Part 13 (1/2)
The draper looked up as he entered. A glance pa.s.sed between him and the minister. He came to Donal, and having heard what he wanted, left him, went back to the minister, and took no more notice of him. Donal found it awkward, and left the shop.
”High an' michty!” said the draper, annoyed at losing the customer to whose dispraise he had been listening.
”Far beyond dissent, John!” said the minister, pursuing a remark.
”Doobtless, sir, it is that!” answered the draper. ”I'm thankfu' to say I never harboured a doobt mysel', but aye took what I was tauld, ohn argle-barglet. What hae we sic as yersel' set ower's for, gien it binna to haud's i' the straicht path o' what we're to believe an' no to believe? It's a fine thing no to be acc.o.o.ntable!”
The minister was an honest man so far as he knew himself and honesty, and did not relish this form of submission. But he did not ask himself where was the difference between accepting the word of man and accepting man's explanation of the word of G.o.d! He took a huge pinch from his black snuffbox and held his peace.
In the evening Donal would settle his account with mistress Comin: he found her demand so much less than he had expected, that he expostulated. She was firm, however, and a.s.sured him she had gained, not lost. As he was putting up his things,
”Lea' a buik or twa, sir,” she said, ”'at whan ye luik in, the place may luik hame-like. We s' ca' the room yours. Come as aften as ye can. It does my Anerew's hert guid to hae a crack wi' ane 'at kens something o' what the Maister wad be at. Mony ane 'll ca' him Lord, but feow 'ill tak the trible to ken what he wad hae o' them. But there's my Anerew--he'll sit yon'er at his wark, thinkin' by the hoor thegither ower something the Maister said 'at he canna win at the richts o'. 'Depen' upo' 't,' he says whiles, 'depen' upo' 't, la.s.s, whaur onything he says disna luik richt to hiz, it maun be 'at we haena won at it!'”
As she ended, her husband came in, and took up what he fancied the thread of the dialogue.
”An' what are we to think o' the man,” he said, ”at's content no to un'erstan' what he was at the trible to say? Wad he say things 'at he didna mean fowk to un'erstan' whan he said them?” ”Weel, Anerew,” said his wife, ”there's mony a thing he said 'at I can not un'erstan'; naither am I muckle the better for your explainin' o' the same; I maun jist lat it sit.”
Andrew laughed his quiet pleased laugh.
”Weel, la.s.s,” he said, ”the duin' o' ae thing 's better nor the un'erstan'in' o' twenty. Nor wull ye be lang ohn un'erstan't muckle 'at's dark to ye noo; for the maister likes nane but the duer o' the word, an' her he likes weel. Be blythe, la.s.s; ye s' hae yer fill o'
un'erstan'in' yet!”
”I'm fain to believe ye speyk the trowth, Anerew!”
”It 's great trowth,” said Donal.
CHAPTER XII.
THE CASTLE.
The next morning came a cart from the castle to fetch his box; and after breakfast he set out for his new abode.
He took the path by the river-side. The morning was glorious. The sun and the river and the birds were jubilant, and the wind gave life to everything. It rippled the stream, and fluttered the long webs bleaching in the sun: they rose and fell like white waves on the bright green lake; and women, homely Nereids of the gra.s.sy sea, were besprinkling them with spray. There were dull sounds of wooden machinery near, but they made no discord with the sweetness of the hour, speaking only of activity, not labour. From the long bleaching meadows by the river-side rose the wooded base of the castle. Donal's bosom swelled with delight; then came a sting: was he already forgetting his inextinguishable grief? ”But,” he answered himself, ”G.o.d is more to me than any woman! When he puts joy in my heart, shall I not be glad? When he calls my name shall I not answer?”
He stepped out joyfully, and was soon climbing the hill. He was again admitted by the old butler.
”I will show you at once,” he said, ”how to go and come at your own will.”
He led him through doors and along pa.s.sages to a postern opening on a little walled garden at the east end of the castle.
”This door,” he said, ”is, you observe, at the foot of Baliol's tower, and in that tower is your room; I will show it you.”
He led the way up a spiral stair that might almost have gone inside the newel of the great staircase. Up and up they went, until Donal began to wonder, and still they went up.
”You're young, sir,” said the butler, ”and sound of wind and limb; so you'll soon think nothing of it.”
”I never was up so high before, except on a hill-side,” returned Donal.
”The college-tower is nothing to this!”