Part 21 (1/2)
peace! when there was no peace, and tempting her son to go on and become a devil! But one thing yet rose up for the truth in his miserable heart--his reviving and growing love for Isy. It had seemed smothered in selfishness, but was alive and operative: G.o.d knows how--perhaps through feverish, incoherent, forgotten dreams.
He had expected his mother to aid his repentance, and uphold his walk in the way of righteousness, even should the way be that of social disgrace. He knew well that reparation must go hand in hand with repentance where the All-wise was judge, and selfish Society dared not urge one despicable pretence for painting hidden shame in the hues of honour. James had been the cowering slave of a false reputation; but his illness and the a.s.saults of his conscience had roused him, set repentance before him, brought confession within sight, and purity within reach of prayer.
”I maun gang til her,” he cried, ”the meenute I'm able to be up!--Whaur is she, mother?”
”Upo nae acc.o.o.nt see her, Jamie! It wad be but to fa' again intil her snare!” answered his mother, with decision in her look and tone. ”We're to abstain frae a' appearance o' evil--as ye ken better nor I can tell ye.”
”But Isy's no an appearance o' evil, mother!”
”Ye say weel there, I confess! Na, she's no an appearance; she's the vera thing! Haud frae her, as ye wad frae the ill ane himsel.”
”Did she never lat on what there had been atween 's?”
”Na, never. She kenned weel what would come o' that!”
”What, mother?”
”The ootside o' the door.”
”Think ye she ever tauld onybody?”
”Mony ane, I doobtna.”
”Weel, I dinna believe 't, I hae nae fear but she's been dumb as deith!”
”Hoo ken ye that?--What for said she never ae word aboot ye til yer ain mither?”
”'Cause she was set on haudin her tongue. Was she to bring an owre true tale o' me to the vera hoose I was born in? As lang as I haud til my tongue, she'll never wag hers!--Eh, but she's a true ane! _She's_ ane to lippen til!”
”Weel, I alloo, she's deen as a wuman sud--the faut bein a' her ain!”
”The faut bein' a' mine, mother, she wouldna tell what would disgrace me!”
”She micht hae kenned her secret would be safe wi' me!”
”_I_ micht hae said the same, but for the w'y ye spak o' her this vera meenut!--Whaur is she, mother? Whaur's Isy?”
”'Deed, she's made a munelicht flittin o' 't!”
”I telled ye she would never tell upo me!--Hed she ony siller?”
”Hoo can _I_ tell?”
”Did ye pey her ony wages?”
”She gae me no time!--But she's no likly to tell noo; for, hearin her tale, wha wad tak her in?”
”Eh, mother, but ye _are_ hard-hert.i.t!”
”I ken a harder, Jamie!”