Warlock o' Glenwarlock Part 60

"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'

hauding 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 pey 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'."

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. Yea, 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 he may hae his fule wull o' 't. O G.o.d, they're bonny stanes an' fu' o' licht: forbid 'at their licht sud breed darkness i' the hert o' Cosmo an'

me. O G.o.d, 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 c.o.o.nterfeit 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 trust.i.t wi' sae muckle, an' that for the safety an' clean-throuness o' oor sowls. O G.o.d, latna the suns.h.i.+ny Mammon creep intil my Cosmo's hert an' mak a' mirk; latna the licht that is in him turn to darkness. G.o.d 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 stanes be the bodily presence o' thy speerit, as ance was the doo 'at descendit upo' the maister, an' the buss 'at burned wi'

fire an' wasna consumed. Thoo art the father o' lichts, an' a'

licht is thine. Garoor herts burn like 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 cry, and in joy forget! that we think it hard of G.o.d 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 oppression of ages are gone like a cloud swallowed up of s.p.a.ce. Oh, father! are not all human ills doomed thus to vanish at last in the eternal fire of the love-burning G.o.d?--An' noo, father, what 'll 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 colourless, though bright still: even in the dark some of them would s.h.i.+ne! "It pleases me, father," he went on, "to see nane o'

them set. It pruvs naething, but maks 't jist a wheen mair likly he got them 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 G.o.d'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. I' 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 acc.o.o.nt. 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 England 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 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 lang as he's but a bairn, differeth naething frae a servan', though he be lord o' a'.' Eh, Cosmo, but the word admits o' curious ill.u.s.tration!"

Cosmo set the horse, as soon as he had done giving 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 having nothing to make paste, glued the paper again to the wall which it had carried with it. He next sought the kitchen and Grizzie.

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."

"G.o.d bless ye, Grizzie! Hae ye ony baubees?"

"Ay; what for no! I hae sax s.h.i.+llin's, fower pennies, an' a baubeefardin'!" 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, "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, Grizzie! 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 grant it 's no an oonfair portion."

"Weel, weel, Grizzie! 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 Grizzie'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 available!

He did not tell Mr. Burns, however, what his final object was--only begged him, for the sake of friends.h.i.+p and old times, to go with him for a day or two to his father's.

"But, Mr. Warlock," objected the jeweller, "that 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 a.s.sistant 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."