Christie Johnstone Part 33

Sandy Liston, black and white with rage, ground his teeth together, and said, lifting his hand, "Wull ye let me go, or must I tak my hand till ye?"

"No!" said Christie, "I'll no let ye go, _sae look me i' the face; Flucker's dochter, your auld comrade, that saved your life at Holy Isle, think o' his face--an' look in mines--an' strike me!!!"_

They glared on one another--he fiercely and unsteadily; she firmly and proudly.

Jean Carnie said afterward, "Her eyes were like coals of fire."

"Ye are doing what nae mon i' the toon daur; ye are a bauld, unwise la.s.sy."

"It's you mak me bauld," was the instant reply. "I saw ye face the mad sea, to save a s.h.i.+p fra' the rocks, an' will I fear a mon's hand, when I can save" _(rising to double her height)_ "my feyther's auld freend fra'

the puir mon's enemy, the enemy o' mankind, the cursed, cursed drink?

Oh, Sandy Liston, hoow could ye think to put an enemy in your mooth to steal awa your brains!"

"This 's no Newhaven chat; wha lairns ye sic words o' power?"

"A deed mon!"

"I would na wonder, y' are no canny; she's ta'en a' the poower oot o' my body, I think." Then suddenly descending to a tone of abject submission, "What's your pleesure, Flucker Johnstone's dochter?"

She instantly withdrew the offending grasp, and, leaning affectionately on his shoulder, she melted into her rich Ionic tones.

"It's no a time for sin; ye'll sit by my fire, an' get your dinner; a bonny haggis hae I for you an' Flucker, an' we'll improve this sorrowfu'

judgment; an' ye'll tell me o' auld times--o' my feyther dear, that likeit ye weel, Sandy--o' the storrms ye hae weathered, side by side--o'

the muckle whales ye killed Greenland way--an' abune a', o' the lives ye hae saved at sea, by your daurin an' your skell; an', oh, Sandy, will na that be better as sit an' poor leequid d.a.m.nation doown your throat, an'

gie awa the sense an' feeling o' a mon for a sair heed and an ill name?"

"I'se gang, my lamb," said the rough man, quite subdued; "I daur say whisky will no pa.s.s my teeth the day."

And so he went quietly away, and sat by Christie's fireside.

Jean and Christie went toward the boats.

Jean, after taking it philosophically for half a minute, began to whimper.

"What's wrang?" said Christie.

"Div ye think my hairt's no in my mooth wi' you gripping yon fierce robber?"

Here a young fishwife, with a box in her hand, who had followed them, pulled Jean by the coats.

"Hets," said Jean, pulling herself free.

The child then, with a pertinacity these little animals have, pulled Christie's coats.

"Hets," said Christie, freeing herself more gently.

"Ye suld mairry Van Amburgh," continued Jean; "ye are just such a la.s.s as he is a lad."

Christie smiled proudly, was silent, but did not disown the comparison.

The little fishwife, unable to attract attention by pulling, opened her box, and saying, "La.s.ses, I'll let ye see my presoner. Hech! he's boenny!" pulled out a mouse by a string fastened to his tail and set him in the midst for friendly admiration.

"I dinna like it--I dinna like it!" screamed Christie. "Jean, put it away--it fears me, Jean!" This she uttered (her eyes almost starting from her head with unaffected terror) at the distance of about eight yards, whither she had arrived in two bounds that would have done no discredit to an antelope.

"Het," said Jean, uneasily, "hae ye coowed you savage, to be scared at the wee beastie?"

Christie, looking askant at the animal, explained: "A moose is an awesome beast--it's no like a mon!" and still her eye was fixed by fascination upon the four-footed danger.

Jean, who had not been herself in genuine tranquillity, now turned savagely on the little Wombwelless. "An' div ye really think ye are to come here wi' a' the beasts i' the Airk? Come, awa ye go, the pair o'

ye."

These severe words, and a smart push, sent the poor little biped off roaring, with the string over her shoulder, recklessly dragging the terrific quadruped, which made fruitless grabs at the s.h.i.+ngle.--_Moral._ Don't terrify bigger folk than yourself.

Christie had intended to go up to Edinburgh with her eighty pounds, but there was more trouble in store this eventful day.

Flucker went out after dinner, and left her with Sandy Liston, who was in the middle of a yarn, when some one came running in and told her Flucker was at the pier crying for her. She inquired what was the matter. "Come, an' ye'll see," was all the answer. She ran down to the pier. There was poor Flucker lying on his back; he had slipped from the pier into a boat that lay alongside; the fall was considerable; for a minute he had been insensible, then he had been dreadfully sick, and now he was beginning to feel his hurt; he was in great anguish; n.o.body knew the extent of his injuries; he would let n.o.body touch him; all his cry was for his sister. At last she came; they all made way for her; he was crying for her as she came up.

"My bairn! my bairn!" cried she, and the poor little fellow smiled, and tried to raise himself toward her.

She lifted him gently in her arms--she was powerful, and affection made her stronger; she carried him in her arms all the way home, and laid him on her own bed. w.i.l.l.y Liston, her discarded suitor, ran for the surgeon.

There were no bones broken, but his ankle was severely sprained, and he had a terrible bruise on the loins; his dark, ruddy face was streaked and pale; but he never complained after he found himself at home.

Christie hovered round him, a ministering angel, applying to him with a light and loving hand whatever could ease his pain; and he watched her with an expression she had never noticed in his eye before.

At last, after two hours' silence, he made her sit in full view, and then he spoke to her; and what think you was the subject of his discourse?

He turned to and told her, one after another, without preface, all the loving things she had done to him ever since he was five years old. Poor boy, he had never shown much grat.i.tude, but he had forgotten nothing, literally nothing.

Christie was quite overcome with this unexpected trait; she drew him gently to her bosom, and wept over him; and it was sweet to see a brother and sister treat each other almost like lovers, as these two began to do--they watched each other's eye so tenderly.

This new care kept the sister in her own house all the next day; but toward the evening Jean, who knew her other anxiety, slipped in and offered to take her place for an hour by Flucker's side; at the same time she looked one of those signals which are too subtle for any but woman to understand.

Christie drew her aside, and learned that Gatty and his mother were just coming through from Leith; Christie ran for her eighty pounds, placed them in her bosom, cast a hasty glance at a looking-gla.s.s, little larger than an oyster-sh.e.l.l, and ran out.

"Hech! What pleased the auld wife will be to see he has a la.s.s that can mak auchty pund in a morning."

This was Christie's notion.

At sight of them she took out the banknotes, and with eyes glistening and cheeks flus.h.i.+ng she cried:

"Oh, Chairles, ye'll no gang to jail--I hae the siller!" and she offered him the money with both hands, and a look of tenderness and modesty that embellished human nature.

Ere he could speak, his mother put out her hand, and not rudely, but very coldly, repelling Christie's arm, said in a freezing manner:

"We are much obliged to you, but my son's own talents have rescued him from his little embarra.s.sment."

"A n.o.bleman has bought my picture," said Gatty, proudly.

"For one hundred and fifty pounds," said the old lady, meaning to mark the contrast between that sum and what Christie had in her hand.