"Hoots!" he said, "we canna follow her a' nicht; an' gien we did, what better wad she be i' the mornin'? Lat her be, puir thing!"She received the whisky in a broken tea-cup, swallowed some of it eagerly, then, to the horror of the youths, put some of it into the mouth of her child from her own.Draining the last drops from the cup, she set it quietly down, turned, and without a word spoken, for she had paid beforehand, came out, her face looking just as white and thin as before, but having another expression in the eyes of it.
At the sight Donal's wisdom forsook him.
"Eh, wuman," he cried, "yon wasna what ye hed the shillin' for!""Ye said naething," answered the poor creature, humbly, and walked on, hanging her head, and pressing her baby to her bosom.
The boys looked at each other.
"That wasna the gait yer shillin' sud hae gane, Gibbie," said Donal.
"It's clear it winna dee to gie shillin's to sic like as her.Wha kens but the hunger an' the caul', an' the want o' whisky may be the wuman's evil things here, 'at she may 'scape the hellfire o' the Rich Man hereafter?"He stopped, for Gibbie was weeping.The woman and her child he would have taken to his very heart, and could do nothing for them.
Love seemed helpless, for money was useless.It set him thinking much, and the result appeared.From that hour the case of the homeless haunted his heart and brain and imagination; and as his natural affections found themselves repelled and chilled in what is called Society, they took refuge more and more with the houseless and hungry and shivering.Through them, also, he now, for the first time, began to find grave and troublous questions mingling with his faith and hope; so that already he began to be rewarded for his love: to the true heart every doubt is a door.I will not follow and describe the opening of these doors to Gibbie, but, as what he discovered found always its first utterance in action, wait until Ican show the result.
For the time the youths were again a little relieved about the woman: following her still, to a yet more wretched part of the city, they saw her knock at a door, pay something, and be admitted.It looked a dreadful refuge, but she was at least under cover, and shelter, in such a climate as ours in winter, must be the first rudimentary notion of salvation.No longer haunted with the idea of her wandering all night about the comfortless streets, "like a ghost awake in Memphis," Donal said, they went home.But it was long before they got to sleep, and in the morning their first words were about the woman.
"Gien only we hed my mither here!" said Donal.
"Mightn't you try Mr.Sclater?" suggested Gibbie.
Donal answered with a great roar of laughter.
"He wad tell her she oucht to tak shame till hersel'," he said, "an'
I'm thinkin' she's lang brunt a' her stock o' that firin'.He wud tell her she sud work for her livin', an' maybe there isna ae turn the puir thing can dee 'at onybody wad gie her a bawbee for a day o'!--But what say ye to takin' advice o' Miss Galbraith?"It was strange how, with the marked distinctions between them, Donal and Gibbie would every now and then, like the daughters of the Vicar of Wakefield, seem to change places and parts.
"God can make praise-pipes of babes and sucklings," answered Gibbie;"but it does not follow that they can give advice.Don't you remember your mother saying that the stripling David was enough to kill a braggart giant, but a sore-tried man was wanted to rule the people?"It ended in their going to Mistress Croale.They did not lay bare to her their perplexities, but they asked her to find out who the woman was, and see if anything could be done for her.They said to themselves she would know the condition of such a woman, and what would be moving in her mind, after the experience she had herself had, better at least than the minister or his lady-wife.Nor were they disappointed.To be thus taken into counsel revived for Mistress Croale the time of her dignity while yet she shepherded her little flock of drunkards.She undertook the task with hearty good will, and carried it out with some success.Its reaction on herself to her own good was remarkable.There can be no better auxiliary against our own sins than to help our neighbour in the encounter with his.Merely to contemplate our neighbour will recoil upon us in quite another way: we shall see his faults so black, that we will not consent to believe ours so bad, and will immediately begin to excuse, which is the same as to cherish them, instead of casting them from us with abhorrence.
One day early in the session, as the youths were approaching the gate of Miss Kimble's school, a thin, care-worn man, in shabby clothes, came out, and walked along meeting them.Every now and then he bowed his shoulders, as if something invisible had leaped upon them from behind, and as often seemed to throw it off and with effort walk erect.It was the laird.They lifted their caps, but in return he only stared, or rather tried to stare, for his eyes seemed able to fix themselves on nothing.He was now at length a thoroughly ruined man, and had come to the city to end his days in a cottage belonging to his daughter.Already Mr.Sclater, who was unweariedly on the watch over the material interests of his ward, had, through his lawyer, and without permitting his name to appear, purchased the whole of the Glashruach property.For the present, however, he kept Sir Gilbert in ignorance of the fact.
