Part 4 (1/2)
She found that her guest and cousin was a man of some position, and wondered that her father should never have mentioned the relations.h.i.+p.
The fact was that, in a time of poverty, the school-master had made to George's father the absurd request of a small loan without security, and the banker had behaved as a rich relation and a banker was pretty sure to behave.
George occupied a place of trust in the bank, and, though not yet admitted to a full knowledge of its more important transactions, hoped soon to be made a partner.
When his father came to Potlurg to see him the laird declined to appear, and the banker contented himself thereafter with Alexa's bulletins.
CHAPTER VIII.
GEORGE AND THE LAIRD.
Alexa's money was nearly exhausted, and most of her chickens had been devoured by the flouris.h.i.+ng convalescent, but not yet would the doctor allow him to return to business.
One night the electric condition of the atmosphere made it heavy, sultry and unrefres.h.i.+ng, and George could not sleep. There came a terrible burst of thunder; then a bannered spear of vividest lightning seemed to lap the house in its flas.h.i.+ng folds, and the simultaneous thunder was mingled with the sound, as it seemed, of the fall of some part of the building. George sat up in bed and listened. All was still. He must rise and see what had happened, and whether any one was hurt. He might meet Alexa, and a talk with her would be a pleasant episode in his sleepless night. He got into his dressing-gown, and taking his stick, walked softly from the room.
His door opened immediately on the top of the stair. He stood and listened, but was aware of no sequel to the noise. Another flash came, and lighted up the s.p.a.ce around him, with its walls of many angles. When the darkness was returned and the dazzling gone, and while the thunder yet bellowed, he caught the glimmer of a light under the door of the study, and made his way toward it over the worn slabs. He knocked, but there was no answer. He pushed the door, and saw that the light came from behind a projecting book-case. He hesitated a moment, and glanced about him.
A little clinking sound came from somewhere. He stole nearer the source of the light; a thief might be there. He peeped round the end of the book-case. With his back to him the laird was kneeling before an open chest. He had just counted a few pieces of gold, and was putting them away. He turned over his shoulder a face deathly pale, and his eyes for a moment stared blank. Then with a s.h.i.+vering smile he rose. He had a thin-worn dressing-gown over his night-s.h.i.+rt, and looked a thread of a man.
”You take me for a miser?” he said, trembling, and stood expecting an answer.
Crawford was bewildered: what business had he there?
”I am _not_ a miser!” resumed the laird. ”A man may count his money without being a miser!”
He stood and stared, still trembling, at his guest, either too much startled or too gentle to find fault with his intrusion.
”I beg your pardon, laird,” said George. ”I knocked, but receiving no answer, feared something was wrong.”
”But why are you out of bed--and you an invalid?” returned Mr. Fordyce.
”I heard a heavy fall, and feared the lightning had done some damage.”
”We shall see about that in the morning, and in the meantime you had better go to bed,” said the laird.
They turned together toward the door.
”What a mult.i.tude of books, you have, Mr. Fordyce!” remarked George. ”I had not a notion of such a library in the county!”
”I have been a lover of books all my life,” returned the laird. ”And they gather, they gather!” he added.
”Your love draws them,” said George.
”The storm is over, I think,” said the laird.
He did not tell his guest that there was scarcely a book on those shelves not sought after by book-buyers--not one that was not worth money in the book-market. Here and there the dulled gold of a fine antique binding returned the gleam of the candle, but any gathering of old law or worthless divinity would have looked much the same.