Warlock o' Glenwarlock Part 54

"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, Grizzie?"

"What was I duin'? I saidna I was there efter dark, but the cratur micht hae seen me pa.s.s weel eneueh. Wasna I ower the hill to my ain fowk i' 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 haena 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 kelpy 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 to 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 s.n.a.t.c.hing up the bag, held it behind her back, "ye wad never mint at luikin' 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. Cos...o...b..gan to grow very uncomfortable. 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 circ.u.mstances always. It was impossible, however, for him or any human being to determine concerning any circ.u.mstances whether they were or were not the same. Wherever the thing was not done, did it not follow that the circ.u.mstances could not be the same? 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 unusual 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 concerning 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 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 consenting in full and without reserve to the social degradation and heart-sorrow to which it seemed the will of G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 uncertainty of duty, the uncertainty of what it was G.o.d's will he should do. But on the other hand, perhaps the cause of that uncertainty was the lack of perfect 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 G.o.d 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 commencement 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 killing of weathers. Alas! that was his father's breathing: 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 Grizzie 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 G.o.d was letting him know what he had to do!

He sat down and suddenly, for a moment, felt as if he were sitting on 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 G.o.d 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_ guid, 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 lee ever crossed my rain'."

"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 ony mair--gien it had been you, I wull say't,'at lee'd that lee--sic an' ae sas it was?"

"I wad say to mysel' 'at wi' G.o.d'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 Grizzie had in her pock last nicht."

"Na, I cudna 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 diffeeculty; for though I never said to Grizzie 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 noo an' tell!"

"You are dreadfully mysterious, Aggie," said Cosmo, "and in truth you make me more than a little uncomfortable. 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 was a' laid up thegither, heaps o' things want.i.t, 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 a.s.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' Grizzie an'me, Cosmo," Aggie went on. "It wasna for oorsel's we wad hae dune sic a thing; an' maybe 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 G.o.d!" cried Cosmo, and for some moments was dumb. "La.s.sie!"

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 Grizzie 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 acc.o.o.nt 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 o'--there's no a body a hair the wiser."

"What difference does that make?" cried Cosmo. "The fact remains."