Alec Forbes of Howglen Part 68

Alec hearing part of this muttered discourse, had grown attentive, but there was nothing more forthcoming. He sat for a little, staring helplessly into the fire. The world was very blank and dismal.

Then he rose to go to bed; for Mr Cupples did not require him now.

Finding him fast asleep under the bed-clothes, he made him as comfortable as he could. Then he locked the closet where the whisky was, and took the key with him.

Their mutual care in this respect was comical.

CHAPTER LXX.

The next morning, Alec saw Mr Cupples in bed before he left. His surprise therefore was great when, entering the library after morning lectures, he found him seated in his usual place, hard at work on his catalogue. Except that he was yet thinner and paler than before, the only difference in his appearance was that his eyes were brighter and his complexion was clearer.

"You here, Mr Cupples!" he exclaimed.

"What garred ye lock the press last nicht, ye deevil?" returned the librarian, paying no attention to Alec's expression of surprise. "But I say, bantam," he continued, not waiting for a reply, which indeed was unnecessary, "ye hae dune yer wark weel--verra near as weel's I cud hae dune't mysel'."

"I'm sure, Mr Cupples, it was the least thing I could do."

"Ye impident c.o.c.k! It was the verra best you cud do, or ye wadna hae come within sicht o' me. I mayna be muckle at thrashin' attoarneys, or cuttin' up deid corpuses, but I defy ye to come up to me at onything conneckit wi' buiks."

"Faith! Mr Cupples, ye may gang farther nor that. Efter what ye hae dune for me, gin I war a general, ye sud lead the Forlorn Hope."

"Ay, ay. It's a forlorn hope, a' 'at I'm fit for, Alec Forbes,"

returned Cupples sadly.

This struck Alec so near his own grief that he could not reply with even seeming cheerfulness. He said nothing. Mr Cupples resumed.

"I hae twa three words to say to you, Alec Forbes. Can ye believe in a man as weel's ye can in a wumman?"

"I can believe in you, Mr Cupples. That I'll sweir till."

"Weel, jist sit doon there, and carry on frae whaur ye loot sit. Syne efter the three o'clock lecture--wha is't ye're atten'in' this session?--we'll gang doon to Luckie c.u.mstie's, and hae a moufu' o'

denner--she 'll do her best for me--an' I'll hae jist a tumler o'

toddy--but de'il a drap sall ye hae, bantam--and de'il a word will I say to ye there. But we'll come back here, and i' the gloamin', I'll gie ye a bit episode i' my life.--Episode did I ca' 'it? Faith it's my life itsel', and no worth muckle, eyther. Ye'll be the first man that ever I tell't it till. And ye may judge o' my regaird for ye frae that fac'."

Alec worked away at his catalogue, and then attended the afternoon lecture. The dinner at Luckie c.u.mstie's followed--of the plainest, but good. Alec's trouble had not yet affected the region in which Paley seats the organ of happiness. And while an appet.i.te exists, a dinner will be interesting. Just as the gloaming was fading into night, they went back to the library.

"Will I rin ower to the sacrist's for a licht?" asked Alec.

"Na, na; lat be. The mirk's mercifu', whiles."

"I canna unnerstan' ye, Mr Cupples. Sin ever I kent ye i' this library, I never kent ye bide the oncome o' the nicht. As sune's the gloamin'

began to fa', ye aye flew to yer hat, and oot at the door as gin there had been a ghaist gettin' its banes thegither oot o' the dark to come at ye."

"Maybe sae there was, bantam. Sae nane o' your jokin'."

"I didna mean to anger ye, Mr Cupples."

"Whaur naething's meant, naething's dune. I'm nae angert. And that ye'll sune see. Sit ye doon there, and tak yer plaid aboot ye, or ye'll be cauld."

"Ye hae nae plaid yersel. Ye're mair like to be cauld nor I am."

"I weir my plaid o' my inside. Ye haena had ony toddy. Deil's broo! It may weel haud a body warm. It comes frae a het quarter."

The open oak ceiling overhead was getting very dark by this time; and the room, divided and crowded with books in all directions, left little free course to the light that struggled through the dusty windows. The friends seated themselves on the lower steps of an open circular oak staircase which wound up to a gallery running round the walls.

"Efter I had taen my degree," began Mr Cupples, "frae the han' o' this same couthy auld mither, I heard o' a grit leebrary i' the north--I winna say whaur--that want.i.t the han' o' a man that kenned what he was aboot, to pit in dacent order, sae that a body cud lay his han's upon a buik whan he want.i.t it, and no be i' the condition o' Tantalus, wi'

watter at the mou, but nane for the hause (throat). Dinna imaigin' it was a public library. Na, na. It belonged to a grit an' gran'

hoose--the Lord hae respec till't, for it's no joke o' a hoose that--as I weel kent afore a' was ower! Weel, I wrought awa', likin' the wark weel, for a buik's the bonniest thing i' the warl' but ane, and there's no dirl (thrill) in't whan ye lay han's upo' 't, as there is, guid kens, in the ither. Man, ye had better lay han's upon a torpedo, or a galvanic battery, nor upon a woman--I mean a woman that ye hae ony attraction till--for she'll gar ye dirl till ye dinna ken yer thoomb frae yer muckle tae. But I was speikin' aboot buiks an' no aboot women, only somehoo whatever a man begins wi', he'll aye en' aff wi' the same thing. The Lord hae a care o' them, for they're awfu' craters! They're no like ither fowk a'thegither. Weel, ye see, I had a room till mysel', forby the library an' my bedroom--an' a gran' place that was! I didna see onything o' the family, for I had my denner and my wine and 'a thing human stammack cud desire served up till me i' my ain room.

But ae day, my denner was made up o' ae mess efter anither, vera fine nae doot, but unco queer and ootlandish, and I had nae appeteet, and I cudna eat it. Sae I rase, afore my ordinar' time, and gaed back to my wark. I had taen twa or three gla.s.ses o' a dooms fine tipple they ca'

Madeira, an' a moufu' o' cheese--that was a'. Weel, I sat doon to my catalogue there, as it micht be here; but I hadna sat copyin' the teetles o' the buiks laid out upo' the muckle table afore me, for mair nor twa minutes, whan I heard a kin' o' a reestlin', an' I thocht it was mice, to whilk I'm a deidly enemy ever sin they ate half o' a first edition o' the _Fairy Queen_, conteenin' only the first three buiks, ye ken, o' whilk they consumed an' nae doot a.s.similated ae haill buik and full a half o' anither. But whan I luikit up, what sud I see but a wee leddy, in a goon the colour o' a clood that's takin' nae pairt i' the sunset, but jist lookin' on like, stan'in afore the buik-shelves i' the further en' o' the room. Noo I'm terrible lang-sicht.i.t, and I had pitten the buiks i' that pairt a' richt already wi' my ain han'--and I saw her put her han' upon a buik that was no fit for her. I winna say what it was. Some hermaphrodeet cratur had written't that had no respec for man or woman, an' whase neck sud hae been thrawn by the midwife, for that buik cam o' sparin' o' 'm!

"'Dinna touch that buik, my bonny leddy,' I cried. 'It's awfu' fu' o'

dist and stoor. It'll smore ye to open the twa brods o' 't. Yer rosy goon'll be clean blaudit wi' the stew (dust) o' 't.'

"She start.i.t and luikit roon some fricht.i.t like, and I rase an' gaed across the flure till her. And her face grew bonnier as I cam nearer till her. Her nose an' her twa eebrees jist min'd ye upo' the picturs o' the Holy Ghost comin' doon like a doo; and oot aneath ilka wing there luikit a hert o' licht--that was her twa een, that gaed throu and throu me as gin I had been a warp and they twa shuttles; and faith!

they made o' my life and o' me what it is and I am. They wove the wab o' me.

"Ay. They gaed oot and in, and throu and throu, and back and fore, and roon and aboot, till there wasna a nerve or a fibre o' my bein', but they had twisted it up jist as a spither does a flee afore he sooks the life oot o' 't. But that's a prolepsis."

"'Are you the librarian?' said she, saft and sma', like hersel'.

"'That I am, mem,' said I. 'My name's Cupples--at your service, mem.'

"'I was looking, Mr Cupples,' said she, 'for some book to help me to learn Gaelic. I want very much to read Gaelic.'

"'Weel, mem,' said I, 'gin it had been ony o' the Romance languages, or ony ane o' the Teutonic breed, I micht hae gien ye a lift. But I doot ye maun bide till ye gang to Edinburgh, or Aberdeen, whaur ye'll easy fa' in wi' some lang-leggit bejan that'll be prood to instruc' ye, and c.o.o.nt himsel' ower weel paid wi' the sicht o' yer bonny face.'

"She turned some reid at that, and I was feared that I had angert her.

But she gied a sma' lauch, and oot at the door she gaed, wi' her 'rosy fleece o' fire' lowin' and glimmerin' aboot her, jist like ane o' the seraphims that auld Crashaw sings aboot. Only she was gey sma' for a seraph, though they're nae ower big. Weel, ye see, that was the first time I saw her. And I thochtna ower muckle mair aboot her. But in a day or twa there she was again. And she had a hantle to speir at me aboot; and it took a' the knowledge I had o' buiks in general to answer her questions. In fac I was whiles compelled to confess my ignorance, which is no pleesant whan a man wants to stan' weel wi' a bonny crater that spiers questons. Whan she gaed, I gaed efter her, followin' aboot at her--i' my thochts, I mean--like a hen efter her ae chucken. She was bonnier this time than the last. She had tired o' the rosy clood, and she had on a bonny goon o' black silk, sae modest and sae rich, wi'

diamond b.u.t.tons up the front o' the briest o' 't. Weel, to mak a lang story short, and the shorter the better, for it's nae a pleesant ane to me, she cam aftener and aftener. And she had sae muckle to say and speir aboot, that at last we had to tak doon buiks, and I had to clear a neuk o' the table. At lenth I cam to luik for her as reglar as gin she had been a ghaist, and the time that chappit upo' the auld clock had belongt to the midnicht instead o' the mornin'. Ye'll be wonnerin'

what like she was. As I tell't ye, she was a wee body, wi' muckle black een, that lay quaiet in her face and never cam oot till they war want.i.t, an' a body gimp and sma', but roon' and weel proportioned throughoot. Her hand and her fit war jist past expression bonny. And she had a' her features conformin'--a' sma' but nane o' them ower sma'

in relation to ane anither. And she had a licht way wi' her, that was jist dazin'. She seemed to touch ilka thing wi' the verra tips o' her fingers, and syne ken a'thing aboot it, as gin she had a universal insicht; or raither, I wad say, her natur, notwithstandin' its variety, was sae h.o.m.ogeneous, that whan ae nerve o' her spiritual being cam in contack wi' onything, the haill sowl o' her cam in contack wi' 't at the same time and thereby; and ilka pairt read the report efter its ain fashion, translatin' 't accordin' to 'ts ain experience: as the different provinces and languages o' the Chinese Empire read the universal written tongue. A heap o' pains I took that I micht never hae to say _I dinna ken_ to sic a gleg-ee'd cratur as that. And ilka day she cam to read wi' me, and we jist got on like a mail-coach--at least I did--only the wrang road. An' she cam aye i' the efternoon and bade till the gloamin' cam doon an' it grew ower mirk to ken the words frae ane anither. And syne she wad gang and dress hersel' for denner, as she said.

"Ye may say I was a muckle gowk. And ye may lauch at a bairn for greitin' efter the mune; but I doot that same avarice o' the wee man comes frae a something in him that he wad be ill aff wi'oot. Better greit for the mune than no be cawpable o' greetin' for the mune. And weel I wat, I grat for the mune, or a' was dune, and didna get it, ony mair than the lave o' my greedy wee brithers."

The night had gathered thick about them. And for a few moments out of the darkness came no sound. At length Mr Cupples resumed:

"I maun jist confess, cauf that I was--and yet I wad hae been a greater cauf gin it hadna been sae--I cud hae lickit the verra dist aff o' the flure whaur her fit had been. Man, I never saw onything like her, The hypostasis o' her was jist perfection itsel'. Weel, ae nicht--for I wrocht full late, my een war suddenly dazed wi' the glimmer o'

something white. I thocht the first minute that I had seen a ghost, and the neist that I was a ghost mysel'. For there she was in a fluffy cloud o' whiteness, wi' her bonny bare shouthers and airms, and jist ae white rose in her black hair, and deil a diamond or ruby aboot her!

"'It's so hot,' said she, 'in the drawing-room! And they're talking such nonsense there! There's n.o.body speaks sense to me but you, Mr Cupples.'

"''Deed, mem,' says I, 'I dinna ken whaur it's to come frae the nicht.