
 ing he could do nothing, had not troubled himself 
 
576 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 with the useless how; but it was time once more to 
 understand, that he might be ready to act. Mechan- 
 ically almost, he opened his bureau : there was not a 
 penny there. He knew there could not be — except 
 some angel had visited it while he lay, and that he 
 had not looked for. He closed it, and sat down to 
 think. There was no work to be had he knew of; 
 there was little strength to do it with, had there been 
 any. As the spring came on, there would be labour 
 in the iields, and that he would keep in view, but the 
 question was of present or all but present need. One 
 thing only he would not do. There were many in the 
 country around on friendly terms with his father and 
 himself, but his very soul revolted from any endeavour 
 to borrow money while he saw no prospect of repay- 
 ing it. He would carry the traditions of his family no 
 further in that direction. Literally, he would rather 
 die. But rather than his father should want, he 
 would beg. "Where borrowing is dishonest," he 
 said to himself, " begging may be honourable. The 
 man who scorns to accept a gift of money, and does 
 not scruple to borrow, knowing no chance of repaying, 
 is simply a thief ; the man who has no way of earning 
 the day's bread, has a divine right to beg." In Cosmo's 
 case, however, there was this difficulty : he could eas- 
 ily make a living of some sort, would he but leave his 
 father, and that he was determined not to do. Be- 
 fore absolute want could arrive, they must have 
 parted with everything, and then he would take him 
 to some city or town, where they two would live like 
 birds in a cage. No ; he was not ready yet to take 
 his pack and make the rounds of the farm-houses to 
 
A REST. 577 
 
 receive from each his dole of a handful of meal ! 
 Something must be possible! But then again, what? 
 
 Once more he fell a thinking; but it was only to 
 find himself again helplessly afloat where no shore of 
 ways or means was visible. Nothing but beggary 
 in fact, and that for the immediate future, showed 
 in sight. Could it be that God verily intended for 
 him this last humiliation of all? But again, would 
 such humiliation be equal to that under which they 
 had bowed, for so many long years — the humiliation 
 of owing and not being able to pay? What a man 
 gives, he gives, but what a man lends, he lends ex- 
 pecting to be repaid ! A begger may be under end- 
 less obligation, but a debtor who cannot pay is a slave ! 
 He may be God's free man all the while — that de- 
 pends on causes and conditions, but not the less is he 
 his fellow's slave ! His slavery may be to him a light 
 burden, or a sickening misery, according to the char- 
 acter of his creditor — but, except indeed there be ab- 
 solute brotherhood between them, he is all the same 
 a slave ! 
 
 Again the immediately practical had vanished, lost 
 in reasoning, and once more he tried to return to it. 
 But it was like trying to see through a brick wall. No 
 man can invent needs for others that he may supply 
 them. To write again to Mr. Burns would be too 
 near the begging on which he had not yet resolved. 
 He never suspected that the parcel he had left at the 
 carrier's house was lying there still — safe in his wife's 
 press, under a summer-shawl ! He could not go to 
 Mr. Simon, for he too was poor, and had now for 
 some time been far from well, fears being by the 
 
$1^ 
 
 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 iloctor acknowledged as to the state of his lungs. He 
 would go without necessaries even to help them, and 
 that was an insurmountable reason against acquaint- 
 ing him with their condition ! 
 
 All at once a thought came to him: why should he 
 not, for present need, pledge the labour of his body 
 in tha coming harvest? That would be but to act on 
 a reasonable probability, nor need he be ashamed to 
 make the offer to any man who knew him enough to 
 be friendly. He would ask but a part of the fee in 
 advantj^, and a charitable or kindly disposed man 
 would surely venture the amount of risk involved ! 
 True, ■when the time came he might be as much in 
 want 01 money as he was now, and there would be 
 little oi .lone to receive, but on the other hand, if he 
 did nov have help now, he could never reach that 
 want, ai\d when he did, there might be other help! 
 Better b=!g then than now ! He would make the at- 
 tempt, t.jd that the first day he was strong enough 
 to walk the necessary distance! In the meantime, 
 he woul^ have a peep into the meal-chest ! 
 
 It stead in a dark corner of the kitchen, and he had 
 to put ..is hand in to learn its condition. He found 
 a not Very shallow layer of meal in the bottom. How 
 there could be so much after his long illness, he 
 scarcely dared imagine. He must ask Grizzle, he 
 said to himself, but he shrank in his heart from ques- 
 tioning her. 
 
 There came now a spell of warm weather, and all 
 the invalids improved. Cosmo was able to go out, 
 and every day had a little walk by himself. Natu- 
 rally he thought of the only other time in his life 
 
A REST. 579 
 
 when he first walked out after an illness. Joan had 
 been so near him then it scarce seemed anything 
 could part them, and now she seemed an eternity 
 away! For months he had heard nothing of her. 
 She must be married, and, knowing well his feelings, 
 must think it kinder not to write ! Then the justice 
 of his soul turned to the devotion of the two women 
 who had in this trouble tended him, though the half 
 of it he did not yet know ; and from that he turned to 
 the source of all devotion, and made himself strong 
 in the thought of the eternal love. 
 
 From that time, the weather continuing moderate, 
 he made rapid progress, and the week following judged 
 himself equal to a long walk. 
 
CHAPTER XLVII, 
 
 HELP. 
 
 He had come to the resolve to carry his petition 
 first to the farmer in whose fields he had laboured 
 the harvest before the last. The distance was rather 
 great, but he flattered himself he would be able to 
 walk home every night. In the present state of his 
 strength, however, he found it a long trudge indeed ; 
 and before the house came in sight, was very weary. 
 But he bore up and held on. 
 
 " I was almost as ill-off," he said to himself, "'when 
 I came here for work the first time, yet here I am — 
 alive, and likely to work again ! It's just like going 
 on and on in a dream, wondering what we are com- 
 ing to next." 
 
 He was shown into the parlour, and had not 
 waited long when the farmer came. He scarcely 
 welcomed him, but by degrees his manner grew more 
 cordial. Still the coldness with which he had been 
 received caused Cosmo to hesitate, and a pause en- 
 sued. The farmer broke it. 
 s8o 
 
HELP. 5?^ I 
 
 " Ye didna gie's the fawvour o' yer company last 
 hairst ! " he said. I wad hae thought ye micht hae 
 fun' yersel' fully mair at hame wi' the like o' us nor 
 wi' that ill-tongued vratch, Lord Lick-my-loof ! Nana 
 o' 's tuik it ower weel 'at ye gied na's the chance o' 
 yer guid company." 
 
 This explained his reception, and Cosmo made 
 haste in his turn to explain his conduct. 
 
 "Ye may be. sure," he answered, "it gaed some 
 agen the grain to seek wark frae him, an' I had no 
 rizzon upon earth for no comin' to you first but that 
 I didna want to be sae far, at nicht especially, frae 
 my father. He's no the man he was." 
 
 " Verra nait'ral ! " responded the fanner heartily, 
 and wondered in himself whether any of his sons 
 would have considered him so much. " Weel, "he 
 went on, "I'm jist relieved to un'erstan' the thing; 
 for the lasses wad hae perswaudit me I hed gien ye 
 some offence wi' my free-spoken w'y, whan I'm sure 
 naething cud hae been far'er frae the thoucht o' my 
 
 hert." 
 
 " Indeed," said Cosmo, half rising in his eagerness, 
 " I assure you, Mr. Henderson, there is not a man 
 from whom I should be less ready to imagine offence 
 than yourself. I do not know how to express my 
 feeling of the kindness with which you always treated 
 me. Nor could I have given you a better proof that 
 I mean what I say than by coming to you first, the 
 moment I was able for the walk, with the request I 
 have now to make. Will you engage me for the 
 coming harvest, and pay me a part of the fee in 
 advance ? I know it is a strange request, and if you 
 
582 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 refuse it, I doubt if there is another to whom I shall 
 venture to make it. I confess also that I have 
 been very ill, but I am now fairly on the mend, and 
 there is a long time to recover my strength in before 
 the harvest. To tell you the truth, we are much in 
 want of a little money at the castle. We are not 
 greatly in debt now, but we have lost all our land ; 
 and a house, however good, won't grow corn. Some- 
 thing in my mind tells me that my father, unlikely as 
 it may seem, will yet pay everything ; and anyhow we 
 want to hold on as long as we can. I am sure, if 
 you were in our place, you would not be willing 
 to part with the house a moment before you were 
 absolutely compelled." 
 
 " But, laird," said the farmer, who had listened 
 with the utmost attention, "Jioo can the thing be, 'at 
 amo' a' the great fowk ye hae kent, there sud be nana 
 to say, ' Help yersel' ' ? I canna un'erstan' hoo the 
 last o' sic an auld faimily sud na hae a han' held oot 
 to help them ! " 
 
 " It is not so very hard to explain," replied Cosmo. 
 " Almost all my father's old friends are dead or gone, 
 and a man like him, especially in straitened cir- 
 cumstances, does not readily make new friends. 
 Almost the only person he has been intimate with of 
 late years is Mr. Simon, whom I daresay you know. 
 Then he has what many people count peculiar notions 
 — so peculiar, indeed, that I have heard of some 
 calling him a fool behind his back because he paid 
 themselves certain moneys his father owed them. I 
 believe if he had rich friends they would say it wa? 
 no use trying to help such a man." 
 
HELP. 583 
 
 " Weel ! " exclaimed the farmer, " it jist blacks me 
 to ken hoo there can be ony trowth i' the Bible, whan 
 a man like that comes sae near to beggin' his breid ! " 
 
 " He is very near it, certainly," assented Cosmo, 
 " but why not he as well as another ? " 
 
 " 'Cause they tell me the Bible says the richteous 
 man sail never come to beg his breid." 
 
 " Well, near is not there. But I fancy there must 
 be a mistake. The writer of one of the psalms — I 
 do not know whether David or another, says he never 
 saw the righteous forsaken or his seed begging bread ; 
 but though he may not have seen it, another may." 
 
 " Weel, I fancy gien he hed, he wadna hae been 
 lang in puttin' a stop til 't ! Laird, gien a sma' mait- 
 ter o' fifty poun' or sae wad tide ye ower the trible — 
 — weel, ye cud pay me whan ye likit." 
 
 It was a moment or two before Cosmo could speak. 
 A long conversation followed, rising almost to fierce- 
 ness, certainly to oaths, on the part of the farmer, 
 because of Cosmols refusal to accept the offered loan. 
 
 " I do see my way," persisted Cosmo, " to paying 
 for my wages with ray work, but I see it to nothing 
 more. Lend me two pounds, Mr. Henderson, on the 
 understanding that I am to work it out in the har- 
 vest, and I shall be debtor to your kindness to all 
 eternity; but more I cannot and will not accept." 
 
 Grumbling heavily, the farmer at length handed 
 him the two pounds, but obstinately refused any writ- 
 ten acknowledgment or agreement. 
 
 Neither of them knew that, all the time the 
 friendly altercation proceeded, there was Elsie listen- 
 ing at the door, her colour coming and going like the 
 
584 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 shadows in a day of sun and wind. Entering at its 
 close she asked Cosmo to stop and take tea with 
 them, and the farmer following it up, he accepted the 
 invitation, and indeed was glad to make a good meal. 
 Elsie was sorely disappointed that her father had not 
 succeeded in making him his debtor to a larger extent, 
 but the meal passed with pleasure to all, for the relief 
 of having two pounds in his pocket, and those granted 
 with such genuine kindness, put Cosmo in great 
 spirits, and made him more than usually agreeable. 
 The old farmer wondered admiringly at the spirit of 
 the youth who in such hardship could yet afford to 
 be merry. But I cannot help thinking that a perfect 
 faith would work at last thorough good spirits, as 
 well as everything else that is good. 
 
 Cosmo sat with his kind neighbours till the gloam- 
 ing began to fall. When he rose to go, they all rose 
 with him, and accompanied him fully half-way home. 
 When they took their leave of him, and he was again 
 alone, his heart grew so glad that, weak as he yet 
 was, and the mists rising along his path, he never felt 
 the slightest chill, but trudged cheerily on, praying 
 and singing and making all the way, until at length he 
 was surprised to find how short it had been. 
 
 For a great part of it, after his friends left him, he 
 had glimpses now and then of some one before him 
 that looked like Aggie, but the distance between 
 them gradually lengthened, and before he reached 
 home he had lost sight of her. When he entered the 
 kitchen, Aggie was there. 
 
 " Was yon you upo' the ro'd afore me, Aggie ? " 
 he said. 
 
HELP. 585 
 
 " Ay, was't." 
 
 " What for didna ye bide ? " 
 
 " Ye had yer company the first half o' the ro'd, an' 
 yer sangs the last, an' I didna think ye wantit me." 
 
 So saying she went up the stair. 
 
 As Cosmo followed, he turned and put his hand 
 into the meal-chest. It was empty! There was not 
 enough to make their supper. He smiled in his 
 heart, and said to himself, 
 
 " The links of the story hold yet ! When one 
 breaks, the world will drift." 
 
 Going up to his father, he had to pass the door of 
 his own room, now occupied by James Gracie. As 
 he drew near it, he heard the voice of Aggie speak- 
 ing to her grandfather. What she said he did not 
 know, but he heard the answer. 
 
 " Lassie,'" said the old man, " ye can never see by 
 {past) the Lord to ken whaur he's takin' ye. Ye 
 may jist as weel close yer e'en. His garment 
 spreads ower a' the ro'd, an' what we hae to du is to 
 hand a guid grip o' 't— no to try an' see ayont it." 
 
 Cosmo hastened up, and told his father what he 
 had overheard. 
 
 "There's naething like faith for makin' o' poets, 
 Cosmo ! " said the laird. " Jeames never appeart to 
 me to hae mair o' what's ca'd intellec' nor an ord'nar' 
 share ; but ye see the man 'at has faith he's aye 
 growin', an' sae may come to something even i' this 
 warl'. An' whan ye think o' the ages to come, truly 
 it wad seem to maitter little what intellec' a man may 
 start wi'. I kenned mysel' ane 'at in ,ord'nar' affairs 
 was coontit little better nor an idiot, 'maist turn a 
 
586 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 prophet whan he gaed doon upo' his knees. Ay ! 
 fowk may lauch at what they haena a ghmp o', but 
 it'll be lang or their political economy du sae muckle 
 for sic a man ! The economist wad wuss his neck 
 had been thrawn whan he was born." 
 
 Here Cosmo heard Grizzie come in, and went 
 down to her. She was sitting in his father's chair 
 by the fire, and did not turn her face when he 
 spoke. She was either tired or vexed, he thought. 
 Aggie was also now in the kitchen again. 
 
 " Here, Grizzie ! " said Cosmo, " here's twa poun'; 
 an' ye'll need to gar't gang far'er nor it can, I'm 
 thinkin', for I dinna ken whaur we're to get the neist." 
 "Ken ye whaur ye got the last?" muttered Griz- 
 zie, and made haste to cover the words : 
 " Whaur got ye that, Cosmo? " she said. 
 " What gien I dinna tell ye, Grizzie? " lie returned, 
 willing to rouse her with a little teazing. 
 
 "That's as ye see proper, sir," she answered. 
 " Naebody has a richt to say til anither ' Whaur got 
 ye that ? ' 'cep' they doobt ye hae been stealin'." 
 
 It was a somewhat strange answer, but there was 
 no end to the strange things Grizzie would say: 
 it was one of her charms ! Cosmo told her at once 
 where and how he had got the money; for with 
 such true comrades, although not yet did he know 
 how true, he felt almost that a secret would be a sin. 
 But the moment Grizzie heard where Cosmo had 
 engaged himself, and from whom on the pledge of 
 that engagement he had borrowed money, she 
 started from ,her chair, and cried, with clenched 
 and outstretched hand, 
 
HELP. 587 
 
 " Glenwarlock, yoong sir, ken ye what ye're 
 duin' ? — The Lord preserve 's ! he's an innocent!" 
 she added, turning with an expression of despair to 
 Aggie, whO/regarded the two with a strange look. 
 
 " Grizzie ! " cried Cosmo, in no little astonish 
 ment, "what on earth gars ye luik like that at tin 
 mention o' ane wha has this moment helpit ua 
 oot o' the warst strait ever we war in !" 
 
 " Gien there had been naebody nearer hame to 
 help ye oot o' waur straits, it's waur straits ye wad 
 be in. An' it's waur ye'll be in yet, gien that man 
 gets his wull o' ye ! " 
 
 " He's a fine, honest chiel' ! An' for waur straits, 
 Grizzie — are na 3-e at the verra last wi' yer meal ? " 
 
 As he spoke he turned, and, in bodily reference to 
 fact, went to the chest into which he had looked but 
 a few minutes before. To his astonishment, there 
 was enough in it for a good many meals ! He turned 
 again, and stared at Grizzie. But she had once 
 more seated herself in his father's chair, with her 
 back to him, and before he could speak she went on 
 thus : 
 
 " Shame fa' him, say I, 'at made his siller as a 
 fiesher i' the wast wyn' o' Howglen, to ettle at a gen- 
 tleman o' a thoosan' year for ane o' his queans ! But. 
 please the Lord, we 's baud clear o' 'im yet ! " 
 
 " Hootoot, Grizzie ! ye canna surely think ony 
 sic man wad regaird th^ like o' me as worth luikin' 
 efter for a son-in-law ! He wadna be sic a gowk ! " 
 
 " Gowk here, gowk there ! he kens what ye are an' 
 what ye're worth — weel that ! Hasna he seen ye at 
 the scythe? Disna he ken there's ten time's mair to 
 
588 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 be made o' ae gentleman like you, wi' siller at his 
 back, nor ten common men sic as he's like to get for 
 his dothers ? Weel kens he it's nae faut o' you or 
 yours 'at ye're no freely sae weel aff as some 'at 
 oucht an' wuU be waur, gien it be the Lord's wull, or 
 a' be dune ! Disna he ken 'at Castle Warlock itsel' 
 wad be a warl's honour to ony leddy — no to say a 
 lass broucht up ower a slauchter-hoose ? Shame upo' 
 him an' his ! " 
 
 "Weel, Grizzle," rejoined Cosmo, "ye may say 'at 
 ye like, but I dinna believe he wad hae dune what he 
 has dune — " 
 
 "Cha!" interrupted Grizzle; "what has he dune? 
 Disna he ken the word o' a Warlock's as guid as 
 gowd ? Disna he ken your wark, what wi' yer pride 
 an' what wi' yer ill-placed graititude, 'ill be worth til 
 'im that o' twa men? The man's nae coof ! He 
 kens what he's aboot ! Haith, ye needna waur {spmd) 
 muckle graititude upo' sic benefactions ! " 
 
 " To show you, Grizzle, that you are unfair to him, 
 I feel bound to tell you that he pressed on me the 
 loan of fifty pounds." 
 
 " I tell ye sae ! " screamed Grizzle, starting again 
 to her feet. " God forbid ye took 'im at his offer ! " 
 
 " I did not," answered Cosmo ; " but all the same — " 
 
 " The Lord be praised for his abundant an' great 
 mercy ! " cried Grizzle, more heartily than devoutly. 
 "We may contrive to win ower the twa poun', even 
 sudye no work it oot; butyf/"/^./— the Lord be aboot 
 us frae ill ! so sure 's deith, ye wad hae had to tak 
 the lass! — Cosmo, ye canna but ken the auld tale 0' 
 muckle-moo'd Meg? " 
 
HELP. 589 
 
 "Weel that," replied Cosmo. "But ye'll alloo, 
 Grizzle, times are altert sin' the day whan the laird 
 cud gie a ch'ice atween a wife an' the wuddie ! Mr. 
 Hen'erson canna weel hang me gien. I sud say no." 
 
 " Say ye no, come o' the hangin' what like," rejoined 
 Grizzie. 
 
 " But, Grizzie," said Cosmo, " I wad fain ken whaur 
 that meal i' tlie kist cam frae. There was nane intil 
 't an hoor ago." 
 
 With all her faults of temper and tongue, there was 
 one evil word Grizzie could not speak. In the course 
 of a not very brief life she had tried a good many 
 times to tell a lie, but had never been able ; and 
 now, determined not to tell where the meal had come 
 from, she naturally paused unprepared. It was but 
 for a moment. Out came the following utterance. 
 
 " Some fowk says, sir, 'at the age o' mirracles is 
 ower. For raysel' I dinna preten' to ony opingon; 
 but sae lang as the needcessity was the same, I 
 wad be laith to think Providence wadna be consist- 
 ent wi' itsel'. Ye maun min' the tale, better nor I 
 can tell't ye, concernin' yon meal-girnel — muckle sic 
 like, I daursay, as oor ain, though it be ca'd a barrel 
 i' the Buik — hit 'at never wastit, ye ken, an' the uily- 
 pig an' a' — ye'll min' weel — though what ony wuman 
 in her senses cud want wi' sic a sicht o' ile's mair nor 
 I ever cud faddom ! Eh, but a happy wuman was 
 she 'at had but to tak her bowl an' gang to the girnel, 
 as I micht tak my pail an' gang to the wall ! An' 
 what for michtna the Almighty mak a meal-wall as 
 weel's a watter-wall, I wad like to ken ! What for no 
 a wall 'at sud rin ile — or say milk, which wad be 
 
590 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 mair to the purpose ? Ae thing maun be jist as easy 
 to him as anither — jist as ae thing's as hard to us as 
 anither ! Eh, but we're helpless creturs ! " 
 
 " I' your w'y, Grizzie, ye wad Iteep us as helpless 
 as ever, for ye wad hae a' thing hauden to oor han', 
 like to the bairnie in his mither's lap ! It's o' the 
 mercy o' the Lord 'at he wad mak men an' women 
 o' 's — no haud 's bairns for ever! " 
 
 " It may be as ye say, Cosmo ; but whiles I cud 
 maist wuss I was a bairn again, an' had to luik to my 
 mither for a' thing." 
 
 " An' isna that siclike as the Lord wad hae o' 's, 
 Grizzie? We canna aye be bairns to oor mithers — 
 an' for me I wasna ane lang-^but we can an' maun 
 aye be bairns to the great Father o' 's." 
 
 " I hae an ill hert, I doobt, Cosmo, for I'm unco 
 hard to content. An' I'm ower auld noo, I fear, 
 to mak muckle better o'. But maybe some kinily 
 body Uke yersel' 'ill tak me in han' whan I'm deid, 
 an' put some sense intil me ! " 
 
 "Ye hae sense eneuch, Grizzie, an' to spare, gien 
 only ye wad — " 
 
 " Guide my tongue a wee better, ye wad say ! But/ 
 little ye ken the temptation o' ane 'at has but ae soli- 
 tary wapon, to mak use o' that same ! An' the gift ye 
 hae ye're no to despise ; ye maun turn a' til acoont." 
 
 Cosmo did not care to reason with her further, and 
 went back to his father. , » 
 
 Grizzie had gained her point ; which was to turn 
 him aside from questions about the meal. 
 
 For a little while they had now wherewith to live ■ 
 and if it seem to my reader that the horizon of hope 
 
HELP. 
 
 59' 
 
 was narrowing around them, it does not follow that it 
 must have seemed so to them. For what is the ex- 
 tent of our merely rational horizon at any time ? But 
 for faith and imagination it would be a narrow one 
 indeed ! Even what we call experience is but a 
 stupid kind of faith. It is a trusting in impetus in- 
 stead of in love. And those days were fashioning an 
 eternal joy to father and son, for they were loving 
 each other a little more ere each day's close, and 
 were thus putting time, despite of fortune, to its high- 
 est use. 
 
CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 A COMMON MIRACLE. 
 
 Until he was laid up, Cosmo had all the winter, 
 and especially after his old master was taken ill, gone 
 often to see Mr. Simon. The good man was now 
 beginning, chiefly from the effects of his complaint, 
 to feel the approach of age ; but he was cheerful 
 and hopeful as ever, and more expectant. As soon 
 as he was able Cosmo renewed his visits, but seldom 
 stayed long with him, both because Mr. Simon could 
 not bear much talking, and because he knew his 
 father would be w atching for his return. 
 
 One day it had rained before sunrise, and a soft 
 spring wind had been blowing ever since, a soothing 
 and persuading wind, that seemed to draw out the 
 buds from the secret places of the dry twigs, and 
 whisper to the roots of the rose-trees that their 
 flowers would be wanted by and by. And now the 
 sun was near the foot of the western slope, and there 
 was a mellow, tearful look about earth and sky, when 
 Grizzie, entering the room where Cosmo was reading 
 592 
 
A COMMON MIRACLE. 593 
 
 to his father, as he sat in his easy chair by the fire- 
 side, told them she had just heard that Mr. Simon 
 had had a bad night and was worse. The laird 
 begged Cosmo to go at once and inquire after him. 
 
 The wind kept him company as he walked, flitting 
 softly about him, like an attendant that needed more 
 motion than his pace would afford, and seemed so 
 full of thought and love, that, for the thousandth 
 time, he wondered whether there could be any- 
 thing but spirit, and what we call matter might 
 not be merely the consequence of our human way of 
 looking at the wrong side of the golden tissue. Then 
 came the thought of the infinitude of our moods, of 
 the hues and shades and endless kinds and varieties 
 of feeling, especially in our dreams; and he said to 
 himself how rich God must be, since from him we 
 come capable of such inconceivable differences of 
 conscious life ! " 
 
 " How poor and helpless," he said to himself, 
 " how mere a pilgrim and a stranger in a world over 
 which he has no rule, must he be who has not God 
 all one with him! Not otherwise can his life be 
 free save as moving in loveliest harmony with the 
 will and life of the only Freedom — that which wills 
 and we are ! " 
 
 "How would it be," he thought again, "if things 
 were to come and go as they pleased in my mind and 
 brain ? Would that not be madness ? For is it not 
 the essence of madness, that things thrust themselves 
 upon one, and by very persistence of seeming, com- 
 pel and absorb the attention, drowning faith and will 
 in a false conviction ? The soul that is empty, swept, 
 
594 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 and garnished, is the soul which adorns itself, where 
 God is not, and where therefore other souls come and 
 go as they please, drawn by the very selfhood, and 
 make the man the slave of their suggestions. One- 
 ness with the mighty All is at the one end of life; 
 distraction, things going at a thousand foolish wills, 
 at the other. God or chaos is the alternative ; all 
 thou hast, or no Christ !" 
 
 And as he walked thinking thus, the stream was by 
 his side, tumbling out its music as it ran to find its 
 eternity. And the wind blew on from the moist west, 
 where the gold and purple had fallen together in a 
 ruined heap over the tomb of the sun. And the stars 
 came thinking out of the heavens, and the things of 
 earth withdrew into the great nest of the dark. And 
 so he found himself at the door of the cottage, 
 where lay one of the heirs of all things, waiting to 
 receive his inheritance. 
 
 But the news he heard was that the master was 
 better; and the old woman showed him at once to 
 his room, saying she knew he would be glad to 
 see him. When he entered the study, in which, 
 because of his long illness and need of air, Mr. Si- 
 mon lay, the room seemed to grow radiant, filled 
 with the smile that greeted him from the pillow. 
 The sufferer held out his hand almost eagerly. 
 
 "Come, come!" he said; "I want to tell you 
 something — a little experience I have just had — an 
 event of my illness. Outwardly it is nothing, but to 
 you it will not be nothing. — It was blowing a great 
 wind last night," 
 
A COMMON MIRACLE. 595 
 
 "So my father tells me," answered Cosmo, "but 
 for my part I slept too sound to hear it." 
 
 " It grew calm with the morning. As the light 
 came the wind fell. Indeed I think it lasted only 
 about three hours altogether. 
 
 " I have of late been suffering a good deal with my 
 breathing, and it has always been worst when the 
 wind was high. Last night I lay awake in the middle 
 of the night, very weary, and longing for the sleep ■ 
 which seemed as if it would never come. I thought 
 of Sir Philip Sidney, how, as he lay dying, he was 
 troubled, because, for all his praying, God would not 
 let him sleep : it was not the want of the sleep that 
 troubled him, but that God would not give it him ; 
 and I was trying hard to make myself strong to trust 
 in God whatever came to me, sleep or waking weari- 
 ness or slow death, when all at once up got the wind 
 with a great roar, as if the prince of the power of the 
 air -were mocking at my prayers. And I thought 
 with myself, ' It is then the will of God that I shall 
 neither sleep nor lie at peace this night ! ' and I said, 
 'Thy will be done ! ' and laid myself out to be quiet, 
 expecting, as on former occasions, my breathing would 
 begin to grow thick and hard, and by and by I should 
 have to struggle for every lungsful. So I lay waiting. 
 But still as I waited, I kept breathing softly. No 
 iron band ringed itself about my chest; no sand 
 filled up the passages of my lungs ! 
 
 " The cottage is not very tight, and I felt the wind 
 blowing all about me as I lay. But instead of begin- 
 ning to cough and wheeze, I began to breathe better 
 than before. Soon I fell fast asleep, and when I 
 
596 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 woke I seemed a new man almost, so much better 
 did I feel. It was a wind of God, and had been 
 blowing all about me as I slept, renewing me ! It was 
 so strange, and so delightful ! Where I dreaded evil, 
 there had come good ! So, perchance, it will be 
 when the time which the flesh dreads is drawing nigh : 
 we shall see the pale damps of the grave approaching, 
 but they will never reach us ; we shall hear ghastly 
 winds issuing from the mouth of the tomb, but when 
 they blow upon us they shall be sweet — the waving 
 of the wings of the angels that sit in the antechamber 
 of the hall of life, once the sepulchre of our Lord. 
 And when we die, instead of finding we are dead, we 
 shall have waked better ! " 
 
 It was an experience that would have been nothing 
 to most men beyond its relief, but to Peter Simon it 
 was a word from the eternal heart, which, in every 
 true and quiet mood, speaks into the hearts of men. 
 When we cease listening to the cries of self-seeking 
 and self-care, then the voice that was there all the 
 time enters into our ears. It is the voice of the 
 Father speaking to his child, never known for what it 
 is until the child begins to obey it. To him who has 
 not ears to hear God will not reveal himself : it would 
 be to slay him with terror. 
 
 Cosmo sat a long time talking with his friend, for 
 now there seemed no danger of hurting him, so much 
 better was he. It was late therefore when he rose to 
 return. *" --^^, 
 
CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 DEFIANCE. 
 
 Aggie was in the kitchen when he entered. She 
 was making the porridge. 
 
 " What's come o' Grizzie .' " asked Cosmo. 
 
 " Ye dinna like my parritcli sae weel as hers ! " 
 returned Agnes. 
 
 " Jist as weel, Aggie,'' answered Cosmo. 
 
 " Dinna ye tell Grizzie that." 
 
 " What for no ? " 
 
 " She wad be angert first, an' syne her hert wad 
 be like to brak." 
 
 " There's nae occasion to say't," conceded Cosmo. 
 " But what's come o' her the nicht ? " he went on. 
 " It's some dark, an' I doobt she'll " 
 
 " The ro'd atween this an' the Muir's no easy to 
 lowse," said Aggie. 
 
 But the same instant her face flushed hotter than 
 
 ever fire or cooking made it ; what she had said was 
 
 in itself true, but what she had not said, yet meant 
 
 him to understand, was not true, for Grizzie had 
 
 597 
 
SgS WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 gone nowhere near Muir o' Warlock. Aggie had 
 never told a lie in her life, and almost before the 
 words were out of her mouth, she felt as if the solid 
 earth were sinking from under her feet. She left the 
 spurtle sticking in the porridge, and dropped into the 
 laird's chair. 
 
 " What's the maitter wi' ye, Aggie ? " said Cosmo, 
 hastening to her in alarm, for her face was now white, 
 and her head was hanging down. 
 
 " This is no to be borne ! " she cried, and started 
 to her feet. " — Cosmo, I tellt ye a lee." 
 
 " Aggie ! " cried Cosmo, dismayed, " ye never tellt 
 me a lee i' yer life." 
 
 " Never afore," she answered ; " but I hae tellt ye 
 ane noo — no to live through ! Grizzie's no gane to 
 Muir o' Warlock." 
 
 " What care I whaur Grizzie's gane ! " rejoined 
 Cosmo. " Tell me or no tell me as ye like." 
 
 Aggie burst into tears. 
 
 " Haud yer tongue, Aggie," said Cosmo, trying to 
 soothe her, himself troubled with her trouble, for he 
 too was sorry she should almost have told him a lie, 
 and his heart was sore for her misery. Well he 
 knew how she must suffer, having done a thing 
 so foreign to her nature ! " It could be little mair 
 at the warst," he went on, " than a slip o' the wull, 
 seein' ye made sic haste to set it richt again. For 
 mysel', I s' bainish the thoucht o' the thing." 
 
 "I thank ye, Cosmo. Ye wad aye du like the 
 Lord himsel'. But there's mair intil 't. I dinna ken 
 what to du or say. It's a sair thing to stan' 'atween 
 twa, an' no ken what to du ohn dune mischeef — 
 
DEFIANCE. 599 
 
 maybe wrang ! — There's something it 'maist seems 
 to me ye hae a richt to ken, but I canna be sure ; 
 an yet " 
 
 She was interrupted by the hurried opening of the 
 door. Grizzie came staggering in, with a face of 
 terror. 
 
 " Tu wi' the door ! " she cried, ahnost speechless, 
 and sank in her turn upon a chair, gasping for 
 breath, and dropping at her feet a canvas bag, about 
 the size of a pillow-case. 
 
 Cosmo closed the door as she requested, and 
 Aggie made haste to get her some water, which she 
 drank eagerly. After a time of panting and sighing, 
 she seemed to come to herself, and rose, saying, as if 
 nothing had happened, 
 
 " I maun see to the supper." 
 
 Cosmo stooped and would have taken up the bag, 
 but she pounced upon it, and carried it with her 
 to the corner of the fire, where she placed it beyond 
 her. In the meantime the porridge had begun to 
 burn. 
 
 " Eh, sirs ! " she cried, " the parritch 'II be a' sung 
 — no to mention the waste o' guid meal! Aggie, 
 hoo cud ye be sae careless ! " 
 
 " It was eneuch to gar onybody forget the pot 
 to see ye come in like that, Grizzie ! " said Cosmo. 
 
 " An' what '11 ye say to the tale I bring ye ! " 
 rejoined Grizzie, as she turned the porridge into a 
 dish, careful not to scrape too hard on the bottom of 
 the pot. 
 
 " Tell's a' aboot it, Grizzie, an' bena lang aither, 
 for I maun gang to my father." 
 
6oo WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Gang til 'im. Here's naebody wad keep ye frae 
 'im ! " 
 
 Cosmo was surprised at her tone, for although she 
 took abundant liberty with the young laird, he had 
 not since boyhood known her rude to him. 
 
 " No till I hear yer tale, Grizzle," he answered. 
 
 " An' I wad fain ken what ye'U say til 't, for ye 
 never wad alloo o' kelpies ; an' there's me been 
 followed by a sure ane, this last half-hoor — or it may 
 be less ! " 
 
 " Hoo kenned ye it was a kelpie — it's maist as 
 dark 'spick?" 
 
 " Kenned ! quo' he ? Didna I hear the deevil 
 ahin' me — the tramp o' a' the fower feet o' 'im, as 
 gien they had been fower an' twinty ! " 
 
 " I won'er he didna win up wii ye than. Grizzle ! " 
 suggested Cosmo. 
 
 " Guid kens hoo he didna ; I won'er mysel'. But 
 I trow I ran ; an' I tak ye to witness I garred ye 
 steik the door." 
 
 " But they say," objected Cosmo, who could not 
 fail to perceive from what Aggie said that there was 
 something going on which it behooved him to 
 know, " that the kelpie wons aye by some watter- 
 side." 
 
 " Weel, cam I no by the tarn o' the tap o' Stieve 
 Know ? " 
 
 " What on earth was ye duin' there efter dark, 
 Grizzle ? " 
 
 " What was I duin' ? I saidna I was there efter 
 dark, but the cratur micht hae seen me pass weel 
 eneuch. Wasna I ower the hill to my ain fowk i' 
 
DEFIANCE. 6oi 
 
 the How o' Hap? An' didna I come hame by 
 Luck's Lift ? Mair by token, wadna the guidman 
 o' that same hae me du what I baena dune this twae 
 year, or maybe twenty — tak a dram ? An' didna I 
 tak it ? An' was I no in need o' 't ? An' didna 
 I come hame a' the better for 't ? " 
 
 " An' get a sicht o' the keljjy intil the bargain — 
 eh, Grizzie ? " suggested Cosmo. 
 
 " Hoots ! gang awa up to the laird, an' lea' me to 
 get my breath an' your supper thegither,'' said 
 Grizzie, who saw toi what she had exposed herself. 
 "An' I wuss ye may see the neist kelpy yersel' ! 
 Only whatever ye du, Cosmo, dinna m'unt upo' the 
 back o' 'im, for he'll cairry ye straucht hame til 's 
 maister ; an' we a' ken wha he is.'' 
 
 "I'm no gaein'," said Cosmo, as soon as the 
 torrent of her speech allowed him room to answer, 
 " till I ken what ye hae i' that pock o' yours." 
 
 " Hoot ! " cried Grizzie, and snatching up the bag, 
 held it behind her back, "ye wad never mint at luik- 
 in' intil an auld wife's pock! What ken ye what she 
 michtna hae there.?" 
 
 " It luiks to me naither mair nor less nor a meal- 
 pock," said Cosmo. 
 
 " Meal-pock ! " returned Grizzie with contempt : 
 "what neist!" 
 
 He made another movement to seize the bag, but 
 she caught the sprutle from the empty porridge-pot 
 and showed fight with it, in genuine earnest beyond a 
 doubt for the defence of her pock. Whatever the 
 secret was, it looked as if the pock were somehow 
 connected with it. Cosmo began to grow very un- 
 
6o2 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 comfortable. So strange were his nascent suspicions 
 that he dared not for a time allow them to take shape 
 in his brain lest they should thereby start at once into 
 the life of fact. His mind had, for the last few days, 
 been much occupied with the question of miracles. 
 Why, he thought with himself, should one believing 
 there is in very truth a live, thinking, perfect Power 
 at the heart and head of affairs, count it impossible 
 that, in their great and manifest need, their meal- 
 chest should be supplied like that of the widow of 
 Zarephath? If he could believe the thing was done 
 then, there could be nothing absurd in hoping the 
 thing might be done now. If it was possible once, it 
 was possible in the same circumstances always. It 
 was impossible, however, for him or any human 
 being to determine concerning any circumstances 
 whether they were or were not the same. Wherever 
 the thing was not done, did it not follow that the cir- 
 cumstances could not be the sam_e ? One thing he 
 was able to see — that, in the altered relations of 
 man's mind to the facts of Nature, a larger faith is 
 necessary to believe in the constantly present and 
 ordering will of the Father of men, than in the un- 
 usual phenomenon of a miracle. In the meantime it 
 was a fact that they had all hitherto had their daily 
 bread. 
 
 But now this strange behaviour of Grizzie set him 
 thinking of something very different. And why did 
 not the jeweller make some reply to his request con- 
 cerning the things he had sent him ? He said to 
 himself for the hundredth time that he must have 
 found it impossible to do anything with them, and 
 
DEFIANCE. 603 
 
 have delayed writing from unwillingness to cause him 
 disappointment, but he could not help a growing 
 soreness that his friend should take no notice of the 
 straits he had confessed himself in. The conclusion 
 of the whole matter was, that it must be the design of 
 Providence to make him part with the last clog that 
 fettered him ; he was to have no ease in life until he 
 had yielded the castle ! If it were so, then the longer 
 he delayed the greater would be the loss. To sell 
 everything in it first would but put off the evil day, 
 preparing for them so much the more poverty when it 
 should come; whereas if he were to part with the 
 house at once, and take his father where he could 
 find work, they would be able to have some of the old 
 things about them still, to tincture strangeness with 
 home. The more he thought the more it seemed his 
 duty to put a stop to the hopeless struggle by con- 
 senting in full and without reserve to the social deg- 
 radation and heart-sorrow to which it seemed the will 
 of God to bring them. Then with new courage he 
 might commence a new endeavour, no more on the 
 slippery slope of descent, but with the firm ground of 
 the Valley of Humiliation under their feet. Long 
 they could not go on as now, and he was ready to do 
 whatever was required of him, only he wished God 
 would make it plain. The part of discipline he liked 
 least — a part of which doubtless we do not yet 
 at all understand the good or necessity — was uncer- 
 tainty of duty, the uncertainty of what it was God's 
 will he should do. But on the other hand, perhaps 
 the cause of that uncertainty was the lack of perfect 
 
6o4 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 readiness ; perhaps all that was wanted to make duty- 
 plain was absolute will to do it. 
 
 These and other such thoughts went flowing and 
 ebbing for hours in his mind that night, until at last 
 he bethought himself that his immediate duty was 
 plain enough — namely, to go to sleep. He yielded 
 his consciousness therefore to him from whom it 
 came, and did sleep. 
 
CHAPTER L. 
 
 DISCOVERY AND CONFESSION. 
 
 In the morning he woke wondering whether God 
 would that day let him know what he had to do. He 
 was certain he would not have him leave his father ; 
 anything else in the way of trouble he could believe 
 possible. 
 
 The season was now approaching the nominal com- 
 mencement of summer, but the morning was very cold. 
 He went to the window. Air and earth had the look 
 of a black frost — the most ungenial, the most kill- 
 ing of weathers. Alas ! that was his father's breath- 
 ing : his bronchitis was worse ! He made haste to 
 fetch fuel and light the fire, then leaving him still 
 asleep, went down stairs. He was earlier than usual, 
 and Grizzle was later; only Aggie was in the kitchen. 
 Her grandfather was worse also. Everything pointed 
 to severer straitening and stronger necessity : this 
 must be how God was letting him know what he had 
 to do! 
 
 He sat down and suddenly, for a moment, felt as 
 60s 
 
6o6 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 if he were sitting oh the opposite bank of the Warlock 
 river, looking up at the house where he was born and 
 had spent his days — now the property of another, 
 and closed to him forever ! Within those walls he 
 could not order the removal of a straw ! could not 
 chop a stick to warm his father ! " The will of God 
 be done ! " he said, and the vision was gone. 
 
 Aggie was busy getting his porridge ready — which 
 Cosmo had by this time learned to eat without any 
 accompaniment — and he" bethought himself that here 
 was a chance of questioning her before Grizzie should 
 appear. 
 
 " Come, Aggie," he said abruptly, " I want to ken 
 what for Grizzie was in sic a terror aboot her pock 
 last nicht. I'm thinkin' I hae a richt to ken." 
 
 " I wish ye wadna speir," returned Aggie, after but 
 a moment's pause. 
 
 "Aggie," said Cosmo, "gien ye tell me it's nane o' 
 my business, I winna speir again." 
 
 " Ye are gmd, Cosmo, efter the w'y I behaved to ye 
 last nicht," she answered, with a tremble in her 
 voice. 
 
 " Dinna think o' 't nae mair, Aggie. To me it is 
 as gien it had never been. My hert's the same to 
 ye as afore — an' justly. I believe I un'erstan' ye 
 whiles 'maist as weel as ye du yersel'." 
 
 " I houp whiles ye un'erstan' me better," answered 
 Aggie. " Sair do I m'urn 'at the shaidow o' that lep 
 ever crossed my min'." 
 
 " It was but a shaidow," said Cosmo. 
 
 " But what wad ye think o' yersel', gien it had been 
 you 'at sae near — na, I winna nibble at the trowth 
 
DISCOVERY AND CONFESSION. 607 
 
 ony mair — gien it had been you, I wuU say't, 'at lee'd 
 that lee — sic an' ae sas it was ? " 
 
 " I wad say to mysel' 'at wi' God's help I was the 
 less lik'ly ever to tell a lee again ; for that noo I 
 un'erstude better hoo a temptation micht come upon 
 a body a' at ance, ohn gien 'im time to reflec' — an' 
 sae my responsibility was the greater." 
 
 " Thank ye, Cosmo,'' said Aggie humbly, and was 
 silent. 
 
 "But," resumed Cosmo, "ye haena tellt me yet 
 'at it's nane o' my business what Grizzle had in her 
 pock last nicht." 
 
 " Na, I cudha tell ye that, 'cause it wadna be true. 
 It is yer business." 
 
 " What was i' the pock than ? " 
 
 " Weel, Cosmo, ye put me in a great diffeecult;' ; 
 for though I never said to Grizzle I wadna tell, I 
 made nae objection — though at the time I didna like 
 it — whan she tellt me what she was gaein' to du; 
 an' sae I canna help fearin' it may be fause to her to 
 tell ye. Besides, I hae latten 't gang sae lang ohn 
 said a word, 'at the guid auld body cud never jaloose 
 I wad turn upon her nob an' tell ! " 
 
 "You are deadfully mysterious, Aggie," said Cosmo, 
 " and in truth you make me more than a little uncom- 
 fortable. What can it be that has been going on so 
 long, and had better not be told me ! Have I a right 
 to know or have I not ? " 
 
 "Ye hae a richt to ken, I do believe, else I wadna 
 tell ye," answered Aggie. " I was terrified, frae the 
 first, to think what ye wad say til 't ! But ye see, 
 what was there left ? You, an' the laird, an' my father 
 
6o8 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 was a' laid up thegither, heaps o' things wantit, the 
 meal dune, an' life depen'in' upo' fowk haein' what 
 they cud ait an' drink ! " 
 
 As she spoke, shadowy horror was deepening to 
 monster presence ; the incredible was gradually as- 
 suming shape and fact ; the hair of Cosmo's head 
 seemed rising up. He asked no more questions, but 
 sat waiting the worst. 
 
 " Dinna be ower hard upo' Grizzle an' me, Cosmo," 
 Aggie went on. " It wasna for oorsel's we wad hae 
 dune sic a thing; ; an' mavbe there was nane but them 
 we did it for 'at we wad hae been able to du't for. But 
 I hae no richt to say we. Blame, gien there be ony, 
 I hae my share o' ; but praise, gien there be ony, she 
 has't a'; for, that the warst michtna come to the 
 warst, at the last she tuik the meal-pock," said Aggie, 
 and burst into tears as she said it, " an' gaed oot wi' 't." 
 
 " Good God ! " cried Cosmo, and for some moments 
 was dumb. " Lassie ! " he said at length, in a voice 
 that was not like his own, " didna ye ken i' yer ain 
 sowl we wad raither hae dee'd ? " 
 
 " There 'tis ! That's jist what for Grizzle wadna 
 hae ye tellt ! But dinna think she gaed to ony place 
 whaur she was kent," sobbed Agnes, " or appeart to 
 ony to be ither than a puir auld body 'at gaed aboot 
 for hersel'. Dinna think aither 'at ever she tellt a 
 lee, or said a word to gar fowk pity her. She had aye 
 afore her the possibility o' bein' ca'd til accoont some 
 day. But I'm thinkin' gien ye had applyt to her an' 
 no to me, ye wad hae h'ard anither mak o' a defence 
 frae mine ! Ae thing ye may be sure d' — there's no 
 a body a hair the wiser." 
 
DISCOVERY AND CONFESSION. 6og 
 
 " What difference does that make ? " cried Cosmo. 
 " The fact remains." 
 
 " Hoot, Cosmo ! " said Agnes, with a revival of old 
 authority, " ye're takin' the thing in a fashion no 
 worthy o' a philosopher — no to say a Christian. Ye 
 tak it as gien there was shame intil 't ! An' gien 
 there wasna shame, I daur ye to priv there can be 
 ony disgrace ! Gien ye come to that wi' 't, hoo was 
 the Lord o' a' himsel' supportit whan he gaed aboot 
 cleanin' oot the warl' ? Wasna it the women 'at gaed 
 wi' 'im 'at providit a' thing ? " 
 
 " True ; but that was very different ! They knew 
 him, all of them, and loved him — knew that he was 
 doing what no money could pay for ; that he was 
 working himself to death for them and for their 
 people — that he was earning the whole world. Or 
 at least they had a far off notion that he was doing 
 as never man did, for they knew he spake as never 
 man spake. Besides there was no begging there. 
 He never asked them for anything." — Here Aggie 
 shook her head in unbelief, but Cosmo went on. — 
 " And those women, some of them anyhow, were rich, 
 and proud to do what they did for the best and 
 grandest of men. But what have we done for the 
 world that we should dare look to it to help 
 
 us ? " 
 
 " For that maitter, Cosmo, are na we a' brithers an' 
 sisters ? A' body's brithers an' sisters wi' a' body. It's 
 but akin' o' a some mean pride 'atwadna be obleeged 
 to yer ain fowk, efter ye hae dune yer best. Cosmo ! 
 ilka han'fu' o' meal gi'en i' this or ony hoose by them 
 'at wadna in like need accep' the same, is an affront 
 
6lO WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 frae brither to brither. Them 'at wadna tak, I say, 
 has no richt to gie." 
 
 " But nobody knew the truth of where their hand- 
 ful of meal was going. They thought they were giv- 
 ing it to a poor old woman, when they were in fact 
 giving it to men with a great house over their heads. 
 It's a disgrace, an' hard to beir, Aggie ! " 
 
 " 'Deed the thing's hard upon 's a' ! but whaur the 
 disgrace is, I will not condescen' to see. Men in a 
 muckle hoose ! Twa o' them auld, an' a' three i' 
 their beds no fit to muv ! Div ye think there's ana 
 o' them 'at gied to Grizzle, 'at wad hae gi'en less — 
 though what less nor the han'fu' o' meal, which was 
 a' she ever got, it wad be hard to imaigine — had 
 they kent it was for the life o' auld Glenwarlock — a 
 name respeckit, an' mair nor respeckit, whaurever it's 
 h'ard ? — or for the life o' the yoong laird, vroucht 
 to deith wi' labourers' wark, an' syne 'maist smoored 
 i' storm ? — or for auld Jeames Gracie, 'at's led a 
 God-fearin' life till he's 'maist ower auld to live ony 
 langer? I say naething aboot Grizzie an' me, wha 
 cud aye tak care o' oorsel's glen we hadna three dowie 
 men to luik efter. We did oor best, but whan a' oor 
 ain siller was awa' efter the lave, we cudna win awa' 
 oorsel's to win mair. Gien you three cud hae dune for 
 yersel's, we wad hae been sen 'in' ye hame some- 
 thing." 
 
 " You tell me," said Cosmo, as if in a painful dream, 
 through which flashed lovely lights, " that you and 
 Grizzie spent all your own money upon us, and then 
 Grizzie went out and begged for us ? " 
 
 "'Deed there's no anither word for't — nor was 
 
DISCOVERY AND CONFESSION. 6 11 
 
 there ae thing ither to be dune ! " Aggie drew her- 
 self up, and went on with solemnity. " Div ye think, 
 Cosmo, whaur heid or hert or fit or han' cud du ony- 
 thing to waur aff want or tribble frae you or the laird, 
 'at Grizzle or mysel' wad be wantin' that day ? I beg 
 o' yer grace ye winna lay to oor chairge what we war 
 driven til. As Grizzle says, we war jist at ane mair 
 wi' desperation." 
 
 Cosmo's heart was full. He dared not speak. He 
 came to Aggie, and taking her hand, looked her in 
 the face with eyes full of tears. She had been 
 pale as sun-browned could be, but now she grew red 
 as a misty dawn. Her eyes fell, and she began to 
 pull at the hem of her apron. Grizzle's step was on 
 the stair, and Cosmo, not quite prepared to meet her, 
 walked out. 
 
 The morning was neither so black nor so cold as 
 he had imagined it. He went into the garden, to the 
 nook between the two blocks, there sat down, and 
 tried to think. The sun was not far above the hori- 
 zon, and he was in the cold shade of the kitchen-tower, 
 but he felt nothing, and sat there motionless. The 
 sun came southward, looked round the corner, and 
 found him there. He brought with him a lovely fresh 
 day. The leaves were struggling out, and the birds 
 had begun to sing. Ah ! what a day was here, had 
 the hope of the boy been still swelling in his bosom ! 
 But the decree had gone forth ! no doubt remained ! 
 no refuge of uncertainty was left ! The house must 
 follow the land ! Castle Warlock and the last foot- 
 hold of soil must go, that wrong should not follow 
 ruin! Were those divine women to spend money, 
 
6l2 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 time, and labour, that he and his father should hold 
 what they had no longer any right to hold ? Or in 
 beggary, were they to hide themselves in the yet lower 
 depth of begging by proxy, in their grim stronghold, 
 living upon unacknowledged charity, as their ances- 
 tors on plunder ! He dared not tell his father what 
 he had discovered until he had taken at least the 
 first step towards putting an end to the whole false- 
 hood. To delay due action was of all things what 
 Cosmo dreaded ; and as the loss mainly affected him- 
 self, the yielding of the castle must primarily be his 
 deed and not his father's. He rose at once to 
 do it. 
 
 The same moment the incubus of Grizzle's meal- 
 pock was lifted from his bosom. The shame was, if 
 shame was any, that they should have been living in 
 such a house while the thing was done. When the 
 house was sold, let people say what they would ! In 
 proportion as a man cares to do what he ought, 
 he ceases to care how it may be judged. Of all 
 things why should a true man heed the unjust 
 judgment ? 
 
 " If there be any stain upon us," he said to him- 
 self, " God will see that we have the chance of wiping 
 it out ! " 
 
 With that he got over gate and wall, and took his 
 way along Grizzle's path, once more, for the time at 
 least, an undisputed possession of the people. 
 
 But while he was thinking in the garden, Grizzle, 
 who knew from Aggie that her secret was such no 
 more, was in dire distress in the kitchen, fearing she 
 had offended the young laird beyond remedy. In 
 
DISCOVERY AND CONFESSION. 613 
 
 great anxiety she kept going every minute to the door, 
 to see if he were not coming in to have his breakfast. 
 But the first she saw of him was his back, as he leaped 
 from the top of the wall. She ran after him to the 
 gate. 
 
 " Sir ! sir ! " she cried, " come back ; come back, 
 an' I'll gang doon upo' my auld knees to beg yer 
 pardon." 
 
 Cosmo turned the moment he heard her, and went 
 back. 
 
 When he reached the wall, over the top of the gate 
 he saw Grizzle on her knees upon the round paving 
 stones of the. yard, stretching up her old hands to 
 him, as if he were some heavenly messenger just 
 descended, whose wrath she deprecated. He jumped 
 over wall and gate, ran to her, and lifted her to her 
 feet, saying, 
 
 " Grizzle, wuman, what are ye aboot ! Bless ye. 
 Grizzle, I wad 'inaist as sune strive wi' my ain mither 
 whaur she shines i' glory, as wi' you ! " 
 
 Grizzle's face began to work like that of a child in 
 an agony between pride and tears, just ere he breaks 
 into a howl. She gripped his arm hard with both 
 hands, and at length faltered out, gathering compo- 
 sure as she proceeded, 
 
 " Cosmo, ye're like an angel o' God to a' 'at hae 
 to du wi' ye ! Eh, sic an accoont o' ye as I'll hae te 
 gie to the mither o' ye whan I win to see her ! For 
 surely they'll lat me see her, though they may weel 
 no think me guid eneuch to bide wi' her up there, for 
 as lang as we was thegither doon here ! Tell me, sir, 
 what wad ye hae me du. But jist ae thing I maun 
 
6 14 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 say : — gien I hadna dune as I did du, I do not see 
 hoc we cud hae won throu' the winter." 
 
 " Grizzie," said Cosmo, " I ken ye did a' for the 
 best, an' maybe it was the best. The day may come, 
 Grizzie, whan we'll gang thegither to ca' upo' them 
 'at pat the meal i' yer pock, an' return them thanks 
 for their kin'ness." 
 
 " Eh, na, sir ! That wad never du ! What for sud 
 they ken onything aboot it ! They war jist kin'-like 
 at lairge, an' to naebody in partic'lar, like the man 
 wi' his sweirin'. They gae to me jist as they wad to 
 ony unco beggar wife. It was to me they gae't, no to 
 you. Lat it a' lie upo' me." 
 
 " That canna be, Grizzie," said Cosmo. "Ye see 
 ye're ane o' the faimily, an' whatever ye du, I maun 
 haud my face til." 
 
 " God bless ye, sir ! " exclaimed Grizzie, and turned 
 towards the house, entirely relieved and satis- 
 fied. 
 
 " But eh, sir ! " she cried, turning again, " ye haena 
 broken yer fast the day ! " 
 
 " I'll be back in a feow minutes, an' mak abrakfast 
 o' 't by or'nar'," answered Cosmo, and hastened away 
 tfp the hill. 
 
CHAPTER LI. 
 
 IT IS NAUGHT, SAITH THE BUYER. 
 
 When Cosmo reached the gate of his lordship's 
 policy^ he found it closed, and although he rang the 
 bell, and called lustily to the gate-keeper, no one 
 appeared. He put a hand on the top of the gate, and 
 lightly vaulted over it. But just as he lighted, who 
 should come round a bend in the drive a few yards 
 off, but Lord Lick-my-loof himself, out for his morning 
 walk ! His irritable cantankerous nature would have 
 been annoyed at sight of anyone treating his gate with 
 such disrespect, but when he saw who it was that thus 
 made nothing of it — clearing it with as much con- 
 tempt as a lawyer would a quibble not his own — his 
 displeasure grew to indignation and anger. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, my lord," said Cosmo, taking 
 the first word that apology might be immediate, 
 "I could make.no one hear me, and therefore took 
 the liberty of describing a parabola over your 
 gate.'^ 
 
 "A verra ill fashiont parabola in my judgment, Mr. 
 6iS 
 
6l6 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Warlock ! I fear you have been learning of late to 
 think too little of the rights of property." 
 
 " If I had put my foot on your new paint, my lord, 
 I should have been to blame; but I vaulted clean 
 over, and touched nothing more than if the gate had 
 been opened to me." 
 
 "I'll have an iron gate!" 
 
 " Not on my account, my lord, I hope ; for I have 
 come to ask you to put it out of my power to offend 
 any more, by enabling me to leave Glenwarlock." 
 
 "Well?" returned his lordship, arid waited. 
 
 "I find myself compelled at last," said Cosmo, not 
 without some tremor in his voice, which he did his 
 best to quench, "to give you the refusal, according to 
 your request, of the remainder of my father's prop- 
 erty." 
 
 "House and all?" 
 
 " Everything except the furniture." 
 
 "Which I do not want." 
 
 A silence followed. 
 
 " May I ask if your lordship is prepared to make 
 me an offer? — or will you call on my father when 
 you have made up your mind? " 
 
 " I will give two hundred pounds for the lot." 
 
 " Two hundred pounds ! " repeated Cosmo, who 
 had not expected a large offer, but was unprepared 
 for one so small; "why, my lord, the bare building 
 material would be worth more than that ! " 
 
 "Not to take it down. I might as well blast it 
 fresh from the quarry. I know the sort of thing 
 those walls of yours are! Vitrified with age, by 
 George ! But I don't want to build, and standing the 
 
IT IS NAUGHT, SAITH THE BUYER. 617 
 
 place is of no use to me. I should but let it crumble 
 away at its leisure ! " 
 
 Cosmo's dream rose again before his mind's eye ; 
 but it was no more with pain ; for if- the dear old 
 place was to pass from their hands, what other end 
 could be desired for it ! 
 
 "But the sum you mention, my lord, would not, 
 after paying the little we owe, leave us enough to take 
 us from the place ! " 
 
 " That I should be .sorry for ; but as to paying, 
 many a better man has never done that. You have 
 my offer: take it or leave it. You'll not get half as 
 much if it come to the hammer. To whom else would 
 it be worth anything, bedded in my property ? If I 
 say I don't want it, see if anybody will ! " 
 
 Cosmo's heart sank afresh. He dared not part 
 with the place off hand on such terms, but must 
 consult his father : his power of action was for the 
 time exhausted ; he could do no more alone — not 
 even to spare his father. 
 
 " I must speak to the laird," he said. " I doubt if 
 he will accept your offer." 
 
 " As he pleases. But 1 do not promise to let the 
 offer stand. I make it now — not to-morrow, or an 
 hour hence." 
 
 " I must run the risk,'' answered Cosmo. " Will 
 you allow me to jump the gate ? " 
 
 But his lordship had a key, and preferred open- 
 ing it. 
 
 When Cosmo reached his father's room, he found 
 him not yet thinking of getting up, and sat down and 
 told him all — to what straits they were reduced; 
 
6l8 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 what Grizzie had felt herself compelled to do in his 
 illness ; how his mind and heart and conscience had 
 been exercised concerning the castle; how all his 
 life, for so it seemed now, the love of it had held him 
 to the dust ; where and on what errand he had been 
 that morning, with the result of his interview with 
 Lord Lick-my-loof. He had fought hard, he said, 
 and through the grace of God had overcome his 
 weakness — so far at least that it should no mo-re 
 influence his action ; but now he could go no further 
 without his father. He was equal to no more. 
 
 " I would not willingly be left out of your troubles, 
 my son," said the old man, cheerfully. " Leave me 
 alone a little. There is one, you know, who is nearer 
 to each of us than we are to each other : I must talk 
 to him — your father and my father, in whom you and 
 I are brothers." 
 
 Cosmo bowed in reverence, and withdrew. 
 
 After the space of nearly half an hour, he heard 
 the signal with which his father was in the habit of 
 calling him, and hastened to him. 
 
 The laird held out his old hand to him. 
 
 "Come, my son," he said, "and let us talk to- 
 gether as two of the heirs of all things. It's unco 
 easy for me to regaird wi' equanimity the loss-o' a 
 place I am on the point o' leavin' for the hame o' a' 
 hames — the dwellin' o'a' the loves, withoot the dim 
 memory or foresicht o' which — I'm thinkin' they 
 maun be aboot the same thing — we could never 
 hae lo'ed this auld place as we du, an' whaur, ance 
 I'm in, a'thing doon here maun dwindle ootworthied 
 by reason o' the glory that excelleth — I dinna mean 
 
IT. IS NAUGHT, SAITH THE BUYER. 619 
 
 the glory o' pearls an' gowd, or even o' licht, but the 
 glory o' love an' trowth. But gien I've ever had ony- 
 thing to ca' an ambition, Cosmo, it has been that 
 my son should be ane o' the wise, wi' faith to believe 
 what his father had learned afore him, an' sae start 
 farther on upo' tlie narrow way than his father had 
 startit. My ambition has been that my endeavours 
 and my experience should in such measure avail for 
 my boy, as that he should begin to make his own 
 endeavours and gather his own experience a little 
 nearer that perfection o' life efer which oor divine 
 nature groans an' cries, even while unable to know 
 what it wants. Blessed be the voice that tells us we 
 maun forsake all, and take up our cross, and follow 
 him, losing our life that we may find it ! For whaur 
 wad he hae us follow him but til his ain hame, to the 
 verra bosom o' his God an' oor God, there to be ane 
 wi' the Love essential ! " 
 
 Such a son as Cosmo could not listen to such a 
 father saying such things, and not drop the world as 
 if it were no better than the burnt out cinder of the 
 moon. 
 
 " When men desire great things, then is God ready 
 to hear them," he said ; " and so it is, I think, father, 
 that he has granted your desires for me : I desire 
 nothing but to fulfil my calling." 
 
 " Then ye can pairt wi' the auld hoose ohn grutten ? " 
 "As easy, father, as wi' a piece whan I wasna 
 hungry. I do not say that another mood may not 
 come, for you know the flesh lusteth against the spirit 
 as well as the spirit against the flesh ; but in my 
 present mood of light and peace, I rejoice to part with 
 
620 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 the house as a victory of the spirit. Shall I go to his 
 lordship at once and accept his offer ? I am ready." 
 
 " Do, my son. I think I have not long to live, and 
 the mone}', though little, is large in this, that it will 
 enable me to pay the last of my debts, and die in the 
 knowledge that I leave you a free man. You will 
 easily provide for yourself when I am gone, and I 
 know you will not forget Grizzle. For Jeames Gracie, 
 he maun hae his share o' the siller because o' the 
 croft : we maun calculate it fairly. He'll no want 
 muckle mair i' this warl'. Aggie 'ill be as safe's an 
 angel ony gait. An', Cosmo, whatever God may 
 mean to du wi' you i' this warl', ye'll hae an abun- 
 dant entrance ministered to ye intil the kingdom' o' 
 oor Lord an' Saviour. Wha daur luik for a better fate 
 nor that o' the Lord himsel' ! But there was them 'at 
 by faith obtained kingdoms, as weel as them wha by 
 faith were sawn asunder : they war baith martyrdoms ; 
 an' whatever God sen's, we s' tak." 
 
 " Then you accept the two hundred for croft and 
 all, father?" 
 
 " Dinna ettle at a penny more ; he micht gang 
 back upo' 't. Regaird it as his final otTer." 
 
 Cosmo rose and went, strong-hearted, and without 
 a single thought that pulled back from the sacrifice. 
 There was even a certain pleasure in doing the thing 
 just because in another and lower mood it would have 
 torn his heart : the spirit was rejoicing against the 
 flesh. To be rid of the castle would be to feel, far 
 off, as the young man would have felt had he given 
 all to the poor and followed the master. \A'ith the 
 strength of a young giant he strode along. 
 
IT IS NAUGHT, SAITH THE BUYER. 62 1 
 
 When he reached the gate, there was my lord lean- 
 ing over it. 
 
 " I thought you would be back soon ! I knew the 
 old cock would have more sense than the young one ; 
 and I didn't want my gate scrambled over again," he 
 said, but without moving to open it. 
 
 "My father will take your lordship's offer," said 
 Cosmo. 
 
 " I was on the point of making a fool of myself, 
 and adding another fifty to be certain of getting rid 
 of you; but I came to the conclusion it was a piece 
 of cowardice, and that, as I had so long stood the 
 dirty hovel at my gate because I couldn't help it, I 
 might just as well let you find your own way out of 
 the parish." 
 
 " I am sure from your lordship's point of view you 
 were right," said Cosmo. "We shall content our- 
 selves, an)'how, with the two hundred." 
 
 "Indeed you will not ! Did I not tel' you I would 
 not be bound by the offer ? I have changed my mind, 
 and mean to wait for the sale." 
 
 " I beg your pardon. I did not quite understand 
 your lordship." 
 
 " You do now, I trust ! " 
 
 '• Perfectly, my lord," replied Cosmo, and turning 
 away left his lordship grinning over the gate. But 
 he had a curious look, almost as if he were a little 
 ashamed of himself — as if he had only been teasing 
 the young fellow, and thought perhaps he had gone 
 too far. For Cosmo, in such peace was his heart, 
 that he was not even angry with the man. 
 
 On his way home, the hope awoke, and began once 
 
622 WARLOCK o' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 more to whisper itself, that they might not be able to 
 sell the place at all ; that some other way would be 
 provided for their leaving it ; and that, when he was 
 an old man, he would be allowed to return to die in 
 it. But up started his conscience, jealously watchful 
 lest hope should undermine submission, or weaken 
 resolve. God might indeed intend they should not 
 be driven from the old house ! but he kept Abraham 
 going from place to place, and never let him own a 
 foot of land, except so much as was needful to bury 
 his dead. And there was our Lord : he had not a 
 place to lay his head, and had to go out of doors to 
 pray to his father in secret ! The only things to be 
 anxious about were, that God's will should be done, 
 and that it should not be modified by any want of 
 faiih or obedience or submission on his part. Then 
 it would be God's very own will that was done, and 
 not something composite, in part rendered necessary 
 by his opposition. If God's pure will was done, he 
 must equally rejoice \\hether that will took or gave 
 the castle ! 
 
 And so he returned to his father. 
 
 When he told him the result of his visit, the laird 
 expressed no surprise. 
 
 " He maketh the wrath o' man to praise him," he 
 said. " This will be for our good." 
 
 The whole day after, there was not between them 
 another allusion to the matter. Cosmo read to his 
 father a ballad he had just written. The old man 
 was pleased with it ; for what most would have counted 
 a great defect in Cosmo's imagination was none to 
 him — this namely, that he never could get room for 
 
IT IS NAUGHT, SAITH THE BUYER 623 
 
 it in this world ; to his way of feeling, the end of 
 things never came here ; what end, or seeming end 
 came, was not worth setting before his art as a goal 
 for which to make ; in its very nature it was no finis 
 at all, only the merest close of a chapter. 
 
 This was the ballad, in great part the result of a 
 certain talk with Mr. Simon. 
 
 The miser he lay on his lonely bed, 
 Life's candle was burning dim, 
 
 His heart in his iron chest was hid. 
 Under heaps of gold and a well locked lid, 
 And whether it were alive or dead. 
 It never troubled him. 
 
 Slowly out of his body he crept , 
 Said he, " I am all the same ! 
 
 Only I want my heart in my breast ; 
 I will go and fetch it out of the chest." 
 Swift to the place of his gold he stept — 
 He was dead but had no shame ! 
 
 He opened the lid — oh, hell and night I 
 For a ghost can see no gold ; 
 Empty and swept — not a coin was there 1 
 His heart lay alone in the chest so bare ! 
 He felt with his hands, but they had no might 
 To finger or clasp or hold ! 
 
 At his heart in the bottom he made a clutch — 
 A heart or a puff-ball of sin ? 
 Eaten with moths, and fretted with rust, 
 He grasped but a handful of dry-rotted dust ; 
 It was a horrible thing to touch, 
 But he hid it his breast within. 
 
62 4 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 And now there are some that see him sit 
 In the charnel house alone, 
 
 Counting what seems to him shining gold, 
 Heap upon heap, a sum ne'er told : 
 Alas, the dead, how they lack of wit 1 
 They are not even bits of bone I 
 
 Another miser has got his chest. 
 And his painfully hoarded store ; 
 Like ferrets his hands go in and out, 
 Burrowing, tossing the gold about; 
 And his heart too is out of his breast, 
 Hid in the yellow ore. 
 
 Which is the better — the ghost that sits 
 Counting shadowy coin all day, 
 
 Or the man that puts his hope and trust 
 In a thing whose value is only his lust ? 
 Nothing he has when out he iiits 
 But a heart all eaten away. 
 
 That night, as he lay thinking, Cosmo resolved to 
 set out on the morrow for the city, on foot, and begging 
 his way if necessary. There he would acquaint Mr. 
 Burns with the straits they were in, and require of 
 him his best advice how to make a living for himself 
 and his father and Grizzle. As for James and Agnes, 
 they might stay at the castle, where he would do his 
 best to help them. As soon as his father had had 
 his breakfast, he would let him know his resolve, and 
 with his assent, would depart at once. His spirits 
 rose as he brooded. What a happy thing it was that 
 Lord Lick-my-loof had not accepted their offer ! all 
 the time they saw themselves in a poor lodging in a 
 noisy street, they would know they had their own 
 strong silent castle waiting to receive them, as soon as 
 
IT IS NAUGHT, SAITH THE BUYER. 625 
 
 they should be able to return to it ! Then the words 
 came to him : " Here we have no continuing city, but 
 we seek one to come." 
 
 The special discipline for some people would seem 
 to be that they shall never settle down, or feel as if 
 they were at home, until they are at home in very fact. 
 
 " Anyhow," said Cosmo to himself, " such a castle 
 we have ! " 
 
 To be lord of space, a man must be free of all 
 bonds to place. To be heir of all things, his heart 
 must have no things in it. He must be like him who 
 makes things, not like one who would put everything 
 in his pocket. He must stand on the upper, not the 
 lower side of them. He must be as the man who 
 makes poems, not the man who gathen; books of 
 verse. God, having made a sunset, lets it pass, and 
 makes such a sunset no more. He has no picture- 
 gallery, no library. What if in heaven men shall be 
 so busy growing, that they have not time to write or 
 to read! 
 
 How blessed Cosmo would live, with his father and 
 Grizzle and his books, in the great city — in some 
 such place as he had occupied when at the university ! 
 The one sad thing was that he could not be with his 
 father all day ; but so much the happier would be the 
 home-coming at night ! Thus imagining, he fell 
 fast asleep. 
 
 He dreamed that he had a barrow of oranges, with 
 which he had been going about the streets all day, 
 trying in vain to sell them. He was now returning 
 home, the barrow piled, as when he set out in the 
 taorning, with the golden fruit. He consoled himself 
 
626 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 however with the thought, that his fatlier was fond of 
 oranges, and now might have as many as he pleased. 
 But as he wheeled the barrow along, it seemed to 
 grow heavier and heavier, and he feared his strength 
 was failing him, and he would never get back to his 
 father. Heavier and heavier it grew, until at last, al- 
 though he had it on the pavement — for it was now 
 the dead of the night — he could but just push it 
 along. At last he reached the door, and having 
 laboriously wheeled it into a shed, proceeded to 
 pick from it a few of the best oranges to take up to 
 his father. But when he came to lift one from the 
 heap, lo, it was a lump of gold ! He tried another and 
 another : every one of them was a lump of solid gold. 
 It was a dream-version of the golden horse. Then 
 all at once he said to himself, nor knew why, " My 
 father is dead ! " and woke in misery. It was many 
 moments before he quite persuaded himself that he 
 had but dreamed. He rose, went to his father's bed- 
 side, found him sleeping peacefully, and lay down 
 comforted, nor that night dreamed any more. 
 
 "What," he said to himself, "would money be 
 to me without my father ! " 
 
 Some of us shrink from making plans because ex- 
 perience has shown us how seldom they are real- 
 ized. Not the less are the plans we do make just as 
 subject to overthrow as the plans of the most prolific 
 and minute of projectors. It was long since Cosmo 
 had made any, and the resoh-e with which he now 
 fell asleep was as modest as wise man could well 
 cherish ; the morning nevertheless went differently 
 from his intent and expectation, 
 
CHAPTER LII. 
 
 AN OLD STORY. 
 
 He was roused before sunrise by his father's cough. 
 After a bad fit, he was very weary and restless. Now, 
 in such a condition, Cosmo could almost always put 
 him to sleep by reading to him, and he therefore got a 
 short story, and began to read. At first it had the 
 desired effect, but in a little while he woke, and asked 
 him to go on. The story was of a king's ship so dis- 
 guising herself that a pirate took her for a merchant- 
 man ; and Cosmo, to whom it naturally recalled the 
 Old Captain, made some remark about him. 
 
 " You mustn't believe," said his father, " all they 
 told you when a boy about that uncle of ours. No 
 doubt he was a rough sailor fellow, but I do not believe 
 there was any ground for calling him a pirate. I don't 
 suppose he was anything worse than a privateer, 
 which, God knows, is bad enough. I fancy, how- 
 ever, for the most of his sea-life he was captain of an 
 East Indiaman, probably trading on his own account 
 'at the same time. That he made money I do not 
 627 
 
628 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 doubt, but very likely he lost it all before he came 
 home, and was too cunning, in view of his probable, 
 reception, to confess it.'' 
 
 "I remember your once telling me an amusing 
 story of an adventure -7- let me see — yes, that was in 
 an East Indiaman : was he the captain of that one ?" 
 
 " No — a very different man — a cousin of your 
 mother's that was. I was thinking of it a minute ago ; 
 it has certain points, if not of resemblance, then of 
 contrast with the story you have just been reading." 
 
 " I should like much to hear it again, when you are 
 able to tell it." 
 
 " I have got it all in writing. It was amongst my 
 Marion's papers. You will find, in the bureau in the 
 book-closet, in the pigeon-hole farthest to the left, a 
 packet tied with red tape : bring that, and I will find 
 it for you." 
 
 Cosmo brought the bundle of papers, and his father 
 handed him one of them, saying, "This narrative was 
 written by a brother of your mother's. The Captain 
 Macintosh who is the hero of the story, was a cousin 
 of her mother, and at the time of the event related 
 must have been somewhat advanced in years, for he 
 had now returned to his former profession after hav- 
 ing lost largely in an attempt to establish a brewery 
 on the island of St. Helena ! " 
 
 Cosmo unfolded the manuscript, and read as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 " ' An incident occurring on the voyage to India 
 when my brother went out, exhibits Captain Macin- 
 tosh's character very practically, and not a little to 
 his professional credit. 
 
AN OLD STORY. 629 
 
 " 'On a fine evening some days after rounding the 
 cape of Good Hope, sailing with a light breeze and 
 smooth water, a strange sail of large size hove in 
 sight, and apparently bearing down direct upon the 
 "Union," Captain Macintosh's ship; evidently a ship 
 of war, but showing no colours — a very suspicious fact. 
 All English ships at that time trading to and from 
 India, by admiralty rules, were obliged to carry arma- 
 ments proportioned to their tonnage, and crew suffi- 
 cient to man and work the guns carried. The strange 
 sail was nearing them, or "the big stranger," as *he 
 seamen immediately named her. My brother, m iny 
 years afterwards, more than once told me, that the 
 change, or rather the transformation, which Captain 
 Macintosh under^^ent, was one of the most remarkable 
 facts he had ever witnessed ; more bordering on the 
 marvellous, than anything else. When he had care- 
 fully and deliberately viewed the " big stranger," and 
 deliberately laying down his glass, his eyes seemed 
 to have catched Jire! and his whole countenance 
 lighted up ; a new spirit seemed to possess him, while 
 he preserved the utmost coolness : advancing delib- 
 erately to what is called the poop railing, and steadily 
 looking forward— " Boatswain ! Pipe to quarters." 
 Muster roll called. — " Now, my men, we shall fight! 
 I know you will do it well! — Clear ship for action!" 
 I have certainly but my brother's word and judgment 
 upon the fact, who had never been under fire ; but 
 his opinion was, that no British ship of war could 
 have been more speedily, or more completely cleared 
 for action, both in rigging, decks, and guns, — guns 
 double shotted and run out into position. " The big 
 
630 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Stranger " was now nearing, — no ports opened, and 
 no colours shewn — all, increased cause of suspicion 
 that there was some ill intent in the wind — and it 
 was very evident, from the size of " the big stranger" 
 — nearly thrice the size of the little " Union," — that, 
 one broad side from the former, might send the latter 
 at once to the bottom : — the whole crew, my brother 
 related, were in the highest spirits, more as if prepar- 
 ing for a dance, than for work of life and death. 
 Suddenly, the captain gives the command, — " Board- 
 en , — Prepare to board ! — Lower away, boarding 
 Boi.ts" — and no sooner said than done. The 
 stranger was now at musket-shot. It was worthy the 
 courage of a Nelson or a Cochrane, to think of board- 
 ing at such odds ; —a mere handful of men, to a full 
 complement of a heavy Frigate's crew ! The idea 
 was altogether in keeping with the best naval tactics 
 and skill. Foreseeing that one broadside from such 
 an enemy would sink him, he must anticipate such a 
 crisis. Boarding would at least divert the enemy 
 from their guns ; and he knew what British seamen 
 could do, in clearing an enenty's decks ! There was 
 British spirit in those days. Let us hope it shall 
 again appear, should the occasion arise. The captain 
 himself was the first in the foremost Boarding Boat — 
 and the first in the enemy's main chains, and to set his 
 foot on the enemy's main deck ! when a most magic- 
 like scene saluted the Boarders ; but did no\. yet allay 
 suspicion : — not a single enemy on deck ! — Here, a 
 characteristic act of a British tar — the Union's 
 Boatswain, — must not be omitted — an old man of 
 war's man : — no sooner had his foot touched the 
 
AN OLD STORY. 63 1 
 
 enemy s deck, than r?^^/^/';?^^/?^- (or towards the ship's 
 stern)' — to the wheel, — the only man on deck being he 
 at the wheel, — a big, lubberly looking man, — the 
 Union's boatswain in less than a moment had his 
 hands to the steersman's throat, — and with one fell 
 shove, sent him spinning, heels over head — all the 
 full lengtli of the ship's quarter-deck, to land on the 
 main-deck ; — one may suppose rather astonished! 
 The manly boatswain himself was the only man hurt 
 in the affair — his boarding pistol, by some untoward 
 accident, went off, — its double shot running up his 
 fore-arm, and lodging in the bones of his elbow. 
 Amputation became necessary ; and the dear old 
 fellow soon afterwards died. 
 
 " ' But what did all this htillybaloo come to ? 
 Breathe — and we shall hear ! " The Big Stranger " 
 turned out to be a large, heavy armed Portuguese 
 Frigate ! — Actually the war-ship solitary of the Portu- 
 guese navy then afloat! — a fine specimen of Portu- 
 guese naval discipline, no doubt ! — not a watch even 
 on deck ! — They had seen immediately on seeing her, 
 that the " Union " was English, and a merchant ship 
 — which a practised seaman's eye can do at once; 
 and they had quietly gone to take their siesta, after 
 their country's fashion — Portugal, at that time, being 
 one of Britain's allies, and not an enemy ; — a griev- 
 ous disappointment to the crew of the " Union." ' 
 
 " My uncle seems to have got excited as he went 
 on," said Cosmo, " to judge by the number of words 
 he has underlined ! " 
 
 "He enters into the spirit of the thing pretty well 
 for a clergyman ! " said the laird. 
 
CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 A SMALL DISCOVERY. 
 
 When they had had a little talk over the narrative, 
 the laird desired Cosmo to replace the papers, and 
 rising he went to obey. As he approached the closet, 
 the first beams of the rising sun were shining upon 
 the door of it. The window through which they entered 
 was a small one, and the mornings of the year in which 
 they so fell were not many. When he opened the 
 door, they shot straight to the back of the closet, light- 
 ing with rare illumination the little place, commonly so 
 dusky that in it one book could hardly be distinguished 
 from another. It was as if a sudden angel had entered 
 a dungeon. When the door fell to behind him, as was 
 its custom, the place felt so dark that he seemed to 
 have lost memory as well as sight, and not to know 
 where he was. He set it open again, and having 
 checked it so, proceeded to replace the papers. But 
 the strangeness of the presence there of such a light 
 took so great a hold on his imagination, and it was 
 such a rare thing to see what the musty dingy little 
 632 
 
A SMALL DISCOVERY. 633 
 
 closet, which to Cosmo had always been the treasure- 
 chamber of the house, was like, that he stood for a mo- 
 ment with his hand on the cover of the bureau, gazing 
 into the light-invaded corners as if he had suddenly 
 found himself in a department of Aladdin's cave. Old 
 to him beyond all memory, it yet looked new and 
 wonderful, much that had hitherto been scarcely 
 known but to his hands now suddenly revealed in ra- 
 diance to his eyes also. Amongst other facts he discov- 
 ered that the bureau stood, not against a rough wall as 
 he had imagined, but against a plain surface of wood. 
 In mild surprise he tapped it with his knuckles, and 
 almost started at the hollow sound it returned. 
 
 " What can there be ahin' the bureau, father ? " he 
 asked, re-entering the room. 
 
 " I dinna ken o' onything," answered the laird. 
 "The desk stan's close again' the wa', does na't ? " 
 
 "Ay, but the wa' 's timmer, an' soon's how." 
 
 " It maybe but a wainscotin' ; an' gien there was bu*- 
 an inch atween hit an' the stane, it wad soon' like that." 
 
 " I wad like to draw the desk oot a bit, an' hae a 
 nearer luik. It fills up a' the space, 'at I canna weel 
 win at it." 
 
 " Du as ye like, laddie. The hoose is mair yours 
 nor mine. But noo ye hae putten't i' my held, I min' 
 my mother sayin' 'at there was ance a passage atween 
 the twa blocks o' the hoose : could it be there ? I 
 aye thoucht it had been atween the kitchen an' the 
 dinin' room. My father, she said, had it closed up." 
 
 Said Cosmo, who had been gazing toward the 
 closet from where he stood by the bedside, 
 
 « It seems to gang farther back nor the thickness 
 
034 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 o' the wa' ! " He went atid looked out of the western 
 window, then turned again towards the closet. " I 
 canna think," he resumed, with something like annoy- 
 ance in his tone, "hoo it cud be 'at I never noticed 
 that afore ! A body wad think I had nae held for 
 what I prided mysel' upo' — an un'erstan'in' o' hoo 
 things are putten thegither, specially i' the w'y o' 
 stane an' lime ! The closet rins richt intil the great 
 blin' wa' atween the twa hooses ! I thoucht that wa' 
 had been naething but a kin' o' a curtain o' defence, 
 but there may weel be a passage i' the thickness 
 o"t!" 
 
 So saying he re-entered the closet, and proceeded to 
 move the bureau. The task was not an easy one. 
 The bureau was large, and so nearly filled the breadth 
 of the closet, that he could attack it nowhere but in 
 front, and had to drag it forward, laying hold of it 
 where he could, over a much-worn oak floor. The 
 sun had long deserted him before he got behind it. 
 
 " I wad sair like to brak throu the buirds, father } " 
 he said, going again to the laird. 
 
 " Onything ye like, I tell ye, laddie ! I'm growin' 
 curious mysel'," he answered. 
 
 " I'm feart formakin' ower muckle din, father." 
 
 " Nae fear, nae fear ! I haena a sair held. The 
 Lord be praist, that's a thing I'm seldom triblet wi'. 
 Gang an' get ye what tools ye want, an' gang at it, 
 an' dinna spare. Gien the hole sud lat in the win', 
 ye'll mar nae mair, I'm thinkin', nor ye'll be able to 
 mak again. What timmer is 't o' ? " 
 
 "Only deal, sae far as I can judge.'' 
 
 Cosmo went and fetched his tool-basket, and set to 
 
A SMALL DISCOVERY. 635 
 
 work. The partition was strong, of good sound pine, 
 neither rotton nor worm-eaten — inch-boards matched 
 with groove and tongue, not quite easy to break 
 through. But having, with a centre-bit and brace, 
 bored several holes near each other, he knocked out 
 the pieces between, and introducing a saw, soon made 
 an opening large enough to creep through. A cold 
 air met him. as if from a cellar, and on the other side 
 he seemed in another climate. 
 
 Feeling with his hands, for there was scarcely any 
 light, he discovered that the space he had entered 
 was not a closet, inasmuch as there was no shelf, or 
 anything in it, whatever. It was certainly most like 
 the end of a deserted passage. His feet told him the 
 floor was of wood, and his hands that the walls were 
 of rough stone without plaster, cold and damp. With 
 outstretched arms he could easily touch both at oTice. 
 Advancing thus a few paces, he struck his head against 
 wood, felt panels, and concluded a door. There was 
 a lock, but the handle was gone. He went back a little, 
 and threw himself against it. Lock and hinges too 
 gave way, and it fell right out before him. He went 
 staggering on, and was brought up by a bed, half-fall- 
 ing across it. He was in the spare room, the gruesome 
 centre of legend, the dwelling of ghostly awe. Not 
 yet apparently had its numen forsaken it, for through 
 him passed a thrill at the discovery. From his 
 father's familiar room to this, was like some marvel- 
 lous transition in a fairy-tale ; the one was home, a 
 place of use and daily custom ; the other a hollow in 
 the far-away past, an ancient cave of Time, full of 
 withering history. Its windows being all to the north 
 
636 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 and long unopened, it was lustreless, dark, and musty 
 with decay. 
 
 Cosmo stood motionless a while, gazing about him 
 as if, from being wide awake, he suddenly found hiiu- 
 self in a dream. Then he turned as if to see how he 
 had got into it. There lay the door, and there was 
 the open passage ! He lifted the door : the other 
 side of it was covered with the same paper as the wall, 
 from which it had brought with it several ragged 
 pieces. He went back, crept through, and rejoined 
 his father. 
 
 In eager excitement, he told him the discovery he 
 had made. 
 
 " I heard the noise of the falling door," said his 
 father quietly. "I should not wonder now," he 
 added, " if we discovered a way through to the third 
 block." 
 
 " Oh, father," said Cosmo with a sigh, " what a com- 
 fort this door would have so often been ! and now, 
 just as we are like to leave the house forever, we first 
 discover it ! " 
 
 " How well we have got on without it ! " returned 
 his father. 
 
 "But what could have made grandfather close it 
 up?" 
 
 "There was, I believe, some foolish ghost-story 
 connected with it — perhaps the same old Grannie 
 told you." 
 
 " I wonder grandmamma never spoke of it ! " 
 
 " My impression is she never cared to refer to it." 
 
 " I daresay she believed it." 
 
 "Weel, I daursay ! I wadna won'er ! " 
 
A SMALL DISCOVERY. 637 
 
 " What for did ye ca' 't foolish, father ? " 
 
 " Jist for thouchtlessness, I doobt, But wha could 
 hae imagined to kep a ghaist by paperin' ower a door, 
 whan, gien there be ony trowth i' sic tales, the ghaist 
 gangs throu a stane wa' jist as easy 's open air ! But 
 surely o' a' fules a ghaist maun be the warst 'a things 
 on aboot a place ! " 
 
 " Maybe it's to haud away frae a waur. The queer 
 thing, father, to me wad be 'at the ghist, frae bein' a 
 fule a' his life, sud grow a wise man the minute 
 he was deid ! Michtna it be a pairt o' his punishment 
 to be garred see hoo things gang on efter he's deid ! 
 What could be sairer, for instance, upon a miser, nor 
 to see his heir gang to the deevil by scatterin' wliat 
 he gaed to the deevil by gatherin' ? " 
 
 " 'Deed ye're richt eneuch, there, my son ! " an- 
 swered the old man. Then after a pause he resumed. 
 " It's aye siller or banes 'at fesses them back. I can 
 weel un'erstan' a great reluctance to tak their last 
 leave o' th siller, but for the banes — eh, but I'll be 
 unco pleased to be rid o' mine ! " 
 
 " But whaur banes are concernt, hasna there aye 
 been fause play? " suggested Cosmo. 
 
 " Wad it be revenge, th^n, think ye ? " 
 
 " It micht be : maist o' the stories o' that kin' en' 
 wi' bringin' the murderer an' justice acquant. But 
 the human bein' seems in a' ages to hae a grit dislike 
 to the thoucht o' his banes bein' left lyin' aboot. I 
 hae h'ard gran'mamma say the dirtiest servan' was 
 aye clean twa days o' her time — the day she cam an' 
 the day she gaed." 
 
 " Ye hae thoucht mair aboot it nor me, laddie ! 
 
638 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 But what )'e say wadna baud wi' the Parsees, 'at lay 
 oot their deid to be devoored by the birds o' the 
 air.'' 
 
 " They swipe up tlieir banes at the last. An' 
 though the livin' expose the deid, the deid majnia 
 like it." 
 
 " I daursay. Ony gait it maun be a fine thing to 
 lea' as little dirt as possible ahin' ye, an' tak nane wi' 
 ye. I wad frain gang clean an' lea' clean ! " 
 
 " Gien onybody gang clean an' lea' clean, father, 
 ye wull." 
 
 "I luik to the Lord, my son. — But noo, whan a 
 body thinks o' 't," he went on after a pause, " there 
 wad seem something curious i' thae tales concernin' 
 the auld captain ! Sometime we'll tak Grizzie intil 
 oor coonsel, an' see hoo mony we can gaither, an' 
 what we can mak o' them whan we lay them a' 
 thegither. Gien the Lord hae't in his min' to keep 
 's i' this place, yon passage may turn oot a great 
 convanience." 
 
 " Ye dinna think it wad be worth while openin' 't 
 up direc'ly ? " 
 
 " I wad bide for warmer weather. I think the 
 room's jist some caller now by rizzon o' 't.'' 
 
 "I'll close't up at ance," said Cosmo. 
 
 In a few minutes he had screwed a box-lid over the 
 hole in the partition, and shut the door of the closet. 
 
 " Noo," he said, " I'll gang an' set up the, door on 
 the ither side." 
 
 Before he went however, he told his father whal he 
 had been thinking of, saying, if he approved and was 
 well enough, he should like to go the next day. 
 
A SMALL DISCOVERY. 639 
 
 " It's no an ill idea," said the laird ; " but we'll see 
 what the morn may be like." 
 
 When Cosmo entered the great bedroom of the 
 house from the other side, he stood for a moment 
 staring at the open passage and prostrate door as if 
 he saw them for the first time, then proceeded to 
 examine the hinges. They were broken ; the half of 
 each remained fast to the door-post, the other half to 
 the door. New hinges were necessary ; in the mean- 
 time he must prop it up. This he did ; and before he 
 left the room, as it was much in want of fresh air, he 
 opened all the windows. 
 
 His father continuing better through that day, he 
 went to bed early that he might start at sunrise, 
 
CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 A GREATER DISCOVERY. 
 
 In the middle of the night he was wakened by a loud 
 noise. Its nature he had been too sound asleep to 
 recognize ; he only knew it had waked him. He 
 sprang out of bed, was glad to find his father undis- 
 turbed, and stood for a few moments wondering. All 
 at once he remembered that he had left the windows 
 of the best bedroom open ; the wind had risen, and • 
 was now blowing what sailors would call a gale : 
 probably something had been blown down ! He would 
 go and see. Taking a scrap of candle, all he had, he 
 crept down the stair and out to the great door. 
 
 As he approached tha4: of the room he sought, the 
 faint horror he felt of it when a boy suddenly re- 
 turned upon him as fresh as ever, and for a moment 
 he hesitated, almost doubting whether he were not 
 dreaming : was he actually there in the middle of the 
 night .'' But with an effort he dismissed the folly, 
 was himself again, entering the room, if not with in- 
 difference yet with composure. There was just light 
 640 
 
A GREATER DISCOVERY. 64 1 
 
 enough to see the curtains of the terrible bed waving 
 wide in the stream of wind that followed the opening 
 of the door. He shut the windows, lighted his candle, 
 and then saw the door he had set up so carefully flat 
 on the floor : the chair he had put against it for a but- 
 tress, he thought, had not proved high enough, and it 
 had fallen down over the top of it. He placed his 
 candle beside it, and proceeded once more to raise it. 
 But, casting his eyes up to mark the direction, he 
 caught a sight which made him lay it down again and 
 rise without it. The candle on the floor shone half- 
 way into the passage, lighting up a part of one wall 
 of it, and showing plainly the rough gray stones of 
 which it was built. Something in the shapes and 
 arrangement of the stones drew and fixed Cosmo's 
 attention. He took the candle, examined the wall, 
 came from the passage with his eyes shining, and his 
 lips firmly closed, left the room, and went up a story 
 higher to that over it, still called his. There he took 
 from his old secretary the unintelligible drawing hid 
 in the handle of the bamboo, and with beating heart 
 unfolded it. Certainly its lines did, more or less, 
 correspond with the shapes of those stones ! He must 
 bring them face to face ! 
 
 Down the stair he went again. It was the dead of 
 the night, but every remnant of childhood's awe was 
 gone in the excitement of the hoped discovery. He 
 stood once more in the passage, the candle in one 
 hand, the paper in the other, and his eyes going and 
 coming steadily between it and the wall, as if reading 
 the rough stones by some hieroglyphic key. The 
 
642 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 lines on the paper and the joints of the stones cor- 
 ,responded with almost absolute accuracy. 
 
 But another thing had caught his eye — a thing yet 
 more promising, though he delayed examining it until 
 fully satisfied of the correspondence he sought to es^ 
 tablish : on one of the stones, one remarkable neither 
 by position nor shape, he spied what seemed the 
 rude drawing of a horse, but as it was higher than 
 his head, and the candle cast up shadows from the 
 rough surfaces, he could not see it well. Now he 
 got a chair, and, standing on it, saw that it was plainly 
 enough a horse, like one a child. might have made 
 who, with a gift for drawing, had had no instruction. 
 It was scratched on the stone. Beneath it, legible 
 enough to one who knew them so well, were the 
 lines — 
 
 catch your Nag, & pull his Tail 
 in his hind Hele caw a Nail 
 rug his Lugs frae ane anither 
 stand up, & ca' the King yer Brither 
 
 How these directions were to be followed with 
 such a horse as the one on the flat before him would 
 be scanned ! Probably the wall must be broken into 
 at that spot. In the meantime he would set up the 
 door again, and go to bed. 
 
 For he was alarmed at the turmoil the sight of 
 these signs caused in him. He dreaded possessmi by 
 any spirit but the one. Whatever he did now he 
 must do calmly. Therefore to bed he went. But 
 before he gave himself up to sleep, he prayed God to 
 watch him, lest the commotion in his heart and the 
 
A GREATER DISCOVERY. 643 
 
 giddiness of hope should make something rise that 
 would come between him and the light eternal. The 
 man in whom any earthly hope dims the heavenly 
 presence and weakens the mastery of himself, is on 
 the by-way through the meadow to the castle of Giant 
 Despair. 
 
 In the morning he rose early, and went to see what 
 might be attempted for the removing of the stone. 
 He found it, as he had feared, so close-jointed with 
 its neighbours that none of his tools would serve. He 
 went to Grizzie and got from her a thin old knife ; 
 but the mortar had got so hard since those noises the 
 servants used to hear in the old captain's room, that 
 he could not make much impression upon it, and the 
 job was likely to be a long one. He said to himself 
 it might be the breaking through of the wall of his 
 father's prison and his own, and wrought eagerly. 
 
 As soon as his father had had his breakfast, he 
 told him what he had discovered during the dark 
 hours. The laird listened with the light of a smile, 
 not 'the smile itself, upon his face, and made no an- 
 swer ; but Cosmo could see by the all but impercep- 
 tible motion of his lips that he was praying. 
 
 "I wish I were able to help you," he said at 
 length. 
 
 "There is na room for mair nor ane at a time, 
 father," answered Cosmo; "an' I houp to get the 
 stane oot afore I'm tired. You can be Moses pray- 
 ing, while I am Joshua fighting." 
 
 "An' prayin' again' waur enemies nor ever Joshua 
 warstled wi'," returned his father; "for whan I think 
 0' the rebound o' the spirit, even in this my auld age, 
 
644 WARLOCK O' GLENWAHLOCK. 
 
 that cudna but follow the mere liftin' o' the weicht o' 
 debt, I feel as gien my sow! wad be tum'led aboot 
 like a bladder, an' its auld wings tak to lang slow 
 flaggin' strokes i' the ower thin aether o' joy. The 
 great God protec' 's frae his ain gifts ! Wi'oot him 
 they're ten times waur nor ony wiles o' the deevil's 
 ain. But I'll pray, Cosmo ; I'll pray." 
 
 The real might of temptation is in the lower and 
 seemingly nearer loveliness as against the higher and 
 seemingly farther. 
 
 Cosmo went back to his work. But he got tired of 
 the old knife — it was not tool enough, and had to 
 fashion on the grindstone a screw-driver to a special 
 implement. With that he got on better. 
 
 The stone, — whether by the old captain's own' 
 hands, his ghost best knew — was both well fitted and 
 fixed, but after Cosmo had worked at it for about 
 three hours his tool suddenly went through. It was 
 then easy to knock away from the edge gained, and 
 on the first attempt to prize it out, it yielded so far 
 that he got a hold with his fingers, and the rest was 
 soon done. It disclosed a cavity in the wall, but the 
 light was not enough to let him see into it, and he 
 went to get a candle. 
 
 Now Grizzle had a curious dislike to any admission 
 of the poverty of the house even to those most inter- 
 ested, and having but one small candle-end left, was 
 unwilling both to yield it, and to confess it her last. 
 
 "Them 'at burns daylicht, sune they'll hae nae 
 licht ! " she said. " What wad ye want wi' a can'le ? 
 I'll haud a fir-can'le to ye, gien ye like." 
 
 " Grizzle," repeated Cosmo, " I want a can'le." 
 
A GREATER DISCOVERY. 645 
 
 She went grumbling, and brought him the miserable 
 end. 
 
 " Hoot, Grizzie ! " he expostulated, " dinna be sae 
 near. Ye wadna, gien ye kenned what I was aboot." 
 
 " Eh ! what are ye aboot, sir ? " 
 
 " I'm no gaein' to tell ye yet. Ye maun hae 
 patience, an' I maun hae a can'le." 
 
 " Ye maun tak what's offert ye." 
 
 "Grizzie, I'm in earnest." 
 
 " 'Deed an' sae am I ! Ye s' hae nae mair nor 
 that' — no gien it was to scrape thegirnel — an' that's 
 dune lang. syne, an' twise ower ! " 
 
 "Grizzie, I'm feart ye'll anger me." 
 
 " Ye s' get nae mair ! " 
 
 Cosmo burst out laughing. 
 
 "Grizzie," he said, "I dinna believe ye nae an' 
 inch mair can'le i' the hoose ! " 
 
 " It needs na a Warlock to tell that ! Gien I had it, 
 what for sud na ye hae 't 'at has the best richt ? " 
 
 Cosmo took his candle, and was as sparing of it 
 as Grizzie herself could have wished. 
 
CHAPTER LV. 
 
 A GREAT DISCOVERY. 
 
 The instant the rays of the candle-end were thrown 
 into the cavity, he saw what, expectant as he 
 was, made him utter a cry. He seemed to be 
 looking through a small window into a toy-stable 
 — a large one for a toy. Immediately before him 
 was a stall, in which stood a horse, with his tail 
 towards the window. He put in his hand and felt 
 it over. For a toy it would have been of the largest 
 size below a rocking horse. It was covered with 
 a hairy skin. So far all was satisfactory, but alas ! 
 more stones must be removed ere it could be taken 
 from its prison stall, where, like the horses of 
 Charlemagne, it had been buried so many years. 
 He extinguished the precious candle-end, and set 
 to work once more with a will and what light the 
 day afforded. Nor was the task much easier than 
 before. Every one of the stones was partly imbedded 
 in the solid of the wall, projecting but a portion 
 of its bulk over the hollow of the stable. The 
 646 
 
A GREAT DISCOVERY. 647 
 
 old captain must indeed have worked hard ! for 
 assuredly he was not the man to call for help where 
 he desired secrecy — though doubtless it was his sud- 
 den death, and the nature of it, which prevented 
 him from making disclosure concerning the matter 
 before he left the world : the rime, the drawing, 
 the scratches on the stone, all indicated the inten- 
 tion. Cosmo took pleasure in thinking that, if 
 indeed his ghost did "walk," as Grannie and others 
 had affirmed, it must be more from desire to reveal 
 where his money was hid, than from any gloating over 
 the imagined possession of it. 
 
 But it was now dinner-time, and he must rest, for 
 he was tired as well as hungry — and no wonder, the 
 work having been so awkward as well as continuous ! 
 He locked the door of the room, went first to tell his 
 father what he had further found, and then made 
 haste over his meal, for the night was coming, and 
 there were no candles. Persistently he laboured ; '' the 
 toil-drops fell from his brow like rain ; " and at last 
 he laid hold of the patient animal by the hind legs, 
 with purpose to draw it gently from the stall. A little 
 way it came, then no farther, and he had to light the 
 candle. Peeping into the stall he perceived a chain 
 stretching from its head to where the manger might 
 be. This he dared not try to break, lest he might 
 injure the mechanism he hoped to find in it. But 
 clearly the horse could not have been so fastened as 
 the stall then stood. The stall must have been com- 
 pleted after the horse was thus secured. More than 
 ever he now needed a candle — and indeed one held 
 for him; but he was not prepared either to take 
 
648 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Grizzie into his confidence, or to hurt her by per- 
 ferring Agnes. He therefore examined the two stones 
 forming. the sides of the stall, and led by the appear- 
 ance of one of them, proceeded to attempt its removal 
 almost in the dark, compelled indeed now and then 
 to feel for the proper spot where to set his tool before 
 he struck it. For some time he seemed to make little 
 or no progress ; but who would be discouraged with 
 the end in sight ! 
 
 The stone at length moved, and in a minute he had 
 it out. For the last time he lighted his candle, and 
 there was just enough of it left to show him how the 
 chain was fastened. With a pair of pincers he de- 
 tached it from the wall — and I may mention that his 
 life after he wore it at his watch. 
 
 And now he had the horse in his arms and would 
 have borne it straight to his father, in whose presence 
 it must be searched, but that, unwilling to carry it 
 through the kitchen, he must first go to the other end 
 of the passage and open that way. 
 
 The laird was seated by the fire when Cosmo went 
 through, and returning with the horse, placed it on a 
 chair beside him. They looked it all over, wondering 
 whether the old captain could have made it himself, 
 and Cosmo thought his father prolonged the inquiry 
 from a wish to still his son's impatience. But at 
 length he said, 
 
 " Noo, Cosmo, i' the name o' God, the giver o' ilka 
 guid an' perfec' gift, see gien ye can win at the entrails 
 o' the animal. It cannabe fu' o' men like the Trojan 
 horse, or they maun be enchantit sma', like the deevils 
 whan they war ower mony for the cooncil ha' ; but 
 
A GREAT DISCOVERY. 649 
 
 what's intil 't may carry a heap waur danger to you 
 an' me nor ony nummer o' airmit men ! " 
 
 " Ye min' the rime, father ? " asked Cosmo. 
 
 " No sae weel as the twenty-third psalm," replied 
 the laird with a smile. 
 
 " Weel, the first line o' 't is, ' Catch yer naig, an' 
 pu' his tail.' Wi' muckle diffeeclety we hae catcht 
 him, an' noo for the tailo' 'im ! — There ! that's dune! 
 — though there's no muckle to shaw for 't. The neist 
 direction is — 'In his hin' heel caw a nail :' we s' 
 turn up a' his fower feet thegither, 'cause they're co- 
 operant ; an' noo lat 's see the proper spot whaur to 
 caw the said nail ! " 
 
 The horse's shoes were large, and the hole where 
 a nail was missing had not to be sought. Cosmo took 
 a fine bradawl, and pushed it gently into the hoof. A 
 loud, whirring noise followed, but with no visible result. 
 
 " The next direction," said Cosmo, " is — ' Rug his 
 lugs frae ane anither.' Noo, father, God be wi' 's ! 
 an' gien it please him we be dis-ap'intit, may he gie 's 
 grace to beir 't as he wad hae 's beir 't.' 
 
 " I pray the same," said the laird. 
 
 Cosmo pulled the two ears of the animal in oppo- 
 site directions. The back began to open, slowly, as 
 if through the long years the cleft had begun to grow 
 together. He sprang from his seat. The laird looked 
 after him with a gentle surprise. But it was not to 
 rush from the room, nor yet to perform a frantic 
 dance with the horse for a partner. 
 
 One of the windows looked westward into the court, 
 and at this season of the year, the setting sun looked 
 in at that window. He was looking in now ; his rays 
 
650 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 made a glowing pool of light in the middle of the 
 ancient carpet. Beside this pool Cosmo dropped on 
 the floor like a child with his toy, and pulled lustily 
 at its ears. All at once into the pool of light began 
 to tumble a cataract as of shattered rainbows, only 
 brighter, flashing all the colours visible to human eye. 
 It ceased. Cosmo turned the horse upside down, 
 and a few stray drops followed. He shook it, and 
 tapjDed it, like Grizzle when she emptied the basin of 
 meal into the porridge-pot, then flung it from him. 
 But the cataract had not vanished. There it lay 
 heaped and spread, a storm of conflicting yet harmo- 
 nious hues, with a foamy spray of spiky flashes, and 
 spots that ate into the eyes with their fierce colour. 
 In every direction shot the rays from it, blinding; for 
 it was a mound of stones of all the shapes into which 
 diamonds are fashioned. It makes my heart beat 
 but to iinagine the glorious show of deep-hued burn- 
 ing, flashing, stinging light ! The heaviest of its hues 
 was borne light as those of a foam-bubble on the 
 strength of its triumphing radiance. There pulsed 
 the mystic glowing red, heart and lord of colour; there 
 the jubilant yellow, light-glorified to ethereal gold ; 
 there the loveliest blue, the truth unfathomable, pro- 
 founder yet than the human red ; there the green, 
 that haunts the brain with Nature's soundless secrets ! 
 all together striving, yet atoning, fighting and fleeing 
 and following, parting and blending, with illimitable 
 play of infinite force and endlessly delicate gradation. 
 Scattered here and there were a few of all the 
 coloured gems — sapphires, emeralds, and rubies ; but 
 they were scarce of note in the mass of ever new-boro 
 
A GREAT DISCOVERY. 65 I 
 
 ever dying colour that gushed from the fountains of 
 the light-dividing diamonds. 
 
 Cosmo rose, left the glory where it lay, and return- 
 ing to his father, sat down beside him. For a few 
 moments they regarded in silence the shining mound, 
 where, like an altar of sacrifice, it smoked with light 
 and colour. The eyes of the old man as he looked 
 seemed at once to sparkle with pleasure, and quail 
 with some kind of fear. He turned to Cosmo and said, 
 " Cosmo, are they what they luik ? " 
 "What luik they, father? " asked Cosmo. 
 " Bonny bits o' glaiss they luik," answered the old 
 man. " But," he went on, " I canna but believe them 
 something better, they come til's in sic a time o' sair 
 need. But, be they this or be they that, the Lord's 
 wull be done — noo an' for ever, be it, I say, what it 
 like ! " 
 
 " I wuss it, father ! " rejoined Cosmo. " But I 
 ken something aboot sic-like things, frae bein' sae 
 muckle in Mr. Burns's shop, an' handing a heap o' 
 conference wi' im about them ; an' I tell ye, sir, 
 they're maistly a' di'mon's ; an' the nummer o' 
 thoosan' poun' they maun be worth gien they be worth 
 a saxpence, I daurna guess ! " 
 
 "They'll be eneuch to pay oor debts ony gait, 
 ye think, Cosmo ? " 
 
 "Ay, that wull they — an' mony a hun'er times 
 ower. They're maistly a guid size, an' no a feow 
 o' them lairge." 
 
 "Cosmo, we're ower lang ohn thankit. Come 
 here, my son ; gang down upo' yer knees, an lat's 
 say to the Lord what we're thinkin'." 
 
652 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 Cosmo obeyed, and knelt at his father's knee, 
 and his father laid his hand upon his head that so 
 they might pray more in one. 
 
 " Lord," he said, "though naething a man can 
 tak in his han's can ever be his ain, no bein' o' 
 his nature, that is, made i' thy image, yet, O Lord, 
 the thing 'at's thine, made by thee efter thy holy 
 wull an' pleesur, man may touch an' no be defiled. 
 Vea, he may tak pleesur baith in itsel' an' in its 
 use, sae lang as he han'les 't i' the how o' thy han', 
 no grippin' at it an' ca'in' 't his ain, an' lik a 
 rouch bairn seekin' to snap it awa' 'at lie may 
 hae his fule wull o' 't. O God, they're bonny stanfes 
 an' fu' o' licht: forbid 'at their licht sud breed 
 darkness i' the hert o' Cosmo an' me. O God, 
 raither nor we sud du or feel ae thing i' consequence 
 o' this they gift, that thoo wadna hae us do or 
 feel, we wad hae thee tak again the gift ; an' gien 
 i' thy mercy, for it's a' mercy wi' thee, it sud turn 
 oot, efter a', 'at they're no stanes o' thy makin', 
 but coonterfeit o' glaiss, the produc' o' airt an' 
 man's device, we'll lay them a' thegither, an' keep 
 them safe, an' luik upon them as a token o' what 
 thoo wad hae dune for 's gien it hadna been 'at 
 we warna yet to be trustit wi' sae muckle, an' 
 that for the safety an' clean-throuness o' oor sowls. 
 O God, latna the sunshiny Mammon creep intil 
 my Cosmo's hert an' mak a' mirk; latna the licht 
 that is in him turn to darkness. God hae 
 mercy on his wee bairns, an' no lat the play ocks 
 he gies them tak their e'en aff o' the giein' han' ! 
 May the licht noo streamin' frae the hert o' the bonny 
 
A GREAT DISCOVERY. 653 
 
 stanes be the bodily presence o' (hy speerit, 
 as ance was the doo 'at descendit upo' the maister, 
 an' the buss 'at burned wi' fire an' wasna con- 
 sumed. Thoo art the father o' lichts, an' a' licht 
 is thine. Garoor herts burn Uke them — a' licht an' 
 nae reek ! An' gien ony o' them cam in at a wrang 
 door, may they a' gang oot at a richt ane. Thy 
 wull be dune, which is the purifyin' fire o' a' thing, 
 an' a' sowl ! Amen.'' 
 
 He ceased, and was silent, praying still. Nor did 
 Cosmo yet rise from his knees : the joy, and yet more 
 the relief at his heart filled him afresh with fear, lest, 
 no longer spurred by the same sense of need, he 
 should the less run after him from whom help had 
 come so plentifully. Alas ! how is it with our hearts 
 that in trouble they cr}', and in joy forget ! that we 
 think it hard of God not to hear, and when he has 
 answered abundantly, turn away as if we wanted 
 him no more ! 
 
 When Cosmo rose from his knees, he looked his 
 father in the face with wet eyes. 
 
 " Oh, father ! " he said, " how the fear and oppres- 
 sion of ages are gone like a cloud swallowed up of 
 space. Oh, father! are not all human ills doomed 
 thus to vanish at last in the eternal fire of the love- 
 burning God.' — An' noo, father, what '11 we du 
 neist?" resumed Cosmo after a pause, turning his 
 eyes again on the heap of jewels. The sunrays had 
 now left them, and they lay cold and almost colour- 
 less, though bright still : even in the dark some of 
 them would shine ! " It pleases me, father," he went 
 on, " to see nane o' them set. It pruvs naething, but 
 
654 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 maks 't jist a wheen mair likly he got Ihem first han' 
 like. Eh, the queer things ! sae hard, an' yet 'maist 
 bodiless! naething but skinfu's o' licht! " 
 
 " Hooever they war gotten," rejoined the laird, 
 there can be no question but the only w'y o' cleansin' 
 them is to put them to the best use we possibly can." 
 
 "An" what wad ye ca' the best use, father? " 
 
 " Whatever maks o' a man a neebour. A true life 
 efter God's notion is the sairest bash to Sawtan. To 
 gie yer siller to ither fowk to spread is to jink the 
 wark laid oot for ye. F the meantime hadna ye 
 better beery yer deid again ? They maun lie i' the 
 dark, like human sowls, till they're broucht to du the 
 deeds o' licht.'' 
 
 " Dinna ye think," said Cosmo, " I micht set oot the 
 morn efter a', though on a different eeran', an' gang 
 straucht to Mr. Burns? He'll sune put 's i' the w'y 
 to turn them til accoont. They're o' sma' avail as 
 they lie there." 
 
 " Ye canna du better, my son," answered the old 
 man. 
 
 So Cosmo gathered the gems together into the 
 horse, lifting them in handfuls. But, peeping first 
 into the hollow of the animal, to make sure he had 
 found all that was in it, he caught sight of a bit of 
 paper that had got stuck, and found it a Bank of Eng- 
 land note for five hundred pounds. This in itself 
 would have been riches an hour ago — now it was 
 only a convenience. 
 
 " It's queer to think," said Cosmo, " 'at though 
 we hae a' this siller, I maun tramp it the morn like 
 ony caird. Wha is there in Muir o' Warlock could 
 
A GREAT DISCOVERY. 655 
 
 change 't, an' wha wad I gang til wi' 't gien he could ? " 
 
 His father replied with a smile, 
 
 " It brings to my min' the words o' the apostle — 
 ' Noo I say, that the heir, sae langashe'sbut abairn, 
 differeth naething frae a servan', though he be lord o' 
 a'.' Eh, Cosmo, but the word admits o' curious illus- 
 tration ! " 
 
 Cosmo set the horse, as soon as he had done giv- 
 ing him his supper of diamonds, again in his old stall, 
 and replaced the stones that had shut him in as well 
 as he could. Then he wedged up the door, and hav- 
 ing nothing to make paste, glued the paper again to 
 the wall which it had carried with it. He next sought 
 the kitchen and Grizzle. 
 
CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 MR. BURNS. 
 
 "Grizzie," he said, "I'm gaein' a lang tramp the 
 morn, an' I'll need a great poochfu' o' cakes." 
 
 " Eh, sirs ! An' what's takin' ye frae hame this 
 time, sir?" returned Grizzie. 
 
 " I'm no gaein' to tell ye the nicht, Grizzie. It's 
 my turn to hae a secret noo ! But ye ken weel it's 
 lang sin' there's been onything to be gotten by bidin' 
 at hame.'' 
 
 "Eh, but, sir! ye're never gaein' to lea' the laird! 
 Bide an' dee wi' him, sir." 
 
 " God bless ye, Grizzie ! Hae ye ony baubees ? " 
 
 "Ay; what for no! I hae sax shillin's, fower pen- 
 nies, an' a baubee fardin' ! " answered Grizzie, in the 
 tone of a millionaire. 
 
 " Weel, ye maun jist len' me half a croon o' 't." 
 
 " Half a croon ! " echoed Grizzie, staggered at the 
 largeness of the demand. ' Haith, sir, ye're no blate 
 (bashful) ! " 
 
 " I dinna think it's ower muckle," said Cosmo, 
 656 
 
MR. BURNS. f 57 
 
 " seein' I hae to tramp five an' thirty mile the morn. 
 But bake ye plenty o' breid, an' that'll haud doon the 
 expence. Only, gien he can help it, a body sudna be 
 wantin' a baubee in 's pooch. Gien ye had nane to 
 gie me, I wad set oot bare. But jist as ye like. Griz- 
 zle ! I cud beg to be sure — noo ye hae shawn the 
 gait," he added, taking the old woman by the arm 
 with a laugh, that she might not be hurt, " but whan 
 ye ken ye sudna speir, an' whan ye hae, ye hae no 
 richt to beg." 
 
 " Weel, I'll gie ye auchteen pence, an' considerin' 
 a' 'at 's to be dune wi' what's left, ye'll hae to gr!»nt 
 it 's no an oonfair portion." 
 
 " Weel, weel, Grizzle ! I'm thinkin' I'll hae to be 
 content." 
 
 " ' Deed, an' ye wull, sir ! Ye s' hae nae mair." 
 
 That night the old laird slept soundly, but Cosmo, 
 ever on the brink of unconsciousness, was blown back 
 by a fresh gust of gladness. The morning came 
 golden and brave, and his father was well enough to 
 admit of his leaving him. So he set out, and in the 
 strength of his relief walked all the way without 
 spending a half-penny of Grizzle's eighteen pence: 
 two days before, he would consult his friend how to 
 avoid the bitterest dregs of poverty ; now he must find 
 from him how to make his riches best avail- 
 able ! 
 
 He did not tell Mr. Burns, however, what his final 
 object was — only begged him, for the sake of friend- 
 ship and old times, to go with him for a day or two 
 to his father's. 
 
 " But, Mr. Warlock/' objected the jewellei, " that 
 
6s8 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 would be taking the play, and we've got to be diligent 
 in business." 
 
 "The thing I want you for is business,'' replied 
 Cosmo. 
 
 " But what's to be done with the shop ? I have no 
 assistant I can trust." 
 
 " Then shut it up, and give your men a holiday. 
 You can put up a notice informing the great public 
 when you will be back.'' 
 
 "Such a thing was never heard of!" 
 
 "It is quite time it should be heard of then. Why, 
 sir, your business is not like a doctor's, or even a 
 baker's. People can live without diamonds ! " 
 
 " Don't speak disrespectfully of diamonds, Mr. 
 Warlock. If you knew them as I do, you would 
 know they had a thing or two to say.'' 
 
 " Speak of them disrespectfully you never heard 
 me, Mr. Burns." 
 
 " Never, I confess. I was only talking from the 
 diamond side. Like all things else, they give us ac- 
 cording to what we have. To him that hath shall be 
 given. The fine lady may see in her fine diamonds 
 only victory over a rival ; the philosopher may read em- 
 bodied in them law inexorably beautiful; and the Chris- 
 tian poet — oh, I have read my Spenser, Mr. Warlock ! 
 — will choose the diamond for its many qualities, as the 
 best and only substance wherein to represent the 
 -shield of the faith that overcometh the world. Like 
 the gospel itself, diamonds are a savour of life unto 
 life, or a savour of death unto death, according to the 
 character of them that look on them." 
 
 " That is true enough. Every gift of God is good 
 
MR. BURNS. 
 
 659 
 
 that is received with faith and thanksgiving, and what- 
 soever is not of faith is sin. But will you come ? " 
 
 Mr. Burns did at length actually consent to close 
 his shop for three days, and go with Cosmo. 
 
 " It will not be a bad beginning," he said, as if in 
 justification of himself to himself, " towards retiring 
 from business altogether — which I might have done 
 long ago," he added, " but for you, sir ! " 
 
 " It is very well for me you did not," rejoined 
 Cosmo, but declined to explain. This piqued Mr. 
 Burns's curiosity, and he set about his preparations 
 at once. 
 
 In the mean time things went well at Castle War- 
 lock, with — shall I say ? — one exception : Grizzie 
 had a severe fit of repentance, mourning bitterly that 
 she had sent away the youth she worshipped with only 
 eighteen pence in his pocket. 
 
 " He's sure to come to grief for the want o' jist that 
 ae shillin' mair !" she said over and over to herself; 
 " an' it'll be a' an' only my wite ! What gien we 
 never see 'im again ! Eh, sirs ! it's a terrible thing to 
 be made sae contrairy! What'll come o' me in the 
 neist warl', it wad be hard for onybody to say ! " 
 
 On the evening of the second day, however, while 
 she was " washing up'" in the gloomiest frame of 
 mind, in walked Cosma^ and a gentleman after him. 
 
 " Hoo's my father, Grizzie ?" asked Cosmo. 
 
 " Won'erfu' weel, sir," answered Grizzie, with a 
 little more show of respect than usual. 
 
 "This is Grizzie, Mr. Burns," said Cosmo. "I 
 have told you about Grizzie that takes care of us all ! " 
 
 " How do you do, Grizzie ? " said Mr. Burns, and 
 
66o WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 shook hands with her. " I am glad to make your 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " Here, Grizzie !" said Cosmo; "here's the auch- 
 teen pence ye gae me for expences : say ye're pleased 
 I haena waured it. — Jist a word wi' ye, Grizzie ! 
 — Luik here — only dinna tell ! " 
 
 He had drawn her aside to the corner where stood 
 the meal- chest, and now showed her a bunch of bank- 
 notes. So many she had never seen — not to say in a 
 bunch, but scattered over all her life ! He took from 
 the bunch ten pounds and gave her. 
 
 "Mr. Burns," he said aloud, "will be staying over 
 to-morrow, I hope." 
 
 Gxizzia glowered at the money as if such a sum could 
 not be canny, but the next moment, like one suddenly 
 raised to dignity and power, she began to order Aggie 
 about as if she were her mistress, and an imperious 
 one. Within ten minutes she had her bonnet on, and 
 was setting out for Muir o' Warlock to make pur- 
 chases. 
 
 But oh the pride and victory that rose and towered 
 and sank weary, only to rise and tower again in 
 Grizzle's mind, as she walked to the village with all 
 that money in her pocket ! The dignity of the house 
 of Warlock had rushed aloft like a sudden tidal wave, 
 and on its very crest Grizzie was borne triumphing 
 heavenwards. From one who begged at strange doors 
 for the daily bread of a decayed family, all at once she 
 was the housekeeper of the most ancient and honour- 
 able castle in all Scotland, steering the great ship of 
 its fortunes ! With a reserve and a dignity as im- 
 pressive as provoking to the gossips of the village, 
 
MR. BURNS. 
 
 from one shop to another she went, buying carefully 
 but freely, rousing endless curiosity by her look of 
 mystery, and her evident consciousness of infinite 
 resource. But when at last she went to the Warlock 
 Arms, and bought a half dozen of port at the incredi- 
 ble price of six shillings a bottle, there was not a 
 doubt left in the Muir that " the auld laird " had at last 
 and somehow come in for a great fortune. Grizzie 
 returned laden herself, and driving before her two 
 boys carrying a large basket between them. Nowshe 
 was equal to the proper entertainment of the visitor, 
 for whom, while she was away, Aggie, obedient to her 
 orders, was preparing the state bedroom — thinking 
 all the time of that night long ago when she and Cosmo 
 got it ready for Lord Mergwain. 
 
 Cosmo and Mr. Burns found the laird seated 
 by the fire in his room ; and there Cosmo recounted 
 the whole story of the finding of the gems, begin- 
 ning far back with the tales concerning the old 
 captain, as they had come to his knowledge, just 
 touching on the acquisition of the bamboo, and 
 the discovery of its contents, and so descending 
 to the revelations of the previous two days. But 
 all the time he never gave the jeweller a hint of 
 what was coming. In relating the nearer events, 
 he led him from place to place, acting his part in 
 them, and forestalling nothing, never once mentioning 
 stone or gem, then suddenly poured out the diamonds 
 on the rug in the firelight. 
 
 Leaving the result to the imagination of my 
 reader, I will now tell him a thing that took place 
 while Cosmo was away. 
 
CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 TOO SURE COMES TOO LATE. 
 
 The same day Cosmo left, Lord Lick-my-loof 
 sent to the castle the message that he wanted to see 
 young Mr. Warlock. The laird returned the answer 
 that Cosmo was from home, and would not be back 
 till the day following. 
 
 In the afternoon came his lordship, desiring an in- 
 terview with the laird ; which, not a little against his 
 liking, the laird granted. 
 
 " Set ye doon, my lord," said Grizzle, " an' rist yer 
 shins. The ro'd atween this an' the ludge, maun be 
 slithery." 
 
 His lordship yielded and took the chair she offered, 
 for he would rather propitiate than annoy her, seeing 
 he was more afraid of Grizzle than aught in creation 
 except dogs. And Grizzle, appreciating his be- 
 haviour, had compassion upon him and spared him. 
 
 " His lairdship," she said, " maunna be hurried 
 puttin' on his dressin'-goon. He's no used to see 
 onybody sae ear'. I s' gang an' see gien I cajj help 
 662 
 
TOO SURE COMES TOO LATE. 663 
 
 him ; he never wad hae a man aboot 'im 'cep' the 
 yoong laird himsel'." 
 
 Relieved by her departure, his lordship began to 
 look about the kitchen, and seeing Aggie, asked after 
 her father. She replied that he was but poorly. 
 
 " Getting old ! " 
 
 " Surely, my lord. He's makin' ready to gang." 
 
 " Poor old man ! " 
 
 " What wad yer lordship hae ? Ye wadna gang on 
 i' this warl' for ever ? " 
 
 " 'Deed and I would have no objection — so long 
 as there were pretty girls like you in it." 
 
 " Suppose the lasses had a ch'ice tu, my lord ? " 
 
 " What would they do ? " 
 
 " Gang, I'm thinkin'." 
 
 " What makes you so spiteful, Aggie ? I never did 
 you any harm that I know of." 
 
 " Ye ken the story o' the guid Samaritan, my lord ? " 
 said Aggie. 
 
 " I read my bible, I hope." 
 
 " Weal, I'll tell ye a bit mair o' 't nor ye'll get there. 
 The Levite an' the Pharisee — naebody ever said yer 
 lordship was like aither o' them — " 
 
 " No, thank God ! nobody could." 
 
 " — they gaed by o' the ither side, an' loot him 
 lie. But there was ane cam up, an' tuik 'im by the 
 legs, 'cause he lay upo' his Ian', an' wad hae pu'dhim 
 aff. But jist i' the nick o' time by cam the guid 
 Samaritan, an' set him rinnin'. Sae it was sune a 
 sma' maitter to onybody but the ill neebour, wha 
 couldna weel gang straucht to Paradise. Abraham 
 wad hae a fine time o' 't wi' sic a bairn in 's bosom ! " 
 
664 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Damn the w Tnen ! Young and old i.^ey're too 
 many for me ! " said his lordship to himself, — and 
 just then Grizzle returning invited him to walk up to 
 the laird's room, where he made haste to set forth 
 the object of his visit. 
 
 " I said to your son, Glenwarlock, when he came 
 to me the other morning, that I would not buy.'' 
 
 " Yes, my lord." 
 
 " I have however, lawyer though I bft, changed m) 
 mind, and am come to renew my offer." 
 
 " In the meantime, however, we have c* \nged our 
 minds, my lord, and will not sell." 
 
 " That's very foolish of you." 
 
 " It may seem so, my lord ; but you mus allow us 
 to do the best with what modicum of judgment we 
 possess." 
 
 " What can have induced you to come to such a fatal 
 resolution ! I am thoroughly acquainted with the 
 value of the land all about here, and am convinced 
 you will not get such a price from another, be he who 
 he may." 
 
 "You may be right, my lord, but we do not want 
 to sell." 
 
 " Nobody, I repeat, will make you- a better — I 
 mean an equal offer." 
 
 " I could well believe it might not be worth more 
 to anyone else — so long, that is, as your lordship's 
 property shuts it in on every side ; but to your lord- 
 ship — " 
 
 " That is my affair ; what it is worth to you is the 
 question. 
 
 " It is worth more to us than you can calculate." 
 
TOO SURE COMES TOO LATE. 665 
 
 " I daresay, where sentiment sends prices up ! But 
 that is not in the market. Take my advice and 
 a good offer. You can't go on like this, you know. 
 You will lose your position entirely. Why, what are 
 you thinking of ! " 
 
 " I am thinking, my lord, that you have scarcely 
 been such a neighbour as to induce us to confide our 
 
 plans to you. I have said we will not sell and 
 
 as I am something of an invalid " 
 
 Lord Lick-my-loof rose, feeling fooled — and an- 
 noyed with himself and everybody in " the cursed 
 place." 
 
 "Good morning, Glenwarlock," he said. "You 
 will live to repent this morning." 
 
 " I hope not, my lord. I have lived nearly long 
 enough. Good morning! " 
 
 His lordship went softly down the stair, hurried 
 through the kitchen, and walked slowly home, think- 
 ing whether it might not be worth his while to buy 
 up Glenwarlock's few remaining debts. 
 
CHAPTER LVIII. 
 
 A LITTLE LIFE WELL ROUNDED. 
 
 " Pirate or not, the old gentleman was a good 
 judge of diamonds ! " said Mr. Burns, laying down 
 one of the largest. " Not an inferior one in all I 
 have gone over ! Your uncle was a knowing man, 
 sir : diamonds are worth much more now than when 
 he brought them home. These rough ones will, I 
 trust, turn out well : we cannot be so sure of them." 
 
 " How much suffering the earlier possession of 
 them would have prevented ! " said the laird. " And 
 now they are ten times more welcome that we have 
 the good of that first." 
 
 '• Sapphires and all of the finest quality ! " con- 
 tinued Mr. Burns, in no mood for reflection. " I'll 
 tell you what you must do, Mr. Cosmo : you must get 
 a few sheets of tissue paper, and wrap every stone 
 up separately — along job, but the better worth 
 doing ! There must be a thousand of them ! " 
 
 " How can they hurt, being the hardest things in 
 the world ? " said Cosmo. 
 
 666 
 
A LITTLE LIFE WELL ROUNDED. 667 
 
 " Put them in any other company you please — 
 wheel them to the equator in a barrowful of gi'avel, 
 or line their box with sand-paper, and you may leave 
 them naked as they were born ! But, bless thy five 
 wits ! did you never hear the proverb, ' Diamond cut 
 diamond'? They're all of. a sort, you see ! I'd as 
 soon shut up a thousand game-cocks in the same 
 cellar. If they don't scratch each other, they may, 
 or they might, or they could, or they would, or at any 
 rate they should scratch each other. It was all very 
 well so long as they lay in the wall of this your old 
 diamond-mine. But now you'll be for ever playing 
 with them ! No, no ! wrap each one up by itself, I say." 
 " We're so far from likely to keep fingering them, 
 Mr. Burns," said Cosmo, " that our chief reason for 
 wishing you to see them was that you might, if you 
 would oblige us, take them away, and dispose of them 
 for us ! " 
 
 " A-ah ! " rejoined Mr. Burns, " I fear I am getting 
 too old for a transaction of such extent ! I should 
 have to go to London — to Paris — to Amsterdam — 
 who knows where? — that is, to make the best of 
 them — perhaps to America ! And here was I think- 
 ing of retiring! " 
 
 " Then let this be your last business-transaction. 
 It will not be a bad one to finish up with. You can 
 make it a good thing for yourself as well as for us." 
 " If I'undertake it, it shall be at a fixed percentage." 
 " Ten ? " suggested Cosmo. 
 
 " No ; there is no risk, only labour in this. When 
 I took ten for that other diamond, I paid you the 
 money for it, you will remember : that makes a dif- 
 
668 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 ference. I wish you would come with me; I could 
 help you to see a little of the world." 
 
 " 1 should like it greatly, but I could not leave my 
 father." 
 
 Mr. Burns was a little nervous about the safety of 
 the portmanteau that held such a number of tiny par- 
 cels in silver paper, and would not go inside the coach 
 although it rained, but took a place in sight of his 
 luggage. I will not say what the diamonds brought. 
 I would not have my book bristle with pounds like a 
 French novel with francs. They more than answered 
 even Mr. Burns's expectations. 
 
 When he was gone, and all hope for this world 
 vanished in the fruition of assured solvency, the laird 
 began to fail. While Cosmo was yet on the way with 
 Mr. Burns and the portmanteau to meet the coach, 
 he said to his faithful old friend, 
 
 " I'm tired. Grizzle ; I'll gang to my bed, I think. 
 Gien ye'll gie me a han', I winna bide for Cosmo." 
 
 " Eh, sir, what for sud ye be in sic a hurry to sleep 
 awa' the bonny daylicht.'" remonstrated Grizzle, 
 shot through with sudden fear, nor daring allow to 
 herself she was afraid. " Bide till the yoong laird 
 comes back wi' the news : he winna be lang." 
 
 "Gien ye haena time. Grizzle, I can manage for 
 mysel'. Gang yer wa's, lass. Ye hae been a richt 
 guid freen' to yer auld mistress ! Ye hae dune yer 
 best for him 'at she left! " 
 
 "Eh, sir! dinna speyk like that. It's terrible to 
 hearken til ! — I' the verra face o' the providence 'at's 
 been takin' sic pains to mak up to ye for a' ye hae 
 gang throu' — noo whan a 's weel, an' like to be 
 
A LITTLE LIFE WELL ROUNDED. 669 
 
 weel, to turn roon' like this, an' speyk o' gaein' to yet 
 bed ! It's no worthy o' ye, laird ! " 
 
 He was so amused with her expostulation that he 
 laughed heartily, brightened up, and did not go to 
 bed before Cosmo came — kept up, indeed, a good 
 part of the day, and retired with the sun shining in 
 at his western window. 
 
 The next day, however, he did not rise. But he 
 had no suffering to speak of, and his face was serene 
 as the gathering of the sunrays to go down together ; 
 a perfect yet deepening peace was upon it. Cosmo 
 scarcely left him, but watched and waited, with a cold 
 spot at his heart, which kept growing bigger and 
 bigger, as he saw his father slowly drifting out on the 
 ebb-tide of this earthly life. Cosmo had now to go 
 through that mostpainful experience of all — when the 
 loved seem gradually withdrawing from human con- 
 tact and human desires, their cares parting slowly 
 farther and farther from the cares of those they leave 
 — a gulf ever widening between, already impassable 
 as lapsing ages can make it. But when final depart- 
 ure had left the mind free to work for the heart, 
 Cosmo said to himself — " What if the dying who 
 seem thus divided from us, are but looking over the 
 tops of insignificant earthly things ? What if the heart 
 within them is lying content in a closer contact with 
 ours than our dull fears and too level outlook will 
 allow us to share ? One thing their apparent with- 
 drawal means — that we must go over to them ; they 
 cannot retrace, for that would be to retrograde. 
 They have already begun to learn the language and 
 ways of the old world, begun to be children there 
 
670 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 afresh, while we remain still the slaves of new, low- 
 bred habits of unbelief and self-preservation, which 
 already to them look as unwise as unlovely. But our 
 turn will come, and we shall go after, and be taught 
 of them. In the meantime let us so live that it may 
 be the easier for us in dying to let the loved ones 
 know that we are loving them all the time." 
 
 The laird ceased to eat, and spoke seldom, but 
 would often smile — only there was in his smile too 
 that far-off something which troubled his son. One 
 word he often murmured — peace. Two or three times 
 there came as it were a check in the drift seaward, 
 and he spoke plainly. This is very near what he said 
 on one of these occasions : 
 
 " Peace ! peace ! Cosmo, my son, ye dinna ken hoo 
 strong it can be ! Naebody can ken what it's like till 
 it comes. I hae been troubled a' my life, an' noo the 
 verra peace is 'maist ower muckle for me ! It's like 
 as gien the sun wad put oot the fire. I jist seem 
 whiles to be lyin' here waitin' for ye to come intil my 
 peace, an' be ane wi' me ! But ye hae a lang this 
 warl's life afore ye yet. Eh ! winna it be gran' whan 
 it's weel ower, an' ye come ! You an' me an' yer 
 mother an' God an' a' I But somehoo I dinna seem 
 to be lea'in' ye aither — no half sae muckle as whan 
 ye gaed awa' to the college, an' that although ye're 
 ten times mair to me noo than ye war than. Deith 
 canna weel be muckle like onything we think aboot 
 it; but there maun surely be a heap o' fowk unco 
 dreary an' fusionless i' the warl' deith taks us til ; an' 
 the mair I think aboot it, the mair likly it seems 
 we'll hae a heap to du wi' them — a sair wark tryin' 
 
A LITTLE LIFE WELL ROUNDED. 67 1 
 
 to lat them ken what they are, an' whaur they cam 
 frae, an' hoo they maun gang to win hame — for deith 
 can no more be yer hame nor a sair fa' upo' the ro'd 
 be yer bed. There may be mony ane there we ca'd 
 auld here, 'at we'll hae to tak like a bairn upo' oor 
 knees an' bring up. I see na anither w'y o' 't. The 
 Lord may ken a better, but I think he's shawn me 
 this. For them 'at are Christ's maun hae wark like 
 his to du, an' what for no the personal ministrations 
 o' redemption to them 'at are deid, that they may 
 come alive by kennin' him ? Auld bairns as weel as 
 yoong hae to be fed wi' the spune." 
 
 The day before that on which he went, he seemed 
 to wake up suddenly, and said, — 
 
 " Cosmo, I'm no inclined to male a promise wi' 
 regaird to ony possible communication wi' ye frae the 
 ither warl', nor do I the least expec' to appear or 
 speyk to ye. But ye needna for that conclude me 
 awa' frae ye a' thegither. Fowk may hae a hantle o' 
 communication ohn aither o' them kent it at the 
 time, I'm thinkin'. Min' this ony gait: God's oor 
 hame, an' gien ye be at hame an' I be at hame, we 
 canna be far sun'ert ! " 
 
 As the sun was going down, closing a lovely day of 
 promise, the boat of sleep, with a gentle wind of life 
 and birth filling its sail, bore, softly gliding, the old 
 pilgrim across the faint border between this and that. 
 It may be that then, for a time, like a babe new-born, 
 he needed careful hands and gentle nursing ; and if 
 so, there was his wife, who must surely by now have 
 had time to grow strong. Cosmo wept and was 
 lonely, but not broken-hearted; for he was a Uve man 
 
672 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 with a mighty hope and great duties, each of them 
 ready to become a great joy. Such a man I do not 
 think even diamonds could hurt, ahhough, where 
 breathes no wind of life, those very crystals of light 
 are amongst the worst in Beelzebub's army to fly-blow 
 a soul into a thing of hate and horror. 
 
CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 A BREAKING UP. 
 
 Things in the castle went on in the same quiet way 
 as before for some time. Cosmo settled himself in 
 his father's room, and read and wrote, and pondered 
 and aspired. The household led the same homely 
 simple life, only fared better. The housekeeping 
 was in Grizzle's hands, and she was a liberal soul — 
 a true bread-giver. 
 
 James Gracie did not linger long behind his friend. 
 His last words were, " I won'er gien I hae a chance 
 o' winnin' up wi' the laird ! " 
 
 On the morning that followed his funeral, as soon 
 as breakfast was over, Aggie sought Cosmo, where he 
 sat in the garden with a book in his hand. 
 
 " Whaur are ye gaein', Aggie ? " he said, as she ap- 
 proached prepared for walking. 
 
 •' My hoor's come,'' she answered. " It's time I 
 was awa'." 
 
 " I dinna un'erstan' ye, Aggie," he returned. 
 
 *' Hoo sud ye, sir ? Ilka body kens, or sud ken, 
 673 
 
674 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 what lies to their ain han'. It lies to mine to gang. 
 I'm no wantit langer. Ye wadna hae me ait the 
 breid o' idleness ? " 
 
 " But, Aggie," remonstrated Cosmo, " ye're ane o' 
 the faimily ! I wad as sune think o' seein' my ain 
 sister, gien I had ane, gang fra hame for sic a nae 
 rizzon at a' ! " 
 
 The tears rose in her eyes, and her voice trembled : 
 
 " It canna be helpit ; I maun gang," she said. 
 
 Cosmo was dumb for many moments ; he had never 
 thought of such a possibility ; and Aggie stood silent 
 before him. 
 
 " What hae ye i' yer held, Aggie ? What thoucht 
 ye o' duin' wi' yersel' .' " he asked at length, his heart 
 swelling so that he could scarcely bring out the 
 words. 
 
 " I'm gaein' to luik for a place." 
 
 " But, Aggie, gien it canna be helpit ; and gang ye 
 maun, ye ken I'm rich, an' / ken there's naebody i' 
 the warl' wi' a better richt to share in what I hae : 
 wadna ye like to gang til a ladies' school, an' learn 
 a heap o' things ? " 
 
 " Na, I wadna. It's hard wark I need to baud me 
 i' the richt ro'd. I can aye learn what I hunger for, 
 an' what ye dinna desire ye'll never learn. Thanks 
 to yersel' an' Maister Simon, ye hae putten me i' the 
 w'y o' that! It's no kennin' things — it's kennin' 
 things upo' the ro'd ye gang, 'at 's o' consequence to 
 ye. The lave I mak naethingo'." 
 
 " But a time micht come whan ye wad want mony a 
 thing ye micht hae learnt afore." 
 
 " Whan that time comes, I'll learn them than, wi' 
 
A BREAKING UP. 675 
 
 half the trouble, an' in half the time, — no to men- 
 tion the pleesur o' learnin' them. Noo, they wad but 
 talc me frae the things I can an' maun mak use o'. 
 Na, Cosmo, I'm b'un' to du something wi' what I hae, 
 an' no bide till I get mair. I'll be aye gettin'." 
 
 " Weel, Aggie, I daurna temp' ye to bide gien ye 
 oucht to gang ; an' ye wad but despise me gien I was 
 fule eneuch to try 't. But ye canna refuse to share 
 wi' me. That wadna be like ane 'at had the same 
 father an' the same maister. Tak a thoosan' poun' to 
 begin wi', an' gang an' — an' du onythingye like, only 
 dinna work yersel' to deith wi' rouch wark. I canna 
 bide to think o' 't." 
 
 "A thoosan' poun'! No ae baubee ! Cosmo, I' 
 wad hae thoucht ye had mair sense ! What wad 
 baudrins {pussy-cat) there du wi' a silk goon .? Ye 
 can gie me the twa poun' ten I gae to Grizzle to help 
 haud the life in 's a'. A body maun hae something 
 i' their pooch gien they can, an' gien they canna, they 
 maun du wi' naething. It's won'erfu' hoc little 's 
 railly wantit ! " 
 
 Cosmo felt miserable. 
 
 " Ye winna surely gang ohn seein' Maister Simon ! " 
 
 " I tried to see him last nicht, but auld Dorty wadna 
 lat me near him. I waii fain say fareweel til 
 him." 
 
 " Weel, put afif gaein' awa' till the morn, an' we'll 
 gang thegither the nicht an' see him. Dorty winna 
 haud me oot." 
 
 Aggie hesitated, thought, and consented. Leaving 
 Cosmo more distressed than she knew, she went to 
 the kitchen, took off her bonnet, and telling Grizzie 
 
676 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 . S : 
 
 she was not going till the morrow, sat down, and pro- 
 ceeded to pare the potatoes. 
 
 "Ance mair," said Grizzle, resuming an unclosed 
 difference, " what for ye sud gang's clean 'ayont me. 
 It's true the auld men are awa', but here's the auld 
 wife left, an' she'll be a mither to ye, as weel's she 
 kens hoo, an' a lass o' your sense is easy to mither. 
 I' the name o' God I say 't, the warl' micht as weel 
 objec' to twa angels bidin' i' h'aven thegither as you 
 an' the yoong laird in ae hoose! Say 'at they like, 
 ye're but a servan' lass, an' here am I ower ye ! Ag- 
 gie, I'm grouin' auld, an' railly no fit to mak a bed 
 my lane — no to mention scoorin' the flure ! It's no 
 considerate o' ye, Aggie ! — jist 'cause yer father — 
 hoots, he was but yer gran'father ! — 's deid o' a guid 
 auld age, an' gaithert til /tis fathers, to gang an' lea' 
 me my lane ! Whaur am I to get a body I cud bide 
 to hae i' my sicht, an' you awa' — you 'at's been like 
 bane o' my bane to me ! It's no guid o' ye, Aggie ! 
 There maun be temper intil 't! I'm sure I ken no 
 cause ever I gae ye." 
 
 Aggie said not a word ; she had said all she could 
 say, over and over ; so now she pared her potatoes, 
 and was silent. Her heart was sore, but her mind 
 was clear, and her will strong. 
 
 Up and down the little garden Cosmo walked, 
 revolving many things. " What is this world and its 
 ways," he said, " but a dream that dreams itself out 
 and is gone ! " 
 
 The majority of men, whether they think or not, 
 worship solidity and fact : to such Cosmo's conclu- 
 sion must seem both foolish and dangerous — though 
 
A BREAKING UP. 677 
 
 a dream may be filled with truth, and a fact be a~ 
 mere shred for the winds of the limbo of vanities. 
 Everything that can pass belongs to the same cate- 
 gory with the dream. The question is whether the 
 passing body leaves a live soul ; whether the dream 
 has been dreamed, the life lived aright. For there is 
 a reality beyond all facts of suns and systems ; solidity 
 itself is but the shadow of a divine necessity ; and 
 there may be more truth in a fable than in a whole 
 biography. Where life and truth are one, there is no 
 passing, no dreaming more. To that waking all 
 dreams truly dreamed are guiding the dreamer. But 
 the last thing — and this was the conclusion of 
 Cosmo's meditation — any dreamer needs regard, is 
 the judgment of other dreamers upon his dreams. 
 The all-pervading, ill-odoured phantom called Society 
 is but the ghost of a false God. The fear of man, 
 the trust in man, the deference to the opinion of man, 
 is the merest worship of a rag-stuffed idol. The man 
 who seeks the judgment of God can well smile at the 
 unsolicited approval or condemnation of self-styled 
 Society. There is a true society — quite another 
 thing. Doubtless the judgment of the world is of 
 even moral value to those capable of regarding it. 
 To deprive a thief of the restraining influence of the 
 code of thieves' honour, would be to do him irreparable 
 wrong; so with the tradesman whose law is the custom 
 of the trade ; but God demands an honesty, a dignity, 
 a beauty of being, altogether different from that de- 
 manded by man of his fellow ; and he who is taught 
 of God is set out of sight above such law as that of 
 thieves' honour, trade-custom, or social recognition — 
 
678 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 all of the same quality — subjected instead to a law 
 which obeyed is liberty, disobeyed is a hell deepei 
 than Society's attendant slums. 
 
 "Here is awoman," said Cosmo to himself, "who, 
 with her earnings and her labour both, ministered to 
 the very bodily life of my father and myself ! She 
 has been in the house the angel of God — the noblest, 
 truest of women ! She has ten times as much genuine 
 education as most men who have been to college ! 
 Her brain is second only to her heart! — If it had 
 but pleased God to make her my sister! But there 
 is a way of pulling out the tongue of Slander ! " 
 
 The evening was Mr. Simon's best time, and they 
 therefore let the sun go down before they left the 
 castle to visit him. On their way they had a right 
 pleasant talk about old things, now the one now the 
 other bringing some half faded event from the store- 
 closet of memory. 
 
 " I doobt ye winna min' me takin' ye oot o' the 
 Warlock ae day there was a gey bit o' a spait on ? " 
 said Agnes at length, looking up in Cosmo's face. 
 
 " Eh, I never h'ard o' that, Aggie ! " replied Cos- 
 mo. 
 
 "I canna think to this day hoo it was ye fell in," 
 she went on : "I hadna the chairge o' ye at the 
 time. Ye maun hae run oot o' the hoose, an' me 
 efter ye. I was verra near taen awa^'wi' ye. Hoo 
 we wan oot o' the watter I canna mi^rstan'. A' 'at 
 I ken is 'at whan I cam to nyjs^, we war lyin' grip- 
 pit til ane anither ug^jH-^Taich bit o' the bank." 
 
 " But hoo was'f^t naebody ever said a word aboot 
 it efterhin' ? " asked Cosmo. 
 
A BREAKING UP. 679 
 
 ." I never tellt onybody, an' ye wasna auld eneuch 
 no to forget a' aboot it." 
 
 " What for didna ye tell ? " 
 
 "I was feart they wad think it my wite, an' no lat 
 me tak chairge o' ye ony mair, whauras I kent ye 
 was safer wi' me nor wi' ony ither aboot the place. 
 Gien it had been my wite, I cudna hae hauden my 
 tongue ; but as it was, I didna see I was b'un' to tell." 
 
 "Hoo did ye hide it?" 
 
 "I ran wi' he hame to oor ain hoose. There was 
 naebody there. I tuik aff yer weet claes, an' pat ye 
 intil my bed till I got them dry." 
 
 "An' hoo did ye wi' yer ain ? " 
 
 " By the time yours was dry, mine was dry tu." 
 
 When they arrived at the cottage, Dorty demurred, 
 but her master heard Cosmo's voice and rang his bell, 
 
 " I little thought your father would have gone 
 before me," said Mr. Simon. "I think I was aware 
 of his death. I saw nothing, heard nothing, neither 
 was I thinking about him at the moment ; but he 
 seemed to come to me, and I said to myself, ' He is 
 on his way home.' I shall have a talk with him by 
 and by." 
 
 Agnes told him she had come to bid him good-bye ; 
 she was going after a place. 
 
 " Well," he answered, after a thoughtful pause, " so 
 long as we obey the light in us, and that light is not 
 darkness, we can't go wrong. If we should mistake, 
 he will turn things round for us ; and if we be to 
 blame, he will let us see it." 
 
 He was weak, and they did not stay long. 
 "Don't judge my heart by my words, my dear 
 
68 O WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 scholars," he said. " My heart is right toward you, 
 but I am too weary to show it. God bless you both. 
 I may not see you again, Agnes, but I shall think of 
 you there, and if I can do anything for you, be sure I 
 will." 
 
 When they left the cottage, the twilight was half- 
 way towards the night, and a vague softness in the 
 east prophesied the moon. Cosmo led Agnes 
 through the fields to the little hollow where she had 
 so often gone to seek him. There they sat down in 
 the grass, and waited for the moon. Cosmo pointed 
 out the exact spot where she rose that night she 
 looked at him through the legs of the cow. 
 
 " Ye min' Grizzie's rime," he said : 
 
 " ' Whan the coo loups ower the mune, 
 The reid gowd rains intil men's shune ' ? 
 
 I believe Grizzle took the queer sicht for a guid 
 omen. It's unco strange hoo fowk '11 mix up God 
 an' chance, seein' there could hardly be twa mair 
 contradictory ideas ! I min' ance hearin' a man say, 
 ' It's almost a providence ! ' " 
 
 "I doobt wi' maist fowk," said Aggie, "it's only 
 ' There's almost a God.' For my pairt I see nae room 
 atween no believin' in him at a', an' believin' in him 
 a' thegither an' lattin him du what he likes wi' 's." 
 
 " I'm o' your min' there, Aggie, oot an' oot," re- 
 sponded Cosmo. 
 
 As he spoke the moon came peering up, and, turn- 
 ing to Agnes to share the sight with her, he saw the 
 yellow light reflected from tears. 
 
A BREAKING UP. 68 1 
 
 " Aggie ! Aggie ! " he said, in much concern, " what 
 are ye greitin' for ? " 
 
 She made no answer, but wiped away her tears, 
 and tried to smile. After a little pause, 
 
 " Ony body wad think, Cosmo," she said, " 'at gien 
 I believed in a God, he maun be a sma' ane ! What 
 for sud onybody greit 'at has but a far awa' notion o' 
 sic a God as you an' the laird an' Maister Simon 
 believes in ! " 
 
 " Ye may weel say that, Aggie ! " rejoined Cosmo — 
 yet sighed as he said it, for he thought of Lady Joan. 
 A long pause followed, and then he spoke again. 
 
 " Aggie," he said, " there canna weel be twa i' this 
 warl' 'at ken ane anither better nor you an' me. We 
 hae been bairns thegither ; we hae been to the schuil 
 thegither ; we hae had the same maister ; we hae 
 come throu dour times thegither — I doobt we hae 
 been hungry thegither, though ye saidna a word ; we 
 hae warstlet wi' poverty, an' maybe wi' unbelief ; we 
 loe the same fowk best ; an' abune a' we set the wuU 
 o' God. It wad be sair upo' baith o' 's to pairt — an' 
 to me a vex forby 'at the first thing w'alth did for me 
 sud be to tak you awa'. It wad 'maist brak my hert 
 to think 'at her 'at cam throu the Ian' o' drowth wi' 
 nie — ay, tuik me throu' 't' for, wantin' her, I wad hae 
 fa'en to rise nae mair, sud gang on climrain' the dry 
 hill-ro'd, an' me lyin' i' the bonny ineadow-gerse at 
 the fut o' 't. It canna be rizzon, Aggie ! What for 
 sud ye gang ? Merry me, Aggie, an' bide — bide an' 
 ca' the castel yer ain." 
 
 " Hoots ! wad ye merry yer mither ! " cried Agnes, 
 and to Cosmo's fresh dismay burst into laughter and 
 
682 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 tears together. I believe it was the sole time in her 
 life she ever gave way to discordant emotion. 
 
 Cosmo stared speechless. It was as if an angel 
 had made a poor human joke ! He was much too 
 bewildered to feel hurt, especially as he was aware of 
 no committed absurdity. 
 
 But Aggie was not pleased with herself. She 
 choked her tears, crushed down her laughter, and 
 conquered. She took his hand in hers. 
 
 " I beg yer pardon, Cosmo," she said ; " I shouldna 
 hae lauchen. Lauchin', I'm sure, 's far eneuch frae 
 my hert ! I kenna hoo I cam to du 't. But ye're sic 
 a bairn, Cosmo ! Ye dinna ken what ye wad hae ! 
 An' bein' a kin' o' a mither to ye a' yer life, I maun 
 lat ye see what ye're aboot — I wadna insist owersair 
 upo' the years atween 's, though that's no a sfna' mait- 
 ter, but surely ye haena to be tellt at this time o' day, 
 'at for fowk to merry 'at dinna loe ane anither, is little 
 gien it be onything short o' a sin." 
 
 "/hae aye \oedyou, Aggie," said Cosmo, with some 
 reproach in his tone. 
 
 " Weel du I ken that. An ill hert wad be mine 
 gien it didna tell me that ! But, Cosmo, whan ye said 
 the word, didna yottr hert tell ye ye meant by 't some- 
 thing no jist the verra same as ye inten' it me to un'- 
 erstan' by 't ? " 
 
 " Aggie, Aggie ! " sighed Cosmo, " I wad aye loe 
 ye better an' better." 
 
 " Ay, ye wad, gien ye cud, Cosmo. But ye're ower 
 honest to see throu' yersel'; an' I'm no sae honest 
 but I can see throu' you. Ye wad merry me 'cause 
 ye're no wullin' to pairt wi' me, likin' me better nor 
 
A BREAKING UP. 683 
 
 Ony but ane, an' her ye canna get ! Gien I was a 
 leddy, Cosmo, maybe I michtna be ower prood to tak 
 ye upo' thae terms, but no bein' what I am. It wad 
 need love as roon 's a sphere for that. Eh, but there 
 micht come a time o' sair repentance ! Ance mer- 
 ried upo' you, gien' I war to tak it intil my heid 'at I 
 was ae hair i' yer gait, or 'at ye was ae hair freer hl<e 
 wi me oot o' yer sicht, I wad be like to rin to the 
 verra back-wa' o' creation ! Na ; it was weel eneuch 
 as we hae been, but merried ! Ye wad be guid to me 
 aye, I ken that, but I wad be aye wantin' to be deid, 
 'at ye micht loe me a wee better. I say naething o' 
 what the warl' wad say to the laird o' Glenwarlock 
 merryin' his servan' lass ; for ye care as little for the 
 warl' as I du, an' we're baith some Vi/iser nor it. But 
 efter a', Cosmo, I wad be some oot o' my place — 
 wadna I noo ? The hen-birds nae doobt are aye the 
 soberer to luik at, an' haena the gran' colours nor 
 the gran' w'ys wi' them 'at the cocks hae ; but still 
 there's a measur in a' thing : it wad ill set a common 
 hen to hae a peacock for her man. My sowl, I ken, 
 wad gang han' in han', in a heumble w'y, wi' yours, 
 for I un'erstan' ye, Cosmo ; an' the day may come 
 whan I'll luik fitter for yer company nor I can the 
 noo ; but wha like me could help a sense o' unfitness, 
 gien it war but gaein' to the kirk side by side wi' you? 
 Luik at the twa o' 's noo i' the munelicht thegither ! 
 Dinna ye see 'at we dinna match ? " 
 
 "A' that wad be naething gien ye load me, 
 
 "Gienjc^loed me, say, Cosmo — loed me eneuch 
 to be prood o' me ! But that ye dinna. Exem' yer 
 
684 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 ain hert, an' ye'll see 'at ye dinna. — An' what for 
 sud ye ! " 
 
 Here Aggie broke down. A burst of silent weep- 
 ing, like that of one desiring no comfort, followed. 
 Suddenly she ceased and rose, and they walked home 
 without a word. 
 
 When Cosmo came down in the morning, Aggie 
 was gone. 
 
CHAPTER LX. 
 
 REPOSE. 
 
 Cosmo had no need of a very searching examina- 
 tion of his heart to know that it was mainly the wish 
 to make her some poor return for her devotion, con- 
 joined with the sincere desire to retain her company, 
 that had influenced him in the offer she had been too 
 wise and too genuinely loving to accept He did not 
 fall into any depths of self-blame, for, whatever its 
 kind, his love was of quality pure and good. The 
 only bitterness his offer bore was its justification of 
 Agnes's departure. 
 
 But Grizzie saw no justification of it anywhere. 
 
 " What I'm to du wantin' her, I div not ken. No 
 becomin', quo' he, /or a lass like her to bide wi' a bache- 
 lor like himser ! 
 
 " H'ard ever onybody sic styte ! As gien she had 
 been a lady forsooth ! I michl wi' jist as muckle 
 sense objec' to bidin' wi' him mysel' ! But Is' du 
 what I like, an' lat fowk say 'at they like, sae lang 
 as I'm na fule i' my ain e'en ! 
 68i 
 
686 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 I'm ower white, Mr. Gled, for you. 
 Ow na ! ye're no that, bonny doo." 
 
 But by degrees Cosmo grew gently ashamed of 
 himself that he had so addressed Agnes. He saw 
 in the thing a failure in respect, a wrong to her dig- 
 nity. That she had taken it so sweetly did not alter 
 its character. Seeming at the time to himself to be 
 going against the judgment of the world, and treating 
 it with the contempt it always more or less deserves, 
 he had in reality been acting in no small measure 
 according to it ! For had there not been in him a 
 vague condescension operant all the time ? Had he 
 not been all but conscious of the feeling that his posi- 
 tion made up for any want in his love ? Had she 
 been conventionally a lady, instead of an angel in 
 peasant form, would he have been so ready to return 
 her kindness with an offer of marriage .-' There was 
 little conceit in supposing that some, even of higher 
 position than his own, would have accepted the offer 
 on lower terms ; but knowing Aggie as he did, he 
 ought not to have made it to her : she was too large 
 and too fine for such an experiment. This he now 
 fully understood ; and had he not been brought up 
 with her from childhood as with an elder sister, she 
 might even now have begun to be a formidable" rival 
 to the sweet memories of Joan's ladyhood. For he 
 saw in her that which is at the root, not only of all 
 virtue, but of all beauty, of all grandeur, of all growth, 
 of all attraction. Every charm — in its essence, in 
 its development, in its embodiment, is a flower of 
 
 the tree of life, whose root is the truth. I see the 
 
REPOSE. 
 
 687 
 
 smile of the shallow philosopher, thinking of a 
 certain lady to him full of charm, who has no 
 more love for the truth than a mole for the light. 
 But that lady's charm does not spring out of her; 
 it has been put upon her, and she will soon de- 
 stroy it. It comes of truth otherwhere, and will one 
 day leave her naked and not lovely. The truth was 
 in Agnes merely supreme. To have asked such a 
 one to marry him for reasons lower than the highest 
 was good ground for shame. Not therefore even 
 then was \\q pair/nlly ashamed, for he felt safe with 
 Agnes, as with the t. 'er sister that pardons every- 
 thing. 
 
 It was some little time before they had any news 
 of her; but they heard at last that she had rented 
 Grannie's cottage from her grand-daughter, her own 
 aunt, and was going to have a school there for young 
 children. Cosmo was greatly pleased, for the work 
 would give scope to some of her highest gifts and 
 best qualities, while it would keep her within reach 
 of possible service. Nothing however can part those 
 who are of the true mind towards the things that are. 
 Cosmo betook himself heartily to study, and not 
 only read but wrote regularly every day — no more 
 with the design of printing, but in the hope of shap- 
 ing more thoroughly and so testing more truly his con- 
 templations and conclusions. I scorn the idea that a 
 man cannot think without words, but Cosmo thus im- 
 proved his thinking, and learned to utter accurately, 
 that is, to say the thing he meant, and keep from say- 
 ing the thing he did not mean. 
 
 The room over the kitchen, which had first in his 
 
688 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 memory been his grandmother's, then became his 
 own, and returned to his disposal when James Grade 
 died, he made his study ; and from it to the drawing- 
 room, with the assistance of a village mason, exca- 
 vated a passage — for it was little less than excava- 
 tion — in the wall connecting the two blocks, under 
 the passage in which had lain the treasure. 
 
 The main issue Grizzle's new command of money 
 found was in a torrent of cleaning. If she could 
 have had her way, I think she would have put up 
 scaffolds all over the outside of the house, and 
 scrubbed it down from chimneys to foundations. 
 
 On the opposite side of the Warlock river, the 
 laird rented a meadow, and there Grizzle had the 
 long disused satisfaction of seeing two cows she could 
 call hers, the finest cows in the country, feeding with 
 a vague satisfaction in the general order of things. 
 The stable housed a horse after Cosmo's own heart, 
 on which he made excursions into the country round, 
 partly in the hope of coming upon some place not 
 too far off where there was land to be bought. 
 
 All that was known of the change in his circum- 
 stances was that he had come into a large fortune by 
 the death — date not mentioned — of a relative with 
 whom his father had not for years had communication, 
 and Cosmo never any. Lord Lick-my-loof, after re- 
 peated endeavours to get some information about this 
 relative, was perplexed, and vaguely suspicious. 
 
 How the spending of the money thus committed to 
 him was to change the earthly issues of his life, Cosmo 
 had not yet learned, and was waiting for light on the 
 matter. For a man is not bound to walk in the dark, 
 
REPOSE. 689 
 
 neither must, for the sake of doing something, run 
 the risk of doing wrong. He that believeth shall not 
 make haste ; and he that believeth not shall come no 
 speed. He had nothing of the common mammonistic 
 feeling of the enormous importance of money, neither 
 felt that it laid upon him a heavier weight of duty 
 than any other of the gifts of God. And if a poet is 
 not bound to rush into the world with his poem, surely 
 a rich man is not bound to rush into the world with 
 his money. Rather set a herd of wild horses loose 
 in a city ! A man must know first how to use his money, 
 before he begin to spend it. And the way to use 
 money is not so easily discovered as some would 
 think, for it is not one of God's ready means of doing 
 good. The' rich man as such has no reason to look 
 upon himself as specially favoured. He has reason 
 to think himself specially tried. Jesus, loving a cer- 
 tain youth, did him the greatest kindness he had in 
 his power, telling him to give his wealth to the poor, 
 and follow him in poverty. The first question is not 
 how to do good with money, but how to keep from 
 doing harm with it. Whether rich or poor, a man 
 must first of all do justice, love mercy, and walk 
 humbly with his God; then, if he be rich, God will 
 let him know how to spend. There must be ways in 
 which, even now, a man may give the half, or even 
 the whole of his goods to the poor, without helping 
 the devil. Cosmo, I repeat, was in no haste : it is not 
 because of God's poverty that the worid is so slowly 
 redeemed.. Not the most righteous expenditure of 
 money will save it, but that of life and soul and 
 spirit— it may be, to that, of nerve and muscle, blood 
 
690 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 and brain. AH these our Lord spent — but no 
 money. Therefore I say, that of all means for saving 
 the world, or doing good, as it is called, money comes 
 last in order, and far behind. 
 
 Out of the loneliness in which his father left him, 
 grew a great peace and new strength. More real 
 than ever was the other world to him now. His 
 father could not have vanished like a sea-bubble on 
 the sand ! To have known a great man — perhaps I 
 do not mean such a man as my reader may be think- 
 ing of — is to have some assurance of immortality. 
 One of the best of men said to me once that he did 
 not feel any longing after immortality, but, when he 
 thought of certain persons, he could not for a moment 
 believe they had ceased. He had beheld the lovely, 
 believed therefore in the endless. 
 
 Castle Warlock was scarcely altered in appearance. 
 In its worst poverty it had always looked dignified. 
 There was more life about it and freedom, but not so 
 much happiness. The diamonds had come, but his 
 father was gone, Aggie was gone, Mr. Simon was 
 going, and Joan would not come ! Cosmo had scarce 
 a hope for this world ; yet not the less did he await 
 the will of The Will. What that was, time would 
 show, for God works in time. 
 
CHAPTER LXI. 
 
 THE THIRD HARVEST. 
 
 As the days went by, Cosmo saw his engagement 
 to Mr. Henderson drawing near, nor had the smallest 
 mclination to bade out of it. The farmer would 
 have let him off at once, no doubt, but he felt, with- 
 out thinking, that it would be undignified, morally 
 speaking, to avoid, because he was now in plenty, the 
 engagement granted by friendship to his need. Nor 
 was this all, for, so doing, he would seem to allow 
 that, driven by necessity, he had undertaken a thing 
 unworthy, or degrading ; for Cosmo would never 
 have allowed that any degree of hunger could justify 
 a poor man in doing a thing disgraceful to a rich 
 man. No true man will ever ask of fellow creature, 
 man or woman, on terms however extravagant, the 
 doing of a thing he could not do himself without a 
 sense of degradation. There is no leveller like Chris- 
 tianity — but it levels by lifting to a lofty table-land, 
 accessible only to humility. He only who is humble 
 can rise, and rising lift. 
 
 691 
 
692 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 In thus holding to what he had undertaken, a msn 
 of lower nature might have had respect to the exam- 
 ple he would so give : Cosmo thought only of honour- 
 able and grateful fulfilment of his contract. Not 
 only would it have been a poor return for Mr. Hen- 
 derson's kindness to treat his service as something 
 beneath him now, but, worst of all, it would have 
 been to accept ennoblement at the hands of Mam- 
 mon, as of a power able to alter his station in God's 
 world. To change the spirit of one's ways because 
 of mone)', is to confess onesself a born slave, a thing 
 of outsides, a knight of Riches, with a maggot for his 
 crest. 
 
 When the time came, therefore, Cosmo presented 
 himself. With a look of astonishment shadowed by 
 disappointment, the worthy farmer held out his hand. 
 
 " Laird," he said, " I didna expec' 7^^ .■' " 
 
 " What for no ? " returned Cosmo. " Haena I 
 been yer fee'd man for months ! " 
 
 " Ye put me in a kin' o' a painfu' doobt, laird. 
 Fowk tellt me }'e had fa'en heir til a sicht o' siller ! " 
 
 " But allooin', hoo sud that affec' my bargain wi' 
 you Mr. Henderson ? Siller i' the pooch canna tak 
 obligation frae the back." 
 
 " Drivin' things to the wa', nae doobt ! " returned 
 the farmer. " I micht certainly hae ta'en the law o' 
 ye, failin' yer appearance. But amo' freen's, that 
 cudna be ; an' 'deed, Mr. Warlock, gien a body wad 
 be captious, michtna he say it wad hae been mair 
 freen'ly to beg aff ?" 
 
 " A bargain's a bargain," answered Cosmo ; " an' 
 to beg aff o' ane 'cause I was nae langer i' the same 
 
THE THIRD HARVEST. 693 
 
 necessity as whan I made it, wad hae been a mere 
 shame. Gien my father hed been wi' me, an' no 
 weel eneuch to Uke me oot o' 's sicht, I wad hae 
 beggit aff fest eneuch, but wi' no rizzon it wad hae 
 been ill-mainnert, no to say dishonest an' oongratefu'. 
 Gien ye hae spoken to ony ither i' my place, he s' 
 hae the fee, an' Is' hae the wark. Lat things stan', 
 Mr. Henderson." . 
 
 " Laird ! " answered the farmer, not a little moved, 
 " there's no a man I wad raither see at my wark nor 
 yersel'. A' o' them, men an' women, work the bet- 
 ter whan ye're amo' them. They wad be affrontit no 
 to haud up wf a gentleman! Sae come awa' an' 
 walcome! — ye'll tak something afore we fa'tu ? " 
 
 Cosmo accepted a jug of milk, half cream, from 
 the hand of Elsie. 
 
 The girl was much improved, having partially un- 
 learned a good deal of the nonsense gathered at 
 school, and come to take a fair share with her sisters 
 in the work of the house and farm — enlightened 
 thereto doubtless by her admiration for Cosmo. It 
 is not from those they marry people always learn most. 
 
 When Cosmo reached the end of the first bouf, and 
 stood tc sharpen his scythe, he was startled to see, a 
 little way off, gathering after one of the scythes, a 
 form he could not mistake. S/ie had known he would 
 keep his troth ! She did not look up, but he knew 
 her figure and every motion of it too well to take her 
 for another than Aggie. 
 
 That she thus exposed herself to misrepresentation, 
 Ago'ie was well enough aware, but with the knowledge 
 of how things stood between her and Cosmo, she was 
 
694 
 
 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 far above heeding the danger. Those who do the 
 truth are raised even above defying the world. De- 
 fiance betrays a latent respect, but Aggie gave herself 
 no more trouble about the opinion of the world than 
 that of a lower animal. Those who are of the world 
 may defy, but they cannot ignore it. 
 
 She had declined being a party to Cosmo's marry- 
 ing his mother, but was not therefore prepared to 
 expose him undefended to any one whatever who 
 might wish to take him, even should she be of age 
 unobjectionable ; and she knew one who would at 
 least be hampered by no scruples arising from con- 
 scious unfitness. Agnes might well have thought it 
 better he should marry the cottar's than the farmer's 
 daughter ! Anyhow she was resolved to keep an eye 
 on the young woman so long as Cosmo was within 
 her swoop. He was chivalrous and credulous, and 
 who could tell what Elsie might not dare ! Her re- 
 fusal to be his wife did not deprive her of antecedent 
 rights. And there she was, gathering behind Cosmo, 
 as two years ago ! 
 
 The instant she was free, Aggie set out for home, 
 not having exchanged a word with Cosmo, but in- 
 tending to linger on the way in the hope of his over- 
 taking her. The Hendersons would have had him stay 
 the night, but he had given his man orders to wait him 
 with his horse at a certain point on the road ; and 
 Aggie had not gone far before he got up with her. 
 
 Whatever was or had been the state of her feelings 
 towards Cosmo, she had never mistaken his towards 
 her ; neither had she failed to see that his heart was 
 nowise wounded by her refusal of his offer : it would 
 
THE THIRD HARVEST. 695 
 
 have been a little comfort to her, having to be severe 
 with herself, to see some sign of suffering in him, 
 but she had got over much, and now was nowise 
 annoyed at the cheery unembarrassed tone in which 
 he called out when he saw her, and turning greeted 
 him with the same absence of constraint. 
 
 "An' sae ye're gaein' to tak the bairnies un'er yer 
 wing, Aggie ! " said Cosmo, as they walked along. 
 " They're lucky little things 'at'll gang to your schuil ! 
 What pat it i' yer held ? " 
 
 " Mr. Simon advised it," answered Aggie ; " but I 
 believe I pat it in his held first, sayin' hoo little was 
 dune for the bairnies jist at the lime they war easiest 
 to guide. Rouch wark maks the ban's rouch, and 
 rouch words maks the hert rouch." 
 
 " The haill country-side 'ill be gratefu' to ye, Aggie. 
 — Ye'll lat me come an' see ye whiles ? " 
 
 " Nane sae welcome," answered Aggie. " But 
 wull ye be bidin' on, noo 'at ye haena him 'at's gane ? 
 Winna ye be gaein' awa', to write bulks, an' gar fowk 
 fin' oot what's the maitter wi' them ? " 
 
 " I dinna ken what I'm gaein' to du," answered 
 Cosmo. "But for writin' bulks, I could do that 
 better at hame nor ony ither gait, wi' a'thing min'in' 
 me o' my father, an' you nearhan' to gie me coonsel." 
 
 " I hae aye been yours to comman', Cosmo," replied 
 Aggie, looking down for one moment, then imme- 
 diately up again in his face. 
 
 " An' ye're no angert wi' me, Aggie ? " 
 
 ^'Angert!" repeated Aggie, and looked at him with 
 a glow angelic in her honest, handsome face, and her 
 eyes as true as the heavens. " It was only 'at ye 
 
696 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 didna ken what ye war aboot, an' bein' sae muckle 
 yoonger nor mysel', I was b'un' to tak care o' ye; for 
 a wuman as weal's a man maun be her brither's 
 keeper. Ye see yersel' I was richt !" 
 
 "Ay was ye, Aggie," answered Cosmo, ashamed 
 and almost vexed at having to make the confession. 
 
 He did not see the heave of Aggie's bosom, nor 
 how she held back and broke into nothing the sigh 
 that would have followed. 
 
 "But," she resumed, after a moment's pause, "a' 
 lasses michtna ken sae weel what was fittin' them, 
 nor care sae muckle what was guid for you ; naebody 
 livin' can ken ye as I du ! an' gien ye war to lat a 
 lass think ye cared aboot her — it micht be but as a 
 freen', but she micht be sae ta'en' wi' ye — 'at — 'at 
 maybe she micht gar ye think 'at hoo she cudna live 
 wantin' ye — an' syne what ye du than, Cosmo?" 
 
 It was a situation in which Cosmo had never imag- 
 ined himself, and he looked at Aggie a little sur- 
 prised. 
 
 " I dinna freely un'erstan' ye," he said. 
 
 " Na, I reckon no ! Hoo sud ye ! Ye're jist ower 
 semple for this warl', Cosmo ! But I'll put it plainer : 
 — what wad ye du gien a lass was to fa' a greitin', 
 an' a wailin', an' fling hersel' i' yer airms, an' mak as 
 gien she wad dee ? — what wad ye du wi' her, Cosmo ? " 
 
 " 'Deed I dinna ken," replied Cosmo with some 
 embarrassment. " What wad ye hae me du, Aggie ? " 
 
 " I wad hae ye set her doon whaur ye stude, gien 
 upo' the ro'd, than upo' the dyke, gien i' the hoose, 
 than upo' the nearest chair, and tak to yer legs an' 
 rin. Bide na to tak yer bonnet, but rin an' rin till 
 
THE THIRD HARVEST. 697 
 
 ye're better nor sure she can never win up wi' ye. 
 An' specially gien the name o' the lass sud begin 
 wi' an' E an' gang on till an /, I wad hae ye rin as 
 gien the auld captain was efter ye." 
 
 " I hae had sma' occasion," said Cosmo, " to rin 
 fra him." 
 
 And therewith, partly to change the subject, for he 
 now understood Aggie, and did not feel it right to 
 talk about any girl as if she could behave in the 
 manner supposed, partly because he had long desired 
 an opportunity of telling her, he began, and gave her 
 the whole history of the discovery of the diamonds, 
 omitting nothing, even where the tale concerned 
 Lady Joan. Before he got to the end of it, they 
 were at the place where the wan was waiting with 
 his horse, and as that was the place where Aggie had 
 to turn off to go to Muir o' Warlock, there they 
 parted. 
 
CHAPTER LXII. 
 
 A DUET, TRIO, AND QUARTET. 
 
 The next day things went much the same, only 
 that Elsie was not in the field. Cosmo, who had 
 been thinking much over what Aggie had said, and 
 was not flattered that she should take him for the 
 goose he did not know himself to be, could hardly 
 wait for the evening to have another talk with 
 her. 
 
 "Aggie," he said, as he overtook her in a hollow 
 not many yards from the verge of the farm, " I dinna 
 like ye to think me sic a gowk ! What gars ye sup- 
 pose a lass could hae her wull o' me in sic a w'y 's 
 you ? No 'at I believe ony lass wad behave like that ! 
 It's no like yersel' to fancy sae ill o' yer ain kin' ! I'm 
 sure ye didna discover thae things i' yerain hert ! 
 There's nae sic a lass." 
 
 "What maitter whether there be sic a lass or no, 
 sae lang as gien there was ane, she wad be ower 
 muckle for ye ? " 
 
 ■"That's ower again what I'm compleenin' o'! an' 
 698 
 
A DUET, TRIO, AND QUARTET. 699 
 
 gien it war on3-body but yersel' 'at has a richt, I wad 
 be angry, Aggie." 
 
 " Cosmo," said Agnes solemnly, "ye're ower saft- 
 hertit to the women-fowk. I do believe — an' I tell 
 ye't again in as mony words — ye wad merry onylass 
 raither nor see her in trible on your accoont." 
 
 "Ance mair, Aggie, what gies ye a richt to think 
 sae ill o' me ? " demanded Cosmo. 
 " Jist the w'y ye behaved to mysel'." 
 " Ye never tellt me ye couldna du wantin' me ! " 
 " I houp no, for it wadna hae been true. I can du 
 wantin' ye weel eneuch. But ye allooed ye wasna 
 richt ! " 
 
 " Ay — it was a presumption." 
 " Ay ! but what made it a presumption ? " 
 Cosmo could not bear to say plainly to the girl he 
 loved so much, that he had not loved her so as to 
 have a right to ask her to marry him. He hesitated. 
 " Ye didna loe me eneuch," said Aggie, looking up 
 in his face. 
 
 " Aggie," returned Cosmo, " I'm ready to merry ye 
 the morn gien ye'll hae me ! " 
 
 " There noo ! " exclaimed Aggie, in a sort of pro- 
 voked triumph, " didna I tell ye ! There ye are, duin' 
 't a' ower again ! Wasna I richt ? Ye're fit to tak 
 care o' onybody but yersel' — an' the lass 'at wad 
 fain hae ye ! Eh, but sair ye need a sensible mitherly 
 body like mysel' to luik efter ye ! " 
 
 "Tak me, than, an' luik efter me at yer wull, 
 Aggie ; I mean what I say ! " persisted Cosmo, be- 
 wildered with embarrassment and a momentary stu- 
 pidity. 
 
yoo WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Ance mair, Cosmo, dinna be a gowk," said Agpes 
 with severity. "Ye loe me ovier little, an' I loe you 
 ower muckle for that." 
 
 " Ye're no angry at me, Aggie i " said Cosmo, 
 almost timidly. 
 
 " Angry at ye, my bonny lad ! " cried Aggie, and 
 Iboking up with a world of tenderness in her eyes, 
 and a divine glow of affection, for hers was the love 
 'so sure of itself that it maketh not ashamed, she 
 threw her two strong, shapely honest arms round his 
 neck ; he bent his head, she kissed him heartily on 
 the mouth, and burst into tears. Surely but for that 
 other love that lay patient and hopeless in the depth 
 of Cosmo's heart, he would now have loved Aggie in 
 a way to satisfy her, and to justify him in saying he 
 loved her ! And to that it might have come in time,, 
 but where is the use of saying what might have been, 
 when all things are ever moving towards the highest 
 and best for the individual as well as for the uni- 
 verse ! — not the less that hell may be the only path 
 to it for some — the hell of an absolute self-loathing. 
 
 Just at that moment, who should appear on the 
 top of a broken mound of the moorland, where she 
 stood in the light of the setting sun, but Elsie, neatly 
 dressed, glowing and handsome ! A moment she 
 stood, then descended, a dark scorn shadowing in 
 her eyes, and a smile on her mouth showing the 
 whitest of teeth. 
 
 "Mr. Warlock," sh^ said, and took no notice of 
 his' humble companion, " my father sent me after you 
 in.a hurry as you may see," — and she heaved a deep 
 breath — " to say he doesn't think the bear o' the 
 
A DUET, TRIO, AND QUARTET. 70I 
 
 Gowaa Brae, 'ill be fit for cutting this two days, an' 
 they'll gang to the corn upo' the heuch instead. He 
 was going to tell you himself, but ye was in such a 
 hurry ! " 
 
 "I'm muckle obleeged to ye, Miss Elsie,'' replied 
 Cosmo. " It'll save me a half-mile i' the mornin'." 
 
 " An' my father says," resumed Elsie, addressing 
 Agnes, " yer wark's no worth yer wages." 
 
 Aggie turned upon her with flashing eyes and 
 glowing face. 
 
 " I dinua believe ye. Miss Elsie," she said. " I 
 dinna believe yer father said evet sic a word. He 
 kens my wark's worth my wages whatever he likes to 
 set me til. Mair by token he wad hae tellt me him- 
 sel' ! I s' jist gang straucht back an' speir." 
 
 She turned, evidently in thorough earnest, and set 
 off at a rapid pace back towards the house. Cosmo 
 glanced at Elsie. She had turned white — with the 
 whiteness of fear, not of wrath. She had not ex- 
 pected such action on the part of Aggie. She would 
 be at once found out ! Her father was a man terri- 
 ble in his anger, and her conscience told her he 
 would be angry indeed, angrier than she had ever 
 seen him ! She stood like a statue, her eyes fixed on 
 the retreating form of the indignant Agnes, who 
 reached the top of the rising ground, and was begin- 
 ning to disappear, before the spell of her terror gave 
 way. She turned with clasped hands to Cosmo, and 
 murmured, her white lips har'dly able to fashion the 
 
 words, 
 
 "Mr. Warlock, for God's sake, cry her back. 
 Dinna lat her gang to my father." 
 
702 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Was the thing ye said no true ? " asked Cosmo. 
 
 " Weel," faltered Elsie, searching inside for some 
 escape from admission, " maybe he didna jist say the 
 verra words, — " 
 
 " Aggie mami gang," interrupted Cosmo. " She 
 maunna lat it pass.'' 
 
 " It was a lee ! It was a lee ! " gasped Elsie. 
 
 Cosmo ran, and from the top of the rise called 
 aloud, 
 
 " Aggie ! Aggie ! come back." 
 
 Beyond her he saw another country girl approach- 
 ing, but took little heed of her. Aggie turned at his 
 call, and came to him quickly. 
 
 " She confesses it's a lee, Aggie," he said. 
 
 " She wadna, gien she hadna seen I was gaein' 
 straucht til her father ! " returned Agnes. 
 
 " I daursay ; but God only kens hoo to mak the 
 true differ 'atween what we du o' oorsel's, an' what 
 ^^■e're gart. We maun hae mercy, an' i' the mean- 
 time she's ashamed eneuch. At least she has the 
 luik o' 't." 
 
 " It's ae thing to be ashamed 'cause ye hae dune 
 wrang, an' anither to be ashamed 'cause ye're fun' 
 oot ! " 
 
 " Ay ; but there compassion comes in to fill up ; 
 an' whan ye treat a body wi' generosity, the hert 
 wauks up to be worthy o' 't." 
 
 " Cosmo, ye ken maist aboot the guid in fowk, an' 
 I ken maist aboot the ill," said Aggie. 
 
 Here the young woman who had been nearingthem 
 scarce observed while they talked, came up, and they 
 turning to go back to Elsie, where she still stood 
 
A DUET, TRIO, AND QUARTET. 703 
 
 motionless, followed them at her own pace behind. 
 
 " I beg yer pardon, Aggie," said Elsie, holding out 
 her hand. " I was ill-natert, an' said the thing wasna 
 true. My father says there isna a better gatherer i' 
 the countryside nor yersel'." Aggie took her offered 
 hand and said, 
 
 " Lat by-ganes be by-ganes. Be true to me an' D 
 be true to you. An' I winna lee whether or no." 
 
 Here the stranger joined them. She was a younj 
 woman in the garb of a peasant, but with somethin.a: 
 about her not belonging to the peasant. To the first 
 glance she was more like a superior servant out for a 
 holiday, but a second glance was bewildering. She 
 stopped with a half timid but quiet look, then dropped 
 her eyes with a flush. 
 
 "Will }'ou please tell me if I am on the way to 
 Castle Warlock ? " she said, with a quiver about her 
 mouth which made her like a child trying not to smile. 
 
 Cosmo had been gazing at her : she reminded him 
 very strangely of Joan ; but the moment he heard her 
 voice, which was as different from that of a Scotch 
 peasant as Tennyson's verse is from that of Burns, he 
 gave a cry, and was on his knees before her. 
 
 "Joan !" he gasped, and seizing her hand, drew it 
 to his lips, and held it there. 
 
 She made no sound or movement. Her colour 
 went and came. Her head drooped. She would 
 have fallen, but Cosmo received her, and rising with 
 her as one might with a child in his arms, turned, and 
 began to walk swiftly homeward. ^ 
 
 Aggie had a short fierce struggle with her rising 
 heart, then turned to Elsie, and said quietly, 
 
704 WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Ye see we're no wantit!" 
 
 " I see," returned Elsie. " But eh ! she's a pair 
 cratur." 
 
 " No sae puir ! " answered Aggie. " Wad ye dress 
 up Hke a gran' leddy to gang efter yer yoong man ? " 
 
 " Ay wad I — fest eneuch ! " answered Elsie with 
 scorn. 
 
 Aggie saw her mistake. 
 
 " Did ye tak notice o' her han's ? " she said. 
 
 " No, I didna." 
 
 " Ye never saw sic han's ! Did ye tak notice o' her 
 feet ? " 
 
 " No, I didna." 
 
 " Ye never saw sic feet ! Yon 's ane 'at canna 
 gather, nor stook, nor bin', but she's bonny a' throu', 
 an' her v'ice is a sang, an' she'll gang throu' fire an' 
 watter ohn blinkit for her love's sake. Yon's the lass 
 for oor laird ! The like o' you an' me sud trible held 
 nor hert aboot the likes o' him." 
 
 " Speyk for yersel', lass," said Elsie. 
 
 "I tellt ye," returned Aggie, quietly but with some- 
 thing like scorn, " 'at gien ye wad be true to me, I 
 wad be true to you; but gie yersel' airs, an' I say guid 
 nicht, an' gang efter my fowk.'' 
 
 She turned and departed, leaving Elsie more an- 
 noyed than repentant : it may take a whole life to 
 render a person capable of shame, not to say sorrow, 
 for the meanest thing of many he has done. 
 
 And now, Aggie's heart lying stone-like within her 
 as she followed Cosmo with his treasure, her brain 
 was, alive and active for his sake. Joan was herself 
 again, Cosmo had set her down, and they were walk- 
 
A DUET, TRIO, AND QUARTET. 705 
 
 ing side by side. "What are they going to do?" 
 thought Aggie " Are they going straight home to- 
 gether? Why does she come now the old laird is 
 gone ? " Such and many other questions she kept 
 asking herself in her carefulness over Cosmo. 
 
 They passed the turning Aggie would have taken 
 to go home ; she passed it too, following them 
 steadily. — That old Grizzle was no good ! She must 
 go home with them herself ! If the reason for which 
 she left the castle was a wise one, she must now, fo! 
 the same reason, go back to it ! Those two must not 
 be there with nobody to make them feel comfortable 
 and taken care of! They must not be left to feel 
 awkward together ! She must be a human atmos- 
 phere about them, to shield them, and make home for 
 them ! Love itself may be too lonely. It needs some 
 reflection of its too lavish radiation. — This was prac- 
 tically though not altogether in form what Agnes 
 thought. 
 
 In the meantime, the first whelming joy-wave having 
 retired, and life and thought resumed their operations, 
 they had begun to talk. 
 
 " Where have you come from ? " asked Cosmo. 
 
 " From Cairntod, the place I came from that wild 
 winter night," answered Joan. 
 
 " But you are ... . when were you .... how 
 long .... have you been married ? " 
 
 ''Married!" echoed Joan. "Cosmo, how could 
 
 you ! '■' 
 
 She looked up in his face wild and frightened. 
 " Well, you never wrote ! and — " 
 " It was you never wrote ! " 
 
',c6 WARLOCK b' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " /did not, but my father did, and got no answer." 
 
 " I wrote again and again, and beggediox 2ixv answer, 
 hvX none came. If it hadn't been for the way I 
 dreamed about you, I don't know what would have 
 become of me ! " 
 
 "The devil has been at old tricks, Joan ! " 
 
 " Doubtless — and I fear I have hardly to discover 
 his agent." 
 
 " And Mr. Jermyn ? " said Cosmo, with a look half 
 ahy, half fearful, as if after all some bolt must be 
 about to fall. 
 
 " I can tell you very little about him. I have 
 scarcely seen him since he brought me the money." 
 
 " Then he didn't ....?" 
 
 " Well, what didn't he ? " 
 
 " I have no right to ask." 
 
 "Ask me anything." 
 
 " Didn't he ask you to marry him ? " 
 
 Joan laughed. 
 
 " I had begun to be afraid he had something of the 
 V. nd in his head, when all at once I saw no more of 
 him." 
 
 " How was that ? " 
 
 " I can only guess : he may have spoken to my 
 brother, and that was enough." 
 
 " Didn't you miss him ? " 
 
 " Life 7vas a little duller." 
 
 " If he /taif asked you to marry him, Joan ? " 
 
 ." Well ? " 
 
 "Would you?" 
 
 "Cosmo!" 
 
 " You told me I might ask you anything ! " 
 
A DUET, TRIO, AND QUARTET. 707 
 
 She Stood, turned to the roadside, and sat down on 
 the low earth-dyke. Her face was white. 
 
 "Joan ! Joan! " cried Cosmo, darting to her side; 
 "what is it Joan?" 
 
 " Nothing ; only a little faintness. I have walked 
 a long way and am getting tired." 
 
 " What a brute I am ! " said Cosmo, " to let you 
 walk ! I will carry you again." 
 
 " Indeed you will not ! " she answered, moving a 
 little from him. 
 
 " Do you think you could ride on a man's sad- 
 dle ? " 
 
 " I think so. I could well enough if I were not 
 tired. But let me be quiet a little." 
 
 They were very near the place where Cosmo's 
 horse must be waiting him. He ran to take him and 
 send the groom home with a message. 
 
 To Joan it was a terrible moment. Had she, 
 most frightful of thoughts ! been acting on a holy 
 faith that yet had no foundation ? She had come to 
 a man who asked her whether she would not have 
 married his friend! She had taken so much for 
 understood that had not been understood ! 
 
 When Joan sat down Agnes stopped — a goo,d way 
 off : till the moment of service arrived she would be 
 nothing. Several times she started to run to her, for 
 she feared something had gone wrong, but checked 
 herself lest she should cause more mischief by inter- 
 ferino-. When she saw her sink sideways on the 
 dyke, she did run, but seeing Cosmo hurrying back 
 to her, stopped again. 
 
 Before Cosmo reached her Joan had sat up. The 
 
7o8 WARLOCK O' GLEN WARLOCK. 
 
 same faith, or perhaps rather hope, which had taken 
 shape in her dreams, now woke to meet the necessi- 
 ty of the hour. She rose as Cosmo came near, say- 
 ing she felt better now, and let him put her on the 
 horse. 
 
 But now Joan was determined to face the worst, 
 to learn her position and know what she must do. 
 
 " Has the day not come yet, Cosmo ? " she said. 
 " Cannot you now tell me why you left me so sudden- 
 ly?" 
 
 " It may come with your answer to the question I 
 put to you," replied Cosmo. 
 
 "You are cruel, Cosmo !" 
 
 " Am I ? How ? I do not understand." 
 
 This was worse and worse, and Joan grew rather 
 more than almost angry. It is so horrid when the 
 man you love will be stupid ! She turned her face 
 away, and was silent. A man must sometimes take 
 his life in his hand, and at the risk of even unpar- 
 donable presumption, suppose a thing yielded, that 
 he may know whether it be or not. But Cosmo 
 was something of the innocent Aggie took him for. 
 
 " Joan, I don't see how I am wrong, after the per- 
 mission you gave me," persisted he, too modest. 
 " Agnes would have answered me straight out." 
 
 He forgot. 
 
 " How do you know that ? What have you ever 
 asked her ? " 
 
 Joan, for one who refused an answer, was toler- 
 ably exacting in her questions. And as she spoke 
 she moved involuntarily a step farther from him. 
 
 " I asked her to marry me," replied Cosmo. 
 
A DUET, TRIO, AND QUARTET. 709 
 
 " You asked her to marry you ! " 
 
 " Yes, but she wouldn't." 
 
 " Why wouldn't she ? " 
 
 Joan's face was now red as fire, and she was 
 bitmg her lip hard. 
 
 " She had more reasons against it than one. Oh, 
 Joan, she is so good ! " 
 
 " And you are going to marry her ? " 
 
 Instead of answering her question, Cosmo turned 
 and called to Agnes, some thirty yards behind them : 
 
 " Come here, Aggie." 
 
 Agnes came quickly. 
 
 " Tell Lady Joan," he said, " what for ye wadna 
 merry me." 
 
 " 'Deed, my lady," said Agnes, her face also like 
 a setting sun, " ye may believe onything he tells ye, 
 jist as gien it war gospel. He disna ken hoo to 
 mak a lee." 
 
 " I know that as well as you," replied Lady Joan. 
 
 " Na, ye canna du that, 'cause ye haena kent him 
 sae lang." 
 
 " Will you tell me why you would not marry him ?" 
 
 " For ae thing, 'cause he likit you better nor me, 
 only he thoucht ye was merried, an' he didna like 
 lattin' me gang frae the hoose." 
 
 " Thank you, Agnes," said Joan, with a smile 
 nothing less than heavenly. " He was so obstinate ! " 
 
 And with that she slipped from the saddle, threw 
 her arms round Aggie's neck, and kissed her. 
 
 Aggie returned her embrace with simple truth, 
 then drawing gently away, said, putting her hand 
 before her eyes as if she found the sun too strong. 
 
7IO WARLOCK O' GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " It's verra weel for you, my lady ; but it's some 
 sair upo' me; for I tellt him he sudna merry his 
 mither, an' ye're full as auld as I am." 
 
 Joan gave a sigh. 
 
 " I am a year older, I believe," she answered, " but 
 I cannot help it. Nor would I if I could, for three 
 years ago I was still less worthy of him than I am 
 now ; and after all it is but a trifle." 
 
 " Na, my leddy, it's no a trifle, only some fowk 
 carry their years better nor ithers." 
 
 Here Cosmo set Joan up again, and a full explana- 
 tion followed between them, neither thinking of sup- 
 pression because of Aggie's presence. She would in- 
 deed have fallen behind again, but Joan would not let 
 her, so she walked side by side with them, and amongst 
 the rest of the story heard Cosmo tell how he had 
 yielded Joan because poor Jermyn loved her. Agnes 
 both laughed and cried as she listened, and when 
 Cosmo ceased, threw her arms once more around 
 him, saying, " Cosmo, ye're worth it a' ! " then 
 releasing him, turned to Joan and said, 
 
 " My lady, I dinna grudge him to ye a bit. Noo 
 'at he's yours, an' a' 's come roon' as it sud, I'll be 
 mysel' again — an' that ye'll see ! But ye'll mak 
 allooance, my lady; for ye hae a true hert, an' 
 maun ken 'at whan a wuman sees a man beirin' 
 a'thing as gien it was naething, 'maist like a God, no 
 kennin' he's duin' onything by or'nar,' she can no 
 more help loein' him nor the mither 'at bore her, or 
 the God 'at made her. A.n' mair, my lady, I mean to 
 loe him yet; but, as them 'at God has j'inedman nor 
 wuman maunna sun'er, I winna pairt ye even in nyr 
 
A DUET, TRIO, AND QUARTET. 711 
 
 min' ; whan I think o' the tane, it'll be to think o' the 
 tither, an' the love 'at gangs to him 'ill aye rin ower 
 upo' you — forby what I beir ye on yer ain accoont. 
 Noo ye'll gang on thegither again, an' I'll come 
 ahin'." 
 
 It was now to Aggie as if they were all dead and in 
 the blessed world together, only she had brought with 
 her an ache which it would need time to tune. All 
 pain is discord. 
 
 " Ye see, my lady," she said, as she turned aside 
 and sat down on the bordering turf, " I hae been a 
 mither til 'im ! " 
 
 Who will care to hear further explanation ! — how 
 Joan went to visit distant relatives who had all at 
 once begun to take notice of her ; how she had come 
 with them, metre gladly than they knew, on a visit to 
 Cairntod ; and how such a longing seized her there 
 that, careless of consequences, she donned a peasant's 
 dress and set out for Castle Warlock ; how she had 
 lost her way, and was growing very uneasy when sud- 
 denly she saw Cosmo before her ! 
 
 "But what am I to do now, Cosmo?" she said. 
 " What account of myself can I give my people .? " 
 
 " You can tell them you met an old lover, and find- 
 ing him now a rich man, like a prudent woman, con- 
 sented at once to marry him." 
 
 " I must not tell a story." 
 
 " Pray who asks you to tell a story ? " 
 
 " You do, telling me to say J have a rich lover." 
 
 " I do not. I am rich." 
 
 " Not in money .' " 
 
 '' 'fes, in money." 
 
712 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 " Why didn't you tell me before ? " 
 
 " I forgot. How could I think of riches with you 
 filling up all the thinking-place ! " 
 
 " But what am I to do to-night ? " 
 
 "To-night? — oh!— I hadn't thought of that! — 
 We'll ask Aggie." 
 
 So Aggie was once more called, and consulted. 
 She thought for a minute, then said, — 
 
 " Cosmo, as sune's ye're hame, ye'U sen' yer man 
 straucht awa' upo' the horse to lat my lady's fowk 
 ken. She better write them a bit letter, an' tell them 
 she's fa'en in wi' an auld acquaintance, a lass ca'd 
 Agnes Gracie, a dacent yoong wuman, an' haein' lost 
 her ro'd an' bein' unco tired, she's gaein' hame wi' 
 her to sleep ; an' the laird o' Glenwarlock was sae 
 kin' 's to sen' his man upo' his horse' to cairry the 
 letter. That w'y there'll be nae lees tellt, an' no 
 ower muckle o' the trowth." 
 
 Cosmo began to criticise, but Joan insisted it should 
 be as Aggie said. 
 
 When they arrived at the castle. Grizzle was not a 
 little scandalized to see her young master with a 
 country lass on his horse, and making so much of 
 her. But when she came to understand who she was, 
 and that she had dressed up to get the easier to 
 Castle Warlock she was filled with approbation even 
 to delight. 
 
 " Eh, but ye're a lass to mak a man prood ! I 
 cudna hae dune better mysel' gien I had been a gran' 
 lady wi' a' the wits o' a puir wife ! Sit ye doon, my 
 lady, an' be richt walcome ! Eh, but ye're bonny, as 
 ever was ony! an' eh, but ye're steady as never 
 
A DUET, TRIO, AND QUARTET. 713 
 
 was leddy ! May the Lord bless ye, an' the laird kiss 
 ye!" 
 
 This outbreak of benediction rather confused 
 Cosmo, but Joan laughed merrily, being happy as 
 a child. Aggie turned her face to Grizzie in dread 
 of more ; but the true improviser seldom, I fancy, 
 utters more than six lines. They had supper, and 
 then a cart came rumbling to the door, half full 
 of straw, into which Joan got with Aggie. A few 
 things the latter had borrowed of Grizzie to help 
 make the former comfortable, were handed in and 
 they set out for Muir o' Warlock. In the morning 
 Lady Joan declared she had never slept better than 
 in old Grannie's box-bed. 
 
 They were married almost immediately, and nobody's 
 leave asked. Cosmo wrote to acquaint Lord Mer- 
 gwain with the event, and had in return, from his 
 lordship's secretary, an acknowledgment of the 
 receipt of his letter. 
 
 Of what they had to tell each other, of the way 
 they lived, of how blessed they were even when not 
 altogether happy — of these matters I say nothing, leav- 
 ing them to the imagination of him who has any, while 
 for him who has none I grudge the labour, thinking 
 too he would very likely rather hear how much Cosmo 
 got for his diamonds, and. whether, if Lord Mergwain 
 should not marry, Cairncarque will come to Lady 
 Joan. But such things even he is capable of employ- 
 ing his fancy upon, and it would be a pity to prevent 
 him from doing what he can. 
 
 I will close my book with a little poem that Cosmo 
 yfiote — not thnt night, but soon after. The poet may, 
 
714 WARLOCK O GLENWARLOCK. 
 
 in the height of joy, give out an extempore flash or 
 two, but he writes no poem then. The joy musthave 
 begun to be garnered, before tlie soul can sing about 
 it. How we shall sing when we absolutely believe 
 t-iat our life is hid with Christ in God I 
 Here is my spiritual colophon. 
 
 All things are shadows o£ thee, Lord ; 
 
 The sun himself is but a shade ; 
 My soul is but the shadow of thy word, 
 
 A candle sun-bedayed I 
 
 Diamonds are shadows of the sun ; 
 
 They drink his rays and show a spark : 
 My soul some gleams of thy great shine hath won. 
 
 And round me slays the dark. 
 
 All knowledge is but broken shades — 
 
 In gulfs of dark a wandering horde : 
 Together rush the parted glory-grades — 
 
 And lo, thy garment, Lord I 
 
 My soul, the shadow, still is light. 
 
 Because the shadow falls from thee ; 
 I turn, dull candle, to the centre bright, 
 
 And home flit shadowy. 
 
 Shine, shine ; make me thy shadow still — 
 The brighter still the more thy shade ; 
 
 My motion be thy lovely moveless will I 
 My darkness, light delayed I 
 
 (the end.)