Salted with Fire Part 21

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!"

"That's me!--and ye're richt, mother! But, eh, gien ye wad hae me loe ye frae this meenut to the end o' my days, be but a wee fair to Isy: _I_ hae been a d.a.m.nt sc.o.o.n'rel til her!"

"Jamie; Jamie! ye're provokin the Lord to anger--sweirin like that in his vera face--and you a minister!"

"I provokit him a heap waur whan I left Isy to dree her shame! Divna ye min' hoo the apostle Peter cursed, whan he said to Simon, 'Gang to h.e.l.l wi' yer siller!'"

"She's telt the soutar, onygait!"

"What! has _he_ gotten a hand o' her?"

"Ay, has he!--And dinna ye think it'll be a' ower the toon lang or this!"

"And hoo will ye meet it, mother?"

"We maun tell yer father, and get him to quaiet the soutar!--For _her_, we maun jist stap her mou wi' a bunch o' bank-notts!"

"That wad jist mak it 'maist impossible for even her to forgie you or me aither ony langer!"

"And wha's she to speyk o' forgivin!"

The door opened, and Peter entered. He strode up to his wife, and stood over her like an angel of vengeance. His very lips were white with wrath.

"Efter thirty years o' merried life, noo first to ken the wife o' my boasom for a messenger o' Sawtan!" he panted. "Gang oot o' my sicht, wuman!"

She fell on her knees, and held up her two hands to him.

"Think o' Jamie, Peter!" she pleaded. "I wad tyne my sowl for Jamie!"

"Ay, and tyne his as weel!" he returned. "Tyne what's yer ain to tyne, wuman--and that's no your sowl, nor yet Jamie's! He's no yours to save, but ye're deein a' ye can to destroy him--and aiblins ye'll succeed! for ye wad sen' him straucht awa to h.e.l.l for the sake o' a guid name--a lee!

a hypocrisy!--Oot upo ye for a Christian mither, Mirran!--Jamie, I'm awa to the toon, upo my twa feet, for the mere's cripple: the vera deil's i' the hoose and the stable and a', it would seem!--I'm awa to fess Isy hame! And, Jamie, ye'll jist tell her afore me and yer mother, that as sene 's ye're able to crawl to the kirk wi' her, ye'll merry her afore the warl', and tak her hame to the manse wi' ye!"

"Hoot, Peter! Wad ye disgrace him afore a' the beggars o' Tiltowie?"

"Ay, and afore G.o.d, that kens a'thing ohn onybody tellt him! Han's and hert I s' be clear o' this abomination!"

"Merry a wuman 'at was ta'en wi' a wat finger!--a maiden that never said _na_!--Merry a la.s.s that's nae maiden, nor ever will be!--Hoots!"

"And wha's to blame for that?"

"Hersel."

"Jeemie! Jist Jeemie!--I'm fair scunnert at ye, Mirran!--Oot o' my sicht, I tell ye!--Lord, I kenna hoo I'm to win ower 't!--No to a'

eternity, I doobt!"

He turned from her with a tearing groan, and went feeling for the open door, like one struck blind.

"Oh, father, father!" cried James, "forgie my mither afore ye gang, or my hert 'ill brak. It's the awfu'est thing o' ony to see you twa striven!"