Part 48 (1/2)

Chapter XXVIII THE DEVIL'S BOWL

HE sat down. In the great hall there was silence, save for a tiny sound from the gallery like a sob suppressed.

The squire rose hurriedly and left the room. After him, one by one, trailed the tenants. At length, two only remained--M'Adam, sitting solitary with a long array of empty chairs on either hand; and, at the far end of the table, Parson Leggy, stern, upright, motionless.

When the last man had left the room the parson rose, and with lips tight-set strode across the silent hall.

”M'Adam,” he said rapidly and almost roughly, ”I've listened to what you've said, as I think we all have, with a sore heart. You hit hard--but I think you were right. And if I've not done my duty by you as I ought--and I fear I've not--it's now my duty as G.o.d's minister to be the first to say I'm sorry.” And it was evident from his face what an effort the words cost him.

The little man tilted back his chair, and raised his head.

It was the old M'Adam who looked up. The thin lips were curled; a grin was crawling across the mocking face; and he wagged his head gently, as he looked at the speaker through the slits of his half-closed eyes.

”Mr. Hornbut, I believe ye thocht me in earnest, 'deed and I do!” He leaned back in his chair and laughed softly. ”Ye swallered it all down like best b.u.t.ter. Dear, dear! to think o' that!” Then, stretching forward:

”Mr. Hornbut, I was playin' wi' ye.”

The parson's face, as he listened, was ugly to watch. He shot out a hand and grabbed the scoffer by his coat; then dropped it again and turned abruptly away.

As he pa.s.sed through the door a little sneering voice called after him:

”Mr. Hornbut, I ask ye hoo you, a minister o' the Church of England, can reconcile it to yer conscience to think--though it be but for a minute--that there can be ony good in a man and him no churchgoer? Sir, ye're a heretic--not to say a heathen!” He sn.i.g.g.e.red to himself, and his hand crept to a half-emptied wine decanter.

An hour later, James Moore, his business with the squire completed, pa.s.sed through the hall on his way out. Its only occupant was now M'Adam, and the Master walked straight up to his enemy.

”M'Adam,” he said gruffly, holding out a sinewy hand, ”I'd like to say--”

The little man knocked aside the token of friends.h.i.+p.

”Na, na. No cant, if ye please, James Moore. That'll aiblins go doon wi' the parsons, but not wi' me. I ken you and you ken me, and all the whitewash i' th' warld'll no deceive us.”

The Master turned away, and his face was hard as the nether millstone.

But the little man pursued him.

”I was nigh forgettin',” he said. ”I've a surprise for ye, James Moore.

But I hear it's yer birthday on Sunday, and I'll keep it till then--he!

he!”

”Ye'll see me before Sunday, M'Adam,” the other answered. ”On Sat.u.r.day, as I told yo', I'm comin' to see if yo've done yer duty.”

”Whether ye come, James Moore, is your business. Whether ye'll iver go, once there, I'll mak' mine. I've warned ye twice noo--” and the little man laughed that harsh, cackling laugh of his.

At the door of the hall the Master met David. ”Noo, lad, yo're comin'

along wi' Andrew and me,” he said; ”Maggie'll niver forgie us if we dinna bring yo' home wi' us.”

”Thank you kindly, Mr. Moore,” the boy replied. ”I've to see squire first; and then yo' may be sure I'll be after you.”