^%. ^ ,o%

IMAGE I MLUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

t^5 '

5r /^./i

1.0

I.I

1.25

^::!IIIM iiM

- liU |22
IIIM '""^
2.0

1.8

U IIIII.6

^;.

"e-l

^^^
<^.,

^^,

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY 14SB0

(716) 872-4S03

'<^

^. \

.^-^o

^v- ^fl

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHM/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques

1980

Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques

The Institute has attempted tr obtain the best
original copy available for filming. Features of this
copy which may be bibliographically unique,
which may alter any of the images in the
reproduction, or which may significantly change
the usual method of filming, are checked below.

L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire
qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details
de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du
point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier
une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dans la m^thode normale de filmage
sont indiqu^;S ci-dessous.

Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur

□ Coloured pages/
Paoes de couleur

Covers damaged/
Couverture endommagde

Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaur^e et/ou pelliculde

Cover title missing/

Le titre de couverture manque

Coloured maps/

Cartes gdographiques en couleur

Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)

Coloured plates and/or illustrations/
Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Pages damaged/
Pages endommagdes

□ Bound with other material/
Reli6 avec d'autres documents

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

I. a reliure serr^e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distortion le long de la marge int^rieure

Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout^es
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte,
mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas 6t6 film^es.

CI Pages restored and/or laminated/
J Pages restaur6es et/ou pellicul6es

D
D
D
□
D
D
0^!

Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/
Pages ddcolor^es, tachetdes ou piqudes

Pages detached/
Pages d^tachdes

Showthrough/
Transparence

Quality of print varies/
Quality in^gale de I'impression

Includes supplemenxary material/
Comprend du material supplementaire

Only edition available/
Seule Edition disponible

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to
ensure the best possible image/
Les pages totalement ou partiellement
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure,
etc., ont 6t6 film6es d nouveau de fapon d
obtenir la meilleure image possible.

Additional comments:/
Commentaires suppldmentaires:

[21

This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

Ce document est filmd au taux de reduction indiqu6 ci-dessous.

10X

14X

18X

22X

26X

30X

12X

16X

20X

24X

28X

32X

ils

lifier

age

The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:

National Library of Canada

The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in keeping with the
filming contract specifications.

L'exemplaire filmd fut reproduit grdce d la
g6n6rosit6 de:

Bibliothdque nationale du Canada

Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le
plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et
de la nettetd de l'exemplaire film6, et en
conformity avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprim^e sont film^s en commenpant
par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la
dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second
plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemiplaires
originaux sont film6s en commenpant par la
premidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la dernidre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol •—♦'(meaning "CON-
TINUED "), or the symbol V (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.

Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la
dernidre image de chaque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbole — ♦> signifie "A SUIVRE", le
symbole V signifie "FIN".

Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:

Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre
film6s d des taux de reduction diff^rents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour etre
reproduit en un seul clichd, il est film6 d partir
de Tangle sup^rieur gauche, de gauche d droite,
et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre
d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
illustrent la mdthode.

rata

lelure,
d

32X

oil

Our J

eames

*. i <

Kaktj).\ .e.

t . !

VMES.

IvRSON.

MONTREAL :

«}

I .

/ i'

Uur J

ea^mes.

r}${

THE

Chronicles of Kartdale

OUR JEAMES.

EDITED BY

J. MURDOCH HENDERSON.

MONTREAL :

WILLIAM DRYSDALE & CO.

1896.

PS8f

A 77

E„te,ad ac,»r,li„g i„ Art of Parliamen, „r Caaa.l,, i„ ,h. ye,r one
in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture.

PREFACE.

When I first made the acquaintance of the old
schoolmaster of Brigton, I little thought that he would
ever make of me a literary legatee. Indeed, it was only
after years of friendly intercourse with him, that I
discovered he had been putting his pen to paper in
behalf* of posterity. Though he was a man endowed
with an intelligence readily discerned, and one in whose
company I always derived the greatest comfort, as he
would sit at my fireside of a winter's night, spinning
his yarns about Kartdale and its neighbourhood, the
thought never struck me that he was ever likely to
become a candidate for literary fame. His manner
was always the reticence of modesty itself. One
evening, however, he arrived at my house, with a
portmanteau in his hand, and, after the usual greetings,
I noticed that he set it down carefully within the
parlour door. My first thought was that the old
gentleman was going to stay with me all night, and
the idea naturally gave me the highest delight, since
our sederunt could thus be prolonged to "the wee
short hour ayont the twal." But by and by I found
out my mistake. The old schoolmaster did not intend
to stay with me all night. His portmanteau contained
no part of his wardrobe. And nobody could have been

I'KKFACE.

more taken aback than I was, when, after a preliminary
conversation on sundry sul)jects, the old man told me,
not without a very careful breaking of the ice, that he
had made up his mind to make me his literary
executor. Of course I urged my literary inexperience,
and the danger there would be to his name and fame
in employing a novice as his editor. But he would
take no denial. He had long been convinced that I
was the only man to whom he could intrust the task of
looking over his papers, when he was dead and gone;
and when there came a (juaver in the old man's voice
as he opened his portmanteau and lifted from its
compartments several piles of manuscript, I felt how
impotent I was to do anything that would tend to
l)ring discomfort to the old gentleman. Thus did 1
become the old schoolmaster's literary executor. And
now after careful revision of his autobiography, as well
as of his sketches, short tales and verses, I have decided
to present to the public this the first instalment of tlie
literary remains of the most sterling friend I ever iiad.
In these sketches I have made little or no attempt to
change the old man's style, about which the reader may
notice, perhaps, the least possible flavour of the school-
master's proverbial verbosity. My only justification
in presuming to see his writings through the press, lies
in the hope that the merits of the author may force the
reader to think as seldom as possible of the editor.

J. M. H.

OUR JHAMES.

The gloaming of life has no tale to avow

Compared with the tale of the springtide that's past :

The griefs of the then are the joys of our now,
The bad is a better, the good is our best.

Although more than a hundred years have elapsed
since Kartdale first started on its prosperous career
as a manufacturing centre, it is even yet at times
looked upon by some of its sister parishes as a kind
of a new place. As everybody knows who has studied
the gazetteer of Scotland, tlie town has had a very
rapid growth, much more rapid, it is said, than any
other town of its size from the Cheviots to John
O'Groat's House; and although the industries which
first gave its commercial activities an impulse — the
weaving and the cotton-spinning trades — have now
all but died out, others have taken their place, and at
the present writing the burgh of Kartdale continues
to be one of the most thriving towns in the west. The
valley in which it is situated is watered by a stream,
which provides many of the factories with a never-
failing water power, and which drains an outside
broadening plain that extends to the banks of the
parent river. On account of the level character of

Till-: CIIUONICLKS OK KARTDAl.K.

the site on which the town itself is built, the streets
have a regular appearance, radiating at right angles
from the Main Street, which formed in early days the
king's nighway, and which is now, as its name im-
plies, the principal thoroughfare. A local artist has
published a series of sketches of the principal buildings
of the town, among which, of course, take rank as the
most interesting, the seven chu'.ches. It is needless
to say that these sketches have a special interest to
those who have not seen the place for years, and when
the news was carried to the writer, who has been away
from the old scenes for more than a quarter of a
century now, that a new minister had been inducted
to the charge of one of the churches the artist has so
skilfully depicted, there came welling up in his memory
the personality of this one and of that one who would
have been present at the installation ceremonies, had
death or absence from Kartdale not prevented them.
It must now be nearly forty years since the "placing"
of the incumbent who lately retired, was celebrated in
the little edifice — forty years of busy life to him, forty
years of changes — ah, how many ! — to his congrega-
tion ; and yet nearly all the incidents connected with
the earlier ceremony came out clearly on the writer's
memory, as he sat in a kind of mesmeric dream over
the artist's pen-and-ink delineation of the "auld
biggin " in which it took place. The improvised
platform with its rows of ministers assembled from
the neighbouring i^arishes, the laying on of hands and
the addresses to the newly ordained minister and his
people, the soiree in the evening and the piesentation
of pulpit-gown and Bible, the congratulations and

OUR J K AMES.

the home-rejoicings — all came up before him, for the
moment, as if the event had been but of yesterday.
And again the humble pageant has been repeated.

In the description given of the more recent installa-
tion observances, there is no mention made of the
church-officer; and yet few of us still living, who were
present at the former " placing," can fail to remember
the old man who, as sexton, was the busy master of
ceremonies on that occasion. Things may have
changed since then, and the wings of the present in-
cumbent of Jeames's office may have been clipped ;
but we can hardly think that the personality of our
friend Jeames, for every boy in our time recognized
in Jcamcs a friend, is likely to be forgotten as long as
there are tongues in the parisli of Kartdale to gossip
of the past. For be it known that Jeames was a
character, perhaps the last of the race which Dean
Ramsay has so well depicted by anecdote and illustra-
tion. Like the class of which he was a relic, his
eccentricity was more of the office than of the man.
There was in him a certain kind of ability which com-
manded respect even from those above his station in
life, while with the younger folks of the congregation
he was not only a favourite but a man of great weight
in theological disputings. Towards the latter he was
as obliging and condescending in his manner as he
was to the elders of the church. Indeed, he had a way
of meeting the impertinences of youth — no boy ever
thought of being actually impudent to Jeames — which
seldom failed to put a check upon them ; and yet, at
the same time, his manner with the obstreperous was
so gentle and unassertive, except in matters pertaining

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

to dogma and church creeds, that he seldom lost his
popularity even with the misdemeanant whom he had
occasion to reprove. In a word, Jeames was looked
upon as being as much of a permanency about the
church as any other individual connected with it.

As a weaver, Jeames had never prospered. But for
his office in the church, he would have, no doubt,
taken rank as a mere ** puir body " in the town. The
office was the man, and Jeames was by no means slow
to emphasize the fact whenever an opportunity occurred
to magnify his office. According to his own opinion,
variously expressed, he was, without doubt, the next
highest official to the minister, even to the exclusion
of the precentor or the ruling elder; and always when
he spoke of the congregation over which, as he was
accustomed to say, " we preside, as it were," the ex-
pression " our kirk " had about it, as uttered by him,
an unction which neither italics nc!" inverted commas
can possibly represent. Nor was the dignity of his
office by any means concealed when he undertook to
discuss some knotty point of theology with the
younger folks, of a Sabbath afternoon in the session-
house. On such occasions his utterances were nearly
always given r catJiedra, in tones which seemed to
ward off all discussion. With the most of us Jeames
had no equal as a theologian in the church, unless it
were the minister and one or two of the elders, though
we had no means of comparing him with these, seeing
they never thought of discussing theological difficulties
with us. Indeed, it was through Jeames's teachings
that many of us had our first wrestlings with Cal-
vinism, and thus learned to defend ourselves against

['?%

OUR JEAMES.

the heterodoxy of other creeds and denominations.
In him we found a Hving exponent of the faith our
fathers professed ; in him was to be seen the possessor
of a log? al insight that could detect the foul fallacies
of Armenianism, as he called them, or of any other
ism that was not to be identified as part and parcel of
the true Presbyterianism. Gifted with a fluency of
speech wh.icb seldom halted to pay respect to an in-
terruption, he was all the more able to show to advan-
tage his intimate knowledge of the history of the Bible
and its teachings, interlarding his arguments, as he
always did, with'; some of the many hundreds of texts
he had memorized during his moments of leisure.

" I'm no gaun to say," he would sometimes declare,
" that there's nae chance for ither folk ; that would
maybe be to gang ower faur, and be unnecessarily
limiting the mercy o' God himsel'; though the Confes-
sion o' Faith is in itsel' nae respecter o' i)ersons out-
side the pale o' Presbyterianism. lUit whether or no
ither folk forbye Presbyterians hae a chance, there's ae
thing I hae decided in my ain mind, and that is that
the man wha doesnae attend our kirk is living at a dis-
advantage, if no to his morals, at least to his theology.
The spoon-meat that is whiles served out to some o'
our neighbours, gin a' stories be true, maun surely be
fushionless stutT, Exactly sae ! "

Or at other times when he happened to notice some
stranger in the church of a Sabbath, he would often
say : — " We are mightily glad to see outsiders coming
to hear us, even if it be only occasionally. The sugh
o' the truth cannae be hauden within our four walls,
thick though they be. The report o' the manfu' ex-

THE CHRONICLEvS OF KARTDALE.

positions o' our humble organization cannae but hae
an effect on the outside world, and thereby induce the
spoon-fed folk o' our neighborhood to come within
the influence o' things better than they're accustomed
to. Man, when I sometimes look in the e'en o' thae
stranger bodies that come to hear us, as they sit
drinking in ilka word o' the discourse, I see how
wonderfully the right o't, sae eloquently expressed
frae aboon my seat, refreshes them in their hearts and
very souls. They actually gang hame new creatures.
Exactly sae ! "

As has been hinted, the session-house was Jeames's
theological hall. It consisted of a small compartment
enclosed underneath the gallery of the church in the
north-west comer of the quaint old square edifice; and
there it was, during the interval of public worship, or,
as has been said, in the afternot)n before Sunday-
school, that Jeames was accustomed to have a band of
eager listeners around, listening to his dogmatic utter-
ances, or what was more interesting, to a discussion
between him and some young or elderly disputant, as
the case might be. During the winter months, these
audiences were always at their largest, since to the
interest of the sexton's disquisitions there was added
the comfort of a glowing fire in the large old-fashioned
stove which stood in a corner of the room. There
was not a little of the Socratic method about Jeames's
teachings, though there was seldom any of the irony
of the wily Athenian to be detected in them. Like the
great Grecian philosopher, he was for ever searching
after the truth, though it was always after the manner
of one who had found it : and however at times he

OUR jKAMKS.

would fall a victim to some shrewd antagonist, he was
seldom unsuccessful in his raids against youthful
ignorance.

Innovations of any kind, from the improving of the
heating apparatus to the slightest change in the
manner of conducting the service, were Jeamcs's ab-
horrence, though it must in justice be said of him that
he was never the last to give in, when the changes
had once been accomplishrd.

" An innovation is the finger-post to a heresy," he
was accustomed to say, " and it's mair than I can un-
ci erstan' how men can gie way to the new-fangled
notions o' a wheen o' bee-headed loons, wha care as
muckle about the purifying o' God's house, as did the
Pharisees and money-changers o' auld. The women
folks arc aye easily enough carried awa' by sic falda-
r^ls ; but that men, in whom God breathed the breath
o' life and manhood, should think weel o' heresy in
ony form is past my comprehension. Gie them ane o'
thae new-fangled psalm-tunes, and they want a baund;
gie them a baund and they'll want an organ, and gie
them the kist o' whistles, and afore ye ken whaur ye
are, ye'll hae the minister dressed in crimson and a
cocked hat, wi' caunles burning a' about him in the
pulpit. Exactly sae ! "

" Let sic heretics as wish for a new and improved
psalmody and kirk service," he would sometimes con-
tinu'j in spite of interruption, " let sic heretics, I say,
read the Scots' Worthies, and there they'll find in a
l)0ok maist as honestly and inspiredly written as the
Bible itsel', something about the simplicity o' public
worship, when our forefaithers had neither pulpit nor

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

!ii

pew to sit in. Their simple service was guid enough
for them, honest men, and is surely guid enough for
us that cannae boast o' a' their piety or upright con-
duct, or even the half o't. Gin I had my will, I would
stick to their plan o' worship as a saving grace. For
few will deny that their hearts were in the right place,
or say that their way o' thinking was nae sound."

On one occasion, after due consideration, the session
had come to the decision that the old practice of read-
ing the line should be discontinued by the precentor,
Ihe practice handed down probably from Knox's time,
when many of the common people were unable to
read, had been introduced into " our kirk " by the men
who had built it ; and such a '' use and wont " cere-
mony could hardly disappear without giving some
little offence to the older adherents. Of those who
were offended, or professed to be offended for a time,
was our friend Jeames, and as usual he was not slow
to express his indignation at what he called an innova-
tion that would be sure to lead to something worse.

" Guid forgie us for the sacrileege! " was his exclama-
tion to some of his more youthful disciples, during the
afternoon of the day on which the precentor laid aside
the semblance of the town-crier as he intoned the
sacred words that were to be sung, after his recital of
them in the keynote of the psalm-tune. "Ay, Guid
forgie us for the sacrileege ! Gin there be ae kind o' a
theft waur than anither, it is surely the thieving that
puts its hand to the public worship o' God's ain folk,
that begrudges the richness in length and breadth o' a
people's piety as expressed in praise o' Him that made
us a'. This scrimpin' o' our feelings as expressed in

OUR JEAMES.

words is nacthing short o' profanity, and if Providence
owerlook it, it is maybe mair than it has ony right to
dae."

" But whaur is the profanity ? " asked one of the
lads whose father was one of those who had advocated
the change, " If there be profanity in it, it maun sure-
ly be profanity unspoken."

" And is there nae sic a thing as aiths unbo-n ? "
exclaimed jeames. " Ah, my man, ye maun ken there
is a profanity of omission as weel as o' commission,
though maybe ye are ower young to understand the
maitter as I do. But wait till ye're as aula as I am,
and ye 11 maybe experience how fine a thing it is in
the worship o' God to hae your mouth saturated twice
ower wi' the contrite words o' the inspired psalmist."

Among the adherents of Jcames's philosophy class,
some of whom were fairly well up in their schooling,
as the saying is, the above doctrine was for ever after
known as Jeames's " dogma of double saturation."

Little things disturb small communities, the discus-
sion over them often leading to the verge of disintegra-
tion. Some time after the noise in connection with
the above-mentioned innovation had subsided, and
when people had come to speak of it as a custom of
the past only to be laughed at, the precentor thought
to introduce one Sunday morning — some said on his
own responsibility, though he would hardly have dared
do that — one of those psalm tunes — St. Anne's, per-
haps — in which the last two lines of the stanza are re-
peated in the course of singing it. There had been
rumors afloat for some weeks before that such a thing
was in contemplation ; for the singing class which the

THE CHRONICLES OF KAKTDALE.

precentor conducted once a week in tlie session-house,
would hardly have been engaged, as was said, in prac-
tising such a tune, unless some use were going to be
made of it. The whole congregation was therefore
on the qui vive for the innovation, ready to be divided
into two parties the moment the new tune was to be
heard in the church proper. Of course Jeames knew
that there was something afoot, and he and some of
the other more conservative of the brethren had been
seen shaking their heads in mournful conference over
the matter, although they were intelligent enough not
to condemn a thing before it had been tried. The only
man that really uplifted his voice against the move-
ment in its embryo state, was one Robin Drum, an
honest sort of a man who had, moreover, an opinion
of his own on most matters, though the opinion was
not always shared in by his neighbours. Perhaps it
was Robin's opposition that produced the most of the
excitement over the introduction of the new tune, for
people were beginning to listen to the advocacy which
some of the Presbyterian ministers were entering upon
at the time for an improved psalmody ; at least he was
known to have spoken his mind quite freely on the
subject to Jeames, bringing his indignation to the
fever point of threatening to leave the church if the
precentor's plans were not frustrated.

" Ye maun nae think o' sic a thing at your time o'
life," Jeames is said to have advised. " ^e hae been
sae lang accustomed to the wholesome food o' our bit
sanctuary here, that ye would fairly starve yoursel' in
ony ither communion : ye maun nae think o' sic a
thing."

OUR JEAMES.

" Starve or no starve," Robin is said to have replied,
** rii no stand this kind o' thing. It would be rank
hypocrisy for nie no to resist this attempt o' Satan to
niingio \vi* the sons o' God in their worship as in the
days o' Job, seeing I'm convinced in my ain mind that
the ways o' Satan and the scarlet lady are but ane and
the same; and ye'll hardly be inclined to think ither-
vvise yoursel, considering your responsibilities as an
officer in God's temple, when ye contemplate the at-
tempts that are bein' made to introduce skirlin' tunes
that hae their proper place amang the roistering ne'er-
do-weels o' Satan's kingdom in the goose-dubs o' a
fause religion."

" You're nae doubt right in a' that ye say, Mr.
Drum," answered Jeanies, " but we maun jist baud our
souls in patience until we hear what the thing is like.
I'm no a man to condemn a thing afore proving it,
and, come what may, I think I'll stick to the auld big-
gin', and I think sae should you, Mr. Drum. In this
worl' we may gang fardcr for a guid thing aiid fare
waur than in our kirk, whaur the doctrine is sound
enough, even if the service should gang a wee bit
aglee."

The influence of neither Robin Drum nor Jeames,
however, had any effect upon the precentor, who, on
a subsequent Sabbath, put up the long tickets or
psalm-tune cards on either side of him with as much
nonchalance as if the new tune were but an ordinary
one. All went well enough until the fourth line was
completed ; but when the precentor returned to the
third line of the verse to repeat it, all eyes were directed
towards a movement in* Robin Drum's seat, where he,

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

his wife and their seven children arose simultaneously,
and, at a signal given by the head of the Drum house-
hold, marched in procession down the long aisle,
seemingly keeping step to the precentor's singing. Of
course such an incident could not but create a commo-
tion after the restraint of the service was over, and
but for the merriment created by a wag who re-
christened the unfortunate tune by calling it " Robin
Drum's March," the discussions might have taken a
more senous turn for the peace of the congregation.
As it was, there was discussion enough about the
matter during the week, the minister having at last
to interfere by calling upon Mr. Drum and promising
to have his opinion respected as far as it was possible.

Jeames, of course, continued for a time in opposition
to what he called " the unsightly desecration o' the
precentor's box." But it was in the afternoon after
the offence to Robin's feelings had occurred^ that his
indignation rose to its higher degree of temperature.

"Woe unto that thing by which offences come !"
he exclaimed to his youthful friends in the session-
house. " Robin Drum may be headstrong in some
things, but he's honest for a' that. I'm no gaun' to
justify him in the course he has ta'en, but the thing
that has offended him should not be tolerated in ony
truly Christian place o' worship. Let this thing con-
tinue, and we'll hae a baund in the kirk afore mony
months gang by. Exactly sae ! "

" But what is wrang wi' the tune ? " asked one of
his listeners.

" It's no' the +une that's sae far wrang, if it would
only stop at the right place; but for us to gang on

. I III

OUR JEAMES.

skirlin' the last twa lines, as if we wanted to impress
the Almighty wi' the sweetness o' our singing — a
pridefu' thing for onybody to dae — is mair than ony
upright man ca^i stand."

" It may be right enough what you say," said his
disciple, respectfully, though not without a twinkle in his
eye, "but I'm afraid, Jeames, ye hac.ae yet experienced
to its fullest extent, how fine a thing it is in the worship
o' God to hae your mouth saturated twice ower wi'
the contrite words o' the inspired psalmist;" and thus
it was that Jeames's " dogma of double saturation,"
became better known than ever from its once being
wielded to his own disadvantage in argument.

But after all that has been told of the v/orthy sexton,
it remains to be said that among his many virtues
there lurked a vice, or at least what some people even
in his time were beginning to denounce as a vice. The
fact is, Jeames was fond of a glass, a habit which he
himself, in speaking of it, declared to have been con-
tracted in his younger days when the weaver lads with
whom he associated had more pence than prudence.
And as there are few men, in the lower walks of life,
at least, who are more highly esteemed than they de-
serve, so it was with Jeames, when his character was
being discussed by the "unco' guid." His chief fault,
if not his only one, always seemed to come uppermost
with some folk, who, even when praising him for some
remark he had made or some kindness he had done,
were sure to regret that such an obliging, simple-
minded man should ever be apt to forget himself.
But if the truth of the matter had always been kept in
view in regard to Jeames's wee bits of trials, as he

THK CHRONICLES OF KARTDAMO.

called them, his half-and-half friends — for he had no
foes — would have been more inclined than they were
to blame those who paid for his treats than the poor
man himself. Indeed, Jeames had no money of his
own to spend in either treating himself or other people,
and when he did happen to get a toothful too much,
as the saying is, he had no doubt been drawn on by
the couthieness of the crack with some drouthy neigh-
bour who was willing enough to pay the lawing to have
the benefit of the crack. For if Jeames was an in-
teresting conversationalist at most of times, he was even
more so when he had a glass in, and as he was known
in a social way by everybody of his own class in the
town, it was often difficult enough for him to take a
walk down the street and escape the necessity of
licking his lips or using a peppermint drop.

On one occasion, and only one, as far as can be
remembered, did James's predilection in the matter o{
strong waters lead him into what could be called a
serious difficulty, as far as his position as church-officer
was concerned. And here it may l)e said that the
worthy sexton was not a man ever given to drink
himself beyond all self-conscious cognizance. As has
been said, he was a man fond of his glass, and seldom
or never went beyond two or three at a time, even under
the most pressing inducements ; but on the occasion
in which he became seriously involved with the digni-
taries of the congregation, he unfortunately happened
to take his glass or two at a very inopportune season,
and thus fell a victim to circumstances, as many have
done before and since, even when engaged in com-
mitting a less doubtful act of piety than taking a

i I

OUR jftAMES.

pl.'iss of whiskey on a Sunday morning. But the story
liad l)etter be told in something Hkc the language
which Jcames himself used, when he afterwards gave it
as one of the most serious experiences of his life.

" I'm no ane to justify ony act o' mine that has even
the appearance o' evil about it," he would say.
" There's nae doubt I was wrang ; but when on the
Sunday nK)rning I met Willie Tumbull, and saw how
anxious he was to find somebody to join him jist for
a minute or sae in the Cross Keys near by, I had nae
the heart to refuse him, for he is really a kind-hearted
young man is Willie; and since he has maybe owcr
muckle siller in his hand for a man o' his time o' life,
and is hardly possessed o' strength o' mind enough
to keep it, there cannae be very nnich hairm in encour-
aging him at times to spend some o't on ither folk
that hae hard times to mak' ends meet. Ye ken, it
is aye my custom, when the nKjrning is gui>l, to tak'
a bit stroll through the town as soon as I hae seen
everything put to rights in the kirk; and sae it was on
the Sunday I speak of ; it was a fine frosty morning,
and I hadnac got further than the middle o' the square,
when wha should turn up but Willie himsel', a v.ee
kenning bleared about the e'en, and looking kind o'
disconsolate like."

" ' A guid morning to ye, Mr. Turnbull,' says I to
him as I made to continue my stroll.

" ' It may be a guid enough morning to you, Jeames,'
said he, 'but I'm ihinking my head 'ill not let me see
it in the same light as you;' and he laughed a kind o'
cheerless laugh. ' By the way, do you think the Cross
Key 'oiks are up yet, Jeames ? '

THE CIIKONICLES OF KAKTDALE.

it t T».

iir

«i

I'm sure I cannae tell/ said I, ' but there's naething
like trying to get them up, if ye really want them.'

** * Come awa then,' said he, * and we'll try,' and he
made to put his airni into mine.

" * Na, na,' said I, ' this is Sunday morning, and it's
no for me to be seen to gang into a public-house on sic
a day, when the responsibilities o' my office are upon
me,' and I again made to pass on. Rut the r 1
discussed the maitterwith hmi,the mair importu: . i
becam', and sae it wrought about that; just as we ,,>ic
passing the door o' the inn, the landlord himsel' hap-
pened to step out for a moment, just to get a mouth fu'
o' fresh air, and maybe to see what kind o' a morning
it was; sae we baith gaed in, in a natural enough way,
and had an honest glass thegither.'

" *So we're gaun to hae the privileege o' listening
to a stranger in the pulpit, the day,' said Willie to me
after a bit.

" * I'm no sae sure about it bein' a privileege,' said I,
* for folk dinnae ken what kind o' doctrine a man may
preach until he's fairly tried. If he hae the paper
afore him, we're aye sure o' his orthodoxy, for its
kittle work for ony Presbyterian minister to read a
heterodox sermon and no get girncd. There's nae
contradictory evidence to save him afore the Presby-
tery if only they hae his sermon in writing.'

" ' I'm afraid it's weel concealed heterodoxy that 'ill
escape you,' Jeames,' said he, and afore lang we were
in the deeps o' an honest crack wi' anither glass to
crown it, and afore we got through, it cam' near
enough to the ringing o' the bell, for me to hurry awa
to see after my duties.'

' • %)

OUR J E AMES.

The sequel was well enough known to everybody to
recjuire any personal explanations on the part of
Jeanies in the narrating A it afterwards or even now.

The clear frosty weather, though in itself exhilarat-
ing in its effects, only served to counteract the ex-
hilarating ctTects of Jeanies's potations, and with the
assistance of the timely peppermint drop which covered
at least tlie smell of liis transgression, he managed to
escape detection as he busied himself with his Sabl)ath
morning duties. The congregation assembled in due
time, and the minister took his place, and at last
Jeames sat down in his seat in the pew near the pulpit,
the most prominent in the church, next to the pre-
centor's box.

Everything went on well enough during the opening
services, but hardly had the stranger in the pulpit
reached his '' firstly," after the usual introduction, when
a soft breathing sound was heard issuing from the
betherell's pew, loud enough to attract some attention.
It wasn't a whistle, but it was something that might
develop into such, if something worse did not happen.
Of course Jeames did not succumb to his enemy all
at once, for every now and again he would jerk back
his head as if in protest against any accusation that
might be urged against his sleeping while on duty,
and with an evident desire in his drowsy eye to follow
the discourse. The struggle by no means lessened
the interest taken in the poor man's movements on the
part of the congregation, though the minister, quite
unconscious of all that was going on within the pre-
cincts of the pulpit, kept closely to his paper as if all
his points were being duly appreciated. The younger

*Tllll1l||rilt ffn™™p

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

folks had taken in the situation from the beginning,
and probably would have tittered in their excitement
but for the frowns that began to gather on the brows
of their more sedate guardians at the head of the seats.
At last the climax came. Jeames's head fell upon his
bosom, and the soft breathing of a stolen nap began to
grow in its intensity, until eventually the victim of
circumstances began to snore, and, what was worse,
began to whistle by way of accompaniment. At the
first sound the minister paused for a moment, at the
second he looked over the pulpit, and at the third he
wisely went on with his sermon as if there was nothing
amiss. But he might as well have been reading a
discourse to the stones iu the graveyard, for all atten-
tion was fixed upon the hapless sexton ; all were
won lering how the incident would end. Would he
awake before the sermon was over ? And what woukl
he th'- k of himself when he did awake ? Would the
service close and the people be dismissed before he
came to his senses ? And what would the elders an'^
managers do about the matter afterwards ? The man
who sat in the seat nearest to Jeames slammed the door
of his pew, as if by accident, but the sound had no
effect upon the unconscious sleeper. The precentor
moved nervously in his seat, and looked as if he would
like to go over and touch him on the shoulder, but
on second thought, considering what a breach of cere-
monial etiquette such conduct would be, settled down
to endure the calamity that had fallen upon his neigh-
bour with official nonchalance. Then the man that had
slanuned his pew door, took out his handkerchief as if
to wipe the perspiration from his brow, and blew a

OUR JEAMES.

ginning,
citement
le brows
:he seats,
upon his
began to
dctim of
Ls worse,

At the

it, at the

third he

5 nothing

eading a

all atten-

all were

Voukl he

lat woii'/u

^ould the

before he

Iders an'^

The man

the door

had no
precentor
he would
ilder, but
li of cere-
led down
lis neigh-
1 that had
chief as if

blew a

1
ft

nasal blast in it that might have awakened the seven
sleepers ; but all unavailingly, for Jeanies slept and
snored and whistled, and whistled and snored, as un-
conscious of the turmoil he was creating as was Jonah
of the fate of Nineveh during his term of retirement
within his cetaceous retreat. The elders frowned of
course, but what r »uld they do ? What they would do
afterwards was a different question. The managers
looked at one another, as if to take silent counsel, but
the awe of the place was upon them and they had not
been trained to converse with their eyebrows. At
last, seeing that there was no help for it, scandal or
no scandal, the ruling elder despatched his son to
awaken the misdemeanant, and just as the minister
was drawing towards his " lastly," the youth touched
Jeames's coat sleeve. But it was no gentle touch that
could disturb such a sleeper. Then he tapped him on
the shoulder, but finding that ineffectual, he at last
gave him a shake. Then Jeanies awoke.

" But mercy on me what an awakening," as some
one said afterwards, "The puir man started up wi' a
snort as if some ane had put a knife in him wi' deadly
intent. Then he looked a' around him, and as his
consciousness cam' back, I would like to ken wha
could prevent the maist o' the congregation frae laugh-
ing at the puir man's plight ; even the elders had to
repress the smile that would come, whether or no.
The fact is, if it hadnae happened in the kirk on Sunday
morning, I don't think there would hae been a dry
e'e, or a painless side for laughing, in the hale
audience. But I'm afraid it'll no be guid for him in
the lang run."
3

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

Nor at one time in the course of the subsequent
investigations, first by the managers to consider
whether he should be continued in his office, and
second by the session, whether he should not be
severely disciplined, did it seem as if the luckless
church-officer would escape with impunity. The poor
man's mishap became for several weeks the talk of the
congregation and even of the community at large,
and all the explanations Jeames could make did not
seem to find favor with those in authority.

" I'm afraid it's a' up wi' me, at last," he said one day
to the ruling elder's son, the stripling who had
brought things to a climax in the church, and who was
known to have a good deal of influence with his father.
" I'm afraid it's a' up wi' me at last, John, unless ye can
put in a word for me wi' somebody we baith ken, that
is high in authority at baith boards. The minister is
a kindly man, and'll no be likely to be very hard on me ;
and then, ye ken, it wasnae under him I committed
the offence o' fa'ing asleep in kirk. Indeed, I'm no
very sure but it was the reading frae the paper by the
strange minister that had something to dae wi' my
backsliding on this occasion. It's liard to keep ane's
e'en open when the exposition happens to be baith
dry and dreech."

" But I'm afraid, Jeames, ye didnae hear even much
o' the beginning o' the sermon," said the elder's son,
knowing well enough what was expected from him.

" Weel, maybe you're right after a'," answered the
betherell.

For a moment there was a pause as Jeames hung
down his head, at finding his logic defective.

;'ll .'

OUR JEAMES.

ubsequent

consider

)ffice, and

d not be

e luckless

The poor

talk of the

at large,

:e did not

id one day
who bad
d who was
his father.
less ye can
1 ken, that
minister is
rd on me;
committed
d, I'm no
per by the
ae wi' my
keep ane's
be baith

iven much
Ider's son,
Dm him.
jwered the

imes hung

" Besides, what is this I hear about the Cross Keys
and Willie Turnbull ? " asked the elder's son.

" The Cross Keys ? " exclaimed Jcames.

"Ay, the Cross Keys," was the reply.

" And Willie Turnbull ? "

" Ay, and Willie Turnbull."

Jcames was dumfounded, and hung his head again,
but this time with shame in his face. He was be-
ginning to realize that sleeping in church was not his
greatest ofifence. At last he looked up and asked the
young man who it was that had told him that story.

"Naebody has telt me ony story, Jcames," answered
the young man. " But some gleg-e'ed folk saw him
and you coming out o' the Cross Keys on the Sunday
morning afore kirk time, and he's hardly the company
for you to keep at sic a time."

'' And dae they say I was fou ? " asked the offender.

" No, they don't gang as far as that, but the elders
think if ye hadnae seen Willie Turnbull that morning
ye wouldnae hae been sae hard to wauken, and maybe
ye wouldnae hae fa'n asleep at a'."

" Weel, maybe they're right after a'. Exactly sae ! '*

" The fact is, Teames, and I speak to you as a
frien'— "

" I ken that brawly, John," interrupted the church-
ofificer.

" The fact is," continued the young man, " that
they're gaun to tak' nae half measures wi' ye, as faur as
I hear ; and I think the best thing ye can dae, is to
mak' a clean breast o' everything, and throw yoursel'
on the mercy o' the court. Don't ye think sae

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE

yoursel', Jeanies ? In ither things you're generally
a man o' sound judgment."

" Wcel, maybe you're right again, John," said
Jeames, after a moment's pause. " Exactly sae ! "
And thus it was that Jeames proceeded to tell the story
as it has already been told in his own words, and there
is nothing more to say about Jeames's mishap, except
that the elder's son interceded with the father in the
sexton's behalf, and the worthy man eventually escaped
the terrors of dismissal with a reprimand from the
managers, and a reproof from the session.

'>a

generally

hn," said
tly sae 1 "
I the story
and there
ap, except
her in the
lly escaped
from the

THE CRACK O' DOOM.

CHAPTER I.

" What's the truth,— is't but a seeming ? "

The wise man asks with doubting nod ;
" What's the seeming, — only dreaming ?
>" Has religion lost her God ? "

The climax of terror to which superstition often
'• leads, in a commimity as in the individual, is but a
poor source from which to draw amusement. Nothing
is so soon forgotten as pain when it has once subsided;
and it is often easy enough to be merry over an ex-
perience of dread when the cause of our fears has been
; removed or explained. Children are often made sport
;; of by the unthinking, on account of their seemingly
f absurd experiences in the dark ; and yet, were those
^ywho indulge in merriment of this kind, to take time
I to investigate ,the laws that govern the imagination,
I as well as the mental activities it so often usurps or
^ holds in suspense, — were they to trace, in any kind of
J a scientific spirit, the origin of the myth as a natural
I outgrowth from an individual experience, they would
I not only perceive how natural it is for all animals, on
|the impulse, from the lowest to the highest, to endow

f
■*

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

the inanimate with a personality akin to their own, but
be more incHned to sympathize with young and old,
should they happen, for the moment, to locate the
cause of their fear beyond themselves, when in reality
it is aHo^ether subjective. It is, therefore, to be hoped
that tri"" following- incident in the history of Kartdale
may be riad, as it certainly is herewith written, in the
lights of ;ome of the serious aspects of the case.

In common with nearly all towns and villages where
evangelical influences at times have been confessedly
epidemic, the community of Kartdale has had its
periods of religious excitement and revival, though,
perhaps, none of them is so well remembered by the
older people of the present time as is that which had
its origin in the visit of an enthusiastic and popular
revivalist who came from tlie north many years ago,
and who held a series of meetings for a week or more
in the parish church. Never before had the parish
church l^een besieged during week days by such multi-
tudes of men and women — young and old — who
flocked to hear the burning exhortations which fell
from the lips of the preacher — for burning exhorta-
tions they really were, in more senses than one.
Possessed of an eccentricity of oratorical action that
seemed of itself to fascinate, and an emphasis of speech
that flouted all religious doubt, and oracularly con-
demned all who were troubled with such, he fairly re-
velled in his delineations of the life beyond, especially
of that aftcn--endurance which is so often spoken of in
the pulpit as eternal death. As he played with the
imaginations of his hearers, he called forth from them
in return vocal eccentricities of fervour and soul-

LE.

THE CRACK O' DOOM.

licir own, but
uiig and old,

locate the
len in reality
, to be hoped

of Kartdale
written, in the
:he case,
illages where

1 confessedly
has had its

ival, though,
bered by the
at which had

and popular
ly years ago,
veek or more
id the parish
y such multi-
id. old — who
is which fell
ling exhorta-
?s than one.
il action that
asis of speech
acularly con-
, he fairly re-
nd, especially
spoken of in
yed with the
;h from them
ir and soul-

quickening, which would certainly have been con-
sidered out of place during the even solemnity of an
ordinary church service, and, indeed, on account of
which the earnest evangelist's labours were at the time
severely criticized, and even condemned. Yet thou-
sands continued to attend his ministrations. His ad-
dresses, thickly interspersed as they were with heart-
searching epigrams and sensational illustrations, were
of the earnestness which secures, for the moment at
least, the deepest conviction ; and, as such, naturally
enough, excited many a poor conscience-stricken sin-
slave to cry aloud in his anguish. Even the uncon-
cerned — the critical and the sceptical — who went at
first, perhaps not to scoft, but merely to hear and to
see, possibly to find fault, often went away in tears 9ind
tribulation, while yet the spell of the preacher's words
was upon them, — while yet the prophecies of unseen
things which he portrayed in all the perspective of
reality were ringing in their souls. " If there be a place
of torment, there nuist be a heaven," is the thesis which
so often makes it a heresy to deny the existence of the
former ; and assuredly the evangelist of whom we speak
was anything but a heretic in the eyes of those who had
never doubted the existence of a place of torment ; for
wrestling with the Evil One, and directing all his
pulpit energy of mind and body against evil-doers, he
seldom failed to convince even the most listless of his
hearers that he himself, at least, honestly believed in
the existence of a prepared hereafter for the wicked—
an abode as hideously provided with the means of
punishment as is " the local habitation and the place "
fixed by the poetic imagery of Dante and Milton. In

ffiiliii

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

a word, if Calvinism be the truth of it, the revivalist
made sure that he had found the truth, and preached
it with a vehemency and an earnestness that fixed the
spell of the truth upon his hearers as long as the spell
of his oratory was upon them, if not for some time
after he had left the place.

"There's nae skim milk o' the gospel about that
man's preaching," said Jeames, the church-officer, to
Robin Drum, two gentlemen of whom we have already
had some knowledge. Robin had waited upon his
friend to accompany him part of the way home, after
everything had been locked up about the church for
the night,

" No, Mr. Drum ; there's the cream o' sound doc-
trine in ilka word he utters. Wi' him there's na*. dilly-
dallying wi' what some lukewarm Laodiceans ca' the
naituralness o' human imperfection, by way o' justify-
ing it ; nae caperin' wi' evil, because without it there
can be nae guid; l)ut actually running at things wi'
a red-hot poker, and burning the sma'est doubt out
o' the unbelieving heart. Gie us preaching like that in
a' our pulpits, and we would soon see the worl' takin'
tent o' its ways to mend them. Exactly sae ! "

'' His poker is het enough, I'll allow," antwerpd
Robin ; " but that it is het enough to burn out a' our
doubts, even the sma'est, as you say, is maybe a wee
bit o' exaggeration on your part, Jeames. There are
doubts and doubts, ye ken, though I can hardly sup-
pose that you are ever troubled wi' the anes that the
preacher tries to burn out wi' his poker."

" And what may the ither kind o' doubts be, if it be
a fair question ? " asked Jeames.

THE CRACK O DOOM.

; revivalist
i preached
t fixed the
IS the spell
some time

about that
L-officer, to
ive already
. upon his
lome, after
church for

sound doc-

s na^ dilly-

ans ca' the

/ o' justify-

Dut it there

things wi'

doubt out

like that in

worl' takin'

ae!"

" anjwered'
out a' our
laybe a wee
There are
hardly sup-
nes that the

-f

" Weel, if it's no ower daring on my pairt to mention
ane— a fundamental ane, as you yoursel' might ca' it —
there's the doubt in our ain honesty. In ither words,
are we aye right when we think we're right .'' "

" We're aye right, at ony rate, when we gang by the
Book."

" Ay, that's maybe true ; but then, ye ken, Jeames,
the Book cannae aye a'thegither be brought in as a
test," was Robin's reply. " For example, there's that
bit difficulty o' mine about the psalm-tune. I thought
I was right when I marched out o' the kirk ; and yet
now I see how kind o' ridiculous my conduct was, and
even sometimes I'm inclined to think that I was

wrang.

" Guidness me, Robin, you surely hae nae come to
diat."

" What for no ? It surely never can be right to be
wrang; and far less is it right no to confess we hae
been wrang."

" I don't mean that," said Jeames. " 1 mean what
you said about the Book no aye being a test o' our
conduct. Wha, after hearing a sermon like that we
hae just heard, can lose confidence in the power o' the
Book and a' that it says ? "

" I hae faith enough in the Book, as you very weel
ken, Jeames. What I mean is, hae we faith in our
faith — has our faith ony kind o' scientific bottom like?"

" Of course it has," answered Jeames eagerly, thus
encouraged to deliver himself ex catliedra. '" It not
c nly has a scientific bottom, but it actually is the bot-
tcm itsel' o' everything we can form ony notion about.
There's nae science in the worl' that hasnae to begin

tup: chronicles of kartdale.

wi' some self-evident truth — something that we cannae
but believe in. Just look aboon your head for a
minute, and ask yoursel' what the science o' astronomy
would hae come to had the first astronomers no
thought fit to start wi' a belief in the law o' gravitation
and motion. And what is the law o' gravitation, I
would like to ken, if it be nae a morsel o' the faith or
the truth within us that matches wi' the truth about
us ? Just tak' a look at a' thae stars up there, and
ye hae instantly to think o' the laws that govern
them, and to believe in the Governor that bauds these
laws in hand as the driver o' a horse bauds the reins.
The worl', or raither the universe, is but a great and
mighty system under the governance o' Ane, and that
Ane is God. And what is our humanity if it be nae
pairt of this system ? And gin, we find on record in
a book sic as the Bible is, the fundamental principles
o' sociology laid down a'most afore there was a hu-
manity, or when it was but ill-matured — fundamentals
that hae had the moulding o' the human into some-
thing the nearest like the divine, there's naething else
for us but to gang back, in this case as in the tither, to
find the source frae which they cam' — the same Gov-
ernor o' the universe — enunciated as they hae been by
Him through inspired humanity. Exactly sae ! "

" Weel, weel, Jeames, I hae nae doubt you're sound
enough on the beginning o' things," said Mr. Drum,
" but what is your opinion about their hinder end !
Do you think it 'ill be o' the nature o' a general stra-
mash sic as the revivalist made out the night it is gaun
to be. My very hair seemed to stand on end when he
was descril:)ing the dissolution o' a' things and thp

'4*

THE CRACK O' DOOM.

we cannae
lead for a
astronomy
loniers no
gravitation
r/itation, I
[he faith or
ruth about
there, and
lat govern
lauds these
s the reins.

I great and
le, and that
if it be nae
n record in

II principles
was a hu-

ndamentals
into some-
lething else
he tither,to
same Gov-
lae been by

sae !
Du're sound
Mr. Drum,
linder end !
eneral stra-
it it is gaun
nd when he
gs and th^

coming u' the King to judgment. It would surely be
a pity to see sic a bonnie worl' as this o' ours de-
stroyed in the manner he described."

" Pity here, or pity there ! " exclaimed the sexton.
" What docs the P>ook say al)out the maitter ?"

" The Book doesnae say much about it, as ye ken,
except by way o' parable, or figurative statement."

" But that it will be destroyed, bonnie though it be,
is a truth that naebody can doubt," Jeamcs continued.
" The design o' everything proclaims the prophecy.
You might as weel say because it is a pity to see a
l)()nnie rose wither, nature should save it frae decay.
As the hymn says, everything is a mere growth and
decay ; and like the rest o' things, the universe maun
likewise come to an end. Indeed, as it seems to me,
the ]!)Ook gies nae uncertain sound about the end,
whether it be by parable or ithervvise."

" And will it be, think ye, as the preacher said, by
tlie devouring element o' fire ? "

" I hae nae doubt about the maitter ; the Book says
it will, and wha am I that I should for a minute
doubt it ? "

" But it's no' hkely to be in our time, Jeames ?''

" That's neither here: nor there to us, Mr. Drum, as
I often say to ither folk. The day o' our death is
neither mair nor less than the Last Day, as far as we
are concerned. Yet, to my mind, as I v'liiles say to
mysel', it would be a blessed experience for some o'
us, that hae grounded our faith on things everlasting,
to be in the flesh when the trumpet sounds, and the
last grand commotion amid things terrestrial tak's
place. There hae been sects, and maybe they still

THK CIIRONICLKS OK KARTDALE.

■!iil

exist, that hac been kind o' positive in their notions
about the La^t Day, keeping watch day and night for
its consunnnation. I only hope that folk'ill hae a man
hke tlie evangcHst to preach to them a month or twa
afore the thing does tak' place. Even as it is, vvha
kens but he may be tlie messenger sent to us a', as a
premonitor o' some great calamity."

" Eh, what's that ye say, Jeames ? " exclaimed Robin.
" Do you mean onything by-ordinar' in saying that ?"

" Weel, I'm no very sure mysel' what I mean or
dimiae mean," answered Jeames. " The words really
cam' into my mouth afore I kenned what I was about
to say. But I hae been lately reading in the papers
about the coming o' a comet that'ill approach, if a*
tales be true, near enough the earth's orbit for either
o' their safety. And should it only happen to meet the
earth on its way across space, there might be some
kind o' a stramash, as ye ca' it. It's tail, they say, is
millions o' miles lang, and even should we escape the
terrible bump o' instant collision between it's head and
our bit planet, its tail may gie us a slap that'll no be
guid for us, and maybe set a' things ableeze."

" And when is sic a monster to turn up ? " asked
Robin Drum with a voice that indicated some excite-
ment. " Will we hae ony chance o' seeing it wi' the
naked e'e?"

" That we will," said the sexton, " at least, the news-
papers say so ; and I was jist speaking to the school-
master about it the tither night, and he said to me that
he had been thinking about ijicin' a lecture on the
subject in the Mechanics' Hall. He said further to
me, that the liery tail o't would appear quite distinct

TIIK CKACK O' DOOM.

ill the heavens in a nipfht or twa, as soon as the
monster, as ye hae thoug^ht fit to ca' the thin^, g-ot its
head aboon our horizon. And when I asl<ed him if
there was ony Hkehhood o' its niakinpf trouble for us,
lie shook his head in a kind o' a doubtfu' way, that
wasnae by ony nieanr reassurinpf. iUit we'll ken a'
about it soon enough for our comfort maybe. The
schoolmaster thinks he may hae his lecture ready by
next week, or the week after, and intends to deliver it
after the excitement ower the revivalist and his preach-
ing has kind o' abated; for, as he says, it would be
utterly impossible for ony local lecturer to draw an
audience thegither while the town's people keep flock-
ing to the parish kirk every night, as they continue to

dae."

" But wouldnae the very subject draw o' itsel' ? "

" The subject is kittle enough for him to tackle at
onyrate." *

" Weel, if I were him I wouldnae delay. He neednae
be fear't about no haein' a house. The people'ill flock
to hear him in as big crowds as to the revivalist's ser-
vices. If I were you, Jeames, I would advise him to
gie us the lecture this week if he can get his maitter
ready; but I maun be af¥ on my road hame."

By this time Jeames and Robin Drum had reached
the entrance to the narrow lane that leads to the district
in Kartdale, known to the present day as Miner's Brae.
As Robin seemed to have made up his mind to take the
lane as a short-cut to the street beyond, where he lived,
Jeames and he had continued the latter part of their
crack at the street corner where Miner's Brae left the
main thoroughfare of the town. There they had co: .e

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

to the part of their conversation about the comet, and
before they parted, notwithstanding Robin's inclination
to be at home, Jeames had to tell in what newspaper
he had read about the coming heavenly visitant, and
give a kind of verbatim report of the editor's remarks
on the subject ; and so engrossed were they in the
discussion, that neither of them gave much heed to
their surroundings, nor noticed two boys who were
seemingly loitering near the opposite corner of the
street, but who were actually drinking in every word
the sexton was saying about the monster with the fiery
tail that was in all likelihood to do a damage to the
world.

" Guid night to you, Jeames," at last said Robin
Drum. " Dark though it has become, for I see the
clouds hae gathered while we hae been standing talk-
ing in the lamplight here, I think I'll tak' the Brae for
it. Things are greatly clianged on the Brae since this
revival began, '^nd a man need hae less fear than he
used to hae, in passing down the lane, even at eleven
o'clock in a dark night like this. My, how dark it
looks down there ! "

"Guid night, Mr. Drum," answered Jeames; "it's
dark enough, gin you happen to mention it, and you'll
hae to tak' guid care o' your footing, I'll maybe tak'
a dauner doun to you: placo liie morn's afternoon, and
let ye ken what the schooluiysltr diinks o' your sug-
gestion about that lecture o' his. Guid night to you."

And thus the two friends parted company.

v^CN

CHAPTER 11.

Urave you say ; I'm glad to hear it,
But what is that behind your chair ?

What is that ! my conscience, what is't ?
Oh nothing, nothing, but beware.

Miner's Brae was by far the most thickly-populated
quarter in the town of Kartdale. It was the abode oi
the very poor of the place ; and as huddling poverty
is too often associated with ignorance and vice, either
as its cause or effect, the people who lived on and
around Miner's Brae were neither very intelligent nor
very moral The district had received its name when
an influx of population was experienced in Kartdale,
after Lord Clay had sold to the wealthy iron-master
of Frampton Hall the right to open up the rich veins
of coal and iron on his estate, in tne centre of which
the town was situated.

The working of these mines had given employment
to a very large number of workmen, who made their
home in the large straggling tenements that had been
hurriedly erected for their accommodation. The
mineral wealth, however, had not proved so extensive
as had been at first expected. The measures were all
but exhausted after a few years, causing the great ma-
jjority of the miners to move elsewhere in quest of a

M :

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE,

livelihood ; and when, in the course of time, Kartdale
prospered in its other commercial enterprises, and its
streets began to be improved in the character of the
buildings in the older parts of the town, the poorer
people took up their abode in the tenements erected
for the accommodation of the workmen in the mines.
But the low moral tone which the latter had brought
with them to the district, seemed to cling to the Brae,
even when the most of the miners had taken their de-
parture ; its bad name, at least, continued to be a
proverb in the place It is true an attempt had been
made by the associated ministers of the various
churches to establish a sort of mission-house or church
in the lane which intersected the Brae, but the efforts
to evangelize became more or less intermittent after
the novelty of the inception had worn ofif ; and the
hall had not unfrequently to remain closed all week
for want of an audience.

The coming of the popular revivalist from the north,
however, had caused something of an awakening
among the more respectable of the inhabitants of
Miner's Brae, and had even extended to one or uvo
of the worst characters in the locality. Many of these,
who had never been in the parish church before the
coming of the revivalist, nor perhaps in any other
place of worship, unless it were the mission church,
became regular attendants on the ministrations of the
itinerant preacher, and where formerly only profanity
and ribaldry had disturbed the solemnity of night,
there could be heard even after the first week of his
labours, the singing of hymns and the occasional agony
of prayer from the lips of some poor convicted soul.

Kartdale
;s, and its
ter of the
he poorer
its erected
the mmes.
d brought
) the Brae,
n their de-
d to be a
t had been
he various
e or church
; the efforts
littent after
ff ; and the
ed all week

n the north,
awakening
habitants of
one or tu'O
any of these,
h before the
n any other
,sion church,
ations of the
nly profanity
ity of night.
; week of his
isional agony
victed soul.

THE CRACK O' DOOM.

It was down the lane which intersected Miner's Brae
that Robin Drum had to pass on his way home, after
parting with his friend Jeames. As has been said, a
pitchy darkness had settled upon the town. Going
down the Brae was like going down into hidden
depths ; and Robin, after proceeding a few paces from
the lamp-lit corner into the darkness, touching the
walls of the houses to feel his way, began to realize
that there were footsteps behind him as if two people
were following him. Hi? experiences during the
evening had not been such as to fortify his nervous
system, and as he groped on his way he began to think
that perhaps it would have been better for him if he
had taken the round-about road after all. Yet what
was there to fear ?

It was safe enough for him to be on the Brae even at
that late hour. Things were not as they had been,
A change had come over the more quarrelsome of the
people. And yet there might be left among the re-
generate, a black sheep or two who would do a harmful
I thing to a man on a dark night. There could be no
|dou1)t that some folk were following him — and seem-
iingly uncanny folk too, for when he stopped on his
[way, the footsteps behind him likewise stopped. Who
Icould it be, and how was he to find out ? Would it
[not be well for him to take to his heels ? But his
[imagination began to fill the darkness before him with
:ountless dangers. Better for him to fall into the
hands of footpads than to break his neck over some
ploorstep or other. But were they really enemies that
vere behind him ? They did not seem inclined to

nake immediate attack. Then, as an experiment, he
4

ii!

r t

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

braced himself up for an instant against the nearest
house, thinking to let his pursuers pass him in the
dark, but no sooner had he assumed his silent position
than the footsteps behind him ceased, and there w.>:>
nothing but silence all around. Whoever they were,
they could not be far away at anyrate, and if he could
only be patient and keep his heart from louping out
of his mouth, as he said to himself, something might
happen to his advantage. They certainly did not mean
to seize him near the houses in the lane, or he would
have been caught by them as soon as he had reached
the thick darkness. And so he waited — waited
patiently but tremulously — waited until the silence be-
came painful, and the rigidity, in which he had to keep
his body pressed against the wall, became physically
irksome.

At last a rustling was heard behind him and a whis-
pering. Did these sounds convey the premonition of
instant violence ? Was it not just as likely as not that
the persons following were as afraid as he was ? Could
it be possible tliat he was in no bodily danger ? Was
it only his imagination that was tricking him ? Cow-
ardice ! Why, who was a coward ? Not he, anyway.
At least Robin made an efifort to reassure himself that
such was not the case. The Brae was not such a bad
place. There never had been any serious occurrence
that he had heard of except in connection with some
quarrel. There once had lived in this same street
body-snatchers, but that was a long time ago. Then
he thought of having caught a glimpse of two boys
while Jeames and he had been having their crack at
the street corner. Was it possible, after all, that they

THE CRACK O' DOOM.

le nearest
ini in the
[t position
there vv.>r>
hey were,
t he could
Liping out
ing might
not mean
he would
,d reached
;d — waited
ulence he-
ld to keep
physically

id a whis-
onition of
is not that
i ? Could
er ? Was
11 ? Cow-
i, anyway,
mself that
uch a bad
jccurrence
^ith some
une street
I. Then
two boys
r crack at
that they

43
Dear

were his pursuers ? Well, upon my word !
me ! Let us try, anyway.
"Hist !" he cried; "wha's there ?"
But the only reply he received Was a repetition of
the rustling and a half-frightened kind of a laugh.

" Wlia's there ?" he again asked. " You necdnae
be afraid o' me," for he now felt all but convinced that
it was only the two boys who were in the darkness
behind; "come here and tell me wha you are."

" Oh, Mr. Drum ! " was all that the boys could say
as they approached him ; " it's us, Mr. Drum,"

" It's you, is it ? And wha are you, pray ? It's a
fine time o' the night for boys like you to be out o' the
liouse. What are your names ? "

The boys instantly gave their names, and one can
readily imagine Mr. Drum's surprise, after his fright,
to find that he had been afraid of two members of his
Sunday-school class, which he had regularly conducted
in the mission church in its better days.

" Guidness me ! What a trickster the imagination
o' man is ! " thought Robin to himself as the two lads
began to tell him why they were out so late.

They had just returned, as they told him, from con-
voying home another boy, a companion of theirs, who
lived in another part cf the town. The three of them
had been at the revival services, and were hardly in a
fit frame of mind to pass with temerity into the dark-
ness of the lane all by themselves. They had run all
the way from Dimity Tenement, and were glad to find
Mr. Drum at the street corner on their return, being
content enough to wait until he had finished his talk .
with the sexton.

' f'

thp: chronicles of kartdale.

!/,

" And so, laddies, you were at the parish kirk the
night," said Mr. Drum, when he and the boys had
moved on a pace or two in silence after explanations
had been made. " Were you able to get seats ? "

" Oh no, Mr. Drum," answered the elder of the
boys, " the crowd was somethin' terr'l ; we could
hardly get in, and were willin' enough to stand a' the
time."

" And did ye mind what the minister was saying ? "
" Oh ay; but there was a woman that fainted."
" And Sandy Allison near fainted tae," cried the
younger lad.

"And Auld Peter cried out as if he had been
sticket."

" Maybe he was," said Robin, " in the soul pairt o'
mi.

Then the boys began to rival one another in their
narrations of the incidents during the service, until
their companion thought fit to interfere, and by ques-
tioning them, find out what they really had learned
from the evangelist, — to draw out of them their own
experiences. But the boys remained rather reticent in
this direction, and merely remarked that they had been
very much frightened at what he had said about the
" bad place," as they called it, whereupon Mr. Drum
assured them that only evil-doers need be afraid of the
place oi eternal woe.

" And, I'm sure, laddies, you're no' o' that kind ; at
least you were aye attentive enough when you ga'ed
to school to me."

But the boys were modestly silent on their own per-
fections. They were not in the way of entering upon

TFIK CRACK O' DOOM.

kirk the
boys had
:)lanations
;s ?

er of the
we could
md a' the

saying ? "
:d."
cried the

had been

il pairt o'

the confessional. At last, after a short pause, the elder
of them asked their guide and (juondam Sunday-school
teacher, after the usual abrupt manner of boys : —
" Please, Mr. Drum, what is a cOmet ? "
" A comet ! " exclaimed Robin, in surprise, for he
(lid not think for a moment that the boys had heard
much of his conversation with Jeames ; " a comet,
laddie ! What puts a comet in your head ? "

" But it's no onythin' in his head, Mr. Drum," said
the younger boy. " It's somethin' in the sky."
** Something in the sky ? "
"Ay, somethin' wi' a fiery tail."
" A kind o' monster star," said the elder boy.
" That's to burn up the worl'," exclaimed both of
them.

" And wha was it that tell't you about this monster
wi' the fiery tail that is to destroy the worl' ? " asked
Robin.

" Oh, we only heard you and Jeames, the sexton,
talkin' about it at the street corner up there," said they,
falteringly.

And thus it came about that Mr. Drum had to ex-
plain, as well as his own limited knowledge would
permit him, what the comet was and the manner in
wliich it was expected to appear.

" But will it really and truly burn up the worl' ? "
again asked the elder boy.

" Maybe it may, and maybe it winnae," was Robin's

non-committal reply. " It's no for us to say what will

happen or what'll no happen in this worl', my laddie."

The boys were silent for a minute.

Then the younger, with great hesitancy and stum-

ran

I i

THE ("HRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

bliiT" aired if the coming of the comet would be

tl^ xst Day."

1 course it will, gin the comet strike the worl'."

** And will we see the comet afore the trumpet
sounds ? "

" They that hae been watching for it, say that we'll
see it niony a day afore it can do us ony harm ; but the
schoolmaistcr, they say, is gaun to ex])lain a' about
it in a lecture he expects to gie, and then we'll under-
stand mair explicitly about the danger there'll be to us
a'. It's aye weel, however, my laddies, to be prepared
for the warst, and let us pray earnestly to Him that
rules a' things, to tak' us under His protection what-
ever may happen."

After this the boys had little more to say ; indeed
they were too frightened to say anything further. So
frightened were they that Mr. Drum had to go a little
out of his way to see them to the door of the little
thatched house which was their home.

And, as was to be expected, there were soon few of
the inhabitants of Miner's Brae that had not heard of
the comet and the destruction it was likely to bring in
its wake. Indeed, the story of the coming of the
comet was but a complement to the revival excite-
ment ; for before the week was out, those who happened
to converse about the one, were soon found discussing
the " pros and cons " of the other. Even in the more
intelligent circles of the town the interest taken in both
subjects was paramount ; while in a district like
Miner's Brae the excitement was engrossing, con-
tinuous, and even serious.

! !^si

CHAPTER III.

The bad would be worse for the applause of their fellows,

Proud is their strut gin danger be hidden,
Their brag is the blast of a wind-bag and bellows,

'^heir craw is as crouse as the king's of the midden.

But Kartdale after all was only c:n ordinary place,
disturbed very much in the same way as other placc^,
and seeking- for explanations and relief from fear as
our towns and villages are ever accustomed to do in
their moments of excitement. There are usually three
classes to be met with under such circumstances :
those who claim the privilege of criticizing loftily until
the danger becomes imminent, when they fling aside
their weapons and run with the vulgus ; those who see
the hand of God in all occurrences, and approach an
investigation of them while ridding their feet in the
most solenm manner of the shoes of self-sufficiency,
as they would say ; and those who make of their ignor-
ance a vantage ground, from which they may deride
passing events. Under the influence of the last class
there is little chance of any public question escaping
the ordeal of ridicule. Soine say that this treatment
of public affairs is a way the world has of defending
itself ; and possibly it may, but it is an offence all the
same, and strange to say, however often a community

■ ■rm I

TIIK CIIUONICLES OF KAKTDALK.

may be convicted of the offence, it seldom or never
pleads guilty, but perseveres in the habit of ridiculing
what it should upliold, even in the face of recurring
punishment from the editor or the historian. The
conscience of conmiunities seldom knows remorse for
long. Even when the laugh that is blighting is not
Meant to be cruel, it always claims to be the 7'o,v
populi, having for its effect ofttimes the setting aside
of suggestions, which ccnild not but advance the
common weal, if properly carried out. Nor is the
tctrierity of this spirit of ridicule limited. In every
community there is more or less compound ignorance,
the ignorance of ignorance, the ignorance that deems
itself the only intelligence; and the raillery born of it is
too often to be heard in the discussions about religious
matters, or the questions that fringe on them. The
man who is always openly discussing religious topics
may often be anything but a good man, may not even
be a religious man, yet he may be far from being a
hypocrite or a bad man. But who has a good word
to say of the man who laughs at the religious serious-
ness of others? There is only one step further for
such a ribald to take, in order to reach the ground
swell of humanity ; and for his own good, a? most
would say, he had better take it, disappear from his
present environment, — find a new world wherein he
may reform, or seek association in the hells of time or
the hades of eternity.

In the district of Miner's Brae there were to be
found not a few of these ribalds — men ignorant,
vicious, and presuming in their own grade of society.
These were the devils of the locality, men who had

rHE CRACK O' DOOM.

been known to fear and tremble, and yet who continued
to swear, and jeer, and laugli, either for the purpose of
putting their fear to flight or of hiding it from their
nciglibours. Yet of depravity there are lower grades,
and of die depraved of Miner's Brae there was none
more dejiraved than a poor wretch who lived near the
middle of the Brae, in one of the tenements formerly
occupied by the workmen of Lord Clay's mines. This
poor creature was known to everyone in the place by
tlie sobriquet of Souple Tam — a title conferred upon
liim, as it was said, from the fact that when half over-
come with liquor, he always seemed to become all but
jointless in his limbs. His own name was Thomas
Reid. From early years he had known nothing but
poverty, the decent poverty at first that alcohol at last
makes abject. At the time of which this is written
he was about fifty years of age, — the leader of every-
thing that was vile, a wretch that was seemingly totally
depraved, a corrupter of the young men and boys of
Miner's Brae. For in reality, in his latter capacity,
his depravity seemed to find its function ; with the
youth of the place he laughed, and by them was
laughed at. With them he swore and drank, when-
ever an occasion occurred, connnitting with them
every offence against morality that was not actually
criminal.

As was to be expected, the labors of the revivalist
formed a convenient theme foi Reid's ribaldry, when-
ever it was possible for him to collect a coterie of
young men around him. One evening — the evening
after Jeames and Robin Drum had had their first dis-
cussion about the comet — a band of Reid's own tutor-

TIIK CIIKONICLKS OF KARTDALE.

ing" were to be seen collected at the common entrance
or " close mouth " of one of the largest tenements in
the street, shouting to those who happened to be
passing, and asking them if they had seen the " unco
guid " with the revivalist at their head riding past on
the comet's tail, or some such nonsense. Reid was in
the midst of tliem, his dissipated aspect forming some-
thing of a contrast to the younger faces around him,
while every now and again a shout of laughter would
greet some of his coarse sallies.

" Hae ye heard about Sandy Allison, Tam ? " asked
some one during a pause in the merriment. If the
reader remembers, Sandy Allison was die man whom
the boys had told Robin Drum of, as having been
visibly afifccted by the ministrations of the evangelist
the night before.

" They tell me he's converted," was Reid's reply.
" Dear me, what will auld Sanny think o' losing sic
a rich morsel as his namesake after all ? "

" Ay, and speak o' the deil and he appears," shouted
another of the crowd. " There is Sandy himself com-
ing up the street."

The laughter and noise at the " close mouth " gave
the man they referred to warning as to what sort of a
crowd he was about to encounter, and, to escape, he
made to pass to the other side of the street. But
Souple Tam was bound not to let him escape.

'* Hallo, Sandy Allison," he cried, " can it really be
possible that you would try to forget your frien's ? "

The poor man did not know very well what he
should do, and his seeming irresolution made those

I \'

'M': ■ !■

THE CRACK O' DOOM.

bcliincl Reid luul^c one anotlicr, as if tlicrc was the
prospect of some fun before them.

After a minute's pause the man decided to keep on
liis own side of the street, making to pass the crowd
witli a simple nod '^f recognition.

"Dear me," said Reid to him, "how things are
changed vvi' ye a' at ance, Sandy, my man. You've
got on your best claes, tae. Are ye dressed for a
wadchn' ? "

The man was thus o1)Hged to face Reid, " No,"
said he, in a simnle way, with his eyes on the ground ;
" I'm no gaun to a wadchn', but I wish you were gaun
whaur I am gaun, a' the same, Thomas Reid."

" Is there to be onything to drink at the pairty ? "
and the laugh Reid fully expected followed from the
crowd.

" Yes, you may come wi' me, if you like, and drink
frac the fountain that's aye open for sic as you and me.
You had better come, and bring your frien's wi' you."

" But wha is it that's to pay the lawin' ? "

" The Lord Himsel' surely will," answered Sandy,
modestly and honestly enough.

Reid turned to the crowd, for he was hardly ready
with a retort to such words, and asked them, with a
shrug of his shoulders, if they would not like to go to
Sandy Allison's pairty. " It's no aye we'll hae the
chance o' a free drink, my canty chiels, nae maitter how
weak the stuff may be. What think ye, will we gang ? "

Some of the crowd answered one thing, and some
of tlicm another, all being equally profane.

Then Reid turned to Sandy, with a mock air of sol-

I ' ;

-i.

Tli

THE CHRONICLES OK KARTDALE.

I .'

ill

enmity, and put another query — " Come, now, Sandy,
tell us true, are you really converted ? "

" That's maybe neither here nor there to you,
Thomas Reid," was the reply. " The question for you
to ask is, are you and your frien's putting yoursel's in
the way o' bein' converted. Sae, if you'll no gang wi'
me, I maun e'en gang by mysel' ; ye'll hae anither
chance, the morn's night, in the mission kirk."

" The mission kirk ? " exclaimed some of the others.

" Ay, it's to be opened the morn's night."

" And are you to preach, Sandy ? '* asked Souple
Tam, laughing at his own question as an encourage-
ment to his followers to do the same.

But making no reply to the query, Sandy only
turned away from them, as if to go his own way.

" This free drinking of yours, Sandy, I'm afeart, is
makin' you unco proud, and bein' proud wi' your ain
frien's is no very far frae bein' a sin, as I'm thinking.
Ye had better join the tee-total like me, auld man, and
choose your company. But, I say, Sandy, honest
sodger, wha is it that's gaun to preach in the mission
kirk the morn's night ? "

"Ti.e revivalist is gaun to preach," answered Sandy.

" Then, I think, we had a' better gang," said Reid.
" As for me, I'll be near enough onyway to my ain bed,
gin I get fou at sic a fountain as Sandy here speaks o'.
Guid-bye to you, Sandy Allison, the man I really
thought was my frien'. Guid-bye," and the ribald threw
a quaver in his voice as of grief at Sandy's departure,
and rubbed his great coarse red eyes with his hands.
" I'll no be like to see you again in this worl'. You
used to be friendly enough wi' us a' until you took to

THE CRACK O DOOM.

this drinking. But, never mind, Sandy, the pairtin' is
no for lan^ ; for it'll be a' up wi' tlic re.A o' us this week
or the next, onyway, for the comet is coming."

But Souple Tarn was not to escape so easily, even
at his own game, for not long after Sandy Allison had
left, there lounged into the crowd a young man whom
everyone present seemed glad to see, with the excep-
tion, perhaps, of the leader of the audience himself.

" Hallo, Johnnie, is that you ? " was Reid's form of
welcome to the newcomer, holding out his hand to
him.

'' Aye, it's me, unless you happen, as usual, to be
blin' drunk and dreaming, Tam," was the reply. " Are
you gaun to the lecture the morn's night ony o' you ? "

But none of them seemed to know anything more
about the lecture than they had a few minutes before
known about the opening of the mission kirk.

" I'm bookit already, Johnnie," said Reid.

" And wha has bookit you at last, Tam, if it be a
fair question ? Guidness me, the woman that marries
you, Souple, will hae lier hands fu' twice ower. But
maybe that's no' what you mean. Are you no gaun
to the lecture ? That's the question."

" I'm gaun if it's to be in the mission kirk," said
Tam. '

" But it's no to be in the mission kirk ; why, the
mission kirk hasnae been open for this mony a day.
The lecture is to be in the Mechanics' Hall."

"Then I'm no gaun, that's certain ; for I'm bespoke,
and sae arc the rest o' us, for the mission kirk. But
wlia's gaun to lecture ? "

" The dominie is."

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

i;
•If

" What on ? "

" On the comet and the end o' the worl'."

" The comet, say ye ; weel, there's no muckle to pick
and choose atween them after a'," and Reid looked as
if he had put on his considering cap.

" Atween what ? "

"Atween the lecture and the sermon — the sermon
that's to be delivered in the mission kirk the morn's
night ! " and Tam proceeded to tell him about Sandy
Allison and his announcement.

" But how is there, Souple, no muckle to pick and
choose atween them ? "

" Weel, as it seems to me the smell o' sulphur is mair
than likely to be in baith places," and Reid had his re-
ward in the renewed laughter.

" Then, gin I were you, Tam, I would gang to the
sermon."

" How's that ? "

"Because there the smell 'ill be strongest; and you
ken, Souple, you aye like the best o' everything."

The repartee, however, did not subdue Reid.

" Maybe you'll gang wi' me," said he, " if it be for
naething else than to baud my nose like ? "

" Na, na, Tam, I'll be nae man's flunkey, far less
yours ; besides, I would be sure to get my fingers
burned."

The tables were now turned on the ribald ; never-
theless, he was far from being silenced.

" There'll maybe be mair than your fingers in danger
o' being burned ere lang," he, said, as soon as the
noise and laughter would let him. "The comet is
coming, Johnnie, my man."

THE CRACK O' DOOM.

'• Wcel, Tarn, if I promise to baud your nose the
morn's night, maybe you'll haud the comet by the tail
when it comes until I can escape to Glasgow, and thus
rin rid o' the danger. But danger or no danger, if
T were you, Souple, I would keep the house for a week
or tvva until the comet has really come. For what wi'
your nose and the noise it whiles mak's, folk might
think when they meet you o' a dark night that the
comet had come afore its time, bringing the crack o'
doom with it."

" The craw is no aye the bravest bird," cried Reid,
with the laugh now fairly against him.

"Nor would a caunle be the brightest light at this
close mouth gin we had ane."

" But a caunle is no the comet ; let us hear what you
think about the comet. It'll certainly gie us light
enough on our way to Auld Nick's menagerie."

" Then you're no gaun either to the lecture or the
sermon after a'," said the tormentor, determined to
liave the last word. " As for me, I'm for nane o' your
wild beast shows ; sae, guid-night to you, Souple ; take
care o' the beasts, and see you dinnae turn into ane o'
them yoursel', or a's done. Guid-night to you, callans."

( , !

■ i

CHAPTER IV.

A soul-stoiin whirls within its whistling woe
A dirge of other clays. Athwart its gloom

And retrospect, convictions gleam and glance,
Around the ruins of the crack of doom.

The arrangement that the revivalist should hold a
service in the mission kirk, had induced the school-
master to take advantage of the pause in his ministra-
tions in the parish church, to deliver the promised
lecture on the comet in the Mechanics' Hall. To hear
the evangelist, it is needless to say that the mission
house was crowded to its utmost capacity by the deni-
•zens of Miner's Brae. Such a meeting was an unusual
thing in that district ; and those who had the welfare
of the community at heart were not slow to prophesy
the best results from the effort. In the audience were
stationed here and there some of the leading religious
philanthropists of the town — the elders in great part
of the various churches — present, no doubt, to guide
the proprieties ; and yet there was hardly any need for
the precaution, the expectancy in the eyes of the audi-
ence being a sufficient R-uarantee that order was likely
to prevail during the service.

The evangelist orator took for his text, " But they
who believe not shall be damned," and, before long,
after a few introductory remarks, he proceeded to paint

THE CRACK O' DOOM.

r>7

in such vivid colours the after condition of tliose vvlio
liad neglected their opportunities in this life, that the
men and women before him began to cry out in the
most intense agony.

" Ay," said he, " the devils in hell are said to fear
and tremble, and so may you; for what are ye but
licathen in the midst of civilization, the lost in the sight
of salvation. God is good, but what favour can He
show to such as you who continue to live in your sins
and wallow in the slime of your iniquity. Living, like
the prodigal, amid the husks of your own lusts, is there
even the desire in your heart to return to the warmth
and compassion of a Father's love ? But for His
mercy, and the intercession of His crucified Son, He
would have swept you all into perdition, there to live
with the devil and his angels for ever and ever, there
to simmer in the eternal pains of the fire that never
shall be quenched, companions of the worm that dieth
not ; and yet to-day you are still in the land of the
living. But is it to you a place of hope ? You cry
out in your anguish, but what is there in that cry that
shall not be in the cry ten thousandfold which you will
utter when you pass to the world in which no cry for
mercy is ever heard. Then shall hell's laughter ring
in your ears, as you cry for the drop of cold water to
cool your parched tongues. How merciful God is,
tliat He has thus spared you, and yet spared not His
own Son, but freely gave Him up for us all."

" Soon there will pass,'* he continued, " within the
sphere of this planetary system of ours, a mighty em-
blem of God's majesty and power, which may bear in
its wake the destruction of all that is mundane. In a

:i'

THE CHRONICLES OF KAKTDALIC.

moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the sound of God's
judg'ment may reverberate in our ears ; in a moment,
in the twinkhng of an eye this great universe of ours
may be shrivelled up like a scroll and melt like wax ;
in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, your sins in
the agony of your dissolution may crowd around you,
even worse than they are doing now, and stifle you
with their remorseful clutch, hurling you hence into
the horrible pit of death and eternal torment. Ay,
cry aloud, for your danger is imminent ! Cry aloud
and rend your hair, for the judgment of God is at hand!
Gnash your teeth in your anguish and deceive your-
selves no longer. God is not to be mocked. Ere
another week is gone the end may come, and well may
we ask what shall be the end of these things."

The scene which followed such invective, was some-
thing which had never been witnessed in Kartdale
before, and when the morning came there was in its
sunlight a relief to many a throbbing heart, that yet
another day had been given the world to repent of its
sins. The terror in its acuteness had somewhat sub-
sided, it is true; but when the sun began its western
way, and the afternoon lengthened into the evening,
and the twilight deepened into darkness, the restless-
ness of Miner's Brae was again almost as noticeable
as it had been the night before, after the revivalist had
dismissed his audience.

Nor were the opinions of the schoolmaster, as ex-
pressed in his lecture on the solar system and the
eccentricities of comets in general, as reported in the
ears of the more ignorant, calculated to allay the ex-
citement aroused by the efforts of the evangelist.

THE CRACK O' DOOM.

:'i;fi

" I know," said be, '" that the prominent desire in
the most of our minds al the present moment is to
know what effect this phenomenon will have upon our
own sphere. When Halley's comet appeared in 1456,
tiiere was aroused in many men's minds the fear tliat it
was but the portent of some great calamity al)out to
fall upon the earth. From the discoveries of science
we have every reason to believe that these fears were
utterly groundless. The danger of collision, in this
instance, also lies within the probabilities which render
our safety all but certain. And yet, we as Christian
men and women must recognize this wondrous heav-
enly body as an instrument in God's hand as much as
is the earth itself, — an instrument with which to work
out His own designs. What is evil to us is but a
part of the system under which He rules and governs
His system, and should it seem good in His sight that
this great w'orld system of His should be benefited by
tlie destruction of any part of it, we have but to say,
'Hum, O Lord, art good, and wise, and omnipotent;
we, Thy humble servants, are in Thine hand; do to
Tliy servants whatever may appear good in Thy
sight.' "

After a day or two the anxiety in Muier's Brae
seemed to further subside. The outside world, in the
other parts of the town, went its way as usual. The
marrying and giving in marriage among the sons of
men continued, and all the .'heels of busy life knew
no stay in their motion, just as will be the case, ac-
cording to Holy Writ, in the times before the end of all
time comes. The revivalist departed to other scenes,
and even the approach of the comet seemed to be for-

; 1

. .Hi

THE CHRONICLES OK KAKTDALE.

I ■\

jT^otten ; at least the inhabitants of Miner's Brae showed
less and less inclination to talk very much about it.
The ribaldry of such loose characters as Thomas Reid
was no longer in favour when men met at the street
corners. Reid himself was thought to be much more
sedate after attending the mission church on the even-
ing when the revivalist had preached his sermon ; and
though he said nothing a1)OUt it to anyone, the change
was not unobserved by the young men with whom he
was still on the most familiar terms. " God grant that
he may come to see the error of his ways," was all that
some of the more respectable people of the Brae said
about him, however.

The mission church was kept open for more than a
week after the revivalist had left. Robin Drum was
anxious that the after-wave of the revival should be
prolonged as far as he and a few others of the laity
could sustain it in its progress. There were many still
anxious. Some had actually, like Sandy Allison,
turned from their former ways. Others longed to do
so, were only the strength given to them ; and both
of these classes continued to attend the services in the
mission church. Even those who did not care to be
seen very often in the little church, were haunted with
the words of the revivalist ; and thus, though the
anxiety had disappeared as a public excitement, it was
none the less being felt in private as a personal experi-
ence to most of the people, when an incident occurred
which suddenly developed it to the fever point of a
panic.

A full fortnight had elapsed since the schoolmaster
had lectured. In his exposition he had not definitely

9 il

TIIK CRACK ()' DOOM.

declared the exact day when the stranger-star would
appear above the horizon of Kartdale ; yet the notion
was abroad, among the youthful and the ignorant at
least, that it would be seen actually approaching the
earth in about two weeks' time ; and thus it was that
the terrible scene which took place on and near the
lane, on the Thursday fortnight after the revivalist's
departure, and which brings this narrative to an end,
indicated in an ominous way to those who shared in
tlie panic, the fulness of time.

At midnight all was still on Miner's Brae. Sleep
and darkness had fallen upon the town. Not a '"^ht
was visible in the lane to indicate with its feeble rays
the intensity of thei blackness of the hour. Mortality
bad truly fallen into the hollow of God's hand for un-
conscious safe keeping. The wise man had prayed to
Him for protection, and had fallen asleep in the shadow
of the protection, which is ever vouchsafed to those who
liave faith in their faith. The foolish had trimmed the
dickering lamp of their nonchalance, and so had fallen
asleep in the expectation of the day that might never
come. The depraved, with a hope born of despair,
had restlessly struggled into that condition of rest- in
which the conscience ever fights for expression in
dreams, unless the early struggles for sleep have been
avoided by some narcotic or other, — some physical
exaltation or depression that debases both soul and
body. '

Of the wise — if the Pharisaism that plumes itself
in daylight be not wisdom — there were few in Miner's
Brae; while of the foolish and depraved there were
enough and to spare. Yet all slumbered and slept.

I ■•

()2

THE CHRONICLES OK KARTDALE.

I ' ii

:'lilli I;' ^;i

All ? Oil, no, not all. Remorse does not flee from
such darkness as hung over Miner's Brae that nij^ht.
Silence had fallen upon it — the silence of sleep and
darkness, but remorse had tt) gnaw somewhere, even
if the gnawing was to he observed but by one — the
poor wretch in whose heart conviction was busy at
work.

And this poor wretch in whose heart remorse had
found a retreat, was no other than Thomas Reid. He
had gone to bed ; but there was to be no sleep for him
that night. Nothing, it is true, as he kept muttering
to himself, had hapi)ened during the day to disturb him
in any special way. He had done an honest day's work
at the gas-work, where he was always sure of employ-
ment when he kept sober. Indeed, he had been work-
ing steadily for more than a fortnight past, and had
not touched a drop of drink since the night the re-
vivalist held his service in the mission hall. Yet, there
he lay in all the agony of remorse and deep despair.

" O God," he cried, " not fairly midnight yet ; and
yet anither day I may never see. There is nae hope
for sic as me, nae hope in the next worl' or even in
this, should it last. A life misspent, a soul lost ! Oh,
my (jod, it is simply horril)lc to think o' ! The
preacher talked o' the worm that dieth not; and yet
it was only in me to revile sic things no lang since,
laugh in' owcr them wi' thae bits o' boys that were
keen enough to join me in my profanity. How can God
look upon me as ither than a disgrace to His handi-
work, that maun gang to the furnace ? Mercy me, how
my head burns ! "

Then, after a moment's tossing about, he began tu

I!'

''iiiJWi

TIIK CRACK O' DOOM.

«;i

lasli liiinself with the satire with which he had so often
made a laiipfliing-stock of rehgion. " Fules, like every-
thing else, hae tlieir season, and you hae had yours,
Tani Reid ; and- a higger fule there never was born,
just to think o' a man o' your time o' life finding your
fame amang a wheen o' boys — a man grown amang
weans — and ane o' them fit to handle ye, tae. How
honnie a sight it maun be to the redeemed, aye, and to
my ain mithcr amang the redeemed ! What's that ?
To my ain mither ? Ay, my ain mither — the puir
woman whase heart I broke," and the poor wretch
fairly trembled in his agony, and gnashed his teeth at
himself.

" IVay to God ! ye say; but what difference will that
mak' ? Will God listen to sic a wretch as me ? But
even if He would, whaur's the hope ? I'm lost, I tell
ye, I'm lost, lost, lost forever."

Then he got up and tried to pray, kneeling by his
bedside, in his anguish of spirit.

lUit, alas, what prayer was there to come from such
foul lips as his that would not sound like profanity ?
What prayer could he remember to utter ? . His mouth
was parched — his brain seemed on fire — and again he
shouted, " I'm lost, lost for ever."

Just then the clock in the tower of the parish church
began to strike the hour of midnight.

" One — two — three — four ! " and he paused to count
them.

" Five — six — seven — eight ! " and the respite from
the contemplation of his soul's affairs seemed to him
like a prayer in itself.

" Nine — ten — eleven — twelve — "

T^i> I

1 » r

hfll

A- '-I

i ■ ' i

1 • ni

THE CIIKONICLKS OK KAKTDALK.

" O God," he exclaimed, rising to his feet, with his
hands to his head, " what is tliat ? "

A terrible reverberation had shaken every timber in
the tenement in which he lived, and in a minute he had
crawled to the window of his room.

Then there came another crash, and the falling of
glass. Had the comet come — the comet a1)out which
he had laughed so nuich ? Trembling like a man
shaken with the palsy, he threw up the under sash of
his window, and looked out.

Through the darkness there came the sound of
others opening their windows, with the wailing of chil-
dren and women. Then followed another earthquake
sound, as intense as those that had dragged Thomas
Reid to liis window ; and the whole heavens beyond
the tops of the houses of Miner's Brae were seen from
where he stood to become illuminated with a light that
increased in intensity.

" It is the comet ! " shouted Reid, hardly knowing
what he said in his madness. " It is the comet ! It is
the comet ! " and he rushed to the street, followed by
others of the tenement in which lie lived.

'' There it is ! " shouted the madman still more
wildly, as another crash came, and as the inhabitants
of the Brae found their way to the street.

'' What is it ? Oh, what is it ? " arose the cry from
every lip, and, for answer, there came the agonizing
shout of Reid, as he rushed up the lane —

" The comet has come ! The comet has come ! "

The uproar now knew no bounds. The light beyond
the houses verified the reverberations that still shook
the air all around, and the cry, " The comet has come! "

i'tli uttt0m

TIIK CRACK O DOOM.

was heard everywhere. Men, women, and children,
lialf-naked as they were, rushed hither and thitlier
shivering in the nii(hiight cold ; sometimes crowding
round one another, and marvelhng at the intermittent
(Hn and the increasing Hght in the heavens — shrieking,
moaning, praying — a sad, sad spectacle. Alas ! what a
tiiceting that was in the narrow, crowded lane of
IMiner's Brae there — what a meeting together of all
the superstitions weaknesses and remorseful woes that
ever congregate within the abodes of ignorance and
vice. Alas ! what a crowding together there was of
men, women and children, wringing their hands, tear-
ing their hair — ay, cursing themselves as they stood
face to face with inmiinent destruction.

At last an explanation came. Time to the agonized
becomes an eternity ; and though the panic had not
lasted more than four or five minutes, the period of
distress seemed an age. And yet, though perhaps
their after-conduct was natural enough, the poor people
hardly took time to hear the explanation in full ; for
as soon as Robin Drum had appeared upon the scene,
and they had heard from him that it was not the comet
at all, and that there was no danger, it was almost im-
possible for him tO\ hold an audience for a full state-
ment of the facts.

" Man," said he to his friend the sexton, when he was
telling him the story next day, " they ran frae me,
Jeames, as if I had been the cause o' the turmoil; for
nae sooner had I tell't them about the firing o' the guns
that had made me get up and put on my claes to see
wliat the din was a' about, than they fled like a wheen
rattens to their holes. Yet, I think, could they only get

(

m''l

mt.

K.:l

III

THE CHRONICLES OF KAKTDALE.

iiir

hand o' the young men that were gaun round the town
to celebrate, with as muckle noise as possible, the wad-
din' o' their niaister's son, or the itliers that had
started the big bonfire, they would feel like lynching
them. As for Souple Tam, he'll no be likely to be
seen in Miner's Brae for lang. After everything was
quiet, I cam' in contact with him at his close-mouth.
The puir sinner was in an awfu' plight. Sae I gaed up
to his room with him, and lighting his caunle, saw iiim
to bed. I had a lang conversation wi' him about his
soul's concern, and I think we may now ex])ect l)etter
things o' him. But he'll hae to leave Miner's Brae
for a' that."

:f'l

THE TRUTH OT.

CHAPTER I.

There's a spot on your teeth, aukl wife, auld wife,

And some 'ill ca' it a lie, maybe ;
Sae rinse out your mouth, and rub ilka tooth.

Nor run ye the risk o' a lie, auld wife.

Risk nae the look o' a lie.

The sermon, as nearly everyl)0(ly present had after-
wards to acknowledg-e, was a good, sound, practical
discourse. Indeed, Robin Drum, who Jiad seldom if
ever been blamed for lack of caution in arriving at an
opinion, went so far as to declare to Jeames in the
session-house, when the congregation had dispersed,
that there could possibly be no two ways of thinking
about the matter. The old minister, with the matured
flavour of years in his elocpience like the bloom on a
rich old wine, and with a clear-headedness and logical
acumen wh'ch comes only to those who have lived a
careful life, had evidently overlooked, as Jeames re-
marked, no i)oint in the length and breadth of his dis-
course, but had rather seemed to find more and more
of his earlier vigour from firstly t(j secondly, and from

Tim

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE,

•iif;f.i

secondly, thirdly and fourthly to the very end of his
appeal to what the worthy beadle called the " uncom-
mon sense o' a godly congregation."

The homily lasted neither longer nor shorter than
the orthodox length — "the hour's penance and a bit-
tock," of the early experience of some of us ; and while
there was nothing in it that could well be seized upon
by the hypercritical, neither was there anything that
co^ild not be directly applied to the everyday life and
conversation of young and old. In a word, it was a
good, sound, practical discourse, delivered with that
easy deliberation of an honest man, which makes every
word tell.

The text in itself was rather a startling one, especi-
ally to men and women who had at least the credit of
striving from day to day to follow uprightly the even
tenor of their way according to the light of village
ethics, — was in reality the enunciation of a principle
which made the whole congregation stare for the 110-
ment towards the old sounding-board ow the
n-!'nister's head, as if it had been guilty of some mis-
demeanour or other, in reverberating through every
nook and corner of the " auld biggin'," words that all
but implied an accusation against the public and pri-
vate integrity of Kartdalc. The pul])it cushion, on
which the big Bible and its psalm-book lay, seemed to
blush at the crimson innuendo lurking in the passage
of Scripture selected, and shook its great tassels over
the head of the precentor, as if to declare, with the
trepidation of the parish upon them, that there was
something coming from a quarter near by that would,
according to the euphony of Jeames's hope, " mak' ilka

I i

I i^iiilJaihtata

THE TRUTH O'T.

man, woman and wean o' the congregation tak' tent o'
their ways."

" There's nae doubt, the practical discourse is a
needcessity at times," he was accustomed to say under
such circumstances. " The backsHder requires a bit
pu'ing up every now and again, something to startle
him out o' the deadening effects o' his ain wrang-daein',
and though it is no for me to say ill o' onybody, the
kind o' throuither-witted amang us — few and far be-
tween as they are, guid l)e thankit ! — like weel enough
at times to hae something to talk about as weel as the
best o' us. The understanding o' a th'rough-gaun
theology is no in everybody's line."

And yet, after all, the text was not such an unusual
one. Sermons have been preached from it often
enough, not only in Kartdale, but in every parish in
the empire. Nobody can deny the wealth of pulpit
resource that is in it, nor the eloquence of the unseen
that is of such easy access in its context. Every
forensic straw in it has probably been well threshed
out. Nevertheless, when Mr. Thomson's sermon was
over, there were few who could say they had ever heard
such another discourse preached from the pertinency
of its statement. "All liars shall have their portion. '
And if the text seemed new through its curtailment,
the sermon sounded all the more original. " Shall
have their portion." Where ? Here ! In this pre-
sent life ! But the Book says more than that, as no
doubt our friend Jeames would have exclaimed had he
been arguing with anyone endeavouring to justify the
clipping of the full statement. That is true. But how
many of our ministers of the new school, or even of

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

>IM

:ri r

the old school, would care to be bound by the rule of
g-iving the whole context when they announce their
text ? Indeed, how many a brilliant discourse would
be spoiled by giving- the whole verse ! Besides, the
minister of Kartdale had not proceeded beyond the
first section of his " first head," before he had con-
vinced his hearers that it was no intention of his to give
an exposition of the life to come. As things happened,
he said little, if anything, a1)out the life to come, and
yet when he had finished, nobody could say that his
logic was not to the point, his applications direct and
forcible, and his appeal an earnest and effective one.

While the congregation were passing down the
avenue on their way home, there was, naturally enough,
a good deal of discussion about what the minister had
been saying. Indeed, so direct had been the effect on
Robin Drum's mind, that he decided to let his guidwife
and the bairns find their way home for themselves,
while he went round to the session-house to compare
notes with his friend the church officer, about the
'' unusualness " of the minister's discjuisition on the
truthfulness of Kartdale folk in particular, and of
society in general. As was we!- known, there was not
much that could well transpire within the precincts of
Kartdale Kirk, and yet escape the closeted considera-
tion of the two worthies.

" Weel, Jeames," said Robin, on drawing his l)reath,
after the minister, delivered of his gown and bands,
had departed from the session-house to the manse,
" What a fine old man he is, and sae maisterly in his
deportment, as ane might say. Did ye ever hear the
like o' his eloquence the night, in face o' his seventy

THE TRUTH O'T.

years and a bit ? Man, didnae the words o' truth and
soberness h*^ uttered about the truth itsel' sound pure
and sweet to us puir mortals ? "

" Ay, fine enough they were, I'll grant, Mr. Drum,"
answered Jeames with the air of one having authority
to speak to the r urpose ; " but with what sweetness to
the erring, I'm no prepared to say. The text is a grand
anc, and ably was it handled."

" But did ye ever hear the text expounded in sic a
light afore ? " continued Robin ; " it seemed mair like
a revelation to me than an exposition, something like
a message frae the very school o' the prophets itsel'."

" The doctrine is never deficient in the parish kirk o'
Kartdale," Jeames replied, " and if I hae said this ance,
I've said it a hunderd times. There's nae cauld kail
het again to be looked for frae our pulpit, nor spoon-
feed either. I hae sat within its shadow for the feck o'
forty year or mair, and unless in the case o' some
stranger or ither occupying the seat that Mr. Thomson
sae ably fills as God's ain representative, I hae never
had muckle cause to repent o' what has issued frae
under its sounding-board in behalf o' a' humanity will-
ing to be improved. That there is need for sic
preaching as his in thae degenerate times has been
made plain enough in the words o' the sermon the
night, — words that a wean couldnae weel misunder-
stand, nor fail to direct its wavering steps by. There's
a use and wont about this liein' among gentle and
semple, — a kind o' fashionable flummery o' speech that
is aye smirking in the face o' a man's straightforward
behaviour, a mak-believe that is afeart o' offending ;

THE CHRONICLKS OF KARTDALE.

i 'V

I f!

and yet it is neither mair nor less than hein' a' the same.
Exactly sae ! "

" It tak's a lot o' preaching to gar things gang right,
gin, ance they gang wrang," Robin again ventured to
say.

"That's as it may be," answered Jeames, "but it's
nae reason in itsel' for a' that why the right kind o'
preaching shouldnae be favoured by the sensible, and
the wrang kind o' preaching frowned down upon.
This worl' o' ours seems to hae gaen clean gyte in its
endeavours to put a face on things, or, in ither words,
to gar the warse appear the better reason. Self-seek-
ing seems at times to hae become its only kind o'
seeking. Wi' a bad bargain in ae hand and a lie in
the tither, men are coming to fling loose frae morality ;
and I hae actually heard an honest man declare that he
had been obleeged to gie up business simply because
he couldnae stand the prevarications o' competition.
The spirit o' competition, that seems to be bred in the
bone o' the rising generation, is certainly responsible
for the maist o' the liein' that gangs on, and unless our
ministers can hansel with their preaching the true
spirit o' contentment amang men, the worl', in my
opinion, is likely to gang frae bad to worse. For a'
that, we cannae but tak' soiue comfort frae the sermon
we hae had the night. There are some o' us that hav-
nae yet bowed the knee to Baal; and let us e'en hope
that the young folks wha seemed sae interested wi' the
minister's way o' putting things this evening, will tak
a grue at a' kinds o' deception, and grow up to be as
honest in their day and generation as were the founders
o' the kirk o' Kartdale. Exactly sae ! "

|ii#^Pi:''-!*i!*!?|:'

TIIK TRUTH O'T.

Nor indeed was Jeanies far wrong when he said that
the minister had, on this occasion, uttered no word that
even the youngest of the congregation could not un-
derstand, and possibly appreciate. Sonietimes when
the venerable divine, confident in his learning, would
be handling a doctrinal point, the more youthful ad-
herents had to leave the criticism of his discourse to
Jeames and those of the congregation of his theologi-
cal calibre. But in this instance, nothing had passed
over their heads. There was no third party present or
al)sent, expressed or understood. The discussion was
between the minister and his flock. He spoke to them,
not about somebody they more or less resembled. In
a word, his thesis was plain and practical, swerving not
from the downright maxim of his own selection for
the day, — "Honesty of s])eech is the best policy."
All lying — from the white lie that has so much of a
simpering society sweetness about it, to the black,
malicious lie that is so heinous in the sight of all grades
of society, — is self-deception, a mockery and a snare.

" Ay, my brethren," exclaimed the old man in his
peroration ; ''as we look at one another, sitting here,
as it were in the presence of God himself, is it possible
for any of us to feel that the telling of lies can be any-
thing but an abomination to Him who looks upon
every form of sin with abhorrence. Search as you
may, can any of you find a lie in his handiwork, re-
vealed in the page of nature, spread out in sunshine as
it has been to-day, in the golden fruition of an ap-
l)roaching harvest ? What is it that you say, Master
Philosopher ? Things in nature are not what they
seem ! That is true ; but how could you, if you please,

I I :!

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

have found that out, unless the God of nature had en-
dowed you with the spirit of truth to distinguish the
seeming from the reality ? What is that you say,
]\laster Merchant ? Business methods are special
methods which the ultra-righteous cannot well under-
stand ! And who, may I ask, wrote this new moral
law of merchandise or commercial amendment to the
old moral law delivered to all the generations of men
from Mount Sinai ? Has it been revealed only to you
and those of your kind ? If it abrogates the ninth of
God's precepts, does it also eliminate " Thou shalt not
steal," when you come to practise it as a tenet of the
new commercial morality, by selling dearer than you
ought to sell, and by buying at a price which will bring
ruin to those with whom you deal ? Perhaps you can
distinguish between the depravity of the man who
utters a falsehood to make good his own ends, from
the criminality of the man who takes what is not his
own. lUit I cannot, and neither can you, young
man, with the white lie upon your lips as you wend
your way through the mazes of society, seeking to be
agreeable by acting a part rather than by being what
you really are ! Neither can you, young woman, as
you play at your game of make-believe, with the play-
fulness of innocence that has no heart of innocence
within it ! Nor you, anxious housewife, as you stand
at your doorstep spinning a history of your neighbour
out of the evil or the good in your own heart, utterly
regardless of the assurance of fact ! No, my brethren,
there is not a person present with us this evening, who
will dare declare that the breaking of the ninth com-
mandment is not as abhorrent an offence in the sight

TIIK TRUTH O'T.

of God, as the breaking' of the eighth. All lying is
soul deception, self-deception, with him that practises
it. It is a breaking of God's own precept which tlie
fashionable wiles of a drawing-room etiquette cannot
justify, nor the hastening to be rich by commercial
over-reaching, nor the desire to avoid the responsi-
bilities of life that come to all of us. All deception,
direct or indirect, sweet or bitter, is a poison that feeds
like a canker on the good in the soul of the man who
practises it, and cannot fail to bring its own dire re-
wai'd in the life which now is and that which is to-
come."

With such words as these ringing in their ears, was
it to be wondered that the congregation should be more
inclined than usual to examine the principles they
were employed to enunciate, and to discuss them one
with another as they took their way homewards through
the village. The best of sermons is often, alas ! only
an eight day's wonder — perhaps it would be nearer the
truth to say an eight hours' or eight minutes' wonder ;
and probably there were even some of Mr. Thomson's
hearers who let some of the pertinent truths he uttered
in at the one ear and out at the other. There were
more, however, than Jeames and Pobin Drum who had
been struck with the force of these truths, and who
were not likely ever to forget the sermon, as the sequel
will show.

Of the many discussions that were said to have been
overheard, there was at least one which is known to
have taken a peculiar turn, as the two young men
sharing in it happened to follow Mr. Drum to the
session-house. One of these gentlemen we have heard

I : I

i i

» ::•

I ■

i :m

ii . *». Ta^^itl

( i A''

■

;, I'

i>l

•iiii:

TIIK CIlkONICLKS OK KARTDAMO.

of before, in the person of Mr. William Tunibull —
better known in the village as Willie Tnrnbull — Uie
young man who had been directly or indirectly the
cause of one of Jeames's " bits o' trials," on a Sunday
morning at the Cross Keys, as our readers may remem-
ber. His companion, on the other hand, was one who
was intimately associated with the minor affairs of the
church, such as the Sunday-school and the weekly
practice under the precentor, and it was he that was
on an errand to Jeames to speak about some arrange-
ments for holding a meeting in the session-house on
a week-day evening, when the conversation about the
minister's sermon took place between him and Mr.
TurnbuU.

" It may be all very true what the old gentleman has
been saying," said Willie to his companion, who was
spoken of by everybody in Kartdale as ' Robert Mow-
bray, the nevy and heir o' auld Mr. Fairservice, the
grocer,' and is here introduced to the reader as such.
" Things are whiles easy enough looking, when one has
only to talk about them ; but I don't believe this
speaking of the truth on every occasion could be car-
ried out for more than two or three days at a time
without being attended with serious consequences to
all parties concerned. Lie ! Why, you can hardly
draw your breath without getting off a whopper to
screen yourself and your real opinions from folk that
would be mad were you to show any inclination to
differ from them."

"There are different standpoints, as there may be
different worlds of our own making for all of us," an-
swered Mr. Mowbray. "A practice, nevertheless, is

THE TRUTH o't, 77

rii;iil or wrong in itself, irrespective of what tliis man
says or the otiier man thinks. If yon iiave anything
to say against tlie sermon and the minister's opinion,
yon had better sing a mild tnne in the presence of the
minister's man."

" ( )f course," said Willie. " Is nae that just what T
have been saying. Sulxlue yoiu" opinions, and, if ye
cannae hide them away from folk that would persecute
you for holding them, lie as much as you like as
long as you're not found out ; " and just as they had
reached this point in the conversation, they came into
the presence of J^'ames and Roinn Drum, while these
worthies were still in the midst of their discussion
al)out the same thing.

Jeames seemed to know at once what Robert Mow-
bray had come round to see him about, and, after the
matter had been arranged l)etween them, the former
turned to Willie to ask him what he thought of Mr.
Thomson's sermon.

" Me and Mr. Drum here, hae just been haein' a
word or twa about tlie principles he has been laying
down, and we agree that the discourse was ane o' the
1)est that has ever come frae a place whaur the best is
aye likely to be had, as long as the auld man survives. "

" Well, Jeames, I have also been expressing an
opinion to Robert about these same principles, though
I'm afraid he's not as likely to agree with me as readily
as Mr. Drum has been agreeing with you. You know
there is a wide gulf fixed, as you yourself might say,
between the practical and the theoretical."

" That may be the case in some of the actualities o'

; I

1 • ? :'-

Tiif-; c"HKONi(Li<:s ok kaktdalk.

f.|

:!1

life," returned Jeaines, " but do yc tliink that sic should
be the case ? "

" I'm neither king, minister nor god to say what
should be," responded Willie, " but, with my senses
about me, I can easily make out what is, according to
the ways of the sons of men, and what is not. If it be
my purpose to live in Rome, I must e'en act as the
people of Rome act, or take the consequences."

" The reformer has aye to tak' the consequences of
daein' what is right, and keep on takin' them, until
there are nane to tak'. Rome wasnae built in a day,
and neither will it be reformed in a day."

"That's right, Jer.mes," interrupted Robert Mow-
l)ray. " Besides, the consequences of doing the right
are never very much to be dreaded at any time, and
far less in the long-run. Upright conduct always
brings its own reward."

"That is, if the punishment of the persecutor can
always be looked upon as a reward," said Willie.
" You just try to walk the chalk mark of morality, in
the face of society, stepping neither to the right hand
nor the left to steady yourself ; and in a week or less
time you will see where you will be. As I said before
we came in, none of us can very well keep from disguis-
ing our feelings at times, in order to avoid hurting the
feelings of others, as we try to stagger along the chalk
line."

" I'm thinking ye hae a kind o' liking towards ex-
pediency," said Jeames ; " and ye ken, Mr. Turnbull,
expediency is no muckle better than a will-o'-the-wisp
amang the perfectibilities. Your logic is maybe a

:'iii::ii^i|il§li;

^■,,.^^i:i;!;K'i^i;ilii^;^?S|i^s;

THE TRUTH O'T.

7li

kennin' owcr narrow, gin I should say sac, at least it's
a wee bit narrower, ye'll allow, than the minister's."

" You see," again interrupted Robert, smiling, " you
have only been speaking for yourself, Willie."

" I'm just as much speaking for other folks, as was
the minister, a few minutes ago," was WilHe's warm
assertion. " A man ducsnac reciuire to go to college
to find out what is expected of him as a citizen."

" P)Ut neither will the gangin' to college prevent a
man frac bcin' an authority on the ncedcessities o' a
sound morality. The minister is our minister, and we
maun respect what he says," and Jeames was evidently
becoming a little nettled at Willie's pertinencies.

" Did I not tell you what you would get ? " ex-
claimed Mowbray, still laughing in a kindly way at
his friend.

" And did I not tell you what I expected ? " was
Willie's retort. "' It's the way of the world, and it is
what you yourself may expect if you think of putting
into practice the pulpit principles laid down this
evening."

" Then you still claim to be an authority ? " asked
Robert, addressing his companion, but turning to
Jeames and Robin Drum as if for further sympathy.
" Speaking for society, you know what the demands of
society are. Are you aware that your personal experi-
ence does not extend much farther than the social
circles of Kartdale ? As an authority, do you speak
for society in general, or only for that section of it
' whereof you are a well-deserving pillar ' ? "

" I mean to say what I say, and to speak what can
easily be understood. I am speaking for myself in

J I

/.'!.'

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

■■',

the first place ; but, if you like, I may as well, in this
matter, speak for you and Jeames here and Mr. Drum,
honest man as I know him to be."

" But surely not for the minister ? "

" That is just again as you like," continued Willie.
" He has a pulpit from which he can speak for himself,
and there's nae discussion up there."

" What's that ? You surelv will not venture so far
as to say in presence of the minister's prime minister
and his elder, that he doesnae i)ractice what he
preaches ? "

" I have been fool enough to venture ower far already
in expressing my opinions in presence of those that
may be ofTended at them and me ; and I do not intend
to say anything of the kind against anyone, and far
le. 3 against a gentleman whom everybody in the parish
venerates, not to speak of the respect in which both
Jeames and Mr. Drum are held by everybody who
knows them. The sermon was an advice to us to speak
the truth on all occasions, and all that I mean to say,
to keep beyond offending anybody, is that in society
there is always a great difference between practising
and preaching. As I have sometimes heard Jeames
himself say, the abstract and the concrete are no aye
twins."

" And neither are they, Mr. Turnbull," Jeames broke
in, anxious to have an opportunity of closing the dis-
cussion' as far as he was concerned, " But preaching
sic as that we hae heard the night can hardly come
under the category o' the abstract. It was practical in
ilka detail."

" Ay, practical it was," interrupted Robin Drum.

m^m-

■ smi^-^

THE TRUTH O'T.

" And slow am I to believe that Mr. Turnbull here
thinks ither than we do about it, whatever difficulties
there may lie in the way o' aye speaki ig the truth and
shaming the deil. Some folk maybe dinnae believe in
shaming the personation o' a' harm-doing ; but
the man that is honest to himsel' doesnae fear muckle
the giein' o' offence to the faither o' lies or to ony o'
his bairns. Besides, what a won'erfu' whirl o' affec-
tation and double-facedness is this same society that is
to keep us frae speaking the truth gin we ance resolve
to dae sae ? A bonnie moral force it has been in
makin' men and women better ! A bonnie moral
force out o' which to fashion a high-priest o' social
authority ! Guidness me, to hear some folk talk, ye
would think the smirk o' society, that wouldnae offend
for a saxpence, is the very divinity o' reform, and un-
less we adorn our walk and conversation witli it every
day as soon as we get up out o' bed, there'll be a scent
about us o' nonconformity that'll mak' ilka gentleman
o' them turn up his nose at us. The Children o' Israel,
puir, fickle creatures that they were, could thole as bad
bein' shown the error o' their ways, as dae the children
o' society the day; but, whether or no, they had aye
to come back to the first principle o' honesty, sobriety
and ae wife. And sae maun this nebsy creature, ca'd
society, knuckle down to the only morality there is.
There's nae smirk on the face o' the eternities. A lie
is a lie, and there's nae getting ower't, and it'll no be
me for ane, nor the minister, nor Mr. Drum here, as
representing the eldership, that'll gie, I'm sure, ony
countenance to the runi'gait hussy they ca' society in
her tantrums. She's a bad ane at heart, a new kind o'

! ^. i

affBiKriaiitM"i'aagataa^i«af •"! riTTTi"^.

4:|

111''

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

!t^

scarlet lady as fu' o' tricks again' the truth as the
tither ; and I fain hope nane o' our congregation, as
weel for his ain sake as for ours, will think o' setting
her up as a goddess o' reason, a kind o' conscience-
guide, either for hinisel' or for ithers. Exactly sae ! "

To pursue the argument further in Jeames's pres-
ence, after such a pronouncement, would have been a
kind of sacrilege within the l^etherell's own do-
mains. The respect of boyhood cannot be shaken ofi
even by those who sometimes make a show of shaking
it off ; and Willie, receiving a tacit sort of signal from
Robert, decided, out of that respect which had never
left him, notwithstanding his many irregularities, to
let his old friend and quondam tutor have the last word.
It was evidently not the intention of the young men,
however, to let the discussion rest after Jeames had
dismissed it with his ex catJicdra phrase. As soon as
they had passed out into the darkness on their way
home, they resumed, with perhaps even more earnest-
ness, the consideration of the position the minister had
taken about this speaking of the truth under all cir-
cumstances.

" I wasnae far from the fire of persecution, when I
made that remark about the minister," said Willie, " or
rather the remark you forced me into making. The
auld beadle's eyes fairly glistened in his head when he
thought I was impugning the minister's action."

" And no wonder," replied Robert, " for I'm sure
none of us could ever think of Mr. Thomson telling
a lie."

" Not even a bit of a white ciie at a Presbytery meet-
ing, when the debate happens to be kind of warm ? "

M.i..,jji««(wwia

THE TRUTH O'T.

said Willie, sotto voce, laughing within his words in

the darkness.

" No sir ; not even under such circumstances," and
there was the emphasis of indignation in Robert's
answer, that emphasis of indignation which was sure
to come into the speech of any of the congregation
when their minister was assailed even in the mildest
phrase.

" Well, well, then ; never mind Mr. Thomson per-
sonally : I respect him and the responsible position he
holds over us as much as you do. But about the prac-
tice of the thing. Have you been so far converted to
his way of thinking as to try your hand at reducing
his principles to an every-day routine ? The proof of
the pudding is the preein' of it. Have you decided
to try your fortune at truth-telling ? "

" I am firmly of the opinion that the minister is
right."

" Nobody denies that, old man," said Willie. " His
theory is as sound as the Book, and I have maintained
that from the beginning."

" And what is more," continued Robert, giving no
heed to the interruption, "the minister's own example
gives me a well-grounded faith in human nature."

" In Jeames's perfectibilities, I suppose."

" And I have really come to believe that speaking
the truth at all times may not only be practicable but
profitable."

" Hear, hear ! " exclaimed Willie, " the profitabilitie.'i
are never far from being some folks' perfectibilities.
Tuts, tuts, nothing of the kind. No personal reference
whatever. We know each other ov/er well for tnat.

•MitMM

^\l

■'■^

mi i

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

I was only making an irrelevant remark. Excuse me.
But what are you coming to ? "

Robert kept silent for a minute.

" Come, come, old man, you needn't be so easily
offended at a fellow with his fun."

" I am not offended ; I am in earnest."

" Eh ! in earnest ? "

" Yes, in earnest about this speaking of the truth."

" Well, so am I."

" But I mean to try to speak the truth on all occa-
sions, from this out."

" You do ? "

"I do."

" Positive ? "

" Yes, my mind is finally made up. You may call it
sudden conversion and laugh at it if you like. But I
have never at any time given much heed to the argu-
ment that is only a silly laugh ; and you know that,
Willie. I believe this speaking of the truth can be
done ill small matters as in great affairs, in our ordi-
nary walk and conversation, as in important business
transactions. There's a meanness about deception that
every manly man should tak' a grue at; and I, for one,
have decided, after hearing what the minister has said.
to be done with it in every shape and form, as far as
God and guid sense, as Jeames would say, will gie me
guidance."

"Well, well, after such a decision as that, what is
going to happen ? You mean from this time out to
speak the truth — "

" Yes, that's my decision."

" The whole truth ? "

THE TRUTH O'T.

" Well, yes ; the whole truth, as far as duty forces
me to do so."

" And nothing but the truth ? "

" Yes, so help nie, God."

" Serious ? "

" I never felt more serious, perhaps, in all my life."

" Dear me ! " at last exclaimed Willie, with a sigh
in which there was an element of Robert's own serious- '
ness ; " this is putting a new face on things. Come
ower here to the lamplight till I see if there isnae the
usual tell-tale twinkle in your eye. This is no the
first time you've taken your fun of¥ Willie Turnbull.
Well, no, there's nothing there but all seriousness.
You evidently mean what you say. But, really, old
man, you mustn't carry your eccentricity to such
lengths as that. I have known how eccentric you can
be at times ; at least I have often thought it eccentri-
city on }'Our part when you were drawing me ower
the coals ; and let me tell you, you never can come to
a decision that will be so readily set down as an eccen-
tricity as this notion of yours about speaking the truth
in the wee as well as in the big. Better take time to
reconsider the matter. You may think I'm in fun, but
I'm not."

" It is not often you are not in fun," interrupted
Robert.

" That is as it may be," continued Mr. Turnbull, " but
I am in earnest the now, anyway. Think well before
you take such a step as you have been hinting at
Think of your uncle, and your aunt, of your em-
ployers, of your sweetheart, if you have really made up
your mind about that matter, and, if not, think of youi

■Pi

■MM

t -

i!
>|

f- ■ f

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

,.|,

IP^

i>i

humble servant, the friend who has always stood by
you in all your hazards, and who still esteems you a
kind of sensible man. Think well of the full responsi-
bilities of this resolution of yours. You will offend, as
sure as surety itself, both friend and foe, however few
you may have of the latter. You will not offend me,
of course, for I am forewarned ; l^ut you will certainly
offend the most of those who think well of you, per-
haps sever every connection that binds you to the
pleasant thing's of this world."

" Is Saul also among the prophets ? "

" Well, no, Robert Mowbray, I am neither a prophet
nor the son of a prophet, but all the same I can see
what is going to happen to you, when you come to
tilt with the windmills. Don Quixote was an honest
man, but he was a fool for his pains, all the same. The
' unco guid ' tell us that we shouldnae let the sun go
down upon our wrath."

" The Bible tells us the same thing, Willie."

" The Bible be it, then ; but as for me, I would ad-
vise you no to let the starlight go down on your folly.
Be advised in time, and don't become a laughing-stock
with the Sancho Panzas of society, who sometimes
find their island, only to wish they had never set out
in search of it."

" Your histrionic sympathy is a wee bit misplaced,''
said Robert, turning to bid his friend good-night.
" You are half in fun, but I am whole in earnest. My
decision is not likely to be changed the instant it has
been formed ; and it is perhaps as well that all the
people have disappeared from the streets, or they would
probably be inclined to think that the sermon, how-

THE TRUTH O'T.

ever it denounced all kinds of untruthfulness, gave us
a kind of license to break the Sabbath night. You're
a worldly-minded young man, I'm afraid, Willie Turn-
bull, and it would certainly be a struggle with the
biggest of wind-mills for a man to try to convert you.
I hardly expected you would join me in a crusade of
this kind on your own account. I am not, therefore,
disappointed, though I am glad there is nobody near
by to hear you in the part of Mephisto, the tempter."

It was true what Robert Aiowbray said. The
streets by this time were deserted. The congregation
had dispersed and completely disappeared before the
two young men had left the session-house. The after-
discussion had taken place in the long avenue, while
the disputants were approaching the lamplight over
the gateway on their way into the street. Jeames and
Robin Drum had gone home by the gateway in the
rear of the church grounds, so that there was no one
to disturl) the conversation of the two companions, no
one to overhear it, perhaps, save the writer, who, with
the sanction of his readers, may take advantage of the
silence and the lamplight, in taking a good look at both
of the disputants, before they disappear in the darkness
of the night.

} ;

I .a

)

1
I

/n't;

■I ■

'1'

CHAPTER II.

" Ye'll allow ye sometimes are wranp;, auld wife,
As weel about things as wi' men ;
Sae stir up a bit, and burnish your wit ;
Jist say ower your say ance again, auld wife,
Till e'en to yoursel' it be plain."

Counting by the thousand, there are but few people
in the world who cannot easily pass in a crowd without
being- noticed. How the hermit of Craigenputtoch
must have laughed within himself, if not with his
solitary companion, when the conceit first entered his
soul to write up the philosophy of clothes ! With the
zig-zag of a hundred odd fancies darting and flashing
through the lingual ghost-nooks of his imagination,
with the ridiculous finding its fun in the hurry and
scurry of the millions of earth, as they think to find
distinguishment, despite the accident of clothes, he
must have had a gay moment of it, amid the many sub-
jectivities of his moorland retreat. But in starting to
count by the thousand, our selected crowd is not to be
supposed as being other than an ordinary crowd of
mortals attired in a Christian-like way. The difficulty
of calculating how many would or would not escape
notice in a crowd deprived of the aforesaid accident, is
rather too much of a difficulty for us to solve, as it

TIIK TRUTH OT.

would ])r()1)a1)ly have been even U)r Thomas Carlylc;
and hence when it is said that there are few people in
the world who cannot easily pass in a crowd counting
by the thousand, the number includes, let it be under-
stood, only persons in a presentable condition of body,
suitably adorned with the ordinary wear and tear of
human raiment.

And high though the word of praise may seem,
Robert Mowbray was one of the few. Of course
everybody in Kartdale knew him by sight, just as it
was once a boast of his that there was not a man,
woman, or child in the village whom he did not know
in the same way. Everybody also spoke of him by his
full name, and could readily point him out to anyone
even when seen at a distance. I'ut outside of Robert's
Kartdale acquaintances, had any stranger happened to
meet him in the thoroughfare of a large city, he or she
would hardly have passed him without expressing a
desire to learn who he was. He was tall enough to be
handsome, and yet nobody ever seemed inclined to say
he was handsome, no, not even the young ladies of
Kartdale, though with nearly all of them he was known
to be rather a favourite. Indeed, the question had not
unfrequently been discussed, pawkily enough, in the
gossiping circles of the village. Sides had even some-
times been taken by the more giddy of the female sex.
Yet the only verdict that seemed to hold its own for
any length of time was the verdict of the older people,
who maintained that Robert Mowbray was a hantle
])etter than handsome, — " he was a sensible young
man."

And possibly it was this verdict, corroborated, as it

I' 1

THE CIIKONICLKS OK KAKTDALK.

could nearly always be instantly l)y the first impression
he produced on one, that made younp^ Mowbray's face
and figure so interesting a study, though perhaps it
was more liis general demeanour — his affable accept-
ance of accjuaintanceship — than his face that made the
first favourable impression. Indeed, his face had to be
scanned more tlian once before tliere disappeared from
it a decidedly plebeian •'■tout ensemble^ If the more
matured criticism of his massive head clustering with
raven curls, found vent in the expression " Apollo
Restored," it was often suspended should the smile
disappear from his face. As his uncle would often say
to him, when the bantering spirit was on him, which
was nearly always, except when he was in a fit of
temper, — " Dear me, Robert, if it werenae for that
unruly member o' yours, and ye ken I don't mean your
tongue, for that is aye suave enough, ye wouldnae be
ill-favoured after a'. It has been a sair problem wi'
me how to classify it, but whether it is Roman or
Grecian, a Wellington's or a Napoleon's, is fairly be-
yond my powers o' comprehension to say."

And perhaps the old man was right. As charity is
said to cover a multitude of sins, a defect will even
also cover a multitude of virtues. One blemish will
mar the beauties of godhead. And yet, however near
he came to the truth in his banter, he did not always
escape reprisal when Mrs. Fairservice came to Robert's
rescue.

" Ye had better ne'er fash your head about the
matter, guidman," she would often say. " Ye hae an
unruly member o' your ain, and weel ye ken whether
it is your tongue or no. The callan' is weel enough

TIIF- TRUTH O'T.

vvi' a' yt)itr liaivcriii'. (iin a' folk's manners were as
nice as some folk's faces, it would maybe be !)etter for
everybody's peace and comfort."

And whether the old man had made the right dis-
covery or not, there had never at least been raised any
objection to the other features of Robert Mowbray's
face. Nor could there well be. His broad forehead,
high and well balanced, indicated a breadth of intelli-
gence which nobody ever denied him; while his deep
blue eyes, liquid as the transparency of truth itself,
convinced e\ ^rybody with whom he happened to come
in contact, that witliin the rippling curves in which
they were set, and behind them, there was a straight-
forward good-nature, cheerful enough in its strength
to enjoy a good joke, and strong enough in its cheer-
fulness to discern where the goodness of the joke
began and ended. Tlie man who cannot laugh, and
laugh iieartily, and .'n good season, is a man to be
shunned. If he be not a dangerous man, there is at
least something wrong with his machinery. His
mental, if not his physical nature, perhaps even his
moral nature, is out of joint. And no such a person
was Robert Mowbray. His relationships with those
of his kind never belied the definition wliich classifies
man as ''r animal qui rit^ For no merrier fellow was
there within the confines of Kartdale, nor even beyond
them, for that matter, than Mr. Fairservice's nephew,
— no one whose company was more sought after in
the village social gatherings. Not only could he enjoy
a good joke, but he could tell a good story, was able
to take part of an evening in musical tournaments,
give a reading at a Sunday-school entertainment, or

.1.

!MAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

■^illM IIIIM

" IM nil 2.2

2.0

1.8

1.25

1.4

1.6

<4 6" —

►

"9.

'^1

C'^J. ' 0%

^. " >■*■

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80

(716) 872-4503

G>.

TIIK CHRONICLES OF KAKTDALE.

It I

take part in the organization of any celebration the
young folks might have in hand. And yet, with all
his bonJioniic, there was a decisive morale about his
demeanour, a sort of steadfastness of temperament
which could nearly always restrain his companions
from any irregularity in word or act. He knew where
the line of legitimacy of frolic was to be drawn, and
it was no doubt this same seriousness of character,
more perhaps than his efifervescent good-nature, that
made him an influence among the young people of the
place, and forced the older folks to say that he was
better than handsome.

" I ken few youn^ men in Kartdale congregation,"
Jeames, the sexton, has been heard to say when
speaking of Robert, who, with the writer and others
of the boys of Kartdale had come under the tutelage
of that officer during the Sundays of his minority; "I
ken few young men in whase future I hae mair confi-
dence, than in Robert Mowbray's. He is a weel-faured
laddie in baith mind and body, being in nae wise
scrimpit in his respect unto the things that maketh for
guid to them that walk in the footsteps o' the wise.
There's enough and to spare o' foppery amang the
young folks o' the time, that mak's me something of a
numskull in my ain e'en when I try to analyze it. The
thing is no kittle to catch, and seems to come on them
like the measles or the scarlet fever. But tak' my word
for it, there's nae foppery to be found about Robert
Mowbray, however run after he may be in the circles
o' the light-hearted. I ken weel enough that there
are some ill-naturedly critical folk in some pairts o'
Kartdale that think to rank the young man after a

THE TRUTH O'T.

fashion o' their ain, as being little short o' a kind o*
hypocrite in some things. He's ower free wi* his fun
they say, to be ony better than he should be. But
there are ill-natured folk o' that kind in ilka sma' com-
munity, and even I mysel' in my bits o' trials hae come
in for their snash. The fact is, gie sic critics a man
that's a' bad, and they hae naethin' to say again him,
but gie them anc like Robert Mowbray, to find fau't
wi', and they are sure to pock-mark him vvi' their
'nyaffin. Still, for a' that, there is the niakin' o' a
clean-shanked Christian about Robert. He has a re-
spect for authority, and that's saying a guid deal for
him in thae times, when the young seem to giggle at
maist o' the serious things o' life. He's a sensible lad,
and his ensample, as far as I can see, is haein' a guid
effect amang the company wi' whom he consorts.
Exactly sae ! "

Nor in the face of what has been said in this
narrative, is Jeames's criticism in any way misleading.
Robert Mowbray had his decriers among his fellow-
townsmen. The young man had few, if any, down-
right enemies, but for all that, he was not unfrequently
a theme in the mouths of those sour-visaged busy-
bodies, who, when they cannot find any well-defined
vice in their neighbor, malvc one of his virtues serve
their turn in their animadversions. With such, Robert
was far from being all that he was held up to be.
There was just a possible overdoing of it with the
young man, as they said. He was sensible enough,
but, compared with what young p*„ople generally are,
there was danger of his being too good, as if that were
possible. Well, no, he was no Puritan in his manners;

I; 1

'if

,rf.

}
it

■I ; ■ !

ill

I ■ '

if i

•?>

■ ^

ijAl

i^^^^

ifa.

THE CHRONICLES OK KARTDALE.

he was always pleasant cnoiip^h to meet, and he could
crack a good joke; there was no gainsaying that.
Yes, his merry laugh was taking enough, and perhaps
there was nothing of the sanctimonious about it. But
should there not be more of the sanctimonious about
everything he does ? He professes a good deal in his
Sunday-school work, and his comings and goings
about kirk affairs. The " imco guid " have the best o*
good words to say about him, though it be only at
times; and it is (|uite possible that he may be all they
say he is. But all is not gold that glitters in a narrow
light; and if the kirk folk only knew what kind of
company he sometimes keeps, they would hardly be
inclined to give him all the credit he gets. It is an
easy enough thing for any young man, good, bad, or
indifferent, to make himself popular with the pious and
impious, if he only be dexterous enough in practising
the art that hides the art. The man with the iron
mask was not the only man that ever wore a mask,
and time would tell whether Ro])ert Mowbray was all
he pretended to 1)e. When a man like him persevered,
in spite of everybody's advice, in keeping company
with such a harum-scarum as Willie Turnbull, it was
not very difficult to predict how he would end, with all
his airs of goodness of heart and uprightness of
behaviour.

That Rol)ert Mowbray kept company with Willie
Turnlndl went without saying in Kartdale, and many
a solemn Cassandra-like shake of the head was indulged
in at the companionship, even by some of the former's
best friends. How the two had come to form such a
companionshi}) is. difficult of explanation, unless it

THE TRUTH O'T.

arose from the affinity which men and things have so
often for their opposites; for in nearly every respect
Mr. WilHam Tiirnbull was the very antithesis of his
comrade. And yet, strange though the companion-
ship may have seemed, it was surely even more strange
that people should have been found so ready to blame
Robert for keeping company with his friend, ay, a
great deal readier than they were in condemning Willie
for his extravagances.

" The ethical paradox," as Jeames has been heard to
say, "o' folks condemning the wrang man, canna'^ but
mak' us marvel at tiiues at the eccentricities o' public
opinion. Dear me, there's nae getting square wi' her,
sae fickle and camstrarie is the jade, when she tak's ane
o' her whims about folk. Now, there is Robert Mow-
bray and Willie Turnbull, twa young men o' our
congregation, that may be said to be keeping ilk ither's
company. And what for no ? Tak' my word for it,
Willie 'ill learn mair guid frae Robert, that Robert 'ill
learn o' bad frae Willie. And yet public opinion is
for the maist pairt down on Robert for consorting
wi' Willie, while they say little or naetliing about the
backslidings o' his friend. Weel, weel, it's no for me
to find fault, for if the truth maun out, there's no sae
nmckle to say again' puir Willie after a'; at least, I
hacnae the heart to be hard on him. He hasnae,
maybe, been brought up as I would hae brought up a
son o' mine, gin Providence had gien me ane, though
it's hard to tell. lUit, after a' has been said and done,
he's a generous-hearted kind o' a chiel, whase motto
in this worl' seems to be share and share alike. I've
kenn'd mony a waur kind than Willie, and folk may

,;,.?,

^■}i{'

. (

THE CHRONICLES OF KAKTDALE.

tak' his pairt as much as they like, as far as I'm
concerned. Still, why shouldnac public opinion be as
gleg to protect the tane as the tither ? It's jist what I
hae said; public opinion is a whimsical jade, and it's
no for the wisest o' us to niak' out what road she'll
tak' in her judgments about men. Exactly sae ! "

And though perhaps the question of Mr. Turnbull's
standing was never of much public moment in Kart-
dale, the worst that could be said of him was that he
was more or less a young man of the world, whatever
that may mean, living in the meantime on expectations
which might or might not be fully realized on the
death of his uncle, a prominent hardware merchant in
the village. To believe what some people said of him,
he had been brought up as a gentleman, and if a
gentleman consists in the outward appearance only,
there was always an aspect of success of sucli training
about him, for no man in the town was better dressed
than the nephew of Mr. Stewarton. Indeed, about
Willie's personal appearance there was always the best
to be said. Whatever rank he might have attained
to in the crowd, deprived of the accident of clothing,
he certainly held no second place among the beaux
of Kartdale. His business was to look well. Tall and
fairly well as Willie was built, the tailor of Kartdale
could find no better a model among his customers on
whom to display his goods and handicraft, than on
the man who was full of suggestions gained from a
personal experience with his own person, and ambi-
tious to shine as a beau-ideal beau, a kind of double-
barrelled gentleman at large.

Of Willie's true character there was never either the

■ i

THE TRUTH O'T.

best or the worst to be said in the town, as we have
already seen. Jcanies's ethical paradox had no correc-
tive influence in placing his character in its true li^ht.
If he was idle, there was no hypocrisy about him
anyway, not the shadow of hypocrisy. Every act of
his, generous-hearted fellow that he was, was as trans-
parent as a child's; well no, perhaps, not as innocent
as a child's, but at least as easily seen through as glass
itself. If he was vain, it was a fault common enough
among men with too nnich time on their hands; and,
if he was a little silly in his vanity at times, he was
certainly not pnnid. No, pride in a young man is a
hateful offence, and as such was never to be seen in
Willie Turnbull in his association with those of his
kind, with whom he was always " hail-fell(^\v-well-met.*'
Well, yes, he was improvident; there was no hiding of
that. P)Ut what had he to be provident about ? He
liad nobody save himself to think of in the meantime;
and, when he came to ccjntend with the stern realities
of life, it would l)e time enough for him to be cured
of his improvidence. What's that ? He was inclined
to be intemperate ? That's just like the spy-wives
there are about, to watch a young man's every move-
ment. There is no doubt that he steps in occasionally
to the Cross Keys, but it is more for the company he
finds there, no doubt, than for appeasing any appetite
he has acquired for strong drink, — more to while away
an hour than to get bousy like some folks. No, he
has no occupation, nor does he seem inclined to settle
down to any kind of steady employment. T* 's a pity,
no doul)t. But who's to blame ? Few young men
care to turn their hand to any regular employment

i !■■

* i

THE CHRONICLES OF KAKTDALE

unless the necessity presses upon them; and if there
is anybody to blame for the indiscretion of yoimg
folks in this respect, it is surely those who have had
to do with their bringing up.

And thus it was that Willie Tumbull, under the
patronage of those who were ready enough to blame
Robert Mowbray for keeping company with him,
made c[ood the role he had set himself of beino; a
gentleman at large in Kartdale. Of his mental equip-
ment there was little or nothing to boast. He had
been fairly well educated, having passed through Mr.
Allen's hands; and the boy possessed a pretty poor
intelligence, for whom the old schoolmaster could not
do something, by way of mental development. In
school, Willie's intellectual rank, however, was much
what it afterwards became among men. He was smart
enough, and on that account some one had called him
clever; but he was never intellectually clever, as old
Mr. Allen had to confess. His intelligence seldom
went beyond, and only occasionally touched the tidal
mark of mediocrity. The logic of his discussions with
others knew no middle term save his own personal
experience, his conversation being replete with his
own adventures, — his many mistakes in points of
etiquette or in wider social exigencies, and the manner
in which he had delivered himself from the petty
consequences of such. Poor Willie ! as those who
knew him intimately could never refrain from calling
him. What a good-natured fellow he was, insipid a
little in his minor conversations, but harmless, — a
young man of the best opportunities, ever more of a
staunch friend than a sound adviser, — a fairly fitting

THE TRUTH O'T.

representative of the ways of mediocrity, as he stands
under the hmiphght, looking into his friend's face with
his quizzical pleasant smile.

Rol)ert, in his remark about the breaking of the
Sabbath, by standing so long on the street after leaving
church, had given Willie a hint that the discussion
about speaking the truth had reached a practical issue,
as far as he was concerned, and might with propriety
be brought to a close. lUit tiie latter had evidently
])cen struck with some new proposition, brilliant
enough perhaps from his own stand-point to justify
him in accompanying Robert towards Mr. Fairservice's
villa, a short distance out of town, as he took time to
develop his idea with all the shrewdness of a society
man.

" You evidently have some regard for public opinion
after all," said he, taking advantage of Robert's remark
about what people would say. "If the 'unco guid' are
likely to think ill of me for conversing with a friend
at the street corner on a Sunday night, what will they
think of you, my Reverend Robert, when you get into
an ill way of doing from speaking the truth, as ycu
most assuredly will ? "

" A good prophecy is none the worse of repetition,
but a foolish one you should hide in your hat, Willie.
The good people of Kartdale may think what they like
about me, as long as my conscience tells me I do
nothing l)ut what is right. Public opinion is not a
very safe conscience-guide to a man. The judgment
of the unthinking is never much more than a flash in
the pan."

" And yef a flash in the pan is a very scarey thing,

It
m

i r(-':

.1 !0

1 I

1 -

100

THE CHKONICLKS OF KARTDALK.

when the muzzle of the ^\m is pointed at you and you
don't know whether it is loaded or no. I know you're
stubborn enough when the fit takes you; but you've
hardly had time to think carefully of what will happen
should you madly stick to your resolution."

" Come then, wonderful prophet of evil, what will
happen, if I persevere in speaking the truth ?"

The question was something of a puzzle in its sud-
denness, and Willie looked at his friend as solemnly
as it was possible for such as he to look, before making
his reply.

" I'm sorry you're not making fun of me, Robert
Mowbray," said he at length, with further solemnity
in his tones, and a pause between every word.

Robert had to laugh in spite of himself, Willie
always looked comical when he tried to look solemn.

" I'm sorry you're in earnest about this," said he
again. " And I'm afraid I've been partly the cause of
your being so. You ask me what will happen, if you
continue in your present state of mind. Why, every-
thing will happen."

" Your prophecy is sure to come true in that case,
and no mistake, Willie," exclaimed Rol^ert, still
laughing. " You've made it general enough, anyway."

"Ay, you may laugh, but I feel confident that every
kind of misfortune will happen to you. You ask me
to specify these misfortunes more particularly ? Why,
man, you will be misunderstood by everybody.
Before a week is gone you'll be at loggerheads with
all mankind. Everybody's eye will be turned upon you
as a crank. The villagers will ridicule your Utopian-
isms. The boys will hold their faces at an angle as

THE TRUTH O'T.

101

you pass; while the ^irls will cry out, — 'Well, now,
(lid you ever, there's that Robert Mowbray.' You ask
me what will happen, and I have told you to think of
everyb(Kly connected with you before you become a
crank, before everybody has set you aside as being
mad. I'm really sorry, Robert, you have not been
making- fun of me, I am really and truly sorry."

" The worst then that can happen to me, in your
opinion, Willie, is that people may think I am mad,
and that is bad enough."

" They sometimes put cranks in jail."

" You mean crooks."

" Well, crooks be it, there's not much difference."

" There's all the difference that lies between being
mad and being bad. But if people should really think
the very worst of me, Willie, — should think me both
mad and bad, — that would not make me either mad
or bad."

" I see you're at Jeames's perfectibilities business
again. But perhaps you may change your mind
should you have to pass a day among the raving or
spend a night in the county jail. The character of the
punishment, rightly or wrongly inflicted, is too often
taken as a symbol, if not an equivalent of the offence,
even by people whom one would think ought to know
better. It's a hard business for the ex-jail bird to
recover his respectability, and who would think of
doing business with a man that has been in Gartnavel."

" Still harping on the same string," said Robert.
" You havnae read the poet to much purpose when he
says ' Our world's nvithin, and we mak' it oursel's.' I

! «i

I". :

102

TIIK CHRONICLES OF KARTDALIO.

am not responsible for the world which other people
make for me."

" No, but you're forced to live in it."

" That may be, but there is aye either a hip^her seat
in the synap^ogue from which you can look down upon
your would-be world makers, or a lower seat where
you can adorn your diminished head with the humility
that brinfj^s i)eacc to the heart. lUit what is the use
of us prok)n^in^ the discussion ? I have made up my
mind. I have informed your grace of what I purpose,
and by the manhood within me have I sworn to keep
my vow. Shylock could say no more. I am firmly
persuaded that men not only ought to speak the truth,
but can speak the truth, without injury to themselves
or others, without being confined either for being mad
or bad,"

" Don't be so sure of that," exclaimed Willie, no
longer disposed to hold out. " To be misunderstood
is next to being considered m d."

" But to speak the truth is to be understood, not to
be misunderstood, my good fellow, and there's no
perhaps about it. So good-night to you. I'm bent on
trying the experiment anyway. Good-night, and the
best of pleasant dreams to you." *.

The two young men were again on the point of
parting, and yet Willie did not seem, so far, to have
developed his idea. There was something on his mind
still.

" Good-night, old man," repeated Robert, wondering
why Wilnt still retained his hand.

The pause was seemingly an awkward one for both.

'if

THE TRUTH O'T.

103

)plc

*' lUit I say, Robert, you know," said tlic latter, at
last breaking llie silence.

" Well, say on, my good fellow."

" You're in earnest, of course ? "

" You know I am."

" No fooling of poor Willie Tui nl)ull ? "

" Not a bit of it."

" Your bound to speak tbe trutli from tbis day
out ? "

" Haven't I sworu j it ? "

" Yes, yes, so you bave; tbat is if tbere's no mistake."

"Tliere is no mistake."

" Sure ? " and Willie laid bis two bands on Robert's
sboulders.

" Yes, sure as surety itself."

" Well tben. suppose "

And W^illie's bands dropped in trq)idation or some-
tbing like it.

" Suppose wbat ? " asked Robert.

" Oh, notbing; but, I was just going to say, suppose
we clinch the matter," and Willie once more held out
bis band as if be wanted to bid his friend good-night
again. • •

" How Glincii the matter ? Is a man's oath of no
account ? What do you mean ? "

"Oh, nothing, nothing much, Robert; of course it's
Sunday night."

" It's Sunday night ? Why, of course it's Sunday
night. Do you think I have forgot that much, with
Mr. Thomson's sermon still ringing in my ears ? One
would think you wanted to judge me a lunatic already."

" No, no, Robert, time enough for that, nothing of

^11

104

THE CHRONICLES OK KAKTDALE.

that kind, at least in the meantime. There's nothing
of the prima facie about mc ; but "

" Well, but what ? " exclaimed Robert, for Willie
had again paused. "You have something on your
mind; and you're afraid to mention it. Out with it,
man."

"Cor'^n't we have, — well you know," and Willie's
hesitanc> became all but overpowering. " Couldn't
we have a kind of a bet about the matter. No offence,
you know; none whatever; but it is generally the way
we do, you know; a bet makes things kind of sure, at
least we always think so; don't you, Robert ?"

" Oh you heathen, Willie Turnbull, you worldly-
minded usurer, you sacrilegious tempter, you would
lay snares for the unwary and the innocent, would
you ? You make sure by enticing a man to swear to
the keeping of his vow, and then pounce upon him
with the fangs of a sharper. And then a bet on
Sunday night ! Why, I almost believe you are as bad
as some people say you are, — worse than I really
thought you to be."

"Well, well, never mind me, it's all right, you know;
no offence, of course ; but let us suppose it to be
Monday morning; though it doesn't m:.tter, of
course;" continued Willie, somewhat ashamed at his
proposition.

" But it isn't Monday morning; and surely you don't
suppose I am going to inaugurate duy reform in myself
of speaking the truth on all occasions by telling or
assuming a falsehood ? "

Willie looked further crestfallen.

" Then you don't intend to bet any more ? "

THE TRUTH O'T.

105

" Tliat's a different story," was Robert's cautious
reply. " You have tliouglit fit to doubt my word, and
have cast a shir even upon my oath, and if I do not
meet your demand, 1 suppose you will be sure to have
no faith in my resolution."

" Then you will stake a trifle on it," and Willie
Turnbull, as he now began to see his idea developing,
seemed to become a changed man from what he had
been in the session-house while discussing matters in
Jeamcs's presence. He was now in his proper
element. He was again among the looser fish of his
accjuaintances in and around the Cross Keys, the
worldly idler seeking the excitement that arises from
having something at stake.

" You will give a fellow a chance, then ? "

" Willie Turnbull," said Robert, solemnly, at least
as solemnly as the ludicrous situation would let him,
" I sometimes think there is no reforming of you.
I'm no believer in this betting at any time, as you very
well know; but as I am unwilling you should go away
tl'iinking that, in coming to the resolve of speaking the
truth, I am aiming at a saintship you cannot attain to,
I am ready to meet your worldly-mindedness at least
half way, Sunday night though it be. You don't seem
to value a man's word as you would his money ? "

" A bet always looks the safe thing to do."

" You mean a safe bet, I suppose."

" Come, come, Robert; no nonsense about any
prima facie, on my part; you know I never do anything
in that line. I have lost more bets than I have ever
won, and my prophecies don't count for much when a

bet is on. Am I to understand that you are willing to

106

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

■J

IH i

take up a risk on the stability or instability of your de-
cision to conform to the minister's principles ? "

"That depends," answered Robert.

" Depends on what ? "

" Depends upon how the money won or lost is after-
wards to be spent. I am not unwilling to make sure
of my resolution, and to acconmiodate a worldling like
you, even on a Sunday night, by making a bet for the
first time and, I trow, the last time, if the proceeds be
given to a charity or donated to some good work.
Otherwise, I might be thought to have no faith in my
courage to carry out my own resolution."

Turnbull was again a different man on seeing his
idea so near the realization point.

" All right," he exclaimed, with glee. " Suppose we
give the proceeds to the Christian Union. That is
surely a channel through which we can purify an act
of ours from all worldly-mindedness."

" I have no objection to the institution," said Robert;
" if it is worthy of every kind of charitable support."

** Then I bet you a fiver "

" Five pounds ? "

"Yes, five pounds; have you any objection to the
amount ? "

" Why, you're not worth that nuich, Willie."

" Never you mind. I'll raise it if it be needed, which
I am pretty well assured it won't be."

" Then the prima facie principle, if my suspicions
of what you mean by that is correct, is not altogether
an iniknown quantity in your speculation ? "

" How can there be any suspicion of the pri^na facie,
when there's no personal gain ? No, Robert Mow-

THE TRUTH OT.

107

bray, I l^et you five pounds, on purely public grounds,
that you do not continue to speak the truth in all
matters for a week continuously, without becoming
an inmate of the nearest mad-house, or being con-
sidered a fit and proper person to be sent there."

" You've left the jail out, Willie."

" Then you had better include it in your acceptance.
As you yourself have hinted, mad or bad, lunatic or
criminal."

" Then it is now my turn to be serious," said Robert,
taking his comrade's hand for the third time. " I have
never been much of a betting man except by way ot
fun, and never on Sunday. But to stand by the cause
of speaking the truth after hearing the sermon we have
just been listening to, to stand by such a principle
without the least appearance of sanctimoniousness, I
am willing even on a Sunday night in the presence of
such a worldling doubter as you are, Willie TurnbuU,
to shake hands with you over the matter. You have
doubted my word, and doubted even my oath. So
here goes. There seems to be only one way of con-
vincing you that I am in earnest. From this time
forth," and the declarant laid emphasis on each word
as he shook Willie's hand, " I shall speak the truth on
all occasions; and if by the end of the week you find
that I have not come under the supervision of the
authorities who have the looking after of the insane or
the criminal, you will pay over to die Christian Union
of Kartdale the sum of five pounds sterling. The
better day the better deed is but a poor excuse for
such an act as this, though it seems no sillier a plea
perhaps, than the one I have advanced in justification

|:;

■ ^ "1

•i'l

I \

\ l-i

108

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

f 'I

hi ■"

% !

o\ my acceptance of your challenge. Still it may
satisfy my tempter, Mr. Mephisto Turn1)ull, whose
morahty, I am afraid, is not of a very higli cast,
though my own is not much to 1)oast of eitiier. So
there's my hand on it. My desire is to show how far
I have confidence in myself, as well as in those who
decide to do as I propose to do, in reducing the
minister's principles to a daily practice, and I hope
you, WilHe Turnbull, will eventually become one of us.
So good-night with you; good-night and pleasant
dreams, with an early resolution in the morning to
speak the truth under all circumstances (Uu'ing the
day."

"Good-night, old fellow," exclaimed Willie; "good-
night, and may prosperity go with you. Man, I only
wish you could see your way to double the stakes.
Good-night, however," and so the two companions
parted for the evening.

CHAPTER III.

" It's maybe no' jist what ye like, auld wife,
Peinickily whiles tho' ye be ;
Sae leain ye the way, nor think to say nay

To a man that turns Turk on a lie, auld wife, —
To a man that has sworn no' lo lie,"

Next morning, young Mowbray, still determined to
follow the advice of the minister of Kartdale, even
after the most careful self-examination and private
deliberation, had not far to go to meet his first tempta-
tion. He had spent something of a restless night,
with the seriousness of his wakeful moments chasing
the ridiculous of his dreams, and as he descended to
the breakfast room, where his uncle and aunt were
already in waiting, there was hanging over him the un-
easiness of a headache, which made the meeting of
the tempter on his own terms less of an easy task,
perhaps. The tempter was no other than Mr. Fair-
service, his uncle, who, whenever the occasion ofYered,
seemed to derive a good deal of gratification from
seeing his nephew's good-nature afloat on the wave of
his own banter. No more dreadful tc^ase or quiz was
there in Kartdale than the same Mr. Fairservice, at
least, so Mrs. Fairservice had been heard declaring
frequently enough in the hearing of her visitors.

■ 1 ■ I

Til

■Uli

? ;:■ I

110

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

To make an explanation, wliich ought to have been
made s(X)ner, no doul^t, Robert Mowljray had been left
an oq^han when he was not more than three years of
age. An only ehiid, he had been intrusted to the
keeping of the Fairservices by the dying breath of his
mother, who had survived her husjjand's connnercial
ruin and death only about a year. Mr. Fairservice
was Robert's mother's brother, and faithfully did he
and his motherly affectioned life-partner fulfil their
trust in the upbringing of the boy. No mother could
have done more for her own child than Mrs. Fair-
service did for little Robert Mowbray; and while Mr.
Fairservice seldom let slip an opportunity of making
merry at his nephew's expense, no one knew better
than his wife how much he was built up in the lad,
how far he felt towards him the affection of a father
towards his own son. In a word, Robert had been
taken to the hearts of the old childless couple, even
before the death of his mother, and when he was left
alone in the world, as it seemed, they felt as if there
had at last been bestowed on them the l)lessing of a
child of their own. The education the lad received in
the parish school of Kartdale — and what ])etter school
education could he have received than at the hands of
old Mr. Allen, — was suplemented by a two years'
residence at Dollar, before he had been appointed
junior salesman in one of the largest of the great
drapery esla])lishments in Glasgow. The original idea
in Mr. Fairservice's mind in placing his adopted son
with such a firm, was that he might there acquire the
widest business experience possible, previous to the
time of his starting business for himself; but so well

THK TRUTH OF.

Ill

had the youngs man performed his duty towards his
employers that tlie promotion he had received at their
hands all, but supeiS'.^ded the uncle's original intention.
Before he had reached his twenty-fifth year, Robert's
prospects in the firm to which he w'as attached, had
become so bright, that nf^thing short of a partnership
would in all pn^bability fall to him as a final rev^ard for
his services. At least, so tlie most of Kartdale thought
as they gossiped about the heir-apparent of Mr. Fair-
service, the retired grocer.

After Robert had entered on his apprenticeship in
Glasgow, he continued to live with his uncle and aunt
in the pleasant villa which the former had erected a
short time before he had retired from active service
behind the counter. Every lawful day the young
merchant went in and out from the city by rail, and on
entering the breakfast-room on the MondaA morning
after coming to his memorable decision, he had more
than an hour to spare befor*" setting out for the station.

The usual greetings were exchanged between him
and the old people, though the uncle at once noticed
while bidding his nephew good-morning, that there
was perhaps less than the usual sunshine on Robert's
cheerful countenance.

" You are kind o' late this morning, are you not,
Robert; every thing a' right wi' ye ?"

The greeting was cheerful enough, and the query
.miple enough, and yet Robert answered it neither
cheerfully nor readily. His vow to speak the truth
on all occasions, important and unimportant, suddenly
came in his way. He was not well enough to declare
himself perfectly well, to declare that everything was

112

TIIK CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

all rijj^ht. The licadaclic he had, when he awoke, had
not left hini, in fact was growing even more intense
every minute On (jther occasions, headache or no
headache, he would unhesitatingly have answered in
the aFrniative that everything was all right with him,
not only to avoid giving his aunt any uneasiness on
his health's account, but perhaps even from a less
disinterested motive of escaping the badinage and
satirical remarks of the head of the l^ouse, who, to look
at his healthy complexion and robust contour of body,
had probably had few aches of any kind during his
lifetime. But to answer in the affirmative in the face
of his vow, was to shrink from the conseciuences of
ordeal number one, was to break his solemn pledge at
the very outset, and so he remained silent for the
moment in regard to his own physical condition,
though he contrived to say something about the
weather.

But Mr. Fairservice, who had been too long in
business, — too long experienced with the eloquence
of silence in his bargainings, to be put oflf in this way,
again pressed the query upon his nephew, whether he
felt in his usual state of iiealth.

" To be honest wi' ye, though its maybe no the best
o' manners to speak o' ither folk's looks, as your
auntie whiles says, you do look kind o' white about the
gills. What's the matter ? "

Though the uncle's tone was still a bantering one,
the repetition of the query made Robert's aunt, who
was superintending the tea things at the end of the
table, look anxiously at her nephew.

TIIK TRUTH OT

113

"Why, you're no sick, a" ye Robert?" she asked
with surprise.

"Oh, there's nothing serious, auntie; it's only a
headache; " and the licro of ordeal number jne blushed
like a person caught in the act of connnittnig an
otTence, becoming at once self-conscious of what was
in store for him from his uncle,

" Only a headache ! " exclaimed that gentleman
sotio voce, with his face behind his newspaper ; "only
a headache ! Hmphu ! "

" There's naething like a guid strong cup o' tea for
a thing o' that kind, as we women folk ken fu' well,"
said his aunt, giving no heed to her husband's irony,
but proceeding to give hei nephew the full strength of
the teapot.

" Could ye no put a trifle o' pennyroyal or some ither
clam-jamfrey o' women's stulY in it, for the puir man ? "
cor.'tinued the uncle, shuffling in his chair, as if over-
burdened with further opinions about the state of his
nephew's healtn. "Just a sniff or sae o' something to
regulate the fervour o' a love-sick swain. Dear me,
what can the worl' be coming to ? Young men hae
ailments that were little spoken of in my young days.
Only a headache ! Dod bless me, to think o't mak's
a man bald afore his time," and in this way, having
selected for his text the young men of his day, the old
merchant ran on for some time at Robert's expense.

After Mrs. Fairservice had given the ^atter his tea,
taking special pains to make it strong and palatable,
as she thought, the meal proceeded in silence for a
minute or two.

" Have I made your tea agreeable, Robert ? " the

,:J

1 Ibl

■\l

/nT

114

TIIR CIIUONICLKS OK KAKTDALK.

aunt asked at Icnji^tli. Another poor simple (juestion
politely put and kindly meant, and yet how often it lias
been the origin of disrespect to tlie nintli conunand-
ment — shall it be said, of more white lies than any
other social (juery.

" Very nice indeed ! " was what Robert was proceed-
ings carelessly, to say, when ap^ain he remembered his
vow, and saw before him ordeal number two.

" It is strong enough, anyway, auntie," was what he
did say.

" Ower strong, maybe," again exclaimed I'nclc Fa r-
service, watching his opportunity, — " Uwer strong, at
least, for a sober-minded invalid wi' a headache, wha
ought, like some o' our feckless saints o' modern
times, to avoid everything that's strong, even strength
o' will to overcome a bit pain in the head."

Robert, of necessity, stood the banter without retort;
not so his aunt.

" There, that'll dae, guidman. Nae mair o' that, gin
ye please. Tak' up your attention wi' that newspaper
o' yours, and spoil your temper as muckle' as you like
ower thae politicians ye mak' sic fuss about at times.
If you and them are modern saints, it's maybe a guid
thing there are some sinners left in the worl', if only
to preseA^e us a' frae gaun clean wud, Argle-bargle
wi' them as muckle as ye like, and jist leave the laddie
alane. If he hae a headache, it's a guid's blessing it's
no yours, or we would be a' hearing about it to a
different tune. Besides, I want him to tak' a note o'
some things I expect him to bring hame the night frae
Glasgow for me. Sae jist mind your newspaper, auld

TIIK TRUTH O'T.

115

man, and ne'er fash your l)()ther about modern saints
or their lieadaclies."

In tliis way tiie kind-lieartcd matron would often
interefere in lier nepliew's belialf, and on tliis occasion
she succeeded in quieting the tormentor for a httle
while, as she proceeded to enumerate the articles she
wanted. When the list seemed complete, she asked
him to read it over.

" You're sure you have taken down everything,
Robert?"

" Everything you've mentioned, auntie."

" Dear me, it seems a' right ; and yet there is some-
thing, I am a' but positive, lia!% been left out."

" There now," she at length exclaimed, " I was sure
there was something. The plush, Robert, that's what
I was forgetting, — the pl.ish the minister's wife has
asked me to order for her. She says she saw some
that ye brought out for the Lockheads last week."

Ay, ay, Master Robert Mowbray, is your headache
becoming more and more unbearable, or is there
another ordeal being prepared for you l)y the hands of
the best friend you have in the w^orld, that you assume
such a look? Plush is plush, but little of it is redder
than your face as you try to hide your confusion over
the correction of the list that had everything in it but
the plush for the minister's wife.

'' How much of it does she want ? " he at length
asked, looking up to see how much of his cMifusion
his aunt had seen.

" Oh, only twa yards. Let me see. How muckle
will tliat be ? Ten shillings, won't it ? "

Si! I

M i

k.v.i

R_. ,'i^n.'

Ktll

'-■''

Kj-j-

>■ !

■ I !

' '.

. J W|i ■ HM O— ^^

THE CHRONICLES OK KAKTDALE

1 I

"It is ten shillinj:;^s a yard," said Knhcrt in a seem-
ingly careless tone.

" Ten sliillings ? Why, I told her you could get it
for five sliillings a yard. Fannie Lockliead told nie
tlie last time I was ovver at their place, that tliat was
what she p'JA you for it."

r^annie Lockhead ! And who is Fannie Lock-
head ? Or what is Fannie Lockliead to you, Master
Mowbray, that you sliould again k^ok so shamefaced
in the presence of your aunt ? Are you getting deeper
into the whirlpool of ordeal number three — the ordeal
of the plush, as your uncle will presently call it, tliat
such a tell-tale rush of blood comes to your face, and
all but drives away that headache of yours ? What
think ye now of your vow to speak the truth at All
hazards ?

" Wasn't that what you paid for it, Robert ? " per-
severed hih aunt, who would have been little short of
blind, had she not noticed something of her nephew's
confusion.

" No, auntie," answered the young man, rather
sheepishly, it must be confessed, but not without the
will-mark in his face that his vow was not yet to ))e
broken.

" But didn't you tell Fannie, that sic was the price
of it ? " again asked Mrs. Fairservice, getting a little
red in turn.

" I said she would have to pay five shillings for it."

"And what is the difference, may I ask ? " said his
aunt, with the sharpness of being annoyed in her
words. " It seems to me you are in the way o' hair-

TIIK TRUTH O'T.

117

splittinjj^ this nioniinj^, R(ibcrt. I liopc yc liae nac
intention o' acting^ unfairly by your ain auntie ?"

Mr. I'airscrvice, though he had taken his rebuff
witliout any ininiecHate attempt at reprisal, had not
been so eager, in the meantime, in the pursuit of
])olitical knowledge behind his newspaper, as to over-
look tlie collo(|uy ])assing between aunt and nephew.
A I ill , of sniff had been heard more than oncQ from
bel r-n : lis thin partition between hini and them, but
whcriier it was over something he was reading, or
something he was overhearing, was known for the
moment, only to himself. At last, peering roui d the
edge of his Herald, with a suspicious-looking twinkle
in his eye, he asked his wife, how long it was since she
had learned that there was no difference between an
auntie and a sweetheart.

" 1 )od bless me," said he, l)ursting out in full career of
poking fun at both of the* i, "if I don't l)elieve you're
baith blushing like twa haiverils detected in the act o'
kissing. Diamond cut diamond, for a saxpence ! Is
it possi1)le that a woman, wha has been under my
guidance, no to say my tuition, for the last forty years
or mair, can be sae daft as no to hae found out afore
this time, what a sly kind o' person we hae been har-
bourin' sac lang in our house ? If sic roses in your
face, guidwife, hae made ye look as bonnie as ye were
at seventeen, when I first began to speer your name,
and find out about your tocher, the rush o' blood to
puir Robert's will nae doubt counteract the dwamin'
effects o' that headache o' his. Fannie Lockhead's
plush, or the minister's wife's, i.5 likely to be mair effica-
cious in ae sense, than ]\Irs. Fairservice's tea."

^!ir

ii k >

lil!

-m

118

THE CHRONICLES OK KARTDALE.

In presence of a logic of fun of this kind, it was
impossible for the nephew to refrain from meeting the
merriment half-way, as he proceeded to explain to his
aunt in the best way he could, how he had supplemented
from his own purse the price Miss Fannie Lockhead
was to have paid for the plush that had captured the
taste of the minister's wife. And observing how un-
satisfactory his explanation was to her, at least how
reluctant she seemingly was to re-assume lier pleasant
looks, he informed her that he had no objection to
repeat his liberality in behalf of Mrs. Thomson, seeing
his aunt hnd become somewhat involved in his former
double deaiing-

All is well that ends well, even if the old uncle could
not refrain from chuckling in the most outrageous
manner during poor Robert's explanations. Every
now and again he would snifit" and snicker as if a series
of fireworks were going on within him, with a
dangerous approach to apoplexy, and when he saw
how far liis better i.alf refused to be reassured all at
once, his facial contortions were all but alarming.
But as neither of them knew as yet of their nephew's
vow to speak the truth under all circumstances, they
were forced to accept his explanations without further
remonstrance or ridicule, and say nothing more on
the subject of the plush.

For a time the breakfast again proceeded in silence.
The old gentleman resumed his newspaper, sipping
his tea in the intervals between the paragraplis. The
silence was becoming a little awkward, and Robert was
on the point of breaking ii by asking his aunt if there
was anything else he could do for her in the city, when

*'.

TlIK TRUTH O'T.

119

his uncle, pushing his chair away from the table,
brought down his foot with extraordinary emphasis
on the floor, and threw his newspaper from him with
violence, exclaiming: —

" Deil tak' the rascal o' a correspondent to write
about an honest citizen in that way. It mak's a man's
blood boil to read sic ill-natured stuff. I wonder the
editor lets trash o' that kind into his columns."

" Dear me, Alexander, what's the matter now ? "
exclaimed Mrs. Fairservice, " you're aye either blawing
het or cauld about something or ither. What's gaen
wrang now ? " ,

" Matter enough, and wrang enough," continued her
husband, taking a turn or two up and down the dining-
room. " Thae fellows are never content unless they're
slanderin' somebody. It's maybe no for me to tak' the
man's part, for he's no aye unco judicious in the way
he thinks o' some things himsel'. But it's a shame
how they attack and misca' him. He's misguided
enough at times, there is nae doubt about that, but to
say that he's dishonourable, and unworthy every right
o' citizenship, is little short o' blasphemy again' a'
freedom o' speech and fairplay."

" But wha is it they're attacking, Alexander ? "

" Jist listen and ye'll hear wha they're attacking.
Jist read that out, Robert, and pass an opinion on it.
Is it no simply disgraceful ? "

Robert took up the newspaper, and when his uncle
had paused to point out the composition that had dis-
turbed him, went on to read it out aloud, interrupted,
as he was, after nearly every sentence by some
explosion or other from the old man.

'ft.H

V I

\1!

120

TIIK CHRONICLES OK KARTDALE

As the reading' proceeded, it may as well l)e here
stated, that ever since Robert Mowbray had conic to
think for liiniself, he and his uncle had not always been
sailing in the same boat, politically speaking. When
the former had reached manhood, and began to express
an influence of his own in Kartdale as a citizen whose
opinions had more or less weight, he was not slow
to detect the many prejudices of his guardian. And
yet there had never been any unseemly rupture
between the two of them in their many discussions of
political affairs, whether these discussions extended to
the affairs of the kingdom or only of the parish.
Robert's forbearance on such occasions was more of a
virtue than his uncle's patience, as may be suspected.
The former's tact was always sufficient to keep in the
background any of those advanced opinions which he
knew, only too well, perhaps, would have the sam:

ect upon the latter that the proverbial red-rag has
on the male kind of the bovine species. In a word,
Mr. Fairservice was a Conservative, as far as he under-
stood the term as a mere party shibboleth. With the
strongest of prejudices in favour of the local leaders of
that party, he was always ready to take sides with them.
If any local improvements happened to be inaugurated
under their auspices, he was just as ready to acknow-
ledge them as the keepers oi his conscience, as when
they happened to oppose local improvements; and
knowing this, his politic nephew seldom ventured in
his presence to analyze the reputation of these local
Conservative leaders or to discuss the enterprise of
their opponents. When, therefore, Mr. Fairservice
asked him what he thought of the newspaper article

THE TRUTH O'T.

121

which had excited him, and which Robert was obliged
to read aloud from beginning to end, the nephew felt
how dangerous such a meeting-place of opinions was
likely to be. The conventional method of retreat by
a compromise of mere words was now no longer
available to him — all compromises being more or less
a breaking away from his vow to speak the whole
truth.

" A fine article that to be seen in a respectable paper,
isn't it ? And w^ia'll say wha's to be next ? " the old
ex-grocer continued to exclaim, as he took another
turn, with his right arm keeping time with his right
leg, in his excitement. " Wha's to be the next to come
in for the fellow's snash, that's what I would like to
ken ? Dod bless me, I'm almost inclined to think weel
o' the man, auld Radical though he be, as they ca' him,
notwithstanding the whigmaleeries :^' his past life.
But ye don't speak, young man; what's your opinion
o' that?"

" I think it's simply disgraceful," answered Robert.
"The auld Radical is an honourable man."

*' Well, yes ; of course he's honourable enough, I
hae nae doubt, at least I never kenn'd him d^-e a dis-
honourable act."

'Besides, he is a gentleman of great public spirit;
perhaps one of the most disinterested of our public
men."

" Hardly the best though, ye'U allow, Robert, my
man. There are public spirited men in Kartdale
besides him. Ye don't say onything, but ye ken there
are. Now, there is Mr. Johnstone, the provost o'
Kartdale, that's to be, as they say. There's a public-
B

i I

I' I

h ) I

i I

1., .i

122

THE CHRONICLES OE KARTDALE.

it- ff 1

spirited man for ye ! The aiild Radical cannae hand
a caunle to him. Theres nae misguiding about him,
nae bees in his bonnet. What think ye o' that ? The
auld Radical is maybe weel enough, but he's no a man
o' Mr. Johnstone's stamp, is he now ? "

Robert felt as if he were rushing on to his fate.
And yet he had to say something.

" The man has been misguided in at least ane o' his
opposition moods, ye'll surely grant that much ? "
pressed the uncle.

" He has always been anxious to elevate the status
of the working classes."

" Fudge on the working classes, Muckle he cares
for the working classes, or ony o' the rest o' ye that
oppose the organizing o' a burgh in Kartdale, The
burgh is bound to come, and the man that opposes It
is neither mair nor less than a fool for his pains ; " and
there were not a few danger-signals in the old man's
glistening eyes and flushing face.

Robert observed the danger-signals, and at the same
time could devise no way of retreat except by keeping
silent, though not without a cloud of anxiety coming
on his own face.

" Oh, ye may gloom as much as ye like, my man. I
am quite capable o' repeating what I hae said. The
man, be he young or auld, young Radical or auld
Radical, that opposes the proposed burgh improve-
ments for the village, is a bom fule. They tell me that
you are sympathising wi' the opposition yoursel',
Robert Mowbray. Is that sae ? "

" It doesn't matter much what my opinions are, I'm
thinking, either about those who favour the change or

THE TRUTH o'T.

123

Oppose it," answered Robert, still intent on temporizing'
with his nncle's weakness.

" That's no an answer to my question, young man,"
exclaimed his uncle, with painful emphasis, and evi-
dently drawing nearer every minute to the point of
anger. " You're nae langer a \vean, and though you're
maybe no a householder yet, still we're no a' blind to
the influence ye hae aniang them ^hat are householders.
Sae, ye may as weel speak out your mind as no. Is
it your intention or is it no to join the auld Radical
and his opposition to the making o' Kartdale a burgh
wi' a provost o' its ain ? There are mair folk than
your uncle would like to ken that."

" I would as soon not answer your question, uncle,
at least, for the present."

But the uncle would not take such an answer.

"I thought you had some public spirit, young man;
have you nae opinion to express about the matter ?
Let us hear what ye hae to say for yoursel'."

" Well, then, uncle," answered Robert when he saw
there was no safety even in silence, " if you must have
an answer, I have only to say that I am most decidedly
opposed to the burgh project, or to any other schemes
that are likely to increase the burdens of the poor."

" And you intend joining the auld Radical's opposi-
tion movement ? "

" Whatever little influence I have with the good
folks of Kartdale, and very little it is, I must surely
exercise honourably. He's a poor stick of a man who
tries to run with the hare and hob-nob with the
hounds, as I have heard you say yourself, uncle, often
enough."

124

THE CHRONICLES OF KATIDALE.

I n ■'-

Oil, Rcjbert Mowbray, do you know what you are
saying ? In for a lamb, in for a sheep, and you surely
are in for both now. Do you not know, have you not
been able to find out, notwithstanding all your shrewd-
ness and discernment that your uncle has set his heart
on being more than a mere retired merchant living at
his ease, and unadorned with the civic honc^urs which
his fellow-townsmen may be brought to oestow on
him ? The village has no such honours to bestow,
but the burgh of Kartdale will, — baillieships and pro-
vostships, not to mention the minor dignity which
leads to these, of having a seat at the Town Council.
And yet what good would it have done you, had you
known of such a lurking ambition in the old man's
breast, or what favour would it have brought you had
you even been sure that he was hand and glove with
the coterie of the weel-daein' who have met every
other evening for some weeks past, in the Cross Keys,
to discuss the project of making Kartdale a burgh —
with " the men of the first campaign " as they came to
be called, — for have you not taken upon yourself a
vow never again to swerve from the duty of spealcing
the truth, eschewing everything in the shape of white
lies aad black lies, positive inuendos and negative
inuendos, exaggerations in fun and exaggerations in
earnest, nay, every kind of prevarication and deception,
direct or indirect, in thought, word or action ? No,
sir, you cannot even as much as look at your watch,
as you once might have done, and advance as an excuse
the impending danger of your losing your train, for
well you know that such would be an excuse and no

THE TRUTH O'T,

125

valid reason, a kind of deception perhaps of a mild
form, but none the less a falsehood.

As it happened, Robert's honest, nnimpassioned
answer set his old uncle all but beside himself with
excitement. The thought that one so near to him
should think of opposing" any pet scheme of his, was
vsufficient to arouse in him the most violent passion.
Suddenly starting to his feet again, he jerked himself
from the one end of the room to the other, sometimes
with his right arm keeping time with his right leg, as
he brought his foot down on the floor with a thud, at
other times rubbing his head all over with both hands,
as if he were tearing his hair, and fidgetting in every
muscle of his body. There was no mistaking his ex-
citement. His second mood had come upon him, the
mood in which his temper always got the better of
him.

Mrs. Fairservice sav/ what was coming and tried to
throw oil upon the waters, Intt it was only like throwing
oil upon flames.

" The burdens o' the puir ! " he shouted, as he strcxlc
about the room with that peculiar pace of his in which
tlie right foot was always emphatic. " The burdens o'
the puir ! " and he sniffed the phrase as if he would
snifY his own anger out with the sarcasm. " And pray,
Mister Robert Mowbray, what dae you ken about the
burdens o' the puir ? Have ye ever had ony o' their
burdens to bear in your lifetime? But bring up a
kitten and the cat may scratch ye. It's the way o' the
worl', and what need folk expec' ? Indeed, I hae been
haein' my suspicions o' late. I hae been jalousing for
some time back, that your sympathies were kittlin' wi'

12G

TIIK CHRONICLES OK KARTDALE.

the fiilcs o' the place, that hacnac even the sense o' a
cat, or they would see at ance the advantages o' haein'
our village made into something to be proud o'; I
suppose you hae even iDcen gaein' to their meetings at
night, and fraternizing wi' auld Radicals an' young
Radicals, and ithcr sic thowless rascals that wouldnae
dae a hand's turn for their native place. Rut let me
tell ye, young man, that it ill becomes ony nephew o'
mine to talk to me in my ain house, about the burdens
o' the puir, or to mak' a beggarly excuse for a' sic
Radical clap-traps, while contradicting me to my very
face," and the old man was by this time both purple
and breathless.

" But, uncle, you know," — interrupted Robert.

" No sir, I don't know. I know naething that may
be in your mind about onything that's wise. Ye may
gang your ain gaet in thinking as ye dae about this
burgh business. It's a' ane to me. The rising genera-
tion are nae better than a set o' idle haverils, Radicals
the maist o' them and ne'er-do-wells, wha are ready
to tak' a' they can get frae ye, and are just as ready to
turn their back on you when ye're trying to dae the
best ye can for them. A' that I can say is, I'm no
likely to stand being contradicted to my face in my
ain house."

" But, dear me, Alexander, Robert didnae contradict
you," caid Mrs. Fairscrvice, getting in a word at last.
'* Ye asked him a question " i

"A civil question," still shouted the irate uncle.

" Well, a civil question, gin ye like; and he returned
you "

" An uncivil answer."

thp: truth o't.

127

" Come, come, nnde, that's hardly fair," said Robert. .

"It isn't? Didnae you throw the burdens o' the puir
in my face, as if I had been guilty o' bringing on them
some o' thae same burdens :"

" You must have mistaken me. I only spoke of the
burdens of the poor, incident on the proposed increased
taxation, should the village be made a burgh. There
was nothing personal in my remark."

" But I tell you there was, sir."

"I beg your pardon, uncle; but there was not, if
you will allow me. You began the conversation about
the auld Radical "

'* The auld scoundrel ye had better ca' him."

" Oh, Alexander ! " again interrupted Mrs. Fair-
service.

" Yes, ye may ' Oh Alexander ' as much as ye like ;
I ken what I am saying. Maybe ye would like to be a
Radical tae. There's nae saying what some women
folk'ill dae, when they tak' the pairt o' fules," and the
old man still kept prancing with his excited stride from
one end of the r om to the other, as full of ire as ever.

*T dinnae think women are as unjust as some men
can sometimes be."

" Dae ye icc'.o*. me, woman, o' being unjust ? "

" I think I safely may, guidman."

" And I suppose you. Mister Radical are o' the same
way o' thinking. Oh ye neednae hesitate. Out wi'
what ye've got to say. Silence gi'es consent, and I
can fairly see how it is * and the expectant councillor
of Kartdale fairly boiled o -er in his increasing excite-
ment of manner. " It's a' o' a piece. The worl's the
worl' and nae mistak'. Even your ain'U rise up again'

128

THE CHRONULKS Ol' KARTDALi:.

ye, gin ye gie them time enough to grow ungrateful.
But ye may plot and plan, and plan and plot, in the
house and out the house; ye may contradict me to my
face, and ca' me unjust and a' the names ye can think
o', but tak' my word for it, we'll be even wi' ye a' yet.
Radicals or no Radicals, ye'U see nae white feathers
about us. The 1)urgh'ill come in spite o' a' the Radicals
in the place, and in spite o' a' the deevils as weel," and
he made as if he would rush out of the room. " It's no
for the like o' me to swear," he shouted, as he turned
at the door with the handle in his grasp, " but an angel
himsel' would swear at the dcil-bcgottcn, cantankerous
thrawn-in-the-neck, ungrateful pests o' society that
would far raither gang the wrang road than the right
ane, my ain kin amang the rest. But ne'er ye doubt,
tak' my word for it, we'll be even wi' ye a' yet, yes, even
wi' auld Radicals and young Radicals. The burgh is
sure to come, in spite of the witless cuifs that would
keep it back, and contradict a man to his face in his
ain house forbye. Jist to think that a man shoukl be
insulted under his ain roof-tree ! " and Mr. Fairservice
strode at last out of the room, slamming the door
behind him in his rage.

When the climax had thus been reached, aunt and
nephew could only look at one another with a kind of
helpless stare.

" Dear me, Robert," said the former, at last, after a
pause of two or three minutes, " it's no often ye get
your uncle into siccan a rage. What could hae come
ower ye that ye couldnae gie him his ain way a1)out
that burgh business he has sae set his heart upon ? "

TIIK TRUTH or

12!)

Without reply, Robert rose from the breakfast table
to leave for his train.

" What an awfu' thing it would be for you to cpiarrel
in that way wi' ane anither mair than ancc. Had ye
no better leave a word wi' me for him, jist to appease
him liKe, sayin.:j ye dichiae mean a' ye said al)out the
burgh ? "

J\rrs. I'^airservice looked appealingly at her nephew,
while her tones were the usual coaxing of a mother.

'* I can hardly do that, auntie," answered Robert,
" for I'm thinking I did mean all that I said on that
score, though I didnae intend to annoy my uncle."

" But ye see ye hae annoyed him."

" I see he is annoyed, and I'm sorry "

" But will you and he tak' different ways about this
burgh matter ? Can ye no say ye don't oppose it ? "

" I can hardly say that."

" Gie into him in the meantime, ony way."

Robert was silent.

" Oh, jist for my sake."

Robert wavered.

The temptation was strong.

Besides, it was only a trifling thing. Some would
be sure to call him a fool for his stubbornness.

" I'm willing to say th?^ I'm sorry for his being
annoyed," said the nephew, remembering his vow,
" but further than that it is not possible for me to go
without telling a lie."

" Not even for my sake ? "

" No, my dear auntie, not even for your sake."

"Then, Robert Mowbray, I'm afraid I hae made
something o' a mistak' about my ain nephew — I was

■^M

l.'iO

THE CHRONICLES OK KARTDALE.

maist gaun to say, in my ain bairn. Never mind,
laddie, ye had better rin for your train. I hardly ken
what to think o' ye this morning. First, there is that
headache o' yours; maybe it has had something to dae
wi' your kind o' queerness. Then your tea was no
to your taste, and that maitter o 'the plush for the
minister's wife, and last of a', your camstrairicness wi'
your uncle. Dear n»e, Robert, I hope there's naetliing
serious the maitter wi' ye. Gang awa to your train,
laddie, or ye'll maybe be daft enough to lose it wi' a'
your haivcrin' this morning."

It is hardly necessary to say that Robert Mowbray
was only too glad to run for his train.

CHAPTER IV.

" I'lae tlie bad to the waist, ye would say, auld wife,
Gangs tlie man that rins frae his trade ;
Sae stick to your last, and jouk frae the blast
O' tlie ethics that thinks to rin raid, auld wife,
O' the laws that are social self-made."

The thoughts which kept tumbhng and tossing one
after another in Mr. Robert Mowbray's mind, as he
liastened tiiroiigh the streets of Kartdale and across
the square, on his way to the raihvay station, were, as
may readily be conjectured, none of the pleasantest.
If, as the minister had maintained in his discourse,
honesty was the best pohcy, it was none the less a hard
policy, — anything but a prosperous policy in its im-
mediate effects. With his first experiences of the day
pressing before him in his mind, it was impossible for
him to look with anything but foreboding at the
possible issue of his resolution to speak the truth at
all hazards. The giving annoyance to anyone was no
natural characteristic of the young man; and to have
given annoyance to those whom he cared for most in
the world and who, as he had every reason to believe
cared for him to the same extent, was, as he could not
but consider, a very serious matter indeed. With a
little finesse he might surely have escaped his uncle's

i ii

132

TIIK CHRONICLES OK KARTDALE.

wrath and indignation. He had done so frc(incntly
before, indeed had by a Httle caution and a ready
rounding off of his uncle's own opinions, succeeded in
keeping upon the best of terms with him up to the
present moment. But how was the new principle by
which he was going to guide his life al)out to work in
his domestic relationship with those who had done so
much for him ? How was he going to escape the
effects of his uncle's idosyncracies in future, should
he continue to express his opinions openly and above
board in the old man's presence ? Even his aunt had
becon., .nnoyed with him for not agreeing to tell what
would have been a gross untruth. He had not in-
tended to offend. His aunt and uncle surely knew
that. Then why had they been offended ? Was it the
truth itself that had offended them ? Was Willie
Turnbull right after all ? Was the truth really dis-
tasteful to people ? Was he going to gain or lose his
bet?

" Bet be hanged," said he to himself, as he jerked
his shoulders downwards and brought his closed fists
against his legs, while he pushed his way across the
scpiare. " Who cares for the bet, if the principle be a
sound one, a principle which no man should betray ?
What does the loss of a i)altry five-pound note matter,
if a man incurs the loss in doing his duty ? The
principle enunciated by the minister is surely worth
sacrificing a little for, since no one can say it is not a
sound one."

And yet, when Robert again began to tliink of the
domestic disquietude his lack of tact had been the
means of provoking in his uncle and aunt's household.

■•<^-..-

THE TRUTH O T.

13:

it was impossible for him to dispel the cloud of dis-
(jiiietude on his own face. As he hurried along to the
railway station, giving greeting to his many friends
and accjuaintances on the streets through which he had
to pass, he was unable to rid himself of an irksome
feeling of unrest of both mind and body, which though
partly suppressed, could not escape those with whom
he happened to come in contact.

At length as he turned the last corner at the foot of
the declivity which led to the railway station, whom
should he meet, but his friend Mr. William Turnbull
— the man perhaps of all others whom he would
rather not have met just at that moment. But there
was no escape.

" Well, old man," shouted the irrepressible Willie,
" how goes the exponent of all that is truthful this
morning ? " and he shook Robert's hand with his usual
warmth. " Why, dear me, my pious friend," said he,
as he whirled his walking cane in the air, and smiled
all over, as if he hadn't a care in the world, which
possibly he hadn't, " you don't seem to be at your
brightest this morning. Ah, that's better. Nothing
like a smile on such a smiling morning. Sweet
smiling morn, eh ! and the rest of it. But the smile
only came when I brought it. Anything wrong ?
You were looking rather sad a minute ago. I saw you
round the corner. Well, no, I couldn't do that; but
as you came round the corner, I could see that you
had a face on as long as my arm. Anything the
matter with you ? Have you already come to find that
to speak the truth, the whole truth and nothing but

134

THE CHRONICLES OK KARTDALE.

the truth, is too heavy a burden for any man to carry
about in his poor soul ? "

" If I should find speaking the truth such a burden,"
answered Robert, returning hurried greeting to his
friend, " the lightsomeness, not to say frivolity, of your
surmise hardly points you out as t^ie person to whom
I would apply to share my trouble."

" Then you have been having your first experience
already, eh ? " asked Willie, drawing a second bow at
a venture.

" Who told you that ? " and Robert himself seemed
to find an emphasis in every word of his query, which
he was unable to suppress.

" Why, I see it in your face."

'' You do," continued Robert, with the blood rushing
to his forehead. Then suddenly restraining himself he
tried to reply in less excited tones. " Your discern-
ment, Willie, is evidently quickened this morning by
your last night's indiscretion nn betting on the wrong
side. You surely havenae been round by the Cross
Keys as early as this in the morning."

" Ne'er a Cross Keys, my good man. And discern-
ment or no discernment, discretion or indiscretion,
the blindest mowdiwart would readily see that there's
something gone wrong with you this morning. Some-
thing has excited you."

" Then, you're sure you're not ofif your eggs ? "

"No sir, I'm not off my eggs; and don't you be
thinking, Mr. Robert Mowbray, to draw the wool over
my eyes. To attempt such a thing is not far from the
boundary line of that lie-land you have decided to give
a wide berth to in the future."

THE TRUTH O'T.

135

" Do you mean to accuse me, sir, of acting a lie ? ''
and Robert's demeanour was that of an angry man, a
very unusual thing in him.

" Well, no, perhaps, not altogether that, old man,"
answered Willie, somewhat more quietly, seeing the
mood Mowbray was in ; '* and, my dear fellow, you
needn't be so snappish with your bosom friend of a
Monday morning, even if something has happened
to you."

" Men that make bets on Sunday which they are
likely to lose on Monday, are hardly to be depended
upon when they make a diagnosis of their opponent's
feelings. The tipsy man generally thinks everybody
fou but himself."

" Don't you bother about me, Robert Mowbray; I'm
neither fou nor foolish, and my bet is quite safe."

" That is, you think it is safe ? "

'* No, bo)i ami mine, I am sure it is safe."

" You are ? "

" Yes, sir."

" What makes you so sure ? "

" Well, to tell you the truth, and you neednae be
ofifended at me for saying it a second time; — An
excited man is never very far from being on the road
to "

Mr. Turnbull was discreet enough to pause tor a
second, as he looked into his friend's eyes.

" On what road, if you please ? " exclaimed Robert,
and there was even a more intensified snap in his every
word than perhaps either his friend or anybody else
had ever heard before.

13G

THE CnKONICLKS OF KARTDALE.

If Robert Mowbray was not mad, he was certainly
not far from being out and out angry.

" Oh, never mind ; it's all right, Robert," said Willie.

" But it isn't all right," exclaimed Mowbray ; " and
let me tell you I do mind. I mind a great deal, and
what is more, I mind so much that I wish other people
would mind their own business, as I try to do."

There could be no mistake about the matter now.
Robert Mowbray was really angry. And Willie
Turnbull was only able to answer him at first with a
pianissimo breathing between his curved lips that had
the faintest semblance to a whistle.

Then having moved on a step or two, Willie raised
his face at an angle of forty-five degrees with the plane
of the brae they were ascending, and said as if to the
whole world: —

" Isn't anger said by the Latin Grammar to be a
short "

But befoie he had time to finish the sentence,
Robert Mowbray had rushed past him as if in the
greatest haste to catch his train.

" The plot, methinks, seems to thicken already for
the man who would retail the truth and nothing but
the truth in ^ms ordinary walk and conversation," ex-
claimed the histrionic Willie in true INlicawber style, as
he whirled his cane in the air, and stood watching the
retreating form of the friend he had seen angry for the
first time. " Verily, the path of the truthful man, like
the course of the truth-seeker, is set with thorns."

Nor had his friend escaped the worst of the thorns.
Before he arrived at his warehouse that morning he
was to learn by experience how the ways of men run

THE TRUTH O'T.

137

through the most prickly thickets of prevarication. A
second adventure awaited him at the railway station.

On reaching the platform, there was the usual quiet
bustle of persons waiting for this, the most convenient
of the morning trains from Kartdale to Glasgow. A
short distance from the usual groupings of travellers,
stood one who bore the stamp of nobility in his mien
and dignified movements, and whom Robert at once
recognized as Lord Clay, of Clay Castle, the owner of
the richest estate in the neighbourhood of Kartdale.
How he came to be at Kartdale Station had become
something of an enigma to the bystanders, who seldom
took their eyes off his lordship for more than a minute
at a time ; for there was a station nearly three miles away
that was very much nearer to Clay Castle than Kartdale
station, and which, as everybody knew, was the one
from which those coming from the Castle usually took
train to the great western metropolis. Could anything
be amiss ? Had his lordship merely taken the longer
drive as a recreation ? He could hardly have had
business thus early in Kartdale, and as he seldom or
never passed through Kartdale unless he had business
at some of the banks, he must have had some other
reason for taking the roundabout way. In every
village the most of its people are seldom disinclined
to trouble themselves about small matters, when there
is nothing more serious to discuss, and thus it was that
the villagers of Kartdale who were at the station on
their way to Glasgow that morning, could not refrain
from puzzling themselves over this unusual and early
appearance of Lord Clay in their midst.

Lord Francis Clay, of Clay Castle, was naturally
10

1138

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

enough an object of interest to the lieges of Kaxtdale.
Whenever his carriage happened to pass through the
town, there were few doorsteps to be found vacant, few
windows without expectant faces near the casement,
few tongues that did not wag for the hundredth time
over his idiosyncracies, as his equipage disappeared
down the street. Nor was there any dearth of anecdote
or ilhtstrative criticism of the nobleman's irascibility,
pride, vindictiveness, and parsimony, not to mention a
score or more of other characteristics which he may
or may not have possessed. The refraction which
village ethics gives to the rays of truth is a subtle effect
which no historian can afford to overlook. As Robin
Drum once said to Jeames in the session-house, "While
in Kartdale the sma'est event cannae happen without
being commented on, there's a guid deal commented
on that 'ill never happen, nor can happen." In other
words, tradition is a very uncertain medium. And
just as the many stories which Jeames and Robin
Drum were accustomed to retail about Lord Clay and
his ways of deahng with men, had to be taken cum
grano salis, so has the writer of these Chronicles found
some difficulty in establishing to his own satisfaction
the true character of the seigneur of Kartdale, even
when it has been pickled with his own honest desire
to make the worst appear the better reason in such
cases.

That he was irascible, nobody had ever occasion to
doubt; and that he was angry, very angry, at something
or other on the morning Robert Mowbray happened
to meet him at Kartdale station, few could fail to detect
after examining, even cursorily, his clouded face and

THE TRUTH O'T.

139

restless manner. No wonder then that those going
on the train had been brought to discuss among them-
selves what possibly could be amiss, no wonder that
Robert Mowbray would have willingly refrained from
placing himself in the nobleman's way when he saw
the humour he was in. He had had enough of fire-
works that morning.

Yet, as thiiigs turned out, he was not to escape.
There was a church acquaintance, an acquaintance by
sight, between the nobleman and Mr. Fairservice's
nephew, which had to l^e acknowledged by both, and
as Robert raised his hat to Lord Clay, the latter made
a movement as if he would like to speak to him.

" I have just been asking the station-master if he
k'nows my sons," said his lordship, coming forward and
placing his hand on Rcjbert's shoulder. " You're Mr.
Fairservice's nephew, are you not ? "

Robert bowed in the affirmative.

" Ah, yes, I thought so ; I have seen you at church,
I think; I suppose you know my sons. Of course you
do. There cannot be many people in Kartdale who
do not know the vagabonds. Well," continued his
lordship, " the pair of them are likely to be on this
train ; at least I would like to find out whether they are
or not Would you mind running along the platform
wlien the train comes in, and find out for me ? The
station-master says it will not move out for a few
minutes after its arrival, seeing the engine takes in
water here."

Robert again bowed to his lordship in the most
respectful manner, and said that he would be glad to
be of any service thus required of him.

ii' ■ ,

140

THE CHRONICLES OK KA'

LE.

' " To tell you the truth," said 1- iship, becoming

as confidential in his manner as . juld well be, being
a nobleman, — perhaps more confidential than he would
otherwise have been had he not been in a bit of a
temper with somebody or other, " the young rascals
have stolen a march on me tliis morning, JnU I 'think I
can play them a prank worth two of theirs. Then
there's that confounded bank they have telcgraplied
me about, as if there wasn't bother enough in this
world for a man t(j worry over without having a new
worry every morning. Everything seems to be going
to the very deuce tl ii ni M-nmg," and after a manner
of its own his lordship's anger continued to give way
in a kind (jf solilocjuy which Rol)ert was probably not
expected to hear.

" By the way," said he, addressing Rol)ert directly,
" you haven't heard any news this morning about any
impending conmiercial catastrophe, have you ? "

Robert said he had not been in the way of hearing
any news that morning, as he had just come from
breakfast.

" Well, perhaps, so nmch the better. lYniiaps there's
nothing in it after all. Lksides, I don't suppose, if you
are like other young folks I know, you are likely to
be very nuich worried over other people's losses, even
if a hundred banks were to go crash ; at least these two
young gentlemen of mine didn't seem disturbed
enough over the telegram I received this morning, to
put ofT a day's galavanting in the city on its account.
But never mind, my fine fellows ! " and Sir h>ancis
seemed to shake his temper in the direction the tram
had to come, " you are not likeiy to escape my supe) -

TIIK TRimi o'T.

141

vision so readily. You'll hardly expect to meet your
father so soon after startinj^ on your cantrips."

Then aj^ain turning to young Mowbray, he
addressed him directly, " I tliink somebody has told
me yt)U are in l)usiness in (dasgow ?"

Ro1)crt once more l)ovved in the affirmative, and said
that he was employed in the warehouse of Macpherson,
McLean & Company."

*' Ah," exclaimed Lord Clay, with something like
surprise in his maimer, * ^hat's the firm you're con-
nected with, is it? And \et you have heard nothing
al)out commercial troul)le in the city. You're not a
partner in the concern, are you ? "

Well, no, Robert Mow])ray was not a partner in the
great firm of Macpherson, McLean & Company, as he
modestly replied with a smile. Some people had
flatteringly hinted to him that such a prospect was
before him, — a prospect w^hich he had always, however,
jokingly compared to the outlook of the astronomer
gazing at the planet Mars, without the hope of ever
being sure of its landscapes.

" Well, I am glad to hear it," continued Lord Clay.
" Your uncle will be glad too, I have no doubt, when
the crash comes, if it is to come. I w'ish we all were
as safe, that is to say if there is to be any sudden
trouble. Ihit here comes the train at last. Now for
the rascals ! You will tell me at once, if you ])lease,
should you find them in any of the carriages. All
right. You needn't say anything al^out that bank
business until we hear more about it. McLean is one
of the directors, and possibly they will be able to tide
over the difficulty ; at least I liope so. The den(nicment

( • 'i|

t ■ '..■>

142

TIIK CIIRONICLKS OF KARTDALE.

will 1)c made soon cnonj^li. P)a(l business for every-
body, confounded bad business. Ab, there is the train ;
now, if you please," and Lord Clay dismissed Robert
to examine the railway carriages to see if his sons were
in any of them.

The task was not a very difficult one, for Robert,
running- to the end of the train where the first-class
carriages were, had looked into but few of the com-
partments before discovering the two Clays comfort-
ably ensconced in one of them. Nor was it until he
had made his discovery that he began seriously to
reflect on the part he was expected to play in the
matter and its probable results. He had only thought
of obeying Lord Clay, without considering the offence
he was al^out to give his sons.

Nevertheless, there was nothing for him now to do
but to keep his promise with the father, no matter who
should be offended. There was no time for him to
draw back. Besides, the sons need not know liow far
their father had compromised them.

Robert consequently drew^ near the door of the com-
partment in which the young Clays were seated, but
he had hardly placed his fingers upon the handle of
the door, when he was surprised in such a way as
almost to forget the presence of the young men.

" How do you do, Mr. Mowbray ? " was the greeting
he received from the sweetest of voices, as he was
proceeding to open the door — a voice with the musical
tremour of j^outh in it, as there suddenly appeared at
the carriage window a face whose roses one could
hardly suppose to be all of the morning's freshness, —
a handsome face, as Robert had to think even in the

THE TRUTH O'T.

143

short space he had to do it in, in which there was the
comeHness of true maidenhood, the dignity that comes
from a higher intelHgence and the good breeding of
a gentle upbringing.

" Ah, how do you do, Miss Glencairn ? " returned
Robert, taking ofif his hat with not a httlc tremulous-
ness in his manner. " I did not see you in the carriage
as I came along. I beg your pardon, 1)ut will you
allow me for a moment ? " and when the sweet comely
face withdrew, he opened the door.

As he looked into the carriage, again taking off
his hat to the young lady, without showing any in-
clination to enter, the two Clays turned their eyes
towards him.

" You will excuse me, gentlemen, if you please, but
I think Lord Clay is looking for you," he said, with
a bow in their direction.

The two young men exchanged looks with one
another.

" Where is he ? " they asked, not without some
trepidation.

" He's on the platform, a little nearer the engine."

" Has he asked for us ? " queried the elder, with as
much dignity as he could command.

" He asked me before the train came in, if I would
find out whether you were on it or not."

The two young men again exchanged looks as if
in further consultation as to what was to be done.

Then the younger Clay asked if his father was going
on the train, that is, if he was on his way to Glasgow.

" I think he is travelling in that direction," answered
Robert.

:i!

,! II

144

TIIK CIIRONICLKS OK KARTDAM:,

'* Ah, really now," exclaimed the elder, look in j^ at
the youn^- lady and then at Mowbray; "it is very
inopportune, hut, really now, there is no help for it,
I'm sure," and there was an increasing hesitancy in
the young man's haw-haws. " \\y the way, Mowbray,
1 think that's your name, dear me so it is, how should
I forget it; but would you really mind telling father
that we shall probably meet him at Glasgow ? "

" I cannot very tell him you are not here, gentle-
men," answered Robert, though there was no ofifence
in his manner.

"Well, no, not exactly that, you know; but you
may put him ofif for the moment, just to oblige us."

The UjDholder of the truth made no reply, but gently
closing the door, again took of¥ his hat to Miss
Glencairn.

'■ So you're not going to Glasgow this morning, Air.
Mowbray ? " said the young lady, with a smile that
made the young man's heart beat at a fever pace.

"Oh yes I am, but you know I always travel second

class; our season tickets " but there was no time

to enter into an explanation why he had not taken a
seat in the first class carriage, when Lord Clay came
up to him.

" Have you found them ? " he exclaimed.

" They're on the train, my lord."

" Whereabout ? "

Robert would willingly have done anything in
reason to shield the young men, especially in the
presence of a lady, and his lordship was not slow to
suspect the rising inclination in the young man's heart,
while his own anger was gathering for a storm-burst.

THK TRUTH OT.

145

"Conic, conic, Master Caslidinkcr, no Iiuinbug' witli
nic; stand out of my way. Tlicy'rc in tlicrc, are they
not ? What, you won't say ? You're a deceiver Hkc
the rest of them, eh ? 'Hien may my curse descend
upon the generation of rapscalhons sucli — Oil, oh, so
tlierc )'{Hi are, younj^ gentlemen," shouted his lordship,
taking a second hreatli after wrenching the door open.
" There you sit, in all your dignity and in the luxury
of a first-class cuiriage too. Come out of that, come
out at once, or hy all the moulti.igs that ever robbed
the finest of peacocks of their feathers, I'll have you
carried out by the <niard and the station-master. Yes,
come out; the idea of two such spendthrifts as you
lolling in first class coaches is enough to sicken a
l)auper — two gentlemen at large, while your poor old
mother is starving at home."

The confusion of the young men can hardly be
imagined. Perhaps it was well for them that the train
started just as they were thus forced to exchange places
with their whimsical parent, though it would perhaps
have been better for all parties concerned had they not
been obliged to find refuge in the second class carriage
which Air. Robert Mowbray had taken, when he left
their noble father in the midst of his violence.

The train was already in motion, as they leaped to
their seats, and ihe guard slammed the door behind
them. They were both breathless with suppressed
passion, as well perhaps from the haste they had to
make in preventing themselves from being left behind,
as from their outraged feelings. When their eyes fell
upon Mowbray, their rage became as violent against
him as their father's had seemingly been against them.

t , ■ 1 ■

146

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

5 f1

Their haw-haw manners had completely disappeared.

"You contemptible 1)east," shouted the elder, hissing
the words between his teeth, " do you think we are
going to put up with such insults at your hands?
Confound you, what do you mean by such conduct ? "
and he gripped the riding-whip cane he had in his
hand, as if he would like to strike Robert, " If it
weren't for some things I know about you, I would
like to wring your neck for you, such a sneaking brute
as you are ! "

" Better pitch him out of the window," shouted the
younger. " Such a miserable sneak is not fit to breath
the air with a dog. Let him have your whip, Algy.
Confound the fellow, I would like to kick him myself."

In the midst of such violent language, Robert Mow-
bray determined to repel any attempt at an attack, and
yet, while he felt the impetuous blood rushing to his
head, he made every efifort to restrain his rising
temper as he looked his opponents straight in the face.

" Gentlemen, you are la1)Ouring under a serious
mistake," was all he said by Wc.y of reply to their
vituperation.

" Would you excuse yourself by another lie r ''
shouted Algy.

" I have lied to no one in this matter," answered
Robert, stoutly.

"You have."

"I have not."

" What do you call it then ? Perhaps you have an-
other name for it; or perhaps you think sneaking about
other people's afifairs is a virtue."

" Pitch the dog out," shouted the younger; " have no

THE TRUTH O'T.

147

more words with the scoundrel, — the wretch; if you
only give me your whip I'll break every 1)one in his
body; pitch the body of him out of the window."

But Mr. Robert Mowbray was not a man to be so
summarily and repeatedly threatened, even by the
lordlings of Clay Castle. To be called a sneak and a
liar will rouse the temper of any man to rush in great
floods of energy to his muscles, no matter how many
are pitted against him. And so it was with Mowbray.
He had finally reached the point of being regardless
of consequences, relying only for self-protection upon
that skill which he had acquired in the art of self-
defence in his earlier days.

" Gentlemen," said he, raising his voice, and at the
same time bracing himself in the corner of the carriage
for a coming struggle, " if your blows are as harmless
and childish as your threats, nobody has any reason to
be afraid of them. And let me tell you further, that if
you do not apologize for your shameful language to
me since you entered this carriage, after I have made
explanation to you for the second time how I came to
be looking for you on the train at the instance of your
father, I shall not only report you for insulting a
passenger, at the next station, but, if need be, to the
police authorities at Glasgow when we arrive. And
bear this in mind, I am not like either of you, I mean
what I say."

" Then take that for your impudence, you unman-
nerly scoundrel," and crash came the elder Clay's cane
in the direction of Robert's face.

But Mowbray was not unprepared for the attack.
Dexterously checking the blow with his left arm, he

148

THE CHRONICLES OK KAKTDALK.

'W'^

-;pf

seized tlie weapon with his rijj^ht hand, 1)r()kc it over
his knee, and then threw tlie pieces out of the window,
just as the yonnj^'er of the two was rushing in to
snp])lenient his brother's action. The jj^anie was two
to one; but with further dexerity Robert met the attack
of l)oth l)y phicin^ liiniself in the passage-way between
the two seats, so that he had liis assaihuits one behind
the otiier.

" You had ])etter stand back," he cried, " or it will be
the worse for both of you."

i)Ut the elder, continuinj:^ to press forward, struck
him on the shoulder. In an instant the melee bej^an,
and almost in an instant it was over. As it afterwards
ai)peare(l to Robert when he spoke of the encounter,
it was over almost before he had time to i)lan anything,
with both of the Clays huddled in a heap on the floor.

" As soon as 1 saw the ])lija;^ht into which my enemies
had fallen," he was accustomed to say afterwards, when
tellinj.;' the story, " I went to their assistance, only to
find that my first l)low had deprived the elder brother
of his senses, while the youn.c^ one lay mider his body
with his face jannned ai^ainst the seat. You may be
sure I was not a little alarmed at tlie issue of the
encounter. 1 knew we were not very far from the
next stati(jn — only ten minutes or rt — and if the i^uard
])aid us a visit then, there was no end of trouble in
store for us, probably for me more than the (Jtliers, I
inanaji^ed to stretch Algenion on the seat, and even
assisted Archie to p^et up. His face was very nnich
bruised, while the blood was trickling fnjm his nose.
I hardly knew what I said, something about its being
a pity that men who ought to be friends should be

Til 10 TRUTH o'T,

i41)

hrcakinjj;- the peace in this way. Archie was more
frij^htcned tlian I was, and 1 lliink I see his excitement
even yet, as he tried to restore liis l^rotiier to
consciousness."

The process of recovery, however, was not anythini^
more techous than Mowbray's mode of attack, liefore
reachinjj;' the next station, the elder brotlier o])ened his
eyes, and, sitting- up suddenly like one in his sleep,
stared around him.

"All ri^ht, old man," exclaimed the other. " llcjw
do you feel ? Come now, there's no use in ^ettini]^
ans^ry aj^ain. We liave been (lamajj;"ed enoujj^li for (Jue
morning. 1 ^-uess we had ])etter j^et off at the next
station. What do you think ? it's no use thinkinj^
of .H'oiufj;' to ( ilas^ow in this ])li^ht. The train is
slowing up. I'etter brace yourself up, old chappie, and
let us ^ct out of this. Never mind me, it's only a
scratch. We can tidy up at the (leorf^e; a drop of
brandy will do y(ni j^^ood. You can have your inninjj^s
aj;ain. No, no, we can't p;"o on. You don't want to
see the old man with an eye like that. C'ome, that's a
^(hh\ fellow. Ah, there's the station. Now, then,
lean on my arm. The j^uard will open the door for
us. Thatd< you. Now, careful, Alj^y. All right,"
and so the two Clays departed, without asking further
exj)lanation from Robert .Mowbray.

I 1

' ''9
'It

■'fin

"ml

W ;:;il

CHAPTER V.

'* There's love in the win', ye would say, guid wife,
An' what's there to rue, gin there be ?
Ye'll surely ne'er say, now that ye've had your day,
That love rins to seed in a lie, guid wife,
That love has in't ocht o' a lie."

The rest of the journey to Glasgow, as may readily
be surmised, was not in every respect a very pleasant
one to the victorious champion of the truth, as he lay
back in the corner of his compartment, making the
most of his own Reflections. For a minute or two
after the train had started, he had been interrupted by
the guard, who, running along the foot-board, looked
in at his window to make enquiries about his con-
dition. Meeting each other on the train nearly every
day, they had come to exchange greetings, after the
manner of acquaintances, and it was with some anxiety
in his good-natured face, that the trainman asked if
his Kartdale friend was hurt.

" Not at all," answered Robert, and at once he pro-
ceeded to explain, in as few words as possible, how the
thing had happened.

" I kind o' suspected that had been the way o't," said
the friendly guard. " The big chap looks pretty badly
broken up, and sae does the wee fellow, for that matter.

THE TRUTH O'T.

151

I trust for your sake, if no for my ain, they'll mak' nae
mair fuss about the affair. Thae big-wigs are kittle
cattle to deal wi', and gin they set the magistrate on
ane's track, they can gie us annoyance enough and to
spare. Do ye think they left in the mind o' makin' a
complaint against you ? Gin they dae sic a thing,
you'll jist hae to jouk the constable on your way back
to Kartdale this evening."

When the guard had disappeared, leaving behind
him such a legacy of foreboding, young Mowbray
could hardly be expected to keep away from a more
or less melancholy review of the events of the morning.
The count against him was seemingly rolling up. And
yet, when he had fully discussed his position, he felt
less inclined than ever, perhaps, to betray the vow he
had taken to follovv^ his minister's advice, whatever
ethical discrepancy there might for the moment appear
between the good old man's theory and the following
of it out, whatever disadvantage there would be to him
who could persevere in reducing it to practice. If he
had met with trouble, he had found a blink of sunshine
in the trouble; for though it is, perhaps, nobody's
business to incjuirc into such matters, he could hardly
have found it other than a relief from the more sombre
incidents of the morning, to meet with such a bright
welcome from the young lady whom he had greeted
as Miss Glencairn.

According to village gossip, there had existed, or
perhaps only ought to have existed, some kind of an
undefined sympathy between Mr. Robert Mov/bray and
Miss Glencairn, the heiress of Middleton, v,hich the
quidnuncs had for long suspected would develop in

liM

i
I

I !

ipif

152

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

il-

time into a still stronger feeling. When questioned
as to the ground of their expectation, they seldom had
more than the usual formula to fall back upon, —
'' Well, of course, we don't know for certain, but just
you wait and you will see whether there is anything
in what we say or not ; some folk can never see beyond
their ain door-cheek."

And so something of a rumour, associating the
names of Robert Mowbray and Miss Glencairn, had
run its course in Kartdale, until drowned in an atmos-
phere of gossip of seemingly more substance, which
bore on its surface the announcement that the former
was engaged to be married to Miss Fannie Lockhead,
a young lady of whom, by the way, the reader may
remember mention has already been made in connec-
tion with old Mr. Fairservice's irony.

Whether Miss Glencairn's pleasant greeting and
winsome smile brought to Mr. Robert Mowbray's
heart any regret, or hope, or comfort, only after events
can reveal. Many of these kindly-hearted people, who
measure everyone's good fortune by the cash balance
in its favour, were unable at times to refrain from ex-
pressing their misgivings that Robert Mowbray had
failed to see where his better interest, not to say his
better half, was to be found. Miss Fannie Lockhead
was all very well in her way, the folk of Kartdale would
often say, indeed, nobody could have very much to say
against her. She was pret;y, if there was anything in
that, yes, perhaps one of the prettiest of the young
ladies of the village, with her sweet, oval, dimpled face,
her pink and white complexion, her bright blue eyes,
Jie.r beautiful hair, and all that sort of thing. She was

THE TRUTH OT.

),»

even active in her duties, a j^ood little housekeeper as
everybody knew, and, oh, yes, pleasant enough in her
manners, a very attractive kind of person, if you were
minded to have it so. But — and who does not know
what a " But " with a capital letter, in village ethics
portends, — how was it possible for anyone to compare
such a chit of a thing with Miss Glencairn, a lady who
had more than all her good looks, was ever so much
more dignified in her bearing, was better bom, and, if
all stories were true, had at least five hundred a year
in her own right, as well as the beautiful villa of
Middleton, whi-h had been bequeathed to her by her
father. The thing was preposterous. Why, Aliss
Glencairn was a lady, an educated lady, one whom
everyone was inclined to look up to. She knew what
the world was. It was now over four years since she
had been left an orphan in the world, and everybody
was loud in their praise of the ability she had shown
in managing her own affairs. Whereas, as to Fannie
Lockhead, — well, she is a clever enough little woman;
nobody really ever wanted to say a word against her,
but, as you know, she is one of a very large family.
Of course her family is pretty well of¥, but a man who
is only pretty well off, is hardly in a position to give a
very large dowry to each of his daughters. To marry
her would only be to marry a poc^r woman; id it is
simply a mystery how Mr. Fairservice's nephew had
come to make the selection he evidently had deter-
mined upon making. ^

Whether anything of the gossip about him and Miss
Glencairn had ever reached Robert Mowbray's ears,
it is not in anyone's power to say. Even what he was-
11

i
t

{

«■■■■

1 1:

'\\

\ ,

!.]

i i

1 s i
] i I

it j

154

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

thinking aljout, as the train ruslied on its way to tlie
great city, cannot be otlier than the merest conjecture
to us and our readers. We all know what volumes
our thinking-machines can spin out, when our brains
have been shaken up by physical excitement, and after
his morning's experience, Robert Mowbray must have
put in a good half-hour's troublous thinking before
the train began to slacken its speed near the village
station in the outskirts of the city, where the tickets
were punched or collected.

" Tickets, please ! " shouted the guard, as he looked
into the compartment where Robert Mowbray sat alone.

"Ye had better gang furrit, I'm thinkin';" said the
honest man, with a twinkle in his eye, that was perhaps
nearer being a wink than a twinkle. "If ye're lone-
some, I'm sure sae is she."

Young Mowbray darted an unmistakably angry
point of interrogation from his frowning eyes.

" Yes, my young frien', I mean what I say. Ye were
maybe right and mayl^e wrang about the fracas wi' the
young lords; but ye were decidedly wrang in leaving
that winsome lassie to hersel' and the companionship
o' sic a camstrarie auld cross-stick as took the place o'
the young fellows with whom you had the rippit. Your
sweetheart has been spierin' about ye atween times, I'm
thinkin'," and again the guard's left eyelid showed
nervous excitement.

" Has she asked for me ? " said Robert, as red in the
face as one caught in the act of stealing red-hot coals,

"That she has."

" From you ? "

"Ay, from me; ye had better rin furrit, I'm thinkin'.

THE TRUTH O'T.

155

I were

Tickets, please ! " and the little man ran to the next
compartment.

Placing the confidence that is a kind of a wish-that-
it-bc-so in the statement of the kindly disposed con-
ductor, Robert immediately hastened towards the
carriage where Miss Glencairn sat. It was easy
enough to find her, for she was looking towards him
as he approached.

There was something in her face, notwithstanding
the smile with w4iich she again greeted Robert, which
told him that there was something amiss. They again
shook hands, having seemingly no other way of
coming to an explanation.

" Did you want to see me about anything, Miss
Glencairn ? " and, as he put the simple question, the
young man again had the look of one caught in
the act.

" I would like to meet you at the station when the
train arrives," was her reply, delivered in what was all
but a confidential whisper, in which there was seem-
ingly no nervousness equal to his.

" I would like to consult with you, Mr. Mowbray,"
and Robert had just time to reach the step of his
carriage before the train had attained to a speed too
high for him to leap on.

When he threw himself into the corner of his com-
partment, there was for him another five minutes of
strange kaleidoscope thinking to be done before the
train arrived at the terminus.

" What could it all mean ? " said he to himself, as a
hundred and one conjectures, many of them ridiculous
enough no doubt, began to run a race with the rapidly

1
t

,1'

- i

.--

1
i

!
1

156

TIIK CIIKONICI-KS ()!• KAKTDALK.

recuniii*^ caesurac of that railroad rliythm vvliich a
train makes in its fliglit over the rails, though in point
of speed, the odds were very much in favour of Robert
Movvl^ray's tliouglits. They came to him in a helter-
sl<elte ' that defied all competition.

" I tliink ye had better gang- furrit," he could still
liear his friend the guard saying. And " furrit " he
had gone.

" I think ye were decidedly vvrang in leaving that
winsome lassie to hersel','' he again hears the guard
saying, and the twinkle of the honest man's eye came
to him now as a sacrilege reproduced by his own
mind's eye. What right had the old wretch to look
at him in that way ? Had he seen anything in Miss
Glencairn's manner, when she sent her message by
him, that would lead such as he to think that there was
anything but acquaintanceship between them. A rail-
road guard to think of Miss Glencairn in that way !
Was there any wonder that he should be agitated when
he approached the carriage window from which she
was looking out for him ? Why, it was enough to
make a man mad with himself and with the whole
world of railroad guards. How could he help being
agitated ?

" I would like to consult with you, Mr. Mowbray,"
he seems to hear her saying with that sweetness of
manner which was all her own; yes, all her own, and
who was there to deny it ? What a bouquet of smiles
there was in that sweet face of hers. He had know i
Miss Glencairn for years, and to him she had always
been the perfection of comeliness. Well, what of that ?
Was there anything to forbid a young man from saying

TIIK TRUTH o'T.

157

to himself all that he thought of one whom the whole
parish of Kartdale admired. He had yet to learn of
there being any wrong-doing in admiring a young
woman whom all the world could not help but admire,
even to fifty-five year old railway guards with sacri-
legious twinkles in their eye.

So deeply engrossed was Rol)ert Mowbray with his
own thoughts, tha*^ he hardly noticed the slackening
speed of the train as it rattled towards the great arcade
of Glasgow's railway station. The dim irreligious
light of the environment was what brought the
dreamer back to the world of real things. As the train
came to a halt, and while the passengers were rushing
in a tumult from the carriages along the platform, as if
time were a great deal more precious than eternity,
and making their way down the great outer stairway,
our hero arose, and, shaking himself mentally, much as
a Newfoundland dog shakes himself physically when
he comes from beyond his depth, he determined to
keep excitement of any kind at arm's length, and
approach Miss Glencairn with the nonchalance of a
business man.

" I hope you will not think I have been taking a
liberty with you," was the young lady's simple greeting
as Robert glanced for a moment into the depths of a
pair of greyish blue eyes, in which there seemed to
be no secure footing for anything but honesty of
purpose.

" No liberty, whatever," answered Mowbray, almost
losing his head again.

" My purpose is easily explained," she said.

Robert made the remark that perhaps they had

■

158

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

better hasten to the stairway Ijeforc the upper gate had
been closed, and thus be in a position to find tlieir way
to the street when necessary.

"You know,*Miss Glcncairn, a railway-gate keq^er
is very much like a revival preacher ; he is ncj
respecter of persons.'*

Robert was doing his best to banish all excitement
of manner.

" And what about the business man, Air. Mowbray ?
I am afraid I am sinning against him as much as
against the gatekeeper. But I will explain myself as
we find our way downstairs."

" Ever since we left Kartdale station," Miss Glen-
cairn proceeded to say, when they had reached the
waiting-room below, " Lord Clay has l)een talking
partly to me but mostly to himself about the failure of
some Glasgow bank he has money in. I didn't like to
put any questions to him, for he seemed to be in a
temper all the way; but I thought I might ask you if
you had heard of any financial troul^le of this kind.
What bank could he mean, Mr. Mowbray ? "

Remembering what his lordship had let fall in his
hearing on the Kartdale platform, Robert informed
her that he knew nothing about the matter beyond
what Lord Clay had said.

" Do you think he could be referring to the Com-
mercial Bank?" continued Miss Glencairn, and there
was something in the query that brought a ray of
solicitude over Robert's face. What depths full of
possibilities have these two young people been looking
into as they tiu'ned away from that gaze of a first
confidence into each other's eyes ? How far down into

THE TRUTH O'T.

159

these depths had they seen ? Was there anything that
could possibly be misunderstood in the often returned
glance of (irace Gh^ncairn ?

" May I ask if you have any interest in the Coni-
merci?l Hank ? " asked Robert, still trying to keep
excitement at arm's length.

He now remembered that Lord Clay in his feverish
conversation with him had mentioned Macphereson
McLean as one of the directors of the bank of whose
ruin he seemed to stand in dread, and nearly everybody
knew that Macpherson McLean was a prominent
director of the Commercial Bank. There had, there-
fore, 1)ecn a method in the old nobleman's madness
after all. The Conmicrcial Bank was no doubt the
institution he had been referring to in his seeming
irrelevancy.

" I would not like to tell everybody how deeply I am
interested in that bank," answered Miss Glencairn,
" but it would be all but ruin to us, were anything to
go wrong with it."

" Ruin to you and ruin to many more," murmured
Ro1)ert, as if interpreting the phrase ' to us ' in the
general. " Ruin to Macpherson McLean anyway."

" And who is Macpherson McLean ?"

" He is my employer. Miss Glencairn."

" Ah, would he really be so deeply involved ? "

" Yes, and my uncle Fairservice would not escape
either, though he would hardly be ruined."

"Then what would you advise me to do, Mr.
Mowbray ? "

Yes, Mr. Robert Mowbray, what had the young
lady better do ? That is the question, and a pressing

'I'll

i T

V :''"1,

IGO

TIIK ClIkONICLES Ol" KARTDALE.

question it is. Perhaps if you again look down into
the depths of unreserve and trustfulness which are to
be found in these remarkable eyes of hers, you may
find the necessary divination in them. Would it be an
impulse — the impulse of self-interest, or the impulse of
the charity that seeketh not her own — to advise her to
deliver herself at once from the possibility of ruin ?
But who knows 'of a certainty whether there is a
possibility of ruin hanging over her ? Lord Clay's
telegram no doubt meant something to him, but who
was to say that it meant anything to anybody else ?
The nobleman's statements and rambling comments
were hardly to be relied upon. They were perhaps
only the utterances of an irascible old man excited by
a mere supposititious fear.

"The only advice I can give you, Miss Glencairn,
in the meantime, is to do whatever you would like to
do. A woman's impulse is often safer to follow than
a man's matured judgment."

The sympathy in the manner of Mr. Robert Mow-
bray's words would have perhaps been more than Miss
Fannie Lockhead would have cared to witness had she
been present to give an illustration of a woman's im-
pulse. Had she been present at this interview, that
young lady, shrewd and sensible as she was said to be,
would probably have been inclined to grade man's
judgment even a little lower than Mr. Mowbray did.

" A woman's impulse is not always so highly recom-
mended by those who have sometimes to suffer from
its effects," answered Miss Glencairn, with a liquid
light melting vmder her drooping eyelashes. " Be-
sides, this is hardly the time for impulse on the pare of

THE TRUTH O'T.

101

man or woman, and that is why I liave detained yon
to ask your advice."

" General ruin and a run upon the 1)ank are all l^ut
synonymous," said Robert, as if to himself.

" You mean that others will be involved."

Robert Mowl)ray bent his head in assent.

" Then it is no time for giving way to impulse."

" The impulse to do the right should always be given
way to."

" But what is the right in such an emergency, Mr.
Mowbray ? Whatever is to be done I nuist do at
once, and there is no one 1)Ut you to whom I can refer
for advice. What am I to do ? "

There could be no escape surely from the spell of
such pleading, and, when at last the young lady put
her hand upon her companion's arm, with the beseech-
ing of a child in her manner, and said " You nuist really
tell me what I am to do, Mr. Mowbray," 2«ilr. Robert
Mow])ray could waver no longev.

*' You nuist save yourself from ruin. Miss
Glencairn."

" Must I take my money from the bank ? "

'* Immediately."

" And your uncle ? "

" I will telegraph to him."

" And your employers ? "

" Macpherson McLean ? "

" Yes."

*' He knows the condition of the bank's affairs l)etter
than you or I know them."

" But perhaps there is no truth in the rumours."

*' Perhaps not."

I'!

■(■i;|f

162

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

"How can we be sure, before taking a step in the
matter ? Can vou find out from Mr. McLean ? "

Robert Mowbray's smile was dangerously near being
a laugh at the expense of his fair interrogator.

" That would be a little dangerous," was all he said,
however.

" Why ? " was t..e query of Miss Glcncairn's eye-
brows.

" vSuch (MKjuiries would be eciual to suspicions, and
the directors of a bank would rather deal with open
denunciation than with inuendo."

" ]jut no harm can come to you should you make
encjuiries."

" We nutst do our duty whatever happens," said
Robert.

" And so you will help me ? "

Help her ! what a question ! But Robert Mowbray
did not suffer the words to pass from his lips, for the
old agitation had again come upon him, as he saw the
mist of gratitude in the licjuid light that was all but
a prayer.

" I nuist hasten into the city to find out what is to be
found out about this thing," said he.

" Then I will see you again ? " she asked, as they
proceeded from the waiting-room to the street, now
walking side by side.

" You have no confidential lawyer in Glasgow with
whom we could consult ? " asked Robert.

" I have never found it necessary to consult anyone
l)ut old j\1r. Hathorne, the lawyer in Kartdale."

She then informed him that she had only come to
Glasgow for a morning's shopping. To go back to

THE TRUTH O'T.

163

!:-i

Kartdale to see her lawyer would be to waste time.
Perhaps he could get some one to help her — some
broker who would get her money from the bank.
There was the stock to be transferred or disposed of
as well as the deposits, and she was not sure she knew
how to go about it.

Robert assured her that he would do what he could
to avoid the necessity of her going back to Kartdale.
Then he spoke to her of other matters as they passed
along Clyde Street, where the crowds were not so
great.

" I have been in some trouble myself this morning,"
said he, gaining full conmiand of himself as they moved
along in the bright morning sun. " And in regard to
the transfer of these shares, I am afraid you will have
to employ somebody who is not under a vow as I am,
to speak the truth and nothing but the truth."

Then he laughingly told her of the circumstances of
the minister's sermon, with something of the particu-
lars of the adventure in the train

" To transfer or sell your stock, now that you suspect
the bank to be in difficulties "

" But we do not know of a certainty that the bank
is in difficulties," said the young lady.

" No, but you will, before you have time to sell your
stock. I do not suppose you will sell out if Lord
Clay's telegram proves to be of no account."

The tone of Mr. Robert Mowbrav's words modified
to some extent the harshness of his argument, though
Miss Glencairn could not but wonder where his philo-
sophy was likely to lead him and her.

"The horse-trader who palms off a faulty horse on

-si

164

THE CHRONICLES OF KAKTDALE.

a novice in horse-flesh, is seldom esteemed an honest
man. To act a falsehood is perhaps even worse than
to tell one."

" Oh, Mr. Mowbray, then you think I will have to
lose my money ! " and there was an alarm in her tone
that made Robert almost ashamed of himself.

" I am only speaking from the standpoint of a man
who is under a vow."

" Then you will not be able to help me ? "

*' It would be no falsehood to make the dishonest
horse-trader take back his faulty steed, to throw the
responsibility of the deed of restitution upon the party
who had tried to make a profit by deception. F)Ut we
must not linger longer over the philosophy of your
difficulties, Miss Glencairn. As you have said, what-
ever is to be done must be done quickly. I shall do
my best to be relieved from my duties in the warehouse
after twelve o'clock. Perhaps by that time I shall ])e
able to reassure you, or at least have learned some-
thing definite of the bank's dicfficulties. I shall be
glad to meet you after you have done your shopping
— though that will hardly be to you this morning tlie
pleasant operation which it generally is to ladies.
Where will I be able to find you at half-past twelve ? "

Miss Glencairn was unable for the moment to say.

" Then suppose we meet in the Arcade."

" At half-past twelve ? "

" Yes, that hour will be the most suitable for me,"
and hastily raising his hat to bid her good-morning,
Robert Mowbray hastened across the street and was
lost in the current of human beings that swelled in the
more central thoroughfares of the great city.

.^i

CHAPTER VI.

" What a queer kind o' dergue is this love, auld wife,
Tho' ye've had o't yoursel' to your fill ;
A shuttle-ploy sure, 'mang rich and 'mang poor,
With its pirnfu' o' woof guid and ill, auld wife,
With its warp that maks guid o' the ill."

" Lost in the current " is hardly the most appropriate
expression to use in describing Mr. Robert Mowbray's
feeHngs of himself as he left Miss Glencairn, if by any
chance or mischance, emphasis be placed upon the
word lost.

Lost ! why, to judge of him as he elbowed his way,
like a strong and heedless swimmer against the ebb
and flow of the streets, one would be more inclined to
use the word found. The new heaven and the new
earth had come into his life; at least he had had a
glimpse of the fringe of its sweetness and light, which
a big cloud on the horizon, the biggest of storm-
clouds, perhaps, only seemed to enhance for the
moment. The impulse to do the right was upon him,
as we know from the report we have had of his inter-
view with Miss Glencairn; and from within the mist
that hung over the borderland of the new region just
revealed to him, the glistening .osebud of a woman's
tearful face could not fail to bring to that impulse an

- 1-
i

i 1

i'i il

i I

lOG

TIIK CIIKONICLES OK KARTDALK.

additional impetus. But a strong-er impulse, that has
no waiting'-timc on tiie rij^^ht or the \vnmj;\ to dis-
tinguish the one from the other, had come upon him
— the impulse that had made of the strongest of man-
kind the silliest of dupes, even in the days when men
claimed ic to be none other than the spirit of God
descending upon a man to give him strength and
courage to overcome his enemies.

When a young man meets that friend of his, who
may be thought of as becoming in time something
more than a friend, the impulse to do the right has
fearful odds against it, unless it be identified with the
impulse that would fight that friend's battles. For
good or for ill, her foes are his foes, her difficulties are
his difficulties, and woe betide t]ie dragon in the way,
whether that dragon happens to be antipathy or sym-
pathy. The bystander may use the balance that only
blames, and shake its indicator in his face. His
friends may pity and remonstrate. Some woman or
other may look from out the mist of the bygone wdth
a woe-stricken look, and the memory of her may waft
a mournful restraining chord among the newly attuned
heart strings; but the impulse that has the sunshine of
the new heaven and the new earth for it.' stimulant,
knows no bridle but its own organic exhaustion. The
joy of the unattainable, in the career of a man or
woman's love, cannot but make of its goal a mere
will-o'-the-wisp. But what lover is there to believe it ?
Not Robert Mowbray, sensible lad though he be, as
Jeames would say. Not Grace Glencairn, as she thinks
of her appointment in the Arcade, a business one

I !

THE TRUTH O'T.

167

though she calls it. Not Fannie Lockhead — but we
must not anticipate.

A lover never meets trouble half-way. He is too
light-hearted for that. He can laugh at the most
serious of obstacles, even as Mr. Robert Mowbray
laughed and jeered at his painful experiences of the
moming. What were these to him now ? Had there
ever really been in tlicm anything worth talking about ?
As for troubles to come, there was no time to think of
such. The railway guard had incidentally warned him
against the constable of Kartdale, who might possibly
be lying in wait for him in the evening. Well, let the
constable of Kartdale do his best or his worst ! He,
Robert Mowbray was prepared to meet a whole
phalanx of constables, and keepers, and henchmen, and
myrmidons, whenever Lord Clay's sons thought fit to
collect them against him. Constables be fiddled !

" Young Mr. Mowbray is not a man to be cowed,"
Jcames had once been heard to say in the session-
house, when Robert had been having his character
read; and possibly the reader's wayward surmises may
be none the worse of having Jeames's opinion placed
on record alongside of them, in order that these same
surmises may be straightened out a bit.

" I've kenn'd him ever since he was a wean, and as
a boy comin' but and ben among us, wi' the Kirk as
the but, and the session-house as the ben, as it were, I
never ance found him disrespectful to his elders or
unwillin' to learn what was guid for him to ken. Of
course I can think o' him daein' wrang, for, like the rest
o' us, he cannae but be a stane's throw or twa frae the
saintship that is sure o' its angelhood; but wrang-daein'

11, Ui

,■*-

! ^1

h .1

< I

108

TUK ciironiclf:s ok kartdale.

oil liis pairt is iiiair than likely to he rip^ht-daein' in the
lang-run. He has a way o' reaehin' out to the hest
that's to be had, by a series o' stepping-stanes that are
no aye in a raw. We may (hffer wi' him about tlie
steps he selects, but he'll get there a' the same ; and the
there that he gets to will be a settin' to his name.
Tak' care o' your steps we may say to him, gin we
like, but he's taking care o' them whether or no, and
he'll dae harm neither to his ain shanks nor to the
shoogliest o' the stepping-stanes, ye may tak' my word
for it. Exactly sae ! "

" But a man who runs away from a first principle
is surely worthy of being watched," says the reader.

And there is no doubt that Robert Mowbray was
kind of running away from the first i)rinciple laid down
by the minister of Kartdale, in his famous sermon
about the speaking of the truth, though that may not
be the first principle the reader is thinking of. As he
strode onward into the heart of the city, revelling in
the light and heat of his latest discovery, whatever that
was to be in its fullest sense, he gave little heed, I am
afraid, to the falsities that, like Cervantian wind-mills,
beset him on every side. Even if he had noticed it,
the time was not opportune for him to defame the flash
announcement of the retailer who claims in the most
bare-faced type that he can sell with impunity his goods
for less than they cost him. The cry for compassion
from the pseudo-beggar who wallows in his profitable
filth and rags and incurable sores during daylight,
that he may clothe himself in the purple and fine linen
of the modern habitue' o{ i\\e. concert-hall and theatre
in the evening, had no interest for him either from the

THE TRUTH O'T.

169

negative or positive standpoint of reforni. The adver-
tising- cry of the perambulating huckster might or
niigiit not l)e a he; the sandwiched man might, or
might not, l)e a fore-and-aft em))0(hment of all that is
false; the morning auctioneer, with his brazen early
voice, might be appraising his own soul as a bargain
to the venerable father of lies, for aught Mr. Robert
Mowbray knew or cared. These wind-mills, or what-
ever you like to call them, these wind-bags or helkites
of the indirect methods of business life might, or
might not, be giants easy to overcome. If they were
giants, some adventurer other than he could have his
will of them from the Stone Pulpit in the Goosedubs,
or of a Sunday afternoon amid the polemics of Nelson's
monument. As for him, he had other business in
hand, his first object being to reach the warehouse of
Macpherson McLean & Co., and after that — well, after
that, events would probably take their own course.

But if a young man running away from a first
principle ought to be watched, as the reader declares,
and unhappily escapes being watched, the next best
thing that can happen is for him to fall in with some-
one who can advertently or inadvertently show him the
way. The course of true love never runs smooth. So
says the most thread-bare of our proverbs. But is it
not strange that the inequalities which line the pathway
of fickle love, of the love that is not true, have not been
immortalized in a proverb ? Perhaps the old lady who
coined the proverb about true love, had had her own
experiences of the other kind of thing and naturally
enough thought that everybody knew of the inequali-
ties of its course, as well as she did. If so, she need not
12

: I

•Tf'

rr-

170

THE CHRONICLES OF KAKTUALE.

have laid herself open to the charge of keeping back
a part, — a charge once laid so pitilessly at the door of
poor Sapphira, but might have safely enough de-
veloped her partial saw into a universal dictum. The
boulevards of love, even like Glasgow thoroughfares
at midnight, are ever in a state of uncertainty; and a
lover, any lover in fact, fickle or true, false of fair,
seems to have a kind of a claim upon Providence, just
as an elder of the Kirk and the street- walker can
equally well demand civic supervision and protection.
As Mr. Robert Mowbray had no pressing need for
civic protection that morning as he passed along the
city streets, Providence thought it well, perhaps, to
help the young man in his somewhat out-of-the-way
course, by providing him with an interruption of a
friendly kind, in which there came to him the guidance
that comes at times like a revelation, or rather like a
dictate of conscience.

" Hallo, Mowbray ! " was the rather commonplace
greeting of Providence, as the confidential clerk of
Messrs. Macpherson McLean & Co. passed, with speed
in his pace, near the Royal Exchange.

It is needless to say that Providence, — which, as has
already been stated, has a kind af chaperonage over
the steps of the soul-engrossed, — revealed itself on this
occasion, in the personality of a Glasgow merchant,
on his way down town. The gods among men
were not ashamed to say " hallo " to anyone, even
before the days of the telephone.

" Hallo, Mr. Mowbray ! " again shouted Providence
on the rush from the pavement to the causeway and
back to the pavement. Had the shoulder of the soul-

TIIK IRUTII OT.

171

soul-

absorbed Mowbray been within reacli, the personation
of Providence would possibly have enii)hasised the
shout in Robert's ear by a still more bucolic nietliod
of greeting. ,

" Ah, how do you do, Mr. Turner ? " exclaimed the
young man with a start.

Mr. Turner's full signature was, as everybody knew,
F. C. Turn r, Esq., head of tiie firm of Turner Brothers
of West Nile vStreet; l)ut nobody had ever said that the
first initial of his name stood for Providence, simply
because few people ever knew what it did stand for,

" You seem to be in something of a hurry, this
morning ? " said he.

" Yes, I have been detained on my way from the
station," answered Rol^ert, making nt) pause in his
pace, however.

The two were soon some distance past the Royal
Exchange, a little out of the thick of the crowd that is
always wending its way towards Wellington's monu-
ment, and here Mr. Providence Turner drew out his
handkerchief to wipe his well-beaded forehead, as he
continued to carry on the usual talk about the weather.

" If you are in for a race, this morning, Mowbray,
Fm thinking you'll win it," said the merchant at length,
all but out of breath. " Even ' better late than never '
might give you a minute to spare in behalf of a friend."

But the stride of the two, as their heels kept time
on the asphalt, knew no diminution. Robert was not
to be detained. He had work to do.

" I am ever so glad to have met you this morning,"
and when the greeting had reached thus far, the key
of the confidential seemed to come into the merchant's

iil

■

iiii

172

Till': CIIRONICLKS OI" KAKTDALI-:.

> I

voice. "You arc on your way direct to the ware-
house, I suppose ? "

Robert said lie was j^oinj^ straiglit to tlie wareliouse,
and the sooner he ^ot there the better; after sayin.y[
which, his pace became even faster.

" lUit, dear nie, T want to speak to you. Did you
not hear nie sayinj^ that I was j^lad to see you tiiis
niorninjj^ ? I have soniethinji^ by onUnar' to speak
alK)ut. It looks as if I would hardly have time to
blurt it out, you're in such a hurry. Take your time,
man, and tell me if you have hean' anything about the
bank this morning," and Mr. Turner looked on this
side and on that side of the way as he took his friend's
arm.

" What bank ? " exclaimed Robert, with unhidden
surprise, drawing up as if the military command of
" halt " was in his ear.

" Turner will know," was what he had said to himself
when he was first accosted by that gentleman, an<l the
very query that Turner had put to him, had been on
the tip of his tongue to put to Turner, liut his haste
had driven it away

" You don't mean to say, Mowbray, that you have
heard nothing about the Conmicrcial i»ank?" and
there was a whisper in the man's words as he again
looked this way and that way in the street. " There
may be nothing in it, you know," though in every line
of Mr. P. C. Turner's face there was written the con-
viction that there was something in it.

Whether Mr. Turner's first name was Providence or
not, Robert knew that he was rich en(jugh to be a
providence to a hundred such as he. He was one of

TIIK TkdTII o't.

( •»

varc-
ousc,

1 you
.1 this
s\)Ccik
nic ti)
• lime,
)ut the
111 this
ricnd's

hichlen
and of

himself
m<i the
cen on
s haste

u liave
and
e apjain

There
cry line
AC con-
once or
to be a

one of

the noij4"h1)()urs, connncrcially speakinj^. of Macpherson
McLean <S: Co., and had known their confidential clerk
ever since ho had become a confidential clerk, and
knew of tho likelihood of his becoming a jnnior
])artner in the larj^'c concern, lonj^ ])efore the viUai^ers
of Kartdale iiad fornndated their snrmises. lie liad
always had a hi^h opinion -of the yonnj^ man, and if
ivobert was seeminj^ly a little brns(|ue with him as the
kindly disposed aj^ent of I'rovidence, it was the l)nis(|ne-
ness arisinjj: from bein*^: in a hnrry, whicii every busi-
ness man has to respect, and which Mr. Turner, for the
moment, seemed to be only too ready to overlook.
Had anyone afterwards asked him, however, a strai.ijht
question about the youn^ man, he would no doubt
have answered, best of friends as they always had been,
that there was evidently something amiss with him.

Tlie intimacy between the two men was such that
the confidential clerk knew fairly well how far Mr.
Turner was financially interested in the Connnercial
I'ank. He was, of course, not so deejily involved in
its affairs as Macpherson McLean; l)ut he was perhaps
sufflciently so, to be excited over any misfortune that
might befall it.

"There may be nothing;' at all in it, you know."
Turner ag-ain said in his half-whis])er. " Nothini;- in
it at all. You remember the fuss and fume about the
North liritish six months ago, and I suppose the same
kind of talk will go on about some other concern six
months hence. The shavers are always excellent
scandalmongers, no matter what the money market
may be doing."

The connnercial world, like a village, has a very

174

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

long pair of cars. The faintest 1)reath of disparai^e-
nient cannot escape them. Bradstreets is their outer
labyrinth; 'Change their inner; with self-interest vibrat-
ing as the most sensitive of tympanums. Naturally
enough, with such a sensitive medium vil^rating with
every breath, the chances are nearly always in favour
of the ordinary fama not l)eing true, and, with the
incij)icnt cunning of the gambler, tlie freciucnter of
'Change seldom puts faith in the preliminary rumours
set afloat of a morning, in the money-market-place.

But if the frequenter of 'Change is ah eager listener,
ever on the </;'?" 7nve with car and eye, to watch how the
wind-straws of trade are being blown, he is also vindic-
tive to a degree. Tit-for-tat is an observance which
even regular attendance at church has not been able
so far to suspend in this world ; and in the commercial
world, T am afraid, it is as much of a sweet morsel as
it was in the days of the Jewish dispensation. Ven-
geance is mine, says the man w'ho has lost money, and
he continues to think so as long as he is without the
hope of recovering it; even more than this, his desire
for vengeance is as bitterly breathed against the heed-
less bungler as against the most cunning of rogues.

And no one knew this better than Robert ]\lowbra>
and Providence Turner, as the caution of the one and
the seeming reticence of the other bore witness.

" Yer,, my dear Mowbray, there really may be
nothing in it after all."

" I shall be sorry for you, if there is anything in it,"
said Robert, relieved to escape the direct (jucry so far.

Robert Mowbray may have laughed a short time
before at his experiences of the morning and the con-

THE TRUTH O'T.

175

stable of Kartdale in posse ; but though he was not a
man to be " cowed," as Jeames had said, he had none
the less made up his mind to be cautious. The vow
to speak the truth had at least done this nuich for him.

" Mr. Macpherson McLean, I suppose, could tell us
whether there is anything- in t'^e rumours. Has he
said nothing about them in your hearing ? " The
question though insinuating, breathed nothing of the
underhand, as far as Robert discerned.

" Not a word ! " answered the confidential clerk of
Macpherson McLean & Co., though perhaps it was
indiscreet in him to be so emphatic.

A humourist has said that, unlike George Washing-
ton, he could tell a lie, but he would not. Mr. Robert
Mowbray was evidently not far from being al)le to say
that he neither would nor could tell a lie. Notwith-
standing the suspicion of the reader that his late vision,
ever present as it was with him still, would in time
detract from the prestige of the minister's sermon,
there w^as less danger of this than might at first be
expected. Robert Mowbray carried the corrective of
his own conduct about with him. He might wish to
tell a lie, but that honest face and that sensitive
manner of his would hardly suiTer him to do so without
instant detection, now that his conscience had jjeen
quickened by the sermon of the minister of Kartdale.

"You have had no suspicions, then, that something
might be wrong with the Commercial Bank ? "

" None, whatever," replied Robert, with the emphLsis
all gone out of his voice though.

Be careful Mr. Mowbray ! Are you going to send
Mr. Providence Turner, the providence of your own

i ■

\ \

I!'

ill!

. [I I

176

THE CHRONICLES OK KAKTDAT.K.

affairs for all that you know, — are you going- to send
your friend Mr. Turner away with what is equivalent
to a falsehood in his ear ? " None whatever ! " you
have said, but that is a little too strong, is it not ?

" Then I am the first to give you a hint about the
matter ? " exclaimed Mr. Turner.

You had better be careful, again, Mr. Mowbray !
The spell of your vow has surely not gone out of your
life all of a sudden. You don't want to speak of Miss
Glencairn's affairs to strangers. You don't want to let
fall a word that would betray your employer's interests,
directly or indirectly. But the contemptible of spirit
can have no foothold in that realm of which you have
just had a glimpse. The whole truth has to be spoken.
The old minister of Kartdale was either right or
wrong. You have maintained in face of Willie Turn-
bull's cynicism that the old man was right, and who is
there more contemptible than the man who would
betray himself ?

With the vow of speaking the truth thus emphasized
by every fibre of his being, even more intensely than
ever, the young man had at last to turn to Providence
and tell him all about Lord Clay and his telegram.

" A-ha ! then there must be something in it, after
all," exclaimed Mr. Turner, but whether he was pleased
or displeased, glad or afraid, nobody could well have
been able to make out from his manner.

Robert, perhaps by way of excuse for his reticence,
remarked that it was a dangerous thing to start or
strengthen rumours that might involve thousands in
ruin, with the possibility of there being nothing in
them.

THE TRUTH O'T.

17:

I send
valent

" you

■ ■?

lut the

vbray '
3{ your
3f IMiss
it to let
itercsts,
)f spirit
)u have
spoken,
ight or
,e Turn-
1 Nvho is
) woukl

phasized
ely than
ovidencc

gram,
it, after
s pleased
vvell have

reticenec,
> start or
usands in
othing tn

"You're quite rig-ht, Mowbray, quite right, sir; and
I am sure your chief, Macplierson McLean, would be
the first to say so to you. But there must be soniethinj^
in the rumours, all the same," continued Turner. " A
telegram is surely something."

" Perhaps Lord Clay was making more of his tele-
gram than there was any need for," said Ro1)ert, cjuietly,

" You (hchi't see the telegram ? "

" Well, no, I didn't see the telegram.'

Robert had to smile at the keenness with wliich the
fre(|uenter of 'Cliangq had pounced upon him as a
possible chie.

" There have been indefinite surmises about the true
condition of the Conunercial Bank for some time, in
the inner circle, of course, you know, Alowbray. lUit
this telegram is a different thing. A telegram is like
the city set on a hill; it cannot be hid. You have no
idea, I suppose, wlio could have sent Lord Clay that
telegram ? "

No, Robert had not the faintest idea. Lord Clay
w'as rather a fussy old man, rather irascible besides,
and his statements were not always to be relied upon.

" But you are sure he had received a telegram ? "

Yes, Robert felt sure of that.

" Did he mention it only to you ? "

" No, several otliers may have heard him speak
about it," said Mowbray.

" Ah, then it must lie on the way of being made
pu1)lic. Was there anyone that might possii)ly be
interested in the welfare of the bank, near at the time
when the old man was holding forth ? "

" There were liis sons."

)i 1 ^ '■

:. ' V

[I ■ ; ■

' i

t ^ tr

I ■

178

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

" Ah, of course, you have told nie all about them."

This was only partly true, for R()l)crt had said
nothing so far to anybody, beyond the railway guard,
about the fight he had had with the Clays.

" Was there anybody else in the railway carriage
besides Lord Clay and his sons ?"

" Lord Clay's sons were not with him in tlic railway
carriage," said Robert.

" Neither they were. That's true enough What
was I thinking about ? You have just told me how
they had quick march put upon them. It must have
been fun to the bystanders, to hear the heirs of Clay
Castle reminded of the starving condition of their poor
old mother, sitting at home without food or fire.
Well, w^ell, he must be a witty old fellow, even if he
be irascible, as you say he is. But about that tele-
gram. Was their anybody in the carriage with Lord
Clay, after his sons were forced to retire ? Was there
anyone with whom he might possibly have conversed
confidentially about that telegram, and the possible
condition of the bank "^ "

"It's no use, Mr. Mowbray," hununed that young
man's vow, " it's no use for you to hesitate, you are
only making matters worse by hesitating." And so
Robert proceeded to tell Turner of Miss Glencairn and
the possible ruin that would befall her should anything
happen to the Commercial Bank. What harm could
there be in telling everything, as long as Turner could
have no suspicion of the new heaven and the new
earth that had excited the confidential so much?

" I am glad you have told me all this," said Mr.
Turner. " It opens up the way wonderfully."

THE TRUTH O'T.

179

Could the wretch really suspect after all,

" The fact is, Mowbray, we must verify that
telegram."

" Substantiate it, you mean, I suppose," said Robert,
hardly knowing what he was saying.

" No, that seems to be pretty well done, by what
your fair friend, Miss Glencairn, has told you."

Robert could have twisted Turners neck for him.
What business had he to speak of Miss Glencairn —
yes, Miss Glencairn — in that way.

" No, my dear man, we must go further than that,
we must find out what was in the telegram, at least
what was the true cause of its being sent. It may have
been a mere l)lind. The fussy old nobleman may have
been merely a tool in the hands of some long-headed
chap."

" More possible deceptions," thought Robert.
" Why, the world is full of them."

** Yes, my dear Mowbray, we must verify that
telegram."

" But who is to verify it for us ? "

'' You must verify it for us."

" Me ? "

" Yes, you, and no other."

" Rut how can I find out what was in the telegram ? "

" You can corroborate our suspicions, or you can
find out whether they are all gammon or not. You
can do us both a good turn by applying for informa-
tion at head([uarters."'

Robert Mobray saw that his providence was on
the track he himself had been on for some time, about
appealing to those who were sure to know about the

f:|

■

180

THE CHRONICLES OF" KARTDALE.

real condition of the affairs of the Connnercial luink.
The (Hfiicuhy was, how to make that track serviceal)le
to the end of an encjuiry.

"I see you are interested in this Miss Glencairn,"
continued Turner.

i<()1)ert, ajrain, could have knocked the man down,
and, as it was, could not alto<:^etlier keep back the tire
of indij^nation from p^ettin<^ into his face.

"Well, to say the least, you are interested in her
banking- affairs."

Robert savagely bit iiis li]). This was making l)ad
worse. This was making what might have been the
mere incidental so emi)hatic, that nolxxly could miss
taking notice of it, and ]\lr. Turner saw how he had
l)etter run away from that phase of the question.

" Then you have other friends that have stock in the
Commercial Bank, besides JMiss Glencairn," and in
saying so, Providence thought he might again with
safety look into Robert's face.

" Macpherson McLean is a director of the bank,"
said Robert, glad to get on safe ground.

"I know that; we will come to him in a minute."

" Then there is my uncle ? "

" Has he much of the Commercial's stock ? "

" I think he must have five thousand, anyway."

" And Miss Glencairn ? "

" I may be able to tell you about her stock l)ctter in
the afternoon, perhaps," nuittered Ro1)ert, with the
lately recurring redness round his ears still apparent.

" You arc to meet her again, to-day ? "

" Yes," answered Robert, seeing there was no escape
from telling everything to a man who evidently had

THE TRUTH o'T.

18 L

studied the art of (|iiestioning' with an objeet in view.

*' Well, now, look here, Mr. Robert Mowbray, I may
as well tell you, first as last, that we can be of some
service to one another, and that very soon. You will
do somethinj^ for nie and I will do something for you.
You will verify that telegram, as we say, and I will see
that whatever stock you or any oi your friends may
iiave will find a safe sale at this morning's market
price."

" Even if the bank should begin to topple over ? ''
exclaimed Robert with an ecstacy he could not
conceal.

" Yes, I may safely say, even if the bank should fail."

The sunshine of the newly-discovered world again
flooded itself over Mr. Robert Mowbray, — a sunshine,
it is needless to say, that had nothing of the lustre of
pounds, shillings and pence about it, at least nothing
of the lustre of the pounds, shillings and pence of his
uncle's bank stock, realized though it might be at par
from the ruins of a rotten bank.

" The means of rescuing Miss Glencairn, are at
hand," said he to himself, " and it is for me to see that
she is rescued."

" And what am I to do in return for this ? " he asked,
turning to his friend.

" You will have to see Mr. Macpherson McLean."

" And then ? "

" He is a director of the bank, of course."

Robert had said the same thing a minute ago.

" Then there is this silence of his to you. That is
ominous. That in itself justifies us in being anxious
a1)out Lord Clay's telegram."

182

THE CHRONICLES OV KARTDALE.

i I!

< !

" Well, there might be something in that."

"You are his confidential clerk, you know."

A pause.

" And you may be excused if you should happen to
take a liberty with him."

Another pause.

" In other words, my dear fellow, our only safety
lies in your taking the bull l)y the horns, in your
asking Macpherson McLean to give you a i)lain, un-
varnished story about the bank's affairs. Nothing
else will do our turn."

" But suppose he refuses to give this plain, unvar-
nished tale."

"Then threaten him."

" Threaten Macplierson McLean ! "

"Yes, tell him that I am going to call upon him
about the same matter, and that before the day is out.
That will be as good as a threat."

CHAPTER VII.

'Tis a' in the trade and its strife, auld wife,

Thougli righteous it never can be ;
If you ask me for why, maybe ye would try

To lay down the />ar o' a lie, guid wife,

The aboon nor below o' a lie.

The firm of Macpherson McLean & Co. was looked
upon as one of the most reputable, as it certainly was
one of the most extensive, in Glasgow. In point of
age, it was not a very old firm; yet with the self-com-
placency that prosperity brings to men and firms, it
had taken its place, as by a kind of divine right, among
the older houses in the city. The self-made man has
a knack of setting the value on himself that no one
thinks of doubting. And if JNIacpherson McLean was
a little inclined to sing his own praises as a self-made
man, it was natural enough that his business should
take after him. It was a self-making business, if not
a self-seeking business too.

Like the " hafiflin' chiel " who clings to his knicker-
bockers because he knows what a good leg is, and has
possibly overheard some maid or maidens give whisper
to some eulogy on his well-trussed body, the firm of
Macpherson McLean & Co. had never given up that
branch of their business which had brought to them

184

THE CHRONICLES OK KAKTDALE,

their earliest popularity. They had earned the right
to hold their heads high as a wholesale house, but thev
were not prejiared to rush away altogether from their
past. The desire for reeognition by the many had
become a second nature to them, and so they still
clung to the retail counter, Macpherson McLean was
a proud man with a humble smile, and the business he
had made naturally took after him. It was proud of
name and fond of being popular too.

" Dear me, what a place that Macpherson McLean's
is; what a busy beehive !" the multitude were never
weary of saying, as they passed slowly hither and
thither through the winding lanes of wares exposed
for sale, adorned, as they ever w^ere, with the showiest
of advertising cards. In these variegated corridors
the vocabulary of enticement was an art that had to be
well understood. Here the literature of the lal^el had
a realm all to itself. Here the perplexities of the profit
and loss account were all hidden away behind the
insinuation, floating in the very air, that it was profit to
buy and all but a sacrifice to sell. INIr. Macpherson
McLean was a public-spirited man, perhaps even phil-
anthropic ; and the business he had made naturally took
after him. There was a semblance of philanthropy
in its every walk and conversation.

" All is fair in love and war and the retail trade," is
the amended form of the most hideous aphorism of the
old dispensation. Better be an ass at once than not
be able to sell goods to the most finical of customers
is what it really means. The practical pays, and,
whether it be of Hades or not, must be brought to bear
upon every process of trading. The horse-dealer has

THE TRUTH OT.

185

given us the piaiio-nian, and tlic piano-man has
l)rought with liini the sewing-machine agent. The
insurance agent, the book agent, and the fruit-tree man
are all of the same game, while the inventor of any
new advertising trap comes upon the swarm of them
like a revelation. As the effect of competition, the
said inventor is hailed as if he were a conniion bene-
factor, though our grandfathers never knew him.
Every knight of the counter feels all but bound in
honour to give him hearty welcome. The linen draper
hails him as an auxiliary, the boot and shoe man has
his picture taken by him, the printer claims him as the
feeder of his family, and the patent medicine man
fairly bows down and worships him. And who is to
Ijlame for the coming of the rev/ commercial cult, or
what is there to blame about it ?

" If it doesnae beat a'," I have heard Jeames saying
in the presence of Robin Drum and others, " how thae
1)ig towns o' ours are growin'. Gie me Kartdale and
I'm content; ance and a while folk may gang to the
city jist to see what like vanity fair is, and tak' note o'
its lusts. A veesit is a lesson o' life for me. The
hurly-burly is somethin' maist amazin,' and gin ane
gets out o' it wi' safety to his limbs and morals, he is
sure to be mair trustfu' o' the truth that is within him
than ever afore. And nae wonder, for the lies that
abound in the streets and the squares and around the
railway stations are fit to scunner even the easiest
gangin' o' godly wayfarers. Gang this side o' the big
brig, and a big lie o' an advertisement stares ye m the
face telling ye that ye'll get sugar for naethin' on the

yonder side; and tak' ye to the yonder side, and ye
13

w '

I': I

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

{./

.<^

wj< iM

1.0

I.I

1.25

" IIU

IIM

22
M

1.8

U III 1.6

c":

cf2

'/,

//a

Photograpliic

Sciences
Ccrporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. 14580

(716) 872-4503

€^ ^.

4^.

^^ .^ 4^

'V^^

WQa

'€ Cp<

V 1

186

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

would think ye were in pandemonium, though ye
dinnae get the sugar for a' that ; for the grocer'ill no
gie ye the sugar unless ye buy some o' his tea. The
tricks o' trade that are practised right and left, convince
ye that the best place for your hands are in your
pouches, and ye had better keep them there."

" An' yet they hae grand kirks in thae big towns, as
we a' ken," Robin would venture to say.

"And godly preachers tae; but they hae maistly a'
gi'en ower thrashin' the 111 Ane o' a Sunday, I'm tell't,
and that's bad. But wha kens whether or no that's the
real reason o' the carnival o' wickedness that abounds
a' aroun' frae the Gorbals to the Gushet House and
back again crosswise. The smell o' smoke and the
sulphur mist that every now and again hangs ower
the place, evidently mak's the deil's denizens that live
in it sae callous, that they carenae a whistle. The
faither o' lees and his bustling abode are near them
ilka week day, and maybe they are a' the l)etter o' a
rest frae learnin' about him on the Sabbath, when he
an' the rest o' his clan are supposed to be in bed."

The partner^ of Macpherson McLean & Co. were no
worse than their neighbours. That at least could be
said of them. The indirect methods of the retail trade
were none of their making, and if they had their share
in the perpetuating of them, the respectability of their
way of buying and selling had never been called in
question by the public, who kept going in and out of
the great warehouse making the most of the bargains
they thought they were sure to find there. To see Mr.
Macpherson McLean in his pew of a Sunday, with the
stately Mrs. McLean by his side, you would have been

THE TRUTH O'T.

187

;h ye
ill no

The
wince

your

nis, as

istly a'
n telVt,
at's the
bounds
ise and
ind the
rs ower
hat live
e. The
ir thcra
ter o' a
,vhen he

bed."

were no
:ould be
:ail trade
eir share
of their

called in
id out of

bargains
o see Mr.

with the

lave been

forced to say that, as far as his position in life was
concerned, he also was well satisfied with his bargains.
From early morning till early evening, the stream
of purchasers kept coming and going; and had Robert
Mowbray been an ordinary salesman in any of the
retail departments, he would probably have found some
difficulty in obtaining leave of absence. He had
parted from Mr. Providence Turner with an under-
standing that included two emphasized items; first,
that he was to keep his appointment with Miss
Glencairn, and second, that he was to be at the ware-
house of Turner Brothers early in the afternoon. Of
course in promising to keep these appointments Robert
did not expect there would be nuich difficulty in
arranging for leave of a1)sence. He was no underling
now. He had had his day among the ordinary
idiosyncracies of the retail counter. From the depart-
ment where the wearing apparel of men and women
was said to be sold at less than cost, to the department
where the " upper ten " selected their furbelows, he
had had experience of all the fascinations of the retail
trade, before he had climbed to the regions of the
wholesale department. Now he had no special depart-
ment, but was often to be found in the retail building,
sometimes in the wholesale, oftener in the counting-
house — Mr. Macpherson McLean's right-hand man,
as might truthfully be said, if the other partners could
be excluded, for the moment, from the classification.
Tile regular customers had come to know him, and
he had come to know them; and as he passed from
one department to another to correct this or
supplement that, he had to make a very busy day of

'■I

III

,'n

;^'

II.

V'l

'" I i

ii.i ;;

4 i

is:

■li.tt'

188

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

it. It is needless to say that the popularity of Mr.
Robert Mowbray was a proverb everywhere in the
establishment.

On entering the warehouse, after parting from Mr.
Turner, he was immediately in the rush of it. He was
late, and the quieter rush of the morning liad begun.
But go where he would, his problem followed him.
He could not keep the events of the morning out of
his thoughts, and he could not keep his thoughts out
of his face. The song of duty kept hununing in his
ear, though whether it was the duty he owed to
Macpherson McLean & Co., or not, is another
question. Indeed, the strangeness of his manner was
stealthily commented upon before an hour had passed.
As he himself had afterwards to confess, if the financial
prestige of Macpherson McLean & Co. had depended
upon his successes that memorable morning, its dis-
integration had been imminent. Never had such
ill-luck struck him before in his efforts to make a sale
or settlement of difficulties.

"And what was more," he would continue to say,
" my ill-luck did not escape the notice of one of the
junior partners. An old customer from Kilmarnock
with whom I thought I was something of a favourite,
at least to whom I generally managed to sell a large
and safe order, suddenly left me that morning without
making a single purchase, saying he would return in
the afternoon. Of course I was kind of grateful to
him; considering what I had on hand; but what was
my chagrin when I learned that Mr. Constance had
sold him three hundred pounds' worth of goods an
hour after."

THE TRUTH O T.

189

And just as little did his conduct escape the notice
of the employees of the establishment. The' shadow
which coming events are said to throw before them is
very often never seen until after the events have taken
place. But the shadow on Robert Mowbray's face was
seen before the event, and before the morning was out
had become the wonderment of many.

" I think you will be none the worse of it," said Mr.
Constance, with that half-and-half laugh of his, " I'm
afraid you are ouc of trim this morning, Mr. Mowbray."

Robert had just told the junior partner that he
would perhaps require to leave for an hour or so
during the day, and the above was the reply he had
received for his pains, though he need not have said
a word to him about the matter.

" When will you have to leave ? "

" Dear me; " exclaimed the confidential clerk, taking
out his watch and looking at it, " I have no time to
lose, I must see Mr. McLean at once."

"That is hardly necessary," said the junior partner,
"I will tell. him."

" But I must see him about some particular business
I am anxious about," said Robert, showing more and
more excitement in his manner, a great deal more than
he need have shown.

"Ah, that is a different thing," returned Mr.
Constance, as he left him for another of the depart-
ments.

Gladly accepting his conge from the junior partner,
Robert went off in search of the senior — the chiei'
himself. The search was not instantly successful, and
the manner of the young man 1)ecame more excited

I i

' Ml

'■ J'

l:i

-i-

>4 t nt-1

190

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

than ever, when, hurrying through the salesrooms of
the " upper ten," he came upon Mr. McLean, who, as
not unfrequently happened, was conducting an old
lady, a family friend of his own, towards one of the
chairs in the silks' room.

" Ah, here is Mr. Mowbray, the very man we want,"
exclaimed tlie head of the house, when he saw his
confidential clerk approaching. " He is the very man
you want, anyway, Mrs. Jamieson," he continued with
the smiles of a man who had served behind his own
counter with success. ''Though a little out of date now
as a salesman, I would be delighted to wait upon you
myself, but I have an appointment at the bank at noon
and I must be ofif. Mr. Mowbray, w'ill you be so good
as show Mrs. Jamieson what silks we have ? You
will excuse me, I hope," and he raised his hat as if he
was leaving a distinguished personage.

" The inevitable," murmured Robert, as he thought,
to himself — something a1)out the music of fate and
how he would have to face it, and all unconscious that
he had said anything audible, though the murmur,
imfortunately, did not escape Mr. Macpherson IMcLean.
He saw at once that there was a look of something or
other in his favourite clerk's face which he had never
seen before.

" Now or never, I must speak to him, though she
may have to wait," and Robert again nnittered the
words, hardly knowing what he was doing, though
this time Mr. Macpherson McLean could make out
the last part of his sentence.

" Wait ! who's to wait ; " asked the head of the firm,

r\^

THE TRUTH O'T.

191

indignantly, but low enough not to be heard by Mrs.
Jamieson.

The word " wait " thus uttered, came as a quickener
to the young dreamer's wits. It gave him the chance
he was looking for, and whether he meant to save
himself or not, he was able to use the word in his own
behalf.

"I would like to wait upon you in the counting-
house, Mr. McLean/1

" Oh, you want to see me about something "

"Yes, I would like to be away for a little while
to-day."

" Oh, is that all ? Well then, why not see to Mrs.
Jamieson and go. Your time is your own after that,
is it not ? Excuse me, Mrs, Jamieson, Mr. Mowbray
will be with you in a moment," and he took a step
further away from the counter, when he saw the phase
of alarm in his clerk's eyes.

" I want to speak to you immediately, Mr. McLean."

" In the counting-house ? Privately ? "

"Yes, privately."

*' Anything really serious ? "

"Well, perhaps."

" Perhaps ? Then what is it ? "

Robert hesitated. It is not so easy to find the right
word to use when one is called upon to explain
himself.

" Is it about yourself ? "

"No, — well, perhaps it is," Robert said.

" Are you sick ? "

No, he was well enough in health.

" Then what is it, pray ? What do you want to

' 11

ITT

192

Tilt CHRONICLES OK KAKTDALE.

speak to me about ? " and impatience and doubt played
round the words of Mr. Macpherson McLean.

" 1 would like to speak to you about the bank," said
Robert, at last.

" The bank ! What bank ? "

" The Commercial Bank."

There was no mistaking the effect which the whis-
pered conversation, passing thus suddenly between the
clerk and the principal, had upon the latter. The pale
brow of the proud man grew paler, while the look of
prosperity that was usual in his eyes, went out of them.

" You have heard something, then. Mowbray ? "

Yes, Robert said he had heard something.

" Then come to the counting-house, as soon as Mrs.
Jamieson dismisses you," and again lifting his hat to
that lady, he hurriedly went downstairs.

As soon as Mr. Macpherson McLean withdrew,
Robert turned his attention to his customer, who was
good-natured enough not to notice the delay in serving
her. Mrs. Jamieson was the very picture of good-
nature, and when her pink and white complexion and
benevolent eyes peeped out from the enshrinement
of a very becoming wreath of the whitest of hair,
it was impossible not to be struck with her good-
nature. But Mr. Robert Mowbray was thinking of
other faces than Mrs. Jamieson's that morning, and
what w^as more, there was a wistful look in one of these
faces as it turned from the shop windows in the
Buchanan Street Arcade, to look this way and that
way towards its entrances, as if in expectation of
some one coming. At least, Robert Mowbray thought
so in his day-dreaming. To keep a promise is to speak

THE TRUTH OT.

193

the truth by premeditation, and as he liad taken a vow
to speak the whole truth, no matter whether it was
present, past or future in its tense, to him his vow and
his promise to meet Miss Glencairn became identical.
Miss Fannie Lockhead and other c(3mplications had to
be considered, it is true. The ccnirse of true — that is,
certain circumstances could not but prevent him from
thinking of Miss Glencairn as anything l)Ut a friend,
but the cherishing thoughts he had of her, the desire
to fight her battles, would certainly strengthen him all
the more to keep his vow.

It would be strange, would it not, gentle reader, if
Robert Mowbray's vow to a1)ide by the truth in all
things should become in him more and more of a
passion, as the hours and days went by ? Be that as
it may, there were evidently strange ideas passing
through his mind on this or kindred subjects, if that
rueful countenance of his did not belie him, as he
turned to Mrs. Jamieson.

After the usual conversational skirmishes about the
weather, Mrs. Jamieson said she had called to see if
she could get some more of the irregularly corded silk
which she had been shown the week before, when she
was in.

" You remember, I bought enough to make a dress
of it for my eldest niece."

Yes, the confidential clerk remembered helping Mrs,
Jamieson to select some dress-silk, but he was afraid
there was none of it left.

" Do you want it to match ? " he asked.

" No, not particularly to match ; but the quality has
pleased my sister so much that I want some more of
the same quality for two more dresses for her girls."

,'1

! i';

194

TllK CHRONICLES Ol" KAKTDALK.

" I'm afraid it is all pfone. There is at least not
enoiipcli of it left to make two dresses; I am sure of
that. But if you excuse me, Mrs. Jamieson, for a
minute, I will look over the stock carefully," and
Robert passed behind the shelves.

" Tncre is none of it left," said he, coming back in a
little while. " Would no other kind be satisfactory ? "

It would not have been considered amiss if the
confidential clerk of Macpherson McLean & Co., had
been a little more conciliatory in his manner. Mrs.
Jamieson would probal)ly have looked even more
gocxl-natured than she did, had he been so, though
how it would have been possible for her to look more
good-natured as she watched him through her gold-
rimmed glasses with these sympathetic eyes of hers,
l)rig]it and coquettish to a degree yet, the contemplative
salesman had perhaps neither time nor inclination to
consider.

" You may let me see what you have," said the old
lady, and her soft lowland accent seemed to carry with
it an unconsciously expressed hint that she was willing
enough to be deceived as long as she did not know it.

Robert at once called an assistant shopman to help
him in bringing down some of the silks. After a
cursory inspection of a number of the parcels, and a
closer examination of two of them, Mrs. Jamieson
finally put her hand on one of the two and asked: —

" This is as good as what I bought last week, is it
not, Mr. Mowbray ? "

A man who would or could not take advantage of
such a question was surely worse than " the ass that
could not sell." But, as we know, Robert Mowbray's

THE TRUTH O'T.

195

VOW had become, or was on the way of bcconiinjjf, a
passion in him; and, call him what names you like, it
would not turn him from his determination to speak
the truth, whenever he had to speak.

"No, IMrs. Jamieson, the surface is good enoup^h;
hut the (juality, the substance through and through, is
not the same."

The assistant salesman could not help staring; he
could sell better than that himself.

" Then you have none of the same (juality as the
silk I had from you before ? " asked Mrs. Jamieson.

Well, no, Robert did not think there was anything
so good in stock as what she had bought before.
There might be more of it imported soon. When ?
Well, he was not prepared to say. Would IVIrs.
Jamieson not wait for a day or two and he would
make inquiries ? Would she not allow him to put
her order down ? He would see that there was no
delay.

" I am anxious to have these dresses this morning,''
replied the matron with increasing finnness in her
tones. " My sister is as anxious as I am to have them.
Is this not as good as the best ? "

" It is the best we have in stock at the present
moment," said Robert, quietly.

" It is not as good as the other, though ? "

" No, I would not like to say that it is."

" Is it not good enough ? "

" It is good enough for the money."

" But you would not advise me to buy it ? "

" Not if you want the best, and can wait for the
other,"

' '

;:!'

li '■

: -'

n :

;■ r ■"

■\'

■ I

I ■

1
i

1 ;,
1

TOO

TIIK CHKONICLKS OK KAKTDALK.

" But I cannot wait."

Mrs. Janiieson was getting emphatic.

" Then you had better take this."

" But 1 want the material to be as good as I had
from you last week; I want the best."

Robert shrugged his shouklers; and the assistant
salesman shruj. ed his also; though these clavical olj-
trusions probably did not mean the same thing.

"I am sorry things are this way; but I suppose it
cannot be helped," and as she said so, Mrs. Jamieson
rose and hinted that she would be glad if the assistant
salesman would direct her to the mantle-room. " I
think I heard Mr. McLean saying that he wanted to
see you in the counting-house, and I am afraid I have
detained you too long, Mr. Mowl^ray," and so the old
lady dismissed Robert and went her way with the
wondering assistant.

'* There must be something wrong with the young
man this morning," she said shortly afterwards, and the
assistant overhearing her, was not slow to think that
the old lady was not very far wrong in her surmises.

" I think I can do better than that," he said to
himself; and so he did, for half-an-hour afterwards he
took Mrs. Jamieson back to the silks' department and
sold her the dress material she had been looking for.
He had found the silk she so much desired to buy, in
a corner of one of the shelves, which Mr. Mowbray
had overlooked; at least, so he sa' ' with something
that was all but a smirk in his face, when, laughing
over his own cleverness to some of his fellow salesmen
on their way home in the evening, he openly declared
it to be his candid opinion that if young Mowbray

TIIK TRUTH O'T.

197

was not crazy, he was on tlic fair road towards
beinfj so.

** Mrs. Janiicson, I am told, did not get what she
wanted," said Mr. Constance, as he was crossing
Robert's pathway for the second time that morning.
He had met the assistant and Mrs. Jamieson on their
way to tlie r:antle-room.

" No, we are out of the silk she was looking for,"
said Robert with a tremour in his manner Wiiich could
not be hidden.

" Had we nothing like what she wanted ? " and there
was an emphasis in the word " like," which spoke
volumes.

"There might have been," replied Robert, for he
saw what Mr. Constance had insinuated, " had I cared
to deceive her/' and with this Roland for the junior
partner's Oliver, he hurried past him towards the
counting-house.

" I wonder what can have happened to the fellow,"
said Mr. Constance as his eyes followed the confi-
dential clerk in his seeming flight — " I never saw him
this way before."

But Mr. Constance did not consider how excited-
looking he himself might have been had he been
personally interested in a pair of beautiful wistful eyes
in the Arcade, looking this way and that way towards
its entrance?, with the clock approaching so rapidly
the hour of half-past twelve. Besides, how was Robert
Mowbray to know how long his appointment in the
counting-house would further detain him ?

llmWnl!

I '■;" T

lU::

r, I

CHAPTER VIII.

There is pride, ye would say, in the maist o' guidmen,

That aye yont its pech flaps its wings :
'Tis hale to be humble ; 'tis grit no to grumble,

At the weird mistress fate aften brings, guid wife.

At the c'ronach the jouking jade sings.

When Mr. Mowbray entered the counting-house, he
could readily perceive from Mr. Macpherson McLean's
attitude towards him, that the ordeal throurh which
he was about to pass, was one that would reqaire more
than the ordinary tact and presence of mind to sustain
with credit to himself. As the self-conscious head of
the firm turned from his desk on his turnstyle chair
to receive his confidential clerk, there rested on his
spacious brow a cloud that could hardly be taken
othen\'ise than as a storm-precursor.

Few men were feared more by his suliordinates than
Mr. Macpherson McLean. As has been said, he was
a proud man with a humble smile, but it must not be
supposed that his smile had anything to do with his
pride, either as its cause or eflfect, or counteractive.
He had taken to the practice of smiling in the earliest
days of his apprenticeship, whereas his pride was the
pride of the self-made man, — the pride which comes
only after success has been achieved. The one was

I !

t '

THE TRUTH O'T.

199

the habit of the salesman, the other of the capitaHst;
and if the former had in its hnes at times a tendency
towards vveirdness, the latter in its outbursts more than
counterbalanced the insincerity, when the year's
account of his weaknesses was made up. He was a
man with whom anyone could get along, on pain
of submission, however, to his opinions and wishes.

" You had better take a chair, and tell me what you
have to tell me in as few words as possible, for, as you
know, I must rush to the bank as soon as you have
done," and Macpherson McLean looked at the face
of his watch, and seemed to be saying that it would be
all the worse for it, if it was not up to time.

Young Mowbray at once obeyed the request of his
chief, and began to tell the story he had already told
to Mr. Providence Turner, though he made no
mention of that gentleman's name during the earlier
stages of his narrative. He confined himself to what
Lord Clay had said to himself on the platform, as welt
as what the nobleman had said to Miss Glencairn in
the railway carriage.

" There does not seem to be very much in your tale
Ci" woe and coming disaster, after all, my dear Mow-
bray," said Mr. Macpherson McLean, with the cU)ud
rising and the smile taking its place. "The prelimi-
nary facts of your story are the mere details of a
suspicion. I suppose your thoughts were of the
danger our firm might incur should anything happen
to the bank."

"And of others as well," Robert would have said,
had Mr. McLean given him time for the interruption.

" You know, my dear boy," he continued, " it is not

■ i ■■

''in

200

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

H i ..' :

]:. «

' t

easy for an institution that has such a wide cHentele as
the Commercial Bank, to escape making losses now
and again; and possibly some of the more recent of
these losses, having got wind, may have been magnified
by rival institutions. Lord Clay, I know, has a large
amount of Commercial stock, but his account is not
in our hands, though he may have a trifling amount
on deposit with us. The telegram he has been making
such a fuss over has evidently been sent to him by
some one who has a confidential interest in his afifairs,
but no proper interest in ours. Your suspicions, I am
afraid, have been too easily started."

Hereupon, though Mr. McLean paused, Robert
Mowbray remained silent. But to prevent his silence
from being misunderstood, for he must not now give
credit to a falsehood even in the indirect, he said he
had no definite grounds for suspicions against the
bank until Lord Clay's telegram and other circum-
stances had excited in him an anxietv to consider its
standing in all seriousness.

" You mean that you have not been taken into my
confidence sufficiently to express a safe opinion about
the afifairs of the bank with which the interests of our
firm are so intimately mixed up. I suppose you know
that bank directors have secrets which they are not
expected to divulge even to their confidential clerks.
There are many things discussed in the directors' room
of the Commercial Bank which I do not mention even
to my partners."

Mowbray said he was well aware of that.

" Then what is it you would like me to tell you ? "

THE TRUTH O'T.

201

There was again silence for a moment between the
two men.

" Somebody has l)ccn asking you for your opinion
about the stability of the bank, I suppose ? "

Robert said that his opinion had been asked.

And the cloud again took the place of the smile on
Mr. Macpherson McLean's face.

" And you were chagrined in not being able to say ? "

No, that was hardly his position.

" I cannot but be deeply interested in the welfare of
the firm that has done so much for me," said Robert.

The cloud lifted a bit.

" And which is, perhaps, prepared to do even more
for you yet," returned the head of the firm, in whose
expanding philanthropic tones there was the semblance
of a spirit that was inclined to temporize.

The confi iential clerk modestly bowed his acknow-
ledgments.

The portend of a storm was perhaps not going to
be fulfilled after all. How could it, in fact, in presence
of the return of Mr. Macpherson McLean's smile ?
Still, storms do sometimes come after a calm, as well
as vzce versa.

" But there are other affairs you are solicitious about
this morning, are there not ? There is that Miss
Glencairn whom you met on the train, and whom you
must have met before. She, as you no doubt know,
has stock in the Commercial Bank and a large deposit
besides." •

"And my uncle, too, has a deposit," said Robert,
running away from the subject of Miss Glencairn, as
he had a perfect right to do.
H

■i;

■ 1

1, !

- J

! 1
. i

202

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

'1\ i

s,.'

... 1

V *

, \ \

' 1 ' '(

■ J

''i

;l!

JO'li

" Have you anything in the bank of your own ? "

No, Robert had no money of his own invested in
that way.

" How much has your uncle on deposit, do you
know ? " and the query was evidently a leading ques-
tion, leading possibly to Robert Mowbray's own
personal affairs.

" I think he may have the matter of five thousand
or so."

" And that brings him in, in return, almost nothing."

Mr. Macpherson McLean put his hand on his chin
and ruminated for a moment.

" Can V. e find no better investment for your uncle's
money than tl. xC, I wonder ? "

Mr. Fairservice's nephew said that he had never
given the matter a thought; he never interfered in his
uncle's money matters.

" You know he is not a very old man yet ; and can
look after his own affairs as well as ever."

" But surely he would only be too willing to give
his nephew a lift in life, if he could do so and make
more of his capital, besides ? "

That was a question for him to decide, was Robert's
reply.

" I suppose you have a little capital of your own,
besides what your uncle might be induced to put out
to use in your behalf ? Your father had his own
troubles, I know, but I hope he saved a little out of
the ruin of things."

Robert shook his head. If his father had left any-
thing of an estate behind him, this was the first he had
ever heard about it.

'i l<

THE TRUTH o'T.

203

" Dear me, you don't mean to say that nothing was
saved from the wreck," and there was now a sympathy
in Mr. McLean's voice that might have l^een meant
to be prophetic. There was no make-beheve about
the ck)ud this time. '' Do you know, Mowbray, your
father was one of the most promising young men in
the city, when I came to Glasgow; yes, one of the most
promising, and was at the head of the tree while I was
still floundering among the lower branches. And so
all went with his misfortunes ? Dear me, isn't it awful
to think of !" And the chief partner of Macpherson
McLean & Co., actually gave a little sjiiver that caused
his turnstyle chair to creak.

Then he began to ruminate again, and there was a
creeping silence in the room until he said: —

" We have lately been thinking of making a change
in our business, Mr. Mowbray, and it was because you
were an interested party that we have not so far
broached the subject outside of my partners. I feel
that I must begin to withdraw from the activities of
the warehouse work. I want rest, and we must find
some one to join the firm — to associate with us more
actively than I can. The person we take in nuist of
course have some capital, and the whole question of
giving youa junior partnership has been reduced to the
(juestion of finding out how much capital you were
likely to have at your command. You have had
ambitions that way, I am sure, Mr. Mowbray ? "

Yes, Mr. Robert Mowbray's ambitions had extended
m that direction. There was no doubt of that; and it
would have been the height of folly for him to attempt
to deny it or half deny it, with the throb of joy leaping

5 1;.

I : J

liil

204

THE CHRONICLES OK KARTDALE.

in his life-1)lood like a magic oxygen-quickener.
What myriads of thoughts (hd that same oxygen-
([uickener bring welHng u]) in his mind — the sudden
memory-phantasmagoria of tlie drowning man — with
the retrospect of his hfe playing a ghastly game with
its prospects. How his experiences of the morning
came before him more prominently than ever ! Would
this proposition of Mr. Macpherson McLean's interfere
with the new principle that had entered into his life ?
Would the acceptance of that gentleman's ofifer, even
if it could be accepted, involve the sacrifice of any
moral principle.? Iliere were difficulties in his life — •
difficulties to come, as they were, perhaps, — tliat would
test this new principle in his life to its utmost tension.
There was tlie finesse of business life, which was more
or less an exaggeration, while there was the advertising
spirit of the retail trade, a great deal more than less
the most bare-faced of lying. What ! Would he have
to bid good-bye to these practices ? He had 1)een
making his debut as a moralist in thought, word and
deed, with the old merchant of Kilmarnock, as well as
with ]\Irs. Jamieson, and what was to be said of his
success ? Was he getting off the track or on to it ?
Was he becoming a crank or a convert ? Was he
becoming pig-headed, a purist, a so-called God-fearing
man ? Ah, what a title to earn for one's self ! A God-
fearing man, — a thoroughly hoviest man within and
without ! Was Mr. Macpherson McLean a God-
fearing man ? Was Mr. Constance one ? Would it
be possible for a truly God-fearing man to be i
successful business man ? Would this partnership bt
a hindrance to the development of his new idea of

TlIK TRUTH O'T

205

rectitude of conduct ? Was telling the truth the
foundation of all rectitude of conduct ? Could a lie
be allowed to lurk in any corner of the new heaven
and the new earth he had lately been peepinp: into ?
What was he gnng to do about Willie Turnl)ull ?
What was he going to do about his poor uncle and
auntie — or about the Clays — or about Mr. Providence
Turner — or about Miss Glencairn — ay, or about Miss
Fannie — well, that difficulty will have to be solved as
a trouble that is not to be met half-way. There wni be
some way out of it — and if not, there will be only one
way into it — for a man must keep his word.

The speed of light is nothing to the speed of
thought; nor does the refraction of the one produce
anything more remarkable than the irrelevancy of the
other. There are regular degrees of obliquity no
doubt in both — a swerving from the seemingly
natural co-relationsliip that cannot very well be
accounted for — the connecting or disconnecting links
being hid away out of sight of the ordinary or
common-place. The reader has already discovered
diis in Robert Mowbray's thoughts, as the retrospect
of his life plays a ghostly game with his prospects.
Where his irrelevancy would have carried him, had
Mr. Macpherson McLean not l^een in such a huny to
join his brother bank directors, it is impossible to tell.
So anxious was that gv^ntleman to get away, that he
even showed some in patience with the moment's
silence during which his confidential clerk had had the
dream that came to him when the ofifer of a junior
partnership in the house of Macpherson McLean &
Co. all but carried him off liis feet. No man dreams

■ J

I-'

^11!

I
t

* 1
• >

t
i

i
1 ■

LJyi

r-— *

4lHI^

i}:

! ■

200

T!IK CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

wlicn he is asleep. Tlie dream eonies to liini during
tlie seconds of time it takes iiim to awake. And
Robert Mowbray had actually rushed through his
dream of irrelevancies, before Mr. Macpherson
McLean nad prolonged the conversation another
stage by asking: —

" Do you think your uncle can be induced to help us
out with this suggestion of mine ? "

This second reference to his uncle was no doubt the
dream point from which Robert's irrelevancies started,
bringing him instantly to see his fate in the question.
" What am I going to do anyway about my poor uncle,
in the face of that temper-disturbance of his of the
morning ? "

" My auntie will make that all right," he thought,
but as a first thought it immediately had to give way
to the reply he made to his patron, that he could say
nothing for certain what action his uncle would take
under such circumstances.

" You and he are on good terms, I suppose ? "

" Yes," said Robert, with the word drawn out doubt
ingly. " That is, we generally agree on most matters ;
at least I have always let him have pretty much his
own way when any discussion has arisen between us,"
answered the young man, whose truth-telling in every
particular had evidently, all joking aside, become in
him a veritable passion.

" A very good policy, a very good policy, indeed,
tor young people who want to get on in the world ! "
said Mr. Macpherson McLean with a bit of a laugh.
" I was something in that line in my young days, my-

THE TRUTH O'T.

Jl4l .

self; and a very easy and satisfactory way of sowing
one's wild oats, I found it. Don't you find it so ? "

One would have thought that the successful
merchant was confessing what a wicked fellow he had
been in his young days, as many old rogues delight
to do at times.

Robert, by way of reply, said that it was as easy for
a man to make himself popular as it was to make
himself unpopular.

" And every man should do his best to make himself
popular, if he would be successful."

" But no man should do his worst to be popular."

" You mean he should not do evil that good may
come ? "

Yes, that was Robert's full meaning.

" And your uncle ? "

*' Will have to be an after consideration, I am afraid.
He and I had some ditference this morning for the
first time."

" A serious difference ? '

"No, only about some question of local politics;
but he became very angry and said some very offensive
things, which he may not readily forget."

Mr. Macpherson McLean was arain looking at his
watch. A quarrel between uncle and nephew ought
not to keep him from the bank.

" You had better make it all up with him, my good
fellow, when you get home this evening; and at the
same time urge upon him the necessity of his finding
a better investment for his capital."

And Mr. Macpherson McLean as he rose to go,
smiled as if there never had been a cloud on his face.

I'' I

if';

' i.

-•- r

■ -- l-

208

THE CHRONICLES OK KARTDALK.

iiij

" But what shall I say to him and others al)oiit the
Coninicrcial I>ank, should they speak to nie about the
matter ? " asked the confidential clerk very quietly and
modestly.

" What will you say ? " asked the merchant.

" Yes."

" About the bank ? "

" Yes."

"Why, of course you will advise your uncle to
invest his money with us in your behalf. He will be
doubly safe then, surely "

" And to others I will say ? "

" Say what you like."

" The truth, of course ? "

"Yes, of course, the truth."

" Then tlie bank is safe ? "

The cloud came down on Macpherson McLean's
forehead like an avalanche of indignation and wrath.

" What do you mean, sir, by daring to express your
suspicions in that way about the Commercial Bank,
and in my presence too ? "

The storm was going to burst after all.

" The bank is safe ! Who said that the bank was
not safe ? To hear you speak one would think there
was going to be a run upon it before the day was out."

Robert said that, as there were rumours abroad
about the bank, he had pressed the question partly in
his own interest as wtll as in the interest of others.
For the sake of his own reputation, he would like to
be able to speak truthfully when he did speak.

" It is sometimes better not to speak at all," said Mr.
McLean rather vehemently.

TIIK TRUTH O'T.

209

*' That is true, but is silence always a straightforward
course ? "

" wStraightforward ? " and the exclamation l)rought
the storm nearer and nearer to a climax. Then draw-
ing a deep hreatli, McLean said, " let us see where
your responsibility in the matter is, young man. You
liave neither stock nor dq^osit in the Commercial
P.ank?"

No, Robert said he had neither stock nor deposit in
the Conmiercial liank.

" Then where does your responsibility begin to
come in ? "

" A bank is a pul)lic institution."

" Granted."

*' And its failure is a public calamity."

" Granted."

'* And any citizen who would not do his best to ward
off that calamity, would be anything but a good
citizen."

" Ah, I see; you want to know something about the
bank on public grounds. Had you not better wait
until your partnership is achieved ? "

Robert said modestly that he did not see what
difference that would make.

" Partnerships do not always fall to men who have
not learned to mind their own business."

Mr. Macpherson McLean had taken the button off
his foil at last, being very angry indeed.

" Many young men become pul)lic benefactors too
soon," he exclaimed.

But two can always play at this game of plain

■ . i • ;

210

THi: CIIKONICI-KS OF KAKl'DAI.K.

speaking. Robert Mowbray began to lose his temper
also.

" You think I am intermeddling ? " was his direct
question.

*' I think you p'' ." was the direct answer. " 1 think
you had better let the Commercial liank take care of
itself."

"But I cannot."

" Why ? "

" Because it wouldn't be right."

" Is it this Miss Glencairn's money you are after ? "

The conflict was now mortal. Robert could only
hold to the arms of his chair, and stare at his opponent.
How could anyone, who knew as much of him as Mr.
McLean did, cruelly attack him in that way ? Miss
Glencairn's money ! He after Miss Glencairn's
money ! The insinuation was an insulc.

Yet, for all that, he must speak the truth : to save
Miss Glencairn from financial ruin was undoubtedly
his primary object in this inquiry. Yes, with his em-
ployer's thrust still paining him to the quick, he must
tell him that, in a certain sense, he was after Miss
Glencairn's money.

" Ah, I tliought so," was the sneering reward he
received for his honest dealing.

" And I would be a poltroon not to find out how she
can be relieved of her anxiety."

" Then you had better go elsewhere than here to
find out," shouted Mr. Macpherson McLean, looking
as if he were in a mood to use much more forcible
language than that, perhaps use violence of another
kind.

TIIK TKUm o'T.

211

A ?

" No, sir, you will learn nothing further from me
ahout the Conuuercial Bank. I have the honour to
bid you good-morning". You may retire."

" lUit I must learn something more."

" Not from me, young man. I have had enough of
you for one sitting."

" Would you allow a poor ' — a young lady like
Miss Glcncairn, an orphan l- c iu.c , to lose her money,
when you may save her by .. ■ ord." Robert Mow-
bray's temper and urgency brought the water into his
eyes, as he raised himself to his full height and looked
his employer straight in the face.

" Would you advise her to take her money out of
the bank ? "

" She hasn't asked me for advice.'"

" J^ut I do in her behalf."

" Then I have no advice to give her."

" Not to save her from ruin "^ "

" No, sir."

" Nor the bank from ruin ? "

" The Commercial Rank can look after itself."

" Nor Mr. P. C. Turner, of Turner Brothers ? "

Tlie blow had to come, and the blow told. Mr.
Providence Turner had said it would tell. The men-
tion of his name in Macpherson McLean's hearing
would amount to a threat, he had said to Robert
Mowbray on the street ;and his words had come true,
if the palor on the proud merchant's face meant
anytliing.

It was now Mr. Macpherson McLean's turn to lean
heavily on what was nearest to him, the edge of his
desk.

I.I

I !

[]:

!pr

"i l^i I

B-4

212

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

" Mr. P. C. Turner ! Have you seen him this
morning ? "

Robert said he had.

" And did he say anything to you a1)Out the Com-
mercial Bank ? "

Robert said he did.

" Did he ask you to see me ? "

Robert bowed in the affirmative.

" What did he seem to know ? "

" Nothing very definite."

" But he told you to see me ? "

" He did."

"Tl:en you had better see him again."

" Me ? "

" Yes, you."

A pause.

" Tell him the bank is sound.''

" From you ? "

" Yes, from me."

"Then nobody need worry over the runiours ? "

"Nobody need worry about the Commercial Bank,
that is to say, Mr. Turner meed not worry."

" Then Miss Glencairn's — that is. mv uncle's money
is safe ? "

" I have already said that I think in youv interest,
your uncle had better lift his deposit, whatever it is,
and invest it with us in your belialf. '

"And Miss Glencairn's?"

" That depends on the nature of the interest you have
in that young lady. If she is likely to become a
relation of yours, then advise her as you would your
uncle. It is better to be sure than to be sorry."

this

TIIK TRUTH O'T. 213

"And Mr. Turner?"

" Tell him what I have told you to tell him."

" But I cannot do that."

" You cannot ? "

" No, it would be a "

l»ut the confidential clerk did not utter the word
that came to him uppermost.

" It would be a what, pray ? "

" It would hardly be the truth, would it ? "

" Then you won't tell him what I have asked yuu
to tell him?"

" I camiot do that," said Mowbray again, but more
cmphaticall)' .

" Not even to save our firm from c nbarassment, the
firm of which you are likely soon to be a partner ? "

" Not even for that."

" Then I must see him myself," shouted Mr. Mac-
pherson McLean, as he fled from the room.

■ ' r

! t

? "
ilank,

. /

m >

r ^

lit' •

\l-n

fi'

CHAPTER IX.

The love thai 'ill last comes frae trust, guid wife,

And trust is the strength o' guid luck :
Its patience is nescience, its instinct a prescience :

P'rae the waistrie o' fate it can pluck, can pluck,

The sweetness that springs frae its muck.

Mr. Robert Mowbray found himself as much behind
the time of his appointment in the Arcade, as Mr.
Macphereson AlcLean was behind his at the Com-
mercial Bank. The la' < fled in one direction, the
former in one almost opposite, yet the temper that
lingered in both of their faces as they passed through
the warehouse one after the other, did not pass un-
noticed. The gossip passed from counter to counter
that something serious had happened in the counting-
house between the head of the firm and voung
Mowbray.

As Robert fled — for fleeing he seemed to be from
something, or to something, — he had room in his
mind for but one thought.

" I must see Turner at once," said he to himself, a
hundred times. "There is trouble ahead of more
than me, and I must not pause to think of my own
affairs. She must be saved, and I will save her."

" But what is she to me ? What can she ever be to

1^]

;.i i

THE TRUTH O'T.

215

trom
his

me more than she is ? Talk of speaking the whole
truth to her ! Why, that would be worse than to utter
the most cruel lies. It would be a baseness that only
a villain would dare be guilty of. I have given my
word, and by my word shall I stand. She is Miss
Glencairn to me. Miss Grace Glencairn, if you like,
wliose name is sweetness itself, no more than that, —
an acquaintance, a mere acquaintance, nothing more,
— a young woman whom I am willing to assist to the
utmost of my power. A woman, and yet what a
woman ! A woman of women ! She must be saved
and I will save her."

" I must see her before I see Turner, however. I
told her I would meet her at half-past twelve, and now
it is nearly one o'clock. I must explain to her the
delay, a; well as the necessity for my leaving her for a
short time, for I must see Turner at once. That is
my only safe course. He can save her, — can save us
both, in fact."

As soon as he had entered the Arcade, he saw Miss
Glencairn standing in the angle that enables one to
look towards both entrances. As he hastened towards
her, he could not fail to see the brightness of the
welcome extended to him. Did she really hold out
l30th hands towards him as he came up and made his
apologies for being behind the promised hour of their
appointment ?

" My patience is not so easily exhausted," she said
with that never failing winsome smile of hers, that had
a transparent joy on its every ripple. " I felt confident
you would be here whenever you could come."

I-:

I
I

II ;

il . l>t

ll ',

»fl

It I

-I I

216

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

Robert at once explained to her how he had been
detained.

" Then your employer is angry with you ? "

Robert said he was afraid he was anything but
pleased with him. I

" And it is all on my account," she said unafifectedly,
looking into Mr. Mowbray's face, as if she would read
her condemnation there, without fear of its being very
severe in its tone.

" There is no one really to blame, as far as 1 can
make out," he answered, " but there will be somebody
to blame if we delay in doing n4iat we ought to do ? "

" Then you really think from what Mr. McLean has
told you, that the bank is in a bad way ? " she said.

" In my opinion there is no hope but by instantly
realizing. You must apply to the bank for your
money immediately."

" But must I go to the bank all alone ? " she asked
with a tremor in her voice.

" I have to see Mr. Turner immediately," said he,
" and therefore will not be able to join you in the bank
building, for half-an-hour," and Robert proceeded to
tell her who Mr. Providence Turner was, and what he
was prepared to do for them. " He may prove a
providence to you and me before all is said and done,"
he laughingly remarked, as he entered fully into his
trustworthy explanations.

" But what am I to do, Mr. Mowbray ? " was the
expression that came to Miss Glencairn's lips as it had
once before, though there was even more pleading in
its tones than before. "What can I do at the bank
without some one's assistance ?"

THE TRUTH O'T.

217

but

The same helpless cry, Mr. Robert Mowbray, — a
kind of breach-of-proniise cry, in your ears now, is it
not ? But a cry that makes you exclaim all the same
in the silence of your heart — " She must be saved, and
I will see that she is."

He then proceeded to give her the necessary advice,
though perhaps in his manner there was more warmth
than there is usually in the advice of a pure and simple
business adviser. She was to draw out a check for the
full amount of her deposit, and present it to the teller.

Should she ask him for payment in gold ?

Ye3, she should ask him for payment in gold.

But how was she to carry away so much gold ?

She must buy a strong leathern satchel, and keep it
by her until he arrived.

But what was she to do if the teller refused to pay
her in gold ?

Then she must ask him to pay her in bank-bills.

" In Commercial Bank bills ? "

" Yes, in Commercial Bank bills, or in any other."

But suppose he should refuse to pay her at all ?

" Why, then you must wait in the bank building
until I come back from seeing Mr. Turner," said Mr.
Mowbray, and with this final word the young man
left, all but beside himself with the second peep he had
had into the new heaven and the new earth, all but
convinced that the new heaven and the new earth were
his own, — oh, what a thing to say ! — if he were only at
liberty to ask for them. Yes, if he only were at liberty
to ask, — which, alas, he was not ! Oh, the conceit of
these young men. Have they a conscience ?

When Miss Grace Glencairn, with a nonchalance

; , t*

m I,

1 ; i ■

i „..„'

V8f1

35::

21s

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

If. '

that would possibly have surprised Mn Robert Mow-
bray, who could not keep out of his ears, as he rushed
along Ingram Street, the trustful cry, " What am I to
do, Mr. Mowbray — what am I to do ? " — when Miss
Glencairn drew out a cheque for the full amount of
her deposit, and presented it to one of the busy tellers
of the Commercial Bank, there was a dignity about
her presence which said to everybody near, " I am not
afraid of anything now."

" I would prefer gold," said she to the teller, as that
gentleman was proceeding to count out the amount
in parcels of one hundred pound notes, though not
before wondering what Miss Glencairn, for he knew
her, could be wanting with her whole deposit drawn
out in one sum.

The poor man's eyes seemed to start out of his head
when the request for gold was made, and many of the
people who stood near and overheard the demand were
almost as speechless.

" Have you considered the inconvenience of carry-
ing away so much gold ? " asked the teller, as soon as
he had found his breath.

" Oh, never mind the inconvenience it will be to me
in carrying it away," exclaimed Miss Glencairn, " if it
is no inconvenience to you to pay me in gold."

" It is a large amount," said the teller.

" I know that," said the maiden.

" Will Commercial Bank bills not si
as gold ? "

" As I said at first, I would prefer gold," said Miss
Glencairn.

" Then gold you will have," answered the teller, with

you

THE TRUTH O'T.

219

a flush on his face that Mr. Robert Mowbray would
have flouted, perhaps, had he been present to see it.
" Gold you will have," and he passed out of his kind
of trellised cupboiird, only to return in a minute or
two with several clinking canvas bags, and proceed
to count out the amount of the cheque in coins of par
value.

" What shall I do with my stock ? " Miss Glencairn
again asked, when the teller had all l)ut completed his
task of counting out the full amount of her deposit
in sovereigns.

" Your stock ! " he exclaimed. " Do you wish to
realize on it also ? "

" I certainly do," answered Miss Glencairn.

" Have you lost all confidence in the bank ? " and
as he asked the question, the poor agitated teller cast
his eyes all around in the crowded space before his
window or wicket.

"I am not here to make explanations," she said, "I
have need of my capital and I w^ish to realize on it/'
was her business-like language, by way of reply.

"If you want to sell your stock, you must place it
on the market in the usual way," said the teller,
though it was no business of his to say so.

" But I would like to realize on it at once,"
answered Miss Glencairn.

" Then you had better see the manager of the bank ;
you will find his office over there," and the teller,
though not without much trepidation, pointed out to
Miss Glencairn the direction in which the manager's
sanctum was to be found, as he pushed towards her
the portmanteau in which he had carefully placed her
gold.

l! : i

t. I

JS:i'

220

THE niKONTCLES OK KARTDALK.

" Allow iiic," said a voice behind her, as she put out
her hand to receive the heavy portmanteau.

" Ah, Mr. Mowbray ! " exclaimed the teller.

" What, Mr. Mowbray already ! " cried Miss Glen-
cairn, turning round. " Ah, Mr. Mowbray, we will
have to consult the manager about the transfer of the
stock," she said to him instantly with a continued
])usiness air in her manner. " This gentleman can do
nothing for me in the matter of the stock. He has
been very kind to me in giving me gold for my deposit,
but he says we must go to the manager to see about
realizing immediately on my stock."

The despair had all gone out of Grace Glencairn's
eyes. With Robert Mowbray near, she seemed to
have the confidence of an Amazon.

" Will you face the presence of the great man with-
out iiie," said she, laughingly, " or shall I accompany
you to ward ofif the evil effects of his surprise at a poor
woman asking for her own from him."

" I think you had better continue what you have so
far successfully accomplished without assistance from
anyone," said Rober taking up the heavy hand-satchel
filled with sovereigns. " I am not very sanguine of
the manager's power to do us any service. If he scouts
our decision to realize at once, then I may be of some
service."

" You have seen Mr. Turner ? " she asked.

" I have," said he, and there was in his reply an
emphasis which said there was nothing to fear.

** You have sent the telegram to your uncle," she
again asked, for Robert had casually told her that his
uncle had a deposit in the Commercial Bank, and that

THE TRUTH O'T.

221

it was his intention to notify him by telegram of the
necessity of withdrawing tlie amount of his deposit
from that institution. It was even his intention to
send a telegram to Willie Turnbull to draw Miss
Glencairn's deposit from the Kartdale l)ranch of the
bank, had she failed to obtain it from the teller of the
Glasgow banking-house.

Robert Mowbray told Miss Glencairn that every-
thing had been seen to.

At such an hour, when the directors were in session
in the directors' room, it was not easy for anyone to
have access to the manager of the Commercial Bank,
Still his deputy was accessible, and when Miss Glen-
cairn explained to that subordin^wC lier intention of
realizing on her stock innnediatcly, there was almost
as much consternation in the under-manager's eyes as
there had been in the teller's.

" Have you lost faith in the bank, madam ? " said
the deputy bank-manager, with something like indig-
nation in his voice.

" I wish to realize on my property," said she,
" without giving offence to anyone."

" Have you pressing need for the money ? "

" Surely nobody has the right to question what one
would do with one's own."

" No,but what one does, even with one's own, has
often a very injurious influence upon others," said the
bank official, with a doubtful, not to say excite*^^ ligl^t
in his eyes.

Miss Glencairn, however, gave no sign of mov ng
away from her first request.

" You would like to have placed in your hands this

iiH

it'.

I !;

■! (

I ,

h /:

■',:•'•»-

222

THE CHRONICLES OF KAKTDALE.

afternoon, something like ten thousand pounds in
gold. The thing is impossible. But even if it were
possible, how are you going to carry away such an
amount in gold from the bank ? "

" That is a secondary question," said Miss Glencairn,
"the first and foremost question is, will the bank hand
over such an amount to me, a poor heli)less woman,
to carry away with me ? "

" I am afraid not," said the deputy-manager.

" Then what am I to do ? "

" Sell your stock in the usual way," he replied, now
addressing Mr. Rol;cit Mowbray more than Miss
Glencairn, however, for the former had come forward
when he saw that Miss Glencairn was not likely to
succeed.

" But will that be easily done when the stability of
the bank comes to be suspected ? " asked Robert,
stepping in at once as an intermediar}\

" What's that ? " shouted the deputy-manager.
" Stability ! Bank ! Suspected ! Have you any
grounds for your seeming anxiety a1)Out the stability
of the Commercial Bank, young man ? "

" I may say I have," said Robert.

" You have ? "

" Yes, I have."

" Your name is Mowbray, is it not ? "

"Yes, that is my name."

" You know Mr. Macpherson McLean ? "

" I ought to know him ; he is my employer."

" Ah ; do you know he is a director of the Com-
mercial Bank ? "

" I do."

TIIK TRUTH o'T.

22:i

The (lepiity-nianaj^cr of the Coiiinicrcial Bank had
to pause in presence of the lack of hesitancy in the
youngf man's manner.

" Then may T ask you, sir, what are your grounds
for suspecting the stahiHty of tlie Commercial Bank ?"

" I am not here to answer such a cpiestion," said Mr.
Mowbray. *' I am liere to see that this young lady,
]\liss Glencairn, receives her money from you."

"But you ouglit to know, Mr. Mowbray, that I
cannot give it to her without sufificient notice."

'* Are we to say so to the money market ?"

" That is as it may be."

" You refuse to ask the directors to come to her
relief ? "

" I have no other recourse ; the directors are not
likely to relieve the money-market."

" Good-day, sir," said Mr. Mowbray.

" Good-day, sir," returned the deputy-manager, with
his eyes starting out of his head.

" There is not much hope for us from the bank
directly," said Robert, as he and Miss Glencairn came
out into the main hall of the bank building. "And
yet I am not very much disappointed. I really did not
expect any other result about the stock. I am happy
to say we will find Mr. Turner willing to do better for
us. It is pleasant to know that you have your deposit
here safe and sound," and Robert pointed to the heavy
satchel he had in his hand. " Things might be a great
deal worse. You had better take my arm, please,
Miss Glencairn, in this crowd. We will make our
way as quickly as possible to the warehouse of Turner
Brothers, in West Nile Street."

i •

illi:

■ i 'iVi

CHAPTER X.

There's a rumour afloat that is ruin, guid wife,

Rill roun' aud retrieve what's your ain ;
Gin ye' re soon, they'll refuse ; gin ye're late, you will lose,

Sae tin ye aroun' gin ye'd gain, guid wife,

Whate'er may be mine or your ain.

There seemed to be that morning more of a crowd
than usual moving hither and thither in the spacious
portico or frescoed hall of the Commercial Bank; and,
as yr ung Mowbray and his companion left the room
of the deputy-manager and mingled with the crowd,
the former could not help making a remark to that
efifect. Indeed, he was sure that he had seen one or
two men leaving the building with burdens in their
hands, as heavy as the one he was carrying. Were
there others besides Miss Glencairn, withdrawing their
deposits from the Commercial Bank ? Were the
rumours against the institution assuming serious
form ? Would his uncle receive his telegram in time ?
Would there be time to save Miss Glencaini's stock
before the hue and cry was in full career ? The latter
was not a very pressing question, it is true, for had
not Mr. Providence Turner declared himself to be
ready to take over Miss Glencaim's stock, even if the
bank should fail ? How he was going to do so with

Till-: TKUTII O'T.

225

profit to himself, uiuler the circumstances of the worst
coming to the worst, that gentleman had made no
effort to explain. If there was an understanding or
misunderstanding, be it good or bad, honest or dis-
honest, between Mr. Turner and I\lr. McLean, that
would culminate in the relief of Miss Glencairn and
possibly of others, it was nobody's business but their
own. It is always considered to be an impertinence
to look a gift-horse in the mouth. To sell stock to a
man who had never dreamed of the bank, whose stock
it was, being in danger, would certainly be acting a
falsehood ; but to sell stock to a man who knew every-
thing about the affairs of the bank, was surely straight-
forward enough. The straightforward principle that
had entered into Mr. Robert Mowbray's life was not
so straightlaced as to refuse " the way out of it " which
Mr. Providence Turner had been kind enough to
indicate.

As the two young people were on the point of
leaving the building, — Miss Glencairn v.ith her hand
on Mr. Mowbray's left arm, and he with the heavy
satchel in his right hand, — an incident occurred which
led them to think that to have gone to the bank later
in the afternoon would perhaps have been to have
gone too late. The unrest seemed to be on the
increase. The slight altercation between Miss
Glencairn and the teller may have been overheard and
repeated, and everybody knows how swift evil tidings
can take wing. It was hardly possible, however, that
that was all there was in the unrest, for it was really
remarkable how many persons were to be heard
demanding gold in payment of their deposits.

■
-

iff

I Aht

226

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

mm^'

Two Parisians once had a bet. One of them said
that he could fill the Place Vendome with a seething
crowd in ten minutes. The other laughed at him, and
felt sure of the stakes. But there was a seething crowd
in the Place Vendome all the same, even before the
full ten minutes were up ; and all that the Parisian, who
had wagered on the positive side, had to do to collect
the crowd, was to run into the several streets leading
into that square and r^nnounce with bated breath that
a crank was about to throw himself from the top of
the monument. The rumou* spread in the ratio of
the increase in the emolument of the blacksmith who
was willing to be paid according to the number of
nails he had to drive in re-shoeing the horse of his
patron — one cent for the first nail, two cents for the
second, four cents for the third, sixteen cents for the
fourth, and so on in geometrical progression. Before
the ten minutes were up there was a crowd that no
man had ever seen in the Place Vendome before.

And possibly Miss Glencaim's altercation with the
teller of the Commercial Bank had something to do
with the crowd that kept increasing in the frescoed
portico of that institution. Before she and her com-
l^anion had left, there was a verita1:)le cry for gold in
the air, — men and women crowding round the wickets
of the various tellers, demanding payment in gold for
their deposits; and the incident that occurred as the
two young people — we dare not call them by any other
name yet — passed through the crowd, on their way
towards the main entrance of the building, certainly
did not tend to lessen the intensity of the cry,

the
do
oed
om-
d in
kets
for
the
ther
way
\inly

THE TRUTH O'T.

227

Of those who were hastening towards the main
entrance with something' heavy in their hand, there
was an old man who seemed hurrying from the
wicket of the savings department. The something
heavy in his hand he had secured in a red cotton
handkerchief, and just as he approached Miss Glencairn
and Robert Mowbray, his poor napkin gave way.
Instantly the marble floor of the great corridor was
resounding with the merry chink of two or three
hundred sovereigns, as they whirled hither and
thither with their eccentric gyrations before coming
to rest. Instantly everybody in the crowd was en-
gaged in hunting up the glistening coins and depositing
them in their owner's hat.

As there seemed to be no one near who would
api)ropriate any of the old man's hoard, Mr. Mowbray
stepped up to him and tried to reassure him.

" How much have you been drawing out ? " he
isked, with Miss Glencaini still hanging on his arm.

" There was the feck o' twa hundred and fiftv-five
pounds," exclaimed the old man, as he looked from
his questioner to the young lady with the winsome
face. " Dear me, this is simply awful; do ye think I'll
find it a' in my hat gin everybody's done getherin' it
up. Ay, ye May smile, I'm thinkin' my leddy, but ye
kennae the CxYC ihn.t siller brings to a man,"

" I think } :ni will find your money all right," said
Rol)ert, as the last sovereign seemed to have 1)een
found. " You had better stand over at the long desk
there, and see if you have it all.'"

" Would the leddy be guid enough to count it for

'r^

S i i

^ } i

I ; i

■r ■

.r-cx

.'P^l

228

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

me," said the old man tremulously. " I'm sure I can
trust her."

" But you wouldnae be sae sure o' me," said Robert,
laughingly, and replying in the Doric.

" Oh, as for that, I think ye'U baith dae ; yes," said
he, looking from the one to the other, and making
tl^fcm both blush from the knowing look in his old
withered face, "I think ye'll baith dae."

As Grace Glencairn stooped over the old man's hat
counting his sovereigns, and Robert Mowbray con-
tinued to look over her shoulder at the operation, as
if his protective glance was something altogether
indispensable, the rush and tum1)le created by the
search for the old man's money did not seem to
subside. The tally of the old man's property came out
all right. There was only one sovereign missing, and
Miss Glencairn made it good to him. But were all
others to come off as well as he or this young lady
who had helped him to recount his money, and whose
heavy portmanteau the handsome young man by her
side was carrying with so much care ? How were
they ever to get to the nearest teller's wicket, with such
a crowd pressing up to the trellised work of the row
of cupboards in front ? Who was to say how the
increasing commotion was going to end ? Was this
what is called " a run upon the bank ? "

The directors were in session, and tiiere was pallor
in everyone of their faces, as Mr. Macpherson McLean
told them what he had heard about the rumours
against the bank. These rumours in themselves were
nothing — were perhaps even childish; but they were
vind-straws; and the guilty consciences of men can

THE TRUTH O'T.

229

this

make out of such wind-straws " the masts of some
great admiral," creaking in the throes of a disastrous
tempest. Had the tempest really come down upon
them ? With the echoes of the increasing turmoil
without, they found themselves haunted with the
coming failures of the great firms that had overdrawn
their accounts, of the ruinous speculations in the
cotton trade when blockade-running was making the
cotton trade a damnable lottery, of the advances made
on the work of the great International Canal that
would now never be built; and of the hundred and
one hazardous schemes of theirs, with the particulars
of which they were all more or less familiar. Can no
one make any suggestion to delay the crisis ? You
may have made light of Lord Clay's telegram, Mr.
Macpherson McLean, in the presence of your confi-
dential clerk ; but here it is a different matter. As Mr.
Providence Turner knows, a telegram is like a city
that stands on a hill, it cannot be hid.

What is that, Mr. Manager ? Your deputy says
that a young lady has just lifted her full deposit in
gold and has been asking what steps she ought to take
to realize on her shares. What noise is that outside ?
An old man who has accidently let his money slip
from his handkerchief ! Is that all ? But what made
him lift his money out in gold ? Were Commercial
notes not good enough for him ? Are other people
asking for gold ? The commotion does not seem to
subside. Can nobody suggest anything ?

No, the commotion does not seem to subside.
There is truth in that, if there be the rottenness of
falsehood in all else besides. And who is able to say

1^;

230

tup: chronicles of kartdale.

when the commotion will not find its way out into the
streets, into the warehouses whose owners seem to have
nothing else in tlie world to do but t(3 draw and
deposit, to deposit and draw, near these polished
counters — out into the streets to the small retail houses
where a pound-note is a pound-note, — out into the
streets to the unsavoury lanes where a bank's promise
to pay has the intrinsic value of gold. No, the com-
motion does not seem to subside, and who is to tell
whether it will subside until the whole of Scotland lies
prostrate as from the passing of a plague. The
directors are impotent, as the guilty always are, when
a crisis comes. Their livid faces, as they sit around
the great green baize table in the directors' room,
indicate their impotency. Rich and poor alike have
become the victims of their imbecility. They have
squandered millions, thinking, with their eyes shut,
that surely the substance of all these millions could
not possibly ever be dissipated. Iheir cupidity had
made of them bunglers, embezzlers, criminals.

Oh, surely not so bad as that. Not criminals !
Can nobody suggest some step to be taken to ward off
this catastrophe ? We are not criminals, and we will
not allow anyone to think or say tlvJ-. 've are. Can no
one suggest anything ? There is Lord Clay ; can we
not satisfy him ? Then, there is this young lady who,
the manager says, has been asking about her stock;
can we not send for her ? And it was marvellous how
these " forty thieves," concentrated their wicked help-
lessness on the personality of a young and innocent
girl who had escaped, or was likely to escape from
their clutches.

THE TRUTH O'T.

231

" Who was she anyway ? " asked many of them sinml-
taneously. " Why not send for her at once. That old
sinner, Lord Clay, is always up to some eccentricity
or other, and nobody will mind very much what he
says. But this Miss Glencairn ought not to have
been sent away as she had been. This excitement
must be put a stop to, and at once. Has she left the
building ? Where has she gone ? Where is she to
be found ? " And in this way these silly old men
continued to run after their will-o'-the-wisp until the
manager had to withdraw to make enquiries.

In a few minutes he returned, saying that Miss
Glencairn had left the building, after having paid a
sovereign to a poor man who had just been lifting his
money from the bank.

" What did she do that for ? " asked the oldest of
the greybeards, who, though millions were at stake
and even his own personal property in jeopardy, could
not help being struck with the seemingly ultra-
generous act of giving money to a man who had just
been lifting mone/ from the bank. Senile wonder-
ment has all the irrelevancy of juvenile ambition. The
proportion of things loses its dignity in old age; the
fly on the wheel sings a true song in the hearing of
the old.

" She gave it to him for the one he had lost," said
the manager.

"But how was he careless enough to lose his
money ? " continued the old director, as if the crisis
in the bank's afifairs was now only a secondary
question.

) ,

232

THE CIIRONICLKS OF KARTDALE.

ii,

The manager thoupi'lit it as well to tell the whole
story of the incident of the sovereigns breaking
through the old man's red handkerchief.

" She must be a warm-hearted kind of lassie that,"
said the old director. " Could you not find her and
bring her back with you ? "

No, the manager had failed to find any trace of her.
The crowd outside was increasing, and no one could
tell him in what direction she had gone.

" I think, however," said he, turnirg to Mr, IVIac-
pherson McLean, " your confidential clerk, Mr,
Mowbray, may know where Miss Glencairn is to be
found," and there seemed to be something of a doul)le
meaning in the manager's words, " at least she was in
his company when she left the bank."

" Did anyone really identify Mr. Mowbray as Miss
Glencairn's companion ? " was all that Mr. Macpherson
McLean could say, as tlie eyes of his co-directors were
turned upon him.

" My deputy knows Mr. Mowbray intimately,"
answered the manager.

" He could not have been mistaken ? "

" No, certainly not."

"Then, gentlemen, I am sorry to say that I have
been mistaken. Gentlemen, I have been nurturing a
serpent in my bosom. That young man has betrayed
me and my interests; has in fact betrayed the interests
of the Commercial Bank, I intended to see a friend
of mine before I came to the meeting. He has seen
that friend while 1 have been here, and that friend has
thrown us all overboard. The Commercial Bank is

i.|

THE TRUTH O'T.

233

in the extremity of clanger, now that Turner Brothers
have decided against us."

" But can nothing be done ? "

" I am afraid not."

" But you will see."

" Yes, I will see," and with these words the directors
ui the Commercial Bank of Glasgow closed their
meeting.

-■■'*,■

ill

i >

I I

I i:

-ill

CHAPTER XL

The passions o' life come and gang, guid wife,

Like the waves o' a cross chopping sea ;
O'erwhelming they meet, and syne they retreat,

With the swing o' the fate we would flee, guid wife,

The fate we never can flee.

Mr. Robert Mowbray and Miss Grace Glencairn, all
unconscious of the turmoil they had created in the
directors' room, passed through the streets that led
them towards West Nile Street.

" I can leave this satchel in Mr. Turner's vault, if you
do not wish to take it with you all the way to Brigton.
I do not know but it would be better to make a new
deposit of it in the Bank of Scotland."

" I shall be ready to follow whatever advice you are
ready to give," answered the young lady, pressing his
arm all but imperceptibly.

" Then let us leave it with the man who has under-
taken to stand by us in the matter of your bank-stock.
It will gratify him to know that we have the fullest
confidence in him. And as I have to see him again
about the transfer, we may as well walk in the direction
of his place as not."

There is a walk in everyone's life which remains as
the most memorable of all journeys. The day had

TIIK TRUTH OT.

235

been a remarkable one to these two young people; and,
as the ordinary prc^jhetess might say, it was not yet
over for them. But the walk from the building of
the Commercial Rank to the business place of Turner
l^rotliers, was perhaps to them the most memorable
of the experiences of the morning. As they proceeded
on their way, there seemed to be no dearth of subjects
to converse about. Sometimes they would talk of the
heavy load in the young man's hand — could she help
him with it ? — Could she not carry it just a little bit i:o
give him a moment's rest ? — Why not set it down near
the shop windows now and again, as they looked into
them ? Then they spoke of the telegram he had sent
to Kartdale. Would there be a panic there also ? —
W^ould the panic go over the whole country ? — It was
dreadful to think how many poor people would suffer !
She was safe, thanks to him ; but how many, — ah, how
many, — would lose their all, before the week was out,
— perhaps even before to-morrow morning?

To rescue a young lady from impending ruin is the
readiest approach to her confidence; and where her
confidence is, there will her heart be also. Trusting in
the strength that can instantly show how far she may
trust with safety, she is ready enough to make an open
secret of her fears, and through the exposure of her
fears, an honest revelation of her hopes.

" We have to put our faith in somebody, you know,
when a crisis like this comes upon us," said the maiden,
as she and her companion at last turned the comer of
West Nile Street.

" And Mr. Providence Turner is at least somebody,"
he jokingly replied, looking down into her upturned

2:^6

TIJK CIIkONKLKS OK KARTDALK.

face. " He is not to be despised as a secret hiding-
place when there is nobody else near by."

"But why do you call him l)y such a strange name;
that is not his real name, is it ? " and her laugh l)ecame
the refrain of his own laugh.

" Not his real name ? " he exclaimed with his face
flaming with fun.

" No, I am sure it isn't."

" What, you never heard anyone wh(j had a name
like that ? "

" No, never," she said,

" Nor Prudence ? "

"Ah, that's different; but that is l woman's name."

" Then Providence is surely a sufficiently appropriate
name for a man, if Prudence is a good name for a
woman ? You Vv-ouldn't forbid us poor men the use
of both terms ? "

" But what is his first name ? " she continued, Eve-
like, enjoying the fooling that our poets are ever
inmiortalizing.

" His name is Providence."

" Oh, Mr. Mowbray; and you told me you had taken
a vow never again to tell a "

And what a sweet little buttercup of a mouth she
made, instead of uttering the awful last word. It was
almost a pity there were people in the street at the
time. Had that buttercup of a mouth ! — But, no, Mr.
Robert Mowbray is not a man after that fashion,
neither is Miss Grace Glencairn a woman to think of
him as a man after that fashion. Has she ever heard

of Miss Fannie ? There, that will do. If she

has, she is not likely ever to think ill of Mr. Robert

TIIK TKUTII O'T.

Mowbray on that account. A man who has taken a
vow never to tell another lie, is a man that can surely
be trusted in more ways than one.

" All that I know is that his initials are P. C. T.,"
exclaimed Robert.

" But does P. stand for Providence ? "

" I think so ; don't you ? "

" But that's not what I mean ; is his name really
Providence ? "

" If it is not, I don't know what it is."

And they laughed in concert, though it was a
strange place for that sort of nonsense, don't you think
so ? A public thoroughfare, and in broad daylight too!

Have you read Bacon's essay on love ? If you
have not, you have missed reading the most cold-
blooded monody on that sul:)ject in the English
language. The greatest and meanest of mankind was
hardly passionate enough to picture the phases of love
as the passion of the prophetic, though there is a
literary infidelity in the air, that at times feebly hurrahs
over him as the author of Shakespeare's plays — the
creator of Cleopatra, Desdemona and Lady Macbeth.
Love has a way of its own, the pathway of passion that
heedlessly develops into fate ; but Bacon knew nothing
of the concrete '^f this development, as he knew nothing
of the art that alone can beget the monody that is a
passion in itself.

" Have you any real love for me ? " once asked a
middle-aged maiden of her elderly sweetheart, who was
kind of slow in coming to terms, as she thought.

" Do you mean love in the abstract ? " was the
swain's cautious reply.

2;5S

THE CIIRONICLKS OF KARTDALE.

And when \vc read Bacon's essay, we find out how
learnedly and leisurely a man can discourse on love
in the abstract — but it is a cold-blooded business after
all to be a genius and to write of love in that way.
This is not a love story; but if it were, and something
had to be read in it of love in the abstract, the reader
would probably enjoy our friend Jeames's monody as
much as Lord Bacon's, as it was once delivered in the
session-house of Kartdalc i)arisli church, to Robin
Drum and the rest of us.

Robin had remarked how senseless it was for two
younj^ folk to fall in love with one another, and keep
it up till the financial difficulties of married life brought
them to their senses.

" I was a bit o' a fule mysel' in this respect,'' said he,
" though I haenac had, as yet, muckle faut to find wi'
my fate, close-fitting as it seemed when I got marrit
to the guidwife."

" Love is no to be discounted by the light o' ither
things," answered Jeames. " The man that has never
been in love is no a man ava' — he's mair o' a sumph
than a man — a kind o' thing that has, to the end, a
very sma' notion o' what life is. It's no aye a true man
that fa's in love, but he is mair o' a true man ere the
cunnin' hizzy is done wi' him. She's a douce lassie,
wcel-favoured maybe, :\i' a look o' the aboon about
her, and a flavour o' angel's breath in her hair, but
she kens what she's aboot for a' that. How she
titivates his pride till he jalooses that the best that's
gaun is nane ower guid for him or her. By forcing
him to think about what he would like to be, for the
sake o' the doo that he's donnart on, he comes to

ymti

TlfK TRUTH O'T.

289

declare what he will be, gin his fate 'ill only let him.
Then there's the modesty o' the thing — no an ill
thocht in his head as long as he thinks o' her purity,
and the sweet savour of her sacrifice in ha'ing onything
to dae wi' the like o' him. Has he a weakness ? Out
o' sicht it maun gang. Has he a skellie e'e ? In-
stanter he advises wi' some doctor to hae it put to
rights. Has he roun' shouthers ? He'll sleep wi' a
broad on his back, until he thinks he walks stracht.
Does he harbour wi' ne'er-do-weels for the ^un o' the
thing ? He slips roun' the corner frae tliem after he
becomes acquaint "i' her. Does he keep frae the kirk
and break tlie Sabbath ? He's there ilka Sunday
dressed in his best, to be seen o' her. And sae the
reform gangs on — a reform o' liody, mind and soul,
until he begins to think that he is walkin' stracht
enough to mention the matter to her. Will she hae
him ? Is he guid enough for her ? Is he guid
enough now to look the worl' in the face ? Exactly
sae ! "

" I suppose ye mean by the worl', the lassie's faither
and mither ? " said Robin Drum, making iiis usual
far-away approach to a joke. " The man that has never
had a mither-in-law has missed a guid bit o' life."

"That may be," answered the minister's man, "but
when a young man gets to this stage o' his eddication,
he'll no be content wi' the stolen kiss ahim the door,
but will be willin' enough to be seen in public, arm in
arm wi' the lassie he has selected for his guid wife, and
that in broad daylight tae."

This is not a love story, however; and it is the
business of neither reader nor writer to bring to the

.1,

240

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

test the conduct of Robert Mowbray and Grace Glen-
cairn by the light of Lord Bacon's cold-blooded
analysis or Jeames's homespun philosophy. However
pleasant it may be to wander in the byways of love-
phenomena, in the hallowed twilig^ht of the new heaven
and the new earth as discovered and individualized by
others, we have here to watch the turn of other events.
Love is the greatest thing on earth, but truth is from
everlasting to everlasting. These young people of
ours, in their developing companionship, have dared
the daylight and the crowd of West Nile Street, as if
it were some woodland lane, with nothing but the
privileged pigeons to overhear the semblance of their
own cooing. They have taken the law of love into
their own hands — if it be the law of love that has
brought them to look so longingly into the face of
love, — and who will hinder them from singing all by
themselves the monody that Lord Bacon never had
learned how to sing, but which sweet Will of Avon
knew so well by heart ? Love is fate, and, as we all
know, fate is no respecter of time or place. In a
word, love can weave its passion-threads as well in the
noon-day thoroughfares as in the gloaming of the
remotest glen, and it is no business of ours to question
her fateful prerogative.

But Lord Bacon goes far, when he says that love
can overcome every other passion. If it can, can it
also rise higher than the highest principle of a man's
life ? Love is the greatest thing on earth, but truth is
from everlasting to everlasting.

Veritas prevalebit I

Will it?

THE TRUTH o'T.

241

Tlien, tliat is the nroblem we want to watch.

Had this been a love story, which it is not, a more
elaborate picture, with the minutest details keenly
drawn, ought to have illuminated its pages with the
beauty of Miss Glencairn. Her face was the face you
see so often in the illuminated editions of the classics,
lit up with the life in it of the most beautiful face you
have ever seen on the stage or ofif it. Her hair had
tlie developed shade of the golden tresses of childhood,
with the less frequent wavings of more matured tend-
ing, — a wreath of twilight lingering above her smooth
but half-hidden forehead. The transparency of her
complexion came upon one like tlie peep of dawn
with a rosy cloud in it, — with the bluer light of day
still unrevealed behind the silken fringe of ner eye-
lashes. Her dimpled blushing ears (like Rebecca's
twins from behind their mother's waving robes) just
dared to look beyond a fluttering ringlet or two;
while that little buttercup of p mouth of hers seemed
to chide them for their audacity, and yet encourage
them all the more in their wiles.

Then there was her figure. To attempt to describe
it, would be one of Cupid's maddest capers. Her
walk was the embodiment of incedit regina ; her pose
the repose of the Vatican's Ariadme. There was a
pride in her every movement, but it was the pride of
a woman who had never been accused of aiTectation, —
the pride of a natural dignity, in which the false
dignity of pride had no share.

" What a fine-looking couple ! " said the old apple-
woman at the corner of the street, " If they're no

■ ■ 'i

" 13

h'' f

242

THE CHRONICLES OF KAKTDALE.

gaun to be iiiarrit; something there maun be to
prevent them."

And something there is to prevent them, as Robert
Mowbray has often enough casually thought during
the morning; but whether that something will prevent
them or not, is another question.

In the beauty of innocency, as in the beauty of holi-
ness, there is no expectancy. The lover is no prophet.
Sufficient unto him is the good of the present. His
happiness is there, and when the thought of marriage
comes to him, he turns from it as from a surprise — as
from an interruption to his instant joy, just as the truly
holy man .urns from the necessity of his dying as a
step towards the higher ken of the holiness that
knows all.

As the two young people went their way towards
the warehouse of Turner Brothers, they were quite
unconscious, as has been said, of the turmoil they had
excited in the board-room of the Commercial Bank.
Yet, as their friendly confidences, (not to speak of
them in stronger terms, seeing we know all about
Fannie Lockhead,) sprang up from the bank's afifairs,
it would have been little short of ingratitude for them
to turn their backs upon the source of their present
enjoyment.

" I have every confidence in Mr. Turner," said
Robert, turning away from some matters of secondary
consideration that had arisen as incidents of the way —
little confidences of taste and opinions, the angel-
gossip of the new heaven and the new earth — which
need have no place here.

" As a shrewd business man he has no superior in

THE TRUTH O'T.

243

irt

the city, and we all know what an influence he has
over Macpherson McLean."

" What a strange name that is also," said Miss
Glencairn;

" Do you think so ? "

" I do."

*' You see what it is to be used to a thing."

" Now, there's your name ? "

" Mine ! " she exclaimed.

" Yes, yours."

" What is there in my name that is strange ? "

*' There is nothing in your name that is strange."

" No ? "

" l>ut there is something that is very sw that is,

very appropriate."

"Oh, INIr. Mowbray; we were only talking of Mr.
Macpherson McLean's name."

" Well ? "

" There's something in his name that is not trust-
worthy; though perhaps it is only silly for me to say
so. You know him a great deal better than I do."

Robert Mowbray did not venture to dispute his
companion's theory.

" You believe in names ? " he asked.

" How ? "

'* As exponents of character ? "

"Not so much as in hand-writing;" she answered;
"but there is something in a person's name that makes
you map out its owner's character, before you are in-
troduced. Don't you think so ? "

Robert said he thought there was something in it;
indeed he knew that there was something in some

III

li;

If :41 1

244

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

names; but as Miss Glencairn did not seem to be
following the more emphatic part of his answer, he did
not venture to bring his statement to the proof,

" Every man and woman has to be satisfied with his
or her own name, I suppose;" he was content to sa\ .

" But what about Mr. Providence Turner ? "

" Oh," said she, " I can trust him, though that is not
his true name."

" Let a woman alone for trusting aye in Providence,"
returned Robert, and they both had to laugh heartily
at the retort, as if it had been the best joke out of the
best of Burns's poems.

But here is Mr. Turner's warehouse," he exclaimed;
and, true enough, they had at length reached the end
of the woodland glen they had been able to make out
of the crowded thoroughfare of West Nile Street.

'* Do you think there is any necessity for me to go
in with you ? " asked the maiden, shyly.

" There is no absolute necessity," he replied.

" You think there is no use for us to return to the
bank, after you have left that horrid heavy satchel in
Mr. Turner's vault ? Do you think the manager could
do no better for me than his deputy ? "

" We will return, if you say so."

" Oh, no, no," she exclaimed.

" The bank may be inclined to meet your dematid
for all we know, and that would be the most straight-
forward course for us to follow in realizing on your
stock."

Mr. Robert Mowbray had, in the woodland glen,
almost forgotten his vow.

" But who is this ? " for a young man, evidently a

^WT^

THE TRUTH O'T.

245

bank messenger, came suddenly up to them as they
stood for a moment before entering the warehouse of
Turner Brothers

"You are Miss Glencairn ?" exclaimed the mess-
enger, all but out of breath.

" Yes, 'that is my name," answered that young lady.

" The manager of the Commercial Bank would like
to see you, Miss," continued the messenger.

Miss Glencairn looked to Robert for instructions.

" That's better," said he.

" We will return ? "

" Yes," he answered with a nod.

" But the satchel ? "

" That I will leave here," and he entered the ware-
house of Turner Brothers at once.

He was some time in returning.
At last he appeared.

" Shall we go ?" she asked.

" Yes, it will be better."

" Mr. Turner thinks so ?"

" Yes."

" And do you ?"

" Yes."

"Then let us return."

And so Miss Grace Glencairn and Mr. Robert
Mowbray, with the satchel of gold lying safe in Mr.
Turner's vault, went back to the Commercial Bank,
though their woodland glen this time was under the
espionage of a bank messenger that had no sympathy
with the cooing of pigeons.

" Mr. Turner was quite willing ?"

" Oh, yes, quite willing."

: I

I .:'i1

246

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

ft ^

K ;

- 1

I 1

: i -

" And you think it is best ?"

"Yes, certainly."

As they reached the bank buikhng, there was still
a crowd of people in the frescoed corridors.

The hour of closing was near.

" Ah, Miss Glencairn," said the manager, coming
out of his den in face of all the people. " You want
to reaHze on the amount of your stock ?"

** Yes, I do," she answered with a dignity that made
Mr. Robert INIowbray's heart beat with pride as it never
had beat before.

The people in the hall seemed to be listening.

" Then you will allow me to say that the. directors
are ready to pay over at once to you the market value
of your stock. You may come into my ofhce and I
will make the necessary arrangements for the transfer
in gold."

The manager's words produced an inmiediate revul-
sion of feeling among the pushing groups around the
wickets of the several tellers.

" The bank was in no trouble after all," thought
many of those who had been shouting a moment be-
fore for their money to be paid in gold.

'^ The Avholc thing has been a mistake !" said the
most of them suddenly.

" No, no, my guid man, ye may keep the siller, as
lang as ye tell me it's in safe hands," exclaimed an old
lady.

"That was a shrewd step for the manager to take,
was it not ?" said many afterwards.

" But was it the step for an honest man to take ?"
thought Robert Mowbray to himself.

i .> i^ ^

THE TRUTH O'T.

247

And yet, what was Robert Mowbray to do, at the
meeting place of the true and the false.

Was he to advise Miss Glencaim to refuse the man-
ager's ofifer ? Was he to run her affairs into jeopardy
simply because the etiquette of a very high-toned
morality had not been adhered to ? She had to be
saved from ruin. Mr. Providence Turner had pro-
mised to save her from ruin. What, then, was he,
Robert Mowbray, to do ? To accept the offer of the
manager of the Commercial Bank was to deceive the
public, and to accept the offer of Mr. Providence Tur-
ner was to deceive whom — to deceive his employer
Mr. Macpherson McLean ? What w?s he to do ?
What was he to advise Miss Glencairn to do ?"

" Sufficierxt unto the day is the evil thereof."

" A l)ird in the hand is worth two in the bush."

" I think you had better arrange with the manager.
Miss Glencairn," said Robert Mowbray. " If you
need me in your settlement of money matters, you can
send for me."

And so the transfer of Miss Glencairn's stock was
arranged without the assistance of Mr. Providence
Tumer.

But was the transfer made at a sacrifice to the prin-
ciple laid down by the minister of Kartdale ? It did
not save the bank, as after events will show ; but it
did save Mr. Robert Mowbray from breaking the vow
he had taken.

' (,

i t

CHAPTER XII,

The maucks hae a house o' their ain, auld wife ;

Jist turn up a stane and ye'll see :
How they squirm and skedaddle, ilk on his ain saddle,

Frae the light of the truth they would flee,

Frae the darkness exposed o' a lee.

There were man^ things to do and talk about, be-
fore Miss Glencaim and Robert Mowbray separated
for the afternoon, with the understanding that they
would meet at the railway station in time to take one
of the evening trains to Kartdale and Brigton. At
last they parted within the shadow of King William's
statue under the sinister gaze of the Tontine effigies,
the young lady to complete the engagements that had
brought her to the city, her companion to return to
the warehouse of Macpherson McLean & Co,

When the latter reached the warehouse, those whose
curiosity had been excited about his conduct in the
morning, naturally enough placed him under a kind
of espionage of their own, conducted, for the most
part, out of the corners of their eyes as he happened to
pass them. There was a buoyancy of manner in his
movements in the afternoon which stood in striking
contrast to his behavior of the morning, and which
would have been easy of expl^iation had his col-

TIIK TRU'III OT.

24!)

Icag'ucs only known all that tlic reader knows. Being*
ignorant of the after events at the bank, however, they
could only continue to shake their heads, and mutter
to one another that something or other had evidently
come over the confidential clerk. The preoccupied
air of a man out of sorts in the morning had come to
develop itself in the afternoon into the "jjonhomie" of
a man at peace with all mankind. A rumor had found
its way through the warehouse, possibly l^y some
chance customer, who had arrived by the early train
from Kartdale, that Mowbray had been in some fracas
or other on his way to; town, and this had served in
part to explain his unusual mood in the morning. But
his mood in the afternoon was even more of an exag-
geration than the strangeness of his manner in the
morning, and no explanation was forthcoming as to
its cause. Watch him, as many were now not disin-
clined to do, the consensus seemed to grow that there
was something amiss with the young man. His an-
sw-ers to the customers were out-of-the-way answers,
not altogether uncivil, but laconic and abrupt, and by
no means the ingratiating answ^ers of a salesman who
knew how to overcome the prejudices of a customer
while endeavoring to make a sale. There was an im-
patience in his way of speech, which could not alto-
gether be called impatience — a sort of irrelevancy, an
over-riding of the first principles of the retail trade, a
proneness to speak his mind freely about the quality
of the goods for sale, and their prices.

" Was the man crazy, or only getting crazy," whis-
pered one or two of his colleagues.

" There is certainly something wrong with the fel-
17

t ■■!

1 i

i .1

i .i

250

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

low," exclaimed Mr. Constance more than once ; for
having liad his eyes opened in the morning, the junior
partner was not going to close them in tlie afternoon,
until he had satisfied himself that Mr. Ribert Mowbray
was or was not "all there," as he called it.

And, true enough, the ill luck that befell the truth-
telling salesman in the morning did not seem to for-
sake him in the afternoon, notwithstanding tlie sun-
shine of his returning good nature. The old retail
merchant from Kilmarnock, who had given way to the
benignity of the junior partner, after Robert Mowbray
had failed to get an order out of him, was no more
amenable to the sagacity of the truth-loving salesman
in the afternoon than in the forenoon. Not that the
provincial buyer failed to give to the salesman favor-
able opportunities of making a profitable bargain.
Like Mrs. Jamieson, who was wiling enough to be
deceived about the silk dresses for her sister's girls,
the Kilmamock draper, as an over-hearing salesman
afterwards said, was anything " but hard to take in."
But Robert Mowbray had made up his mind. To
speak the truth had become a passion in him, and
though customer after customer might leave him with-
out making a purchase, he was not to be turned from
his new way of doing things.

Late in the afternoon the event of the morning in
the silk department seemed to repeat itself in the shawl
department. Mrs. Hamilton, one of the regular cus-
ton\ers, who was well known to every salesman in the
warehouse, prompted much in the same way as Mrs.
Jamieson had been, to send for Mr. Mowbray, inti-
niated to him, when he appeared at her command, that

THE TRUTH O T.

251

To
and

she desired to purchase a lace sliavvl, which she in-
tended as a present for one of lier friends.

" I. am afraid I am taking you out of your way, Mr.
Mowbray," she said, " but knowing your taste in mat-
ters of this kind, I thought I might ask them to send
for you. My friend. Miss Colston, has often expressed
a wish to have a "\ ersailles" of her own, after seeing
the one I have, and I have made up my mind to sur-
prise lier with a i)resent of one. You have them in
stock, I suppose."

" I am not sure I know what you mean by a Ver-
sailles shawl." Robert replied, "but perhaps you would
like to look at our stock, Mrs. Hamilton ?"

" What, you have no Versailles ? That is surely
strange," exclaimed the fashionable matron. '* I
thought you kept everything of that kind, and I am
almost sure it was here Mr. tfamilton bought mine
for me."

" We have what are just as good as the shawl you
mention," returned the confidential clerk, "and possibly
they may have been taken for imported goods. Our
assortment of lace shawls is very large. Will you
allow me to send for some of our stock ?"

Oh, send for them by all means, Mr. Mowbray, and
yet you will only have your trouble for your pains !
For have you not yet learned how fatal it is to create
even the tiniest of prejudices in the mind of an intend-
ing purchaser, as the superintendent of the shawl de-
partment, who is just passing and is making his ac-
knowledgme its, can possibly tell you ? He has the
tail of his eye on your proceedings. He it was who
first heard Mrs. Hamilton calling for you; and though

TIN-: CIIUONICM'.S Oh KAKTDAI-K

It'-
ll

' I

you are no undcrHuj;' of liis, hv is none llic less anxions
to watch over your success or failure to sell. Indeed,
he is even' more inciuisitive al)out your afifairs than if
you were an under-salesnian ; fur has he not heard the
rumors tliat are afloat about you in every nook and
corner of the warehouse, that all is not rijj^ht witli
you ?

Yes, you may bring alonpf your armful of shawls,
and tell the attendant salesman to brinj^ along- another
armful, if you like. Your customer wants a Ver-
sailles shawl, and, imless you are prepared to select
your best and call it a Versailles, it is to be feared you
will not succeed. What, you will not even take the
hint of your attendant as he spreads out his armful
of goods for inspection and, selecting from the pile,
exclaims : —

" This I think is what is wanted."

And if it be not what is wanted, it is surely beautiful
enough to be what any one would want; for opening
the parcel-box in his hand, the assistant exposed to
view an attractive gossamer fabric, nestling in pink
sarcenet, that at once enticed the intending purchaser
to examine it closely.

" Is this an imported Versailles ?" asked Mrs. Hamil-
ton, running her daintily jewelled fingers within the
foids of the fabric.

" Certainly," exclaimed the underling at once, as he
was suddenly called away to shoulder goods for some
one else.

" Certainly ?" interrogated the lady, suddenly look-
ing up from the piece of goods to Robert's reddening

pile,

TIIK TRUTH or.

face. "Then you have a real ^'ersailIes after all, Mr.
Mowbray ?"

" These goods are so fine tliat they may be sold un-
der any name you like to i)ut on tlicni," he quietly
replied.

" r>ut is this not a real Versailles ?"

" We have never called it by that name, Mrs. Hamil-
ton, but T can reconnnend it to you as one of the
finest lace sliawls we have in the warehouse."

" It is imported, I suppose ?" again asked the cus-
tomer, with an impatience everybody could see.

" Well, no, they make these shawls in England ;
and, in my opinion, they are even l)etter than the im-
ported fa1)rics. Mr. Sliarp made a mistake in his
hurry."

This ])roduced an awkward ]:)ause. Mrs. Hamilton
had evidently all but made up her mind to buy the
shawl. Indeed, if she would only be permitted to call
it a \'crsailles, her mind would soon be made up, but
that stupid Mr. Mowbray would not let her make up
her mind. What was the matter with him ? He
was always so pleasant, and had such excellent taste.

She again spread out the garment with her two
hands, and then threw it over her handsome shoulders,
looking sideways at herself in the great mirror near at
hand.

" It certainly is very nice," she again exclaimed.

" I am almost inclined to palm it off on you as such,"
answered the young man laughingly. " The shawl
is as 1)eautiful as any that goes under the name you
mentioned or any other name."

" But I want to present my friend with a real Ver-

254

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

■I:
111 ".

m
iil -^

■ -M

sailles. My husband told me that mine was a real
Versailles, and you say that you have no Versailles
shawls in stock. What am I to do ?"

The head of the department, hearing the query as
he passed at the moment, suspected that the sale was
not progressing as it ought to progress, and conse-
quently thought he might lend a helping hand, as
ov tt' rs have a perfect right to do.

" I trust that you are getting what you waait, Mrs,
Hamilton ?" said he, interrupting salesman and custo-
mer. " I think I heard you say you wanted a Ver-
sailles shawl. Have you found one ?"

" I have found what Mr. Mowbray thinks may safely
be sold as a Versailles, but he says it is not imported."

" But, dear me, how can it be a Versailles' and not
be imported," and the manager of the shawl depart-
ment laughed as if he had just heard the funniest thing
in his life.

"Ah," said he, ''this is your i loice," and he looked
carefully at the shawl. " A very beautiful article, in-
deed. You're sure you are not mistaken, Mr. Mow-
bray. If it isn't a Versailles, it certainly is as fine as
one. Ah, yes, I see you're right. It is I who have
made the mistake. What, not an imported Versailles
in stock ? Oh, you must be wrong now, Mr. Mow-
bray, now I know you're wrong ; and surely I ought
to know what is in my own department. Just wait
a minute, if you please, Mrs. Hamilton ; I think I
know where there is one Versailles at least hidden
away in a careful corner. By the way, Mr. Mowbray,
will you be so good as to ask Sharp to take these
goods away. Just a moment, Mrs, Hamilton, just a

THE TRUTH O'T.

255

moment, if you please;" and the manager of the shawl
department disappeared.

He did not return, however, until Mr. Mowbray had
also disappeared, called away by a messenger to an-
other part of the building; and when he did come back
he seemed to be somewhat out of breath.

"Ah, I knew I would find it. There's not many
more to be had though ; a little too risky to keep a
large stock of such goods, besides, it is almost impos-
sible to get them in any quantity now. How Mowbray
cama to make his mistake, I am sure I can't say, no
doul)t he did not know of this — the last of them. Isn't
it pretty ? Well, yes, there's not much difference
between the two to the inexperienced eye. But let
me reveal the secret to you, Mrs. Hamilton. You will
see it, if you look very closely at the interv/eaving of
these two threads. Of course, it seems easy enough
detecting the difference when you once know the
secret," and so the glib manager talked and talked,
doing what Robert i\Io1:)ray had taken a vow never to
do again — to tell lies in order to sell goods, doing
what Robert Mowbray had failed to do, satisfying his
customer with a \^ersailles shawl of English manu-
facture.

" My dear fellow," said Mr. Constance, the junior
partner, who had watched Robert's discomfiture in the
morning with the old Kilmarnock draper, and who
now, on the report of the overseer of the shawl depart-
ment, had asked him to a conference in the counting-
room, *' I am sorry to hear that matters are not mov-
ing smoothly with you to-day. Is there anything
really wrong ? Tomkins has just been telling me how

I*
m

256

TlIK CHRONICLES OK KARTDALK

you liave been missing a sale to Mrs. Hamilton, and
this is only one of many that have been reported of
you to-day. You know I cut you out myself with old
Mr. Smith of Kilmarnock, and now Tomkins says
he lias done the same thing in the case of Mrs. Hamil-
ton. Why, what is the matter with you ? Are you
really out of sorts ? The men have been talking
about some trouble you had on the train tuis morn-
ing on your way up. Has that upset you ? I gave
you leave this morning, but, if al- stories are true,
there's not much improvement in your afternoon.
Mow did you manage to let Mrs. Hamilton escape
you ? You were always a great favourite with her."

" I simply couldn't sell her the article she wanted,"
answered Robert, with a meekness that showed itself
very near the edge of indignation.

" How was that ?"

" Because we hadn't such a thing in stock."

" But Tomkins sent her away satisfied ?"

Robert could only shrug his shoulders by way of
reply, saying, however, by the look on his face, as
plainly as he could have said in an articulate speech,
that Tomkins's way of doing things was no longer
his way of doing things.

" You have always been considered the best of sales-
men, the best in the establishment. What has hap-
pened to make your conscience so tender to-day ? You
know a customer likes to be humbugged a little, before
making a purcliase. You may call it deception, but
it is the universally accepted maxim of commercial
life."

"Then so nnich tl.. worse for commercial life," said

THE TRUTH OT.

257

Robert to himself, still contenting himself, however,
by slightly raising his shoulders by way of reply.

" Perhaps you tliink such a maxim a wrong prin-
ciple ?"

" I certainly have come to think so," Robert said
at last.

" Then you are just as certainly about to go l)ack
upon your record as a salesman."

" That may be, sir," answered the Rev. Mr. Thom-
son's convert, " but speaking the truth is, in my
opinion, the best policy for all of us in the long run.
At least, I have made up my mind to give it a trial."

The junior, seeminplv somewhat nonplussed at this,
put his hands on his knees and makmg as if he was
holding his sides with laughter, liad only to exclaim:
" You propose henceforth to speak the truth. Well,
well, Mowbray, you propose a fine programme for
yourself in life, vc fine indeed. Rut I am afraid,
as a salesman your usefulness is not likely to be so
readily recognised in the future as in the past. Come,
come, my fine fellow, there are many excellent pros-
pects in store for you. Look at me ; I have done fairly
well. Mr. McLean has given me a juniorship; and
yet my prospects a year ago were not any ])etter than
yours are now. But where would I have been, had I
been seized with such notions as you seem to be pos-
sessed of ? No, no, Mr. Mowbray, this kind of thing
won't pay; let us act like sensible men, and not become
cranks before our fortune is made. When you have
thousands you may become as eccentric as you have
a mind to : then you will be able to afford the expense
of having foibles."

R--

■! i

258

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

" How are our goods to be sold," he continued, tak-
ing another breath, " if the finesse of the salesman is
not to be fostered by the master-merchant ? Oh, yes,
of course, some very good people may think that the
finesse of the salesman is merely another name for
lying. But it isn't. If human nature were what it
ought to be, perhaps there would be no need for the
indirect methods of the shopman. But then human
nature isn't what it ought to be. For instance, have
you ever heard the story of the old lady who really
wanted to pay more for an article than the regular
price. I am sure you nmst have heard it. Approach-
ing the door one day, she saw a hearth-rug hanging
outside, and, after examining it with a caution which
showed the outside attendant that she was likely to
buy it, she asked the price of the article. ' Six shil-
lings,' said the pavement overseer. ' Sixteen shillings'
said she, ' I'll give thirteen for it, and not a farthing
more.' ' I heg your pardon,' said the honest man, 'but
the price is only six shillings.' 'Ah, well,' said she,
' I'll give you five for it.' So you see, Mr. Mowbray,
as we have peculiar people to deal with, people who
expose themselves to deceptions of all kinds, and seem
to be not a h"ttle offended when they are not deceived,
or at least humbugged, there would hardly be any
getting along in the world without the finesse of the
salesman. I trust your dejection of spirits will pass
away b> to-morrow. I wouldn't for a thousand
pounds see anything come between you and your
prospects,"

CHAPTER XIII.

'ir,'

Sae ye think she favours the brave, auld wife ,

Though the favour be bitter to pree :
The hissey's fell fickle, and aft maks a pickle

To steep our conceit in the bree, guid wife,

To soak in the grue o' her gree.

It was a safe thing for Mr. Constance, the junior
partner of Macpherson McLean & Co., to invest a
thonsand pounds in theory, over i\Ir. Robert Mow-
bray's seeming delinquencies. To be misunderstood,
as y\r. William TurnbuU had once said, is all but
ecjuivalent to being considered mad; and that Mr.
Mowbray was in a fair way of being misunderstood,
even he himself was ready to admit, when he was
through with his conference with Mr. Constance. As
to tlic coimtcrfeiter every coin has the appearance of
the counterfeit about it, so to the vicious every virtue
has something of a vice about it. Mr. Constance was
unable to understand Mr. Mowbray, though it was
easy enough for Mr. Mowbray to understand Mr. Con-
stance. Through an act which the religieuse now
regrets, our first parents are said to have found out
what the evil was as distinguished from the good; but
how many of Adam's posterity can distinguish between
the evil and the good, any more than Satan wished

If -

200

TIIK CHRONICLES OK KARTDALE.

to do when he found himself sweUcrlng in the fiery
fiirnaca men so often groan about ?

When Mr. Constance proposed to risk a thousand
pcxundsl sterhng, rather than that anything- should
happen to Mr. Robert Mowbray, the confidential clerk
of his firm, in whose future there seemed to loom a
junior partnership, he was hardly prepared to say
where morality began and ended in the retail trade.
Had he actually staked tliat diousand pounds, he
would most assuredly have lost it; for an hour was
not to pass before he was to learn that somelhiiig liad
really come between Mr. Robert Mowbray and his
i)r(jspccts.

His narrow-visioned homily to the man, who had
been carried, away with the sermon of the parish min-
ister of Kartdale, was followed neither by a show of
contrition nor a desire to continue the discussion.
Whatever there was about the junior partner's ethics,
there was no attempt to combat them. To combat the
pernicious is always set down by the pernicious as a
recalcitrancy, a portinacit}^ an indiscretion. And as a
blunder is worse than a crime, as some people think,
so Mr. Mowbray determined to be discreet,and let his
superior's philosophy pass without a challenge. To
fail to sell goods was an evil, at least from the stand-
point of Macpherson McLean & Co., but Mr. Robert
Mowbray continued to think that it was not such an
evil as to utter a falsehood, notwithstanding the homily
of Mr. Edward Constance, the junior partner of the
firm. The confidential clerk took bis conge from the
junior partner with as gracious a smile as it was given.
There was no ill blood between them. They were wil-

THE TRUTH O'T.

2(J1

ling- to live and let live — to look at things from differ-
ent standpoints, and when two men come to snch an
agreement ,nnderstood or expressed, there is no serious
tlireatening of a quarrel between them.

Nor had there been any serious threatening of a
finarrel between Mr. Edward Constance and Mr.
Robert Mowbray. The former was magnanimous
enough to feel no jealousy of the seemingly coming-
junior partner. There was friendship between them,
though their plans of life were different. " Give that
you may take," as Mr. Constance's idea of life, was
an abyss apart from Mr. Robert Mowbray's first prin-
ciple, " Take that you may give."

The conversation between the junior partner and
the confidential clerk had taken place in the counting-
house. The conge was satisfactory enough. Robert
Mowbray might work out his first principles on the
floors of the warehouse of Macpherson McLean &
Co. with success yet, if there should arise no more of
an interference than there had been on the part of Mr.
Constance, the junior partner.

But Robert Mowbray had hardly got beyond the
door of the counting-house, taking his leave of the
presence of Mr. Edward Constance, when Mr. Mac-
pherson McLean himself, with a flushed countenance
and a devouring flame in his eyes, rushed past him,
exclaiming in subdued angry tones :

" Mowbray, I want to speak with you in the office."

" Do you want to see me immediately, sir ?"

" Yes, I shall send for you."

The contradiction in Mr. McLean's exclamation was
verified by the fifteen minutes which elapsed before

r (■!

, 1 »tl

262

TFIE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALK

Robert Mcnvbray was called to face the lion in his clcn
' — a space of time retjiiired by the head of the tirni to
tell his partners what had made him angry, and to hear
from Mr. Constance some of the irregularities that
had distinguished Air. Mowbray's conduct during the
day.

" What the deuce can be the matter with the imbe-
cile ?" exclaimed Mr. Macpherson McLean, as if he
would not have been put out, had he used a hundred
words beginning with a ' d.' " He has always been
the very best of young fellows. What has come over
him ?"

"The thing is beyond my comprehension," said the
eldest of the partners. " I hae always had the highest
opinion o' Robert Mowbray."

" The man is evidently possessed," said the next of
the partners. " He doesnae seem to know the differ-
ence between what is right and what is wrang in busi-
ness."

Then it was that Robert was called in to face the
firm, the whole firm, and nothing but the firm. Will
he now speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing
but the truth ? This we have to see.

" What ill-will have you against the Commercial
Bank, may I ask ?" half shouted Mr. Macpherson Mc-
Lean, as Robert entered the sanctum sanctorum of the
firm, in which there were seated the three partners.

" I have no ill-will against the Commercial Bank,"
answered Robert, with a faltering quaver in his words,
arising, no doubt, from the suddenness of the senior's
manner.

" Are you sure of that ?"

THE TRUTH o't.

263

"I am."

" Then wliat has led you to influence some of our
stockholders against it ?"

Yes, Mr. Mowbray, you had better pause before
answering that question. You know you have influ-
enced at least one of the stockholders against the bank ;
in a word, you have asked her to withdraw her con-
fidence from it. ■

" Perhaps you will oljlige me, Mr. McLean, by being
a little more explicit in your charge," said Robert,

" Do you mean to say, you don't understand me ?"

" I mean to say that I only understand you in part,"

" Oh, ho ! You wish to prevaricate, do you ? And
yet they tell me you have made up your mind to shun
for ever the ways of us ordinary evil-doers in that
respect."

This was too much, too much even for a man who
knew what disgrace there was in being dismissed from
his firm — too much to be accused of breaking a vow
which he had determined to keep, and then to have
the principle of that vow ridiculed in his presence.

" I hope I was not called upon to come here to be
insulted," said Robert, l)urning with indignation,

" No, but you have been brought here to be dis-
missed," said Mr. McLean, boiling over with rage.
"And the sooner you leave our service, the better it
will be for all concerned."

Then Mr. Robert Mowbray's fortitude asserted it-
self just as it had in the morning with the Clays.

" Do you mean to make no further explanations of
your conduct towards me than that ?" and he looked
into his master's eye with the calmness of an equal.

h '111

204

TIIK CIIKONrCLKS Ol' KARTDAfJ-:

( :■ I-

" 1 mean to say that ){)ii liavc hctia) cd our iiitcic-^ts,
You have told people to have no confidence in the
1)ank of which I am a director."

" T have spoken nothing but the trutli in anything
I have said to anyone about the Connnercial liank
to-day. besides, I am no employee of the bank.
How then can I have betrayed its interests ? "

" Your employer's interests are surely your interests,
and to speak ill of them is certainly to betray them."

"Am I to have no opinion of my own; no advice
to give where my friends are concerned ? Is every-
thing in the shape of conscience to 1)e sacrificed for
profit in trade ?"

" See here, young man," andMr. McLean's eye glared
as li" raised his finger and pointed it in his confiden-
tial clerk's' face ; '* this is no place for such an exhil)i-
ticn of what, it is possi1)le, you call to your friends,
great independence of spirit. Your independence of
spirit is on the fair way, as far as I can hear, of devel-
oping into whati may need a strait jacket to sui)prcss.
This is no place for histrionic marvels of self-consci-
ousness. The self-conceited are never very far from
the mad-house or poor-house, and I warn you when
you depart from these premises, to keep your con-
science free from all offence towards what you know
nodiiiig about."

" You mean the Connnercial Bank, I suppose ?"
asked Robert, in no way abashed by the swelling veins
on Mr. McLean's forehead or his bloodshot eyes.

"Yes, sir, I mean the Commercial Bank."

"Then you had better imprison Lord Clay."

THE TRUTH O'T.

265

" Lord Clay ! What do you know about Lord
Clay ?"

" I know what he has told ine about the bank."
" And what has he told you about the bank ?" but
there was less of a buniinj^f of thei blood in Mr. Mc-
Lean's face, as lie asked the question, less of the star-
ing of passion out of his eyes. " Do you think the
bank is not safe ?'"

'' Perhaps you will excuse me, sir, from answering
that question in your presence,"
" Then you think it isn't safe ?"
Robert was silent.

" Come, sir, do you think the bank is not safe ?"
and Mr. McLean urged his question with retuniing
heat, with an emphasis on every word and a pause after
each of them.

" You desire to have my opinion ?"
"Yes, your candid opinion, if you have one."
" Then I believe the bank is not safe."
"You do, do you ? You believe, you, Master Robert
Mowbray, late of the firm of Macpherson McLean &
Co., believe that the Commercial Bank of Glasgow,
in which you have neither deposit nor stock, is in diffi-
culties; and havq been engaged in disseminating that
belief all over the city, and urging people to make a
run on it. Why, your belief is as disgraceful as your
conduct, and I have now only to say that you are dis-
charged from your engagement with us. Yes, sir,
you may go, and go immediately. You are dismissed
from the service of Macpherson McLean & Co. Go,

I'!

sir.

CHAPTER XIV.

(I ,■ 1

How sweet the advice of a (liend, auld wife,

There's never a lee in his say :
He maks nae adoo, be he sol)er or fou,

To tell you what hojies ye may hae, guid wife,

Whcit hopes frae him ye may hae.

The mail who loses liiiiiself in the forest, without
compass or the face of the sun to guide him, keeps
moving on, it is said, all unconsciously in a circle,
until objects become familiar to him in his concentric
])rogress, bringing him to a true knowledge of the
kind of progress he is making. When Ro1)ert Mow-
bn;y left the precincts of his late employer's establish-
ment he was for the moment as belated as the woods-
man moving in a circle — wandering about without
an aim, utterly incapable of determining the necessi-
ties pressing upcjn him. The poor fellow was as near
being crazed for the time being as sane man can be.
His feelings had been so outraged, his actions so mis-
construed, the basis of his very existence so rudely
thrust from under him, that the only faculty left to him
seemed to be the instinct of keeping out of people's
way as he proceeded round this block, and along that
street, through this lane, and that wynd, along Great
Clydel street, past the old jail, and up the Saltmarket,

TlIK TKUTll O'T.

207

without
n, keeps
a circle,
Dncentric
e of the
rt Mow-
tablish-
e woods-
without
nccessi-
as near
can be.
so mis-
o rudely
ft to him
people's
long that
ng Great
Itniarket,

and back again to Argyle street, a stone's throw or so
from the place whence he had set out.

I'^or nearly an hour had he thus wandered around
in the crowded streets, until passing up the High Street
and across one of the links between it and Glassford
Street, and tlience across (ieorge .Square to West Nile
Street, he suddenly came to recognize the facade of
the warehouse of Turner I*>rothers. For a moment
he seemed dazed at the discovery. How mixed were
his feelings now, compared with what they were an
hour before, when he and Grace Glencairn stood on the
same spot ! And yet, should lie not call upon the
man who had been their friend to see if there was
really anything of a providence in him ?

A minute before and his brain had seemed all afire,
with the events of the day tossing one above another,
as a kind of evidence against him for being a man who
was bent on making a fool of himself. The turmoil
within him had been madness itself; but now there
seemed to breathe over that turmoil a restraining some-
thing, that brought back his faculties to their normal
functions, leading him to lay aside the record that had
l)een heaping itself up against him throughout the
day, with a ''qui bono" or what does it. matter, and
fortifying him- to assert his manhood in his struggle
with life. Passing beyond Mr. Turner's door, to re-
assure himself before entering, he found himself all but
laughing at his crowding misfortunes, in the soliloquy
of a light-hearted philosophy.

" The proof of the pudding is the preeing of it," said
he to himself before turning in to take counsel with
his friend, "is a proverb that hardly holds good, I'm

2G8

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

afraid, in this matter of speaking the truth, or else the
minister is wrong about its being the best policy.
There will have to be more than the mere proeing of
it, as I have certainly done this r.iorning, to prove that
it is even a good policy. At least the mouthful that
has been mine this morning, has been bitter enough.
"S'et, after all, what is the use of crying over spilled
milk ? Tiiere seems to be something sweet hi the
spirit of martyrdom, soi.iething that won't let a man
give in to the conventionality of tiiis very conventional
life of ours. liesides, wlio is there to help her, if I
don't do it," and by the word "lier" Robert Mowbray
could hardly have meant the spirit of martyrdom that
had come to his rescue now.

" I have been guilty of no wrong-doing, whatever
they may say about me, and I shall certainly not budge
from the path of duty for the best, or even for the
worst of them. The speaking of the truth has been
so far perhaps anything but pleasant ; but it has
brought no remorse of mihchief-making or wrong-doing
in its wake, and why should I be ashamed of what has
happened to me ? ITow many men have endured
more for the sake of — well, what is there for anyone to
laugh at, while doing a good turn to — one's ncighl)or."

With thoughts such as the above, although not ex-
pressed in these words, perhaps, for he was only speak-
ing to himself, Robert turned into Mr. Turner's ware-
house, and was fortunate in finding that merchant dis-
engaged. There was no one but himself in the inner
office which had his name on the door.

The usual greetings over, Mr. Turner rushed into
the midst of bank affairs without bidding.

TIiK TRUTH O'l

2G9

11 jj^ of

" I do not think there will be any serious run upon
the bank l)y the populace for a day or two, though I
am told it had to pay out quite a large amount in gold
in the forenoon. Oh, you did, did you, see the be-
ginning of the thing yourself. Well, between our-
selves, Mowbray, the failure of the Connnercial Bank
will not be a very serious misfortune to us — not so
serious, at least, as it will certainly be to the firm of
Macpherson McLean & Co. What's that ? They
have dismissed you? How did that come about?
Well, well, that beats everything ; the man must be' a
fool. The bank people must have been exercised, I
fear, over Miss Glencairn's application ; yet McLean
needn't have poured out his spleen upon you. You
only advised her for her own interest, as I would have
done myself. But she won't lose her money for all
that, Mowbray, take my word for it. How much
stock has she ? About ten thousand pounds ? Well,
you wing yoi:r way to her as fast as train will carry
you, and bid her get ready all her papers by the morn-
ing. Let her present her stock certificates to the
manager, the first thing in the morning, and if he fails
to come to terms, then both of you may come to me.
If he fails to come to terms, then the bank is by his
ov.'H confession on the brink of ruin, and it is neither
your fault nor ours if the people demand their own.
You say the girl is an orphan. Let us hope that,
should her children ever become orphans, which God
forbid," and th^ie was a smile full of meaning, per-
haps of irony' in Mr. Turner's face as he looked away
from Robert for tlie moment, "let us hope they will
not be orphans unprovided for. It ij, perhaps, out

Ill I

ih,

270

Tilt CHRONICLES OF KARTDALK.

of ])lace to make sport of an event wliicli, if it happens,
will be a calamity to the conmiunity, a great calamity
to the community, indeed — a calamity which will afifect
(jur business very materially, though it will not ruin
us, as it will hundreds of others ; but tell Miss Glen-
cairn — that is the young lady's name, I think you said
— that for the sake of Robert jNIowbray I will do my
best to save for her the ten thousand pounds she has
in the/ Commercial Bank."

Hereui)on Robert had to make the necessary expla-
nation to his friend, that since he had last seen him,
when he was good enough to take charge of the gold
of Miss Glencairn's deposit, affairs had advanced a
stage.

" The Commercial Bank people have agreed to buy
-out Miss Glencairn's stock," said he.

" What, they have offered to l3uy her out ?" ex-
'claimed ]\Ir. Turner, by way of reply.

" Yes, I was in the main hall of the bank, when the
manager made the offer to her."

"Ah, ha," said Mr. Turner, "then all is up. The
bank is a dying duck, and no mistake. Are you sure
that the settlement was satisfactorily completed ?"

" Miss Glencairn has told me that she is to return to-
morrow morning, and all will be settled," was all that
Robert could say.

" That is what the manager asked her to do ?"

" Yes."

" In private ?"

" Yes, after she had left the main corridor."

" You did not hear him say so ?"

•' No, I didn'^"

THE TRUTH O'T.

271

ppcns,
ianiity
[ affect
)t ruin
Glen-
DU said
do my
ibe has

expla-
in him,
lie gold
need a

to buy

t?" ex-

rhen the

The
^ou sure
d?"

3turn to-
i all that

o ?

)r.

" Only Miss Glcncairn beard him say so ?"

" She didn't tell me that any other person was
present when he asked her to return next day with the
necessary papers."

'* The manager of the Commercial Bank is a very
smart man, ])ut I am afraid that the days for the exer-
cise of his smartness are about over," said Mr, Turner
rather dryly. " I am afraid you and Miss Glencairn
will have need of the services of P. C. Turner after
all. The wisdom of the serpent is in all the ways of
the Commercial Bank as it runs its affairs at the pres-
ent moment. It is nearly a twelvemonth now since
I first discovered this, and time enough, too, or I would
assuredly have been caught with chaff like the rest (^f
them. Macpherson IMcLean may swagger a bit in
ycur presence, ])ut the end is not far off. He may
save himself, l)Ut I am afraid he will 1)e, more or less,
maimed for life."

" Yet he has been able to make, of me a man out of
employment," said Robert in his quiet way.

" A man needn't cry because he is out of employ-
inenl when he falls heir to ten thousand pounds," shyly
remarked Mr. Turner.

" What's that ?" exclaimed Robert with indignation
in his voice and manner.

" Oh, nothing," said Mr. Providence Turner, " I'll
guarantee you will not be long out of a place. Con-
fidential clerks of your kind are not so easily had.
Why, niiui, I'll provide for you myself, if the worse
comes to the worst."

" No, sir," said he, after taking Ijreath," there is no
need for you to worry over Macpherson McLean's

272

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

vapouring. I stick to my advice. You go home to
Kartdale ; return to-morrow ; get Miss Glencairn's
money matters fairly settled with the Commercial
Bank, and I'll wager you'll never rue the day that you
did what was right in the warehouse of Macpherson
McLean & Co., however the members of that firm
may continue to condenm you."

" Yes, sir," Mr. Turner continued, "if I were you, I
would start for Brigton at once, or Kartdale, or any
other place convenient enough, and see that everything
is ready for presentation to-morrow at the bank, or
here at our place. Get the papers all in hand and we
will do what we can for you, if the manager of the
bank doesn't come to the scratch, as I have every rea-
son to believe he will not. It is a conceited thing to
say, but I am inclined to think that the firm of Turner
Brothers is an institution more to be depended upon
than even the Commercial Bank, or the great firm of
Macpherson McLean & Co. And remember, Mow-
bray, this is no time for you to let the grass grow un-
der your feet. A bank takes a long time to fail, but it
always closes its doors as suddenly as death does the
eyelids."

" You think, then, that the bank is a reed not to be
depended upon ?" said Robert, preparing to leave.

" To think so is at least safer than to think other-
wise.

" But come what may, you will rescue Miss Glen-
caim r

" I will, as far as her bank stock is concerned," and
there was a twinkle in Mr. Turner's eye, whether his
Christian name was Providence or not. " We may

THE TRUTH O'T.

273

3nie 1o
icairn's
niercial
lat you
pherson
lat firm

i you, I

or any
erything
)ank, or
[ and we
r of the
^ery rea-

thing to
•f Turner
led upon
.t firm of
-r, Mow-
grow un-
ail, but it

does the

not to be
leave,
nk other-

liss Glen-

safely depend upon you, I suppose, to rescue her from
all other evils that lie in the way of orphaned females.
Well, well, never mind ; I don't mean anything ; and
you needn't frown at me in a way to frighten the dog
that protects the deil himself. I am with you, what-
ever liappens ; and I will stand by both of you should
tlie skies fall. There, be off with you. Make your
way to Kartdale or Brigton, or whatever the place is
called ; see tcj your friend Miss Glencairn's safety ; get
the papers together, and attack the 1)ank as soon as its
doors are open. I've had enough of you both for
one day. Sulificient unto the day is the evil thereof,
and to-morrow will come soon enough."

rned," and
hether his
"We may

CHAPTER XV.

When the ray-lines o' life still diverge, auld wife,
The reins may rin kind-a-ways free.

But gin they converge, they're soon on the verge
Where the soul's like to hae a boree, guid wife.
Gin the weal frae the woe it would ree.

After leaving Mr. Turner's presence, Robert Mow-
bray had a recurrence of mental experiences which,
while all but overwhelming at the time, he was always
able in after days, as he was accustomed to say, to re-
call without many severe self-upbraidings. Accord-
ing to agreement, he had to meet Miss Glencairn at the
railway station, and, should it be necessary, accompany
that young lady to Brigton. The satchel, with its
burden of gold, had been left, for the time being, in Mr.
Turner's vault, where, as Robert felt, it was as safe as
it would have been in the bank itself, much safer, at
any rate, than in the Commercial Bank ; and in view
of the fact that nothing could be done about the bonds
until the following day, the young lady might possil^ly
raise objections to his going further, for the night,
than Kartdale. The question about the bonds could
be considered, it is true, on the train before the two
of them reached Kartdale, and every preliminary con-
nected with their transfer or sale could thus be under-

THE TRUTH O'T.

27r)

; Mow-
which,
always
r, to re-
\ccord-
n at the
ompany
vvith its
in Mr.
safe as
safer, at
in view
e bonds
possilily
night,
Is Lould
the two
ary con-
e under-

stood and attended to; so that whatever his own wishes
in the matter niig-ht be, he might safely let her go to
Brigton by herself, if she raised any objection to his
proceeding further than his own home.

His own home ! Ah, where was that now ? Was
he not an outcast ? A man without occupation ?
How was he going to face his uncle and aunt with the
brand of Cain upon his forehead — a man ignominously
dismissed from the firm in which he was supposed to
be on the point of becoming a partner ? Well, per-
haps it was not as bad as that. He had done iiotiiing
for which he might blame himself. He had simply
done his duty, and no man need ever be ashamed of
doing that. But how was he going to convince his
uncle, with whom he had had his first great quarrel
that very morning, that he, a favored nephew, was not
a fit person for the penitentiary or the lunatic asylum ?
How was he going to convince even his aunt, the
good, kind, motherly soul, that she had always been
to him ? How was he going to convince his friends
the Lockheads — yes, the Lockheads, and why not —
that he was a man in disgrace, — a man without em-
ployment, with no ostensible means of procuring a
livelihood, with no means of supporting a wife and
family ?

Then, tliere was Willie Turnbull and his bet. Oh,
hang Willie Turnbull and his bet ! Who cared for
that harum-scarum, good-natured fellow as he no
doubt was ? Who cared whether that silly bet of his
was to be lost or won, considering the much more
trying circumstances that had to be thought of ? The
man was a f , well, perhaps not as bad as that, but

W.Vi^.-Wth'JM^i+'^riWii'^'i:

276

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

a phantom tliat no one need worry about in the mean-
time. His fooHsh bet had been the cause of all this
trouble, that is to sa}', one mij^ht have managed better
had his challenge not been made. What, to speak the
truth ? Was Willie Turnbull the cause of the (piarrel
with his uncle, with the Clays, with Macpherson Mc-
Lean ? Oh, come, this is making too nuich of the
little. Better blame the minister. Pictter blame his
sernioiK Ik'tter blame the whole system of falsehood
on which society is upreared. Better be danmed, and
take the l)lame upon one's self. Anything but to
blame Willie Turnbull, the poor simple-minded fel-
low, who would not plan the destruction of his worst
enemy, who could do nothing perhaps to save hisb
warmest friend.

There is the fable, which every child has been de-
lighted to read and which Mr. Robert Mowbray was
never likely to forget, the fable of the lion and the
mouse. If he has for the moment forgotten it the
"lapsus memoriae" is not to be of long duration, for as
he turns into Jamaica Street, who is he to meet, but
the self-same Mr. William Turnbull, all the way from
Kartdale, to warn him of certain occurrences that may
turn out to be even worse for him than the consta1)le
whom the railway guard had laughingly dangled be-
fore him in the morning.

"Yes, Willie Turnbull, for half-a-crown ." a!l but
shouted Robert, as he saw his friend approaching to
meet him on the pavement of the Broomielaw Bridge.

" What the dickens !"

" Yes, what the dickens, you may well say," ex-
claimed Mr. William Turnbull, by way of greeting.

(Mk

THE TRUTH OT

277

ncati-
11 this
better
ak the
[uarrel
n Uc-
of the
me his
sehood
id, and
but to
ted fel-
s worst
ave his

een de-
ray was
and the
a it the
1, for as

X'\ '-'
ay from
lat may
unstable
cfled be-
all but
:hing to
Bridge.

jay," ex-
eeting.

" Is it really you ?"

" Yes, it is really nie," answered Willie.

" TUit what has brouglit you here ?"

' Ah, now you're at it ; now you begin to ask ques-
tions," said Turnbull laughing, though his laugh had
neitlier heartiness nor the usual flippancy about it.

" You had no intention of coming to the city, when
I saw you this morning ?'' exclaimed Robert.

" No, but one has sometimes to change his mind.
Jkisiness, you know, often gives no forewaming, but
has to be looked after all the same."

" Are you going to remain in the city over night ?"
again asked Robert, still wondering what Willie's busi-
ness could be.

" I think I shall have to," was Willie's reply.

" Ah, then we won't bear company with one another
home to Kartdale ?"

"That depends," said Willie.

" On what ?"

" On your decision."

" What, did you come into Glasgow to see me ?"

" I did," said Willie emphatically.

'* To see me ? "

" Yes, to see you."

" For what purpose ?"

" To warn you." '

" To warn me ?"

"Yes, to warn you."

" Why, this becomes interesting. What do you
want to give me warning of, Willie ?"

And Robert Mowbray could not keep out of his

278

THE CIIKONICLKS OF KARTDALE.

manner all signs of suspicion that some other catas-
trophe was al)out to happen to him.

" I want to wai*n you not to go to Kartdale to-night."

" Not to go to Kartdale !"

"No, not to-night, at least."

" Why, what's the matter ?"

" Everything's the matter."

Robert tried to laugh, and then Willie had also to
tr}- to laugh. Indeed, so unnaturally did both of them
laugh that some of the people on the bridge took notice
of them.

" Why, that is serious and no mistake," said Mow-
bray, the first to take the make-believe smile out of
his face.

" Serious enough," said Willie, "and all for the sake
of a poor silly bet, that I never thought anyone would
have really much to worry about. You have been
speaking the truth, Robert Mowbray ?'

" Well, what if I confess my fault, as poor Antonio
had to do, and little blame to him ?" asked the ex-
confidential clerk, though his attempt to make his re-
tort more or less of a joke, was a complete failure.
" Is it an indictable offence to speak the truth ?"

" We needn't recur to that discussion just at the
present moment," answered Turnbull, "we have had
it out on that score already, and when a fitting time
comes round, we may have it out on that score again.
You have no idea how much I have to tell you about
one thing and another, and you have no idea how
much I am exercised over the out-come of that con-
temptible bet of ours. I wish we had never made it;
I do indeed, old man. Things are in a bad way."

'vi*VMn"t»'W'ti»i»"i«!

THK TKUIII o'T.

270

:atas-

ight.-

Iso to
■ them
notice

Mow-
out of

le sake

would

e been

uitonio
le ex-
his re-
failure.

at the
ve harl
le time
e again,
u about
('a how
lat con-
iiade it;

y-"

" Tlieu you still thiiii< the stakes were not high
enough ?" said Robert, contiiuiing to make light of
Willie's mission.

" The stakes are likely to be high and steep enough
for both of us before all is dcjne, or I am nutch mis-
taken. Whether speaking the truth is a lawfully in-
dictable ofTence or not, there are at least two indict-
ments out against you, my dear fellow, and we nuist
find some means of exploding them. There is no
getting over the seriousness of the situation, and we
had l)etter face it seriously,"

Evidently Willie's words had their effect, for Robert
again took die make-l)elieve smile out of his face and
turning to his friend, said with all sincerity : — " I shall
try to make sport of this matter no longer, my dear
Turnbull. A principle is a principle, and I am really
sinning against what has now become, I hope, one of
the first principles of my life, in not meeting you half-
way about my afifairs. The day, I must confess, has
been an eventful one — perhaps to me the most event-
ful one in my life. There has been trouble enougli
and to spare, and, I feel convinced, that you have been
acting the part of a true friend, in coming so far out
of your way to tell me of other things that have been
taking place in Kartdale, since I left it in the morning.
Trouble never conies but in a spate, as every witch-
wife has declared since the world began. The trouble
I have had has, however, not run away with all my
patience. I am prepared to hear all you have to say,
my dear fellow; and if you will only be good enough
to dismiss that serious look from your face, which be-
ing so unusual is to me so comical, I will enter upon

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

*-ilM IIIIM
!" IIIIM i^

12.0

1.8

1.25 1.4

1.6

^ 6" —

►

^>,

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

:^\^

^9)

"q.^

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. 14580

(716) 872-4503

L<?

Q-

:^.

iT^arf?

UiiiaKiWSHBUUiiUM

280

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

any discussion of my affairs you may care to initiate."

" You say there are two indictments against me.
What are these, may I ask ?"

" The constable of Kartdale is after you," said Willie
somewhat sheepishly as if it could hardly be true.

" Yes ? and what is h^ after me for, pray ?"

" For assaulting Lord Clay's sons."

" Did the constable tell you so ?"

" He did, or possibly I wouldn't have been here. I
saw him ten minutes before I left."

" And what is the -second indictnent ?" quietly asked
Robert, whc/ was beginning to think that there was
after all a possibility of his being arrested for speaking
the truth. The law, it seems, could be as relentless
and bh'nd as Macpherson McLean himself.

" You ask for the second indictment ?" asked Turn-
bull.
"If you please."

" But that indictment, if indictment it may be called,
is not as definite as the constable's ; but it is every bit
as annoying. The "vox populi" is after you, Robert
Mowbray. You are in danger of losing every ounce
of your popularity in Kartdale ; the fickleness of the
crowd has been buzzing round your reputation all af-
ternoon."

" My friends in Kartdale think, then, that I ought
not to have given the Clays a thrashing ?"

" Oh, as to that, I don't think many of them do. In
fact they were rather pleased' when they heard of your
pluck."

" Then what have I been doing, worse than punish-
ing a pair of poltroons ?"

THE TRUTH O'T.

281

[ate.
me.

A^ilUe

ire. i

asked
•e was
caking
.entless

I Turn-

i called,

very bit

Robert

ounce

of the

II all af-

I ought

do. In
of your

punish-

" You have been undermining the reputation of one
of our most important institutions. You have been
inducing by your advice a run upon the Commercial
Bank, an institution which very many seem to think
is perfectly safe and sound."

" What, there has been a run on the Kartdale branch
of the Commercial Bank ?"

" There has, my dear fellow ; and the telegram you
sent your uncle it was that did the business."

The two young men looked solenmly in one an-
other's faces ; it was all they could do for a moment
or two.

" The many are in an excited frame of mind," said
Willie, breaking the silence. " There can be no doubt
about that."

" You mean there has been a panic over the affairs
of the bank :"

" I mean that there is a kind of panic against you.
The shareholders and even the depositors are after you
with their tongues."

" For doing the public a good turn ?"

" No, sir, for raising a false report. Indeed, as far
as I know, the rough element of Miner's Brae, and
Dimity Place may be crowding, after factory hours, at
the Kartdale Station, to give you the reception that
will, no doubt, delight their paymasters amazingly."

" Then the telegram to my uncle has become public
property ?"

" Of course it has. Did yci ever know of a tele-
gram so ominous as yours to miss getting into circu-
lation in Kartdale. You may keep the secret sent in
19

,ii* I

282

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

a letter private for a day or two, but a telegram of such
import as yours becomes public property at once."
" Do you know if my uncle lifted his money ?"
" I believe he did. But I am not sure that even he
thinks well of your advice. The whole town is up in
arms against you. Indeed the only excuse that can
be ofifered in your behalf is that something has gone
wrong in your upper story. No, my dear Robert,
there's no need for you to look at me like that. I
know better than that, though your uncle has told me
and some other people besides that you really had a
severe headache in the morning before you left for the
city."

" Ha, ha" laughed the young man, " your prophecy
is near its repetition, and my affairs are certainly be-
tween the deil and the deep sea, or, whst is all but
equivalent, between the constable and an asylum
keeper. What do you think I had better do ?"

" I think you had better stay over in Glasgow for
the night," answered Turnbull, " and we can take time
to put our heads together about the matter. I must
give you the particulars of the whole affair."

" But I must go on to the station at least," said
Robert, with a pleasanter tone in his voice.

" To Kartdale station ?"

" Oh no, to the Glasgow station."

" Then you expect to meet some one else from
Kartdale with news for you ? Swift and many are the
feet of those that bear evil tidings."

" Well, no, I do not expect anyone from Kartdale
One messenger of evil tidings is enough for the
moment."

of such
ince.
?"

even he
LS up in
;hat can
as gone

Robert,
aiat. 1

told me
ly had a
[t for the

prophecy
Lainly be-
is all but
I asylum

isgow for
take time
I must

^ast," said

THE TRUTH O'T.

283

Si ''

else from
ny are the

Kartdale
for the

" Then why need you go to the station ? Let us
sojourn to the Globe, and talk over this whole matter.
I have ever so much to tell you."

"But I must go to the station," said Robert, em-
phatically.

"You must?"

" Yes, I have to see a young lady — that is, I have to
meet Miss Glcncairn before she leaves for Brigton."

" Miss Grace (ilencairn ?" exclaimed Willie, as he
seemed to fall back upon that pianissimo breathing of
his, between! his curving lips, as a safety valve.

He inmiediately checked the subdued irreverence,
however, when he saw that this was no more a laugh-
ing matter than his own tidings.

" There is a whole story to tell about this appoint-
ment of mine with Miss Glencairn," said Robert, "and
I must take my time to tell it. Meantime we must
make haste, if we would be there before- the train
starts."

Then the two young men strode along the street,
not without caroming at times ofif the stream of those
whom they met.

At last Willie called a halt, just as they were enter-
ing on the street on the other side of the bridge.

" There is really no need for me to be present at this
conference," said he. 4

" Well no/' said Robert, with hesitation, " there is
really no need for you to — to — T ♦

" To make an ass of myself by interrupting two
young — two people who have a business engagement.
There, that's enough. Hurry on by yourself, Robert
Mowbray, and I will wait for you at the main entrance

284

THE CHRONICLKS OK KARTDALE,

of the railway station."

"But I may have to go on."

" To Kartdale ?"

"Yes, to Kartdale or further."

" My dear sir, you must do nothing of the kind,
unless you want me to think, as others are beginning
to think, that you have really gone crazy."

" What others are thinking that :"

" Oh, never mind," said Willie. " As I have inform-
ed you, I have lots to tell you by the time you come
back. There will be plenty of time to give you full
particulars when you return. Meanwhile, I must ad-
vise you not to think of going out to Kartdale to-ni7"ht.
You must not go, remember that. So, there, hurry
up ; I will be at the railway stairway by the time you,
have seen Miss Glencaim."

It is necessary to say that when Robert Mowbray
disappeared, the pianissimo of Mr. William Tumbull
became more or less of a double forte ?

" That's how the wind is blowing, is it ?" said he,
muttering, as he went along, very much to the amuse-
ment of one or two of the people who happened to
look up into his face as he passed them. " But surely
not. I know there was a romance in that direction
once upon a time, but it was a romance of the unat-
tainable, at least, so Robert always seemed to think.
Can there possibly be anything in this meeting that
may bring into view the romance of the attainable ?
Why, there is that charming little woman, Fanny
Lockhead — well, I am sure nobody ever heard it from
me, nor knew it from me, nor even suspected me of
having — of having — well, never mind, — Robert Mow-

THE TRUTH O'T.

285

; kind,
ginning

inform-
u come
^ou h\\\
lUst ad-
;o-ni<rlit.
e, hurry
ime you.

/lowbray ••
fTumbull

said he,
e amuse-
pened to
ut surely
direction
the unat-
o think,
ting that
tainable ?
n, Fanny
rd it from
;ed me of
,ert Mow-

bray, at any rate, has never had an inkHng of it, and
never will, unless the romance of the unattainable
should happen to take a turn in my favour. Ah, Mr.
Robert Mowbray, my dear young man, you must be
beginning to feel by this time, I'm thinking, that
speaking the truth has its consequences — consequences
that arc not to be laughed at when the truth is nothing
but the whole truth. I have not had the whole truth
of the dav's operations from you yet, but what with
the constable at your heels, and the threatening hub-
bub in Kartdale buzzing about that telegram of yours,
I'm afraid you've brought a bee's byke about your
ears I hope the law of compensation will be in force
before the morn's morning in your behalf, or things
may be anything but pleasant for both of us."

'* The man who makes a study of the many screws
that are seemingly loose in the machinery of this
sciciai sy.stem of ours is more than likely to have his
time pretty well taken up, and the man who, like Rob-
ert Mowbray, thinks to make an example of himself
in tlie face of the whirring produced by the loosening
of the screws, had better be more comfortably em-
ployed. There, that will do as a summing up that is
ready for the printer off-hand. I had better wait to
hear what others have to think about the matter, be-
fore I waste my breath further on what neither I, nor
anybody else, I'm afraid, can understand, unless it
be our friend Jeames, who is ahv's ready with his
explanations. Exactly sae."

In the meantime, while Mr. Turnbull continued in
some such train of thought, near the entrance to the
railway station, his friend, Robert Mowbray, was in

utanite

286

THE CHRONICLES OF KAKTDALE.

the midst of his explanations to Miss Glencairn. He
ventured even to tell her what he had just heard from
his friend about the fracas in Kartdale, before inform-
ing her that it was his intention to remain in the c:ty
over night.

" And all this has happened to you through me, Mr.
Mowbray," said the young lady, when a pause in the
narrative came.

" I hardly think you can assume the whole responsi-
bility, if any of it," said Robert, making an effort to
laugh at the seriousness of the situation,, as he had
with Mr. Tunibull. " We can't expect to have every-
thing our own way in this world, you know. Miss
Glencairn."

" But are you the only one to suffer ? I cannot tell
how I am to show my gratitude to you for all you
have done for me to-day. I have been saved from
ruin, but only to see you ruined," and as she spoke
with a full sympathy in her tones she held out her
hand to him.

Robert took her hand, and while gently pressing it,
hardly knew what to say. Then, looking up, he saw
a gathering tear.

" Things at their worst are sure to mend," said he,
" And we must not look too much on the dark side of
things. Perhaps by to-morrow I shall be able to run
out to Brigton and give you a more favourable report
of your affairs."

'* Of our affairs, I think you had better say," she
interrupted, though the interruption brought a blush
to her fair face, and something of the kind to Robert's.

THE TRUTH O'T.

287

|i|

. He

from
I form-
ic c.^ty

e, Mr.
in the

iponsi-
fort to
le had
every-
r, Miss

not tell
all yon
d from
; spoke
3Ut her

ssing it,
he saw

said he.
side of
to run
renort

ly," she
a blush
Robert's.

" Do you think Macpherson McLean is likely to be
relentless ?"

" He may please himself about that," answered the
young man very quietly. " If his mind is made up,
so is mine, though he may not be aware of it. His
reward is not likely to be as great as mine, whatever
happens," and with these somewhat enigmatical words,
he led the young lady to one of the first-class car-
riages

The last bell rang.

" Good-bye, Mr. Mowbray," and again she held out
her hand.

" Good-bye, Miss Glencairn."

" T may expect you at Brigton to-morrow morning,
then ?"

" You may expect either myself or a telegram."

" I think if I were you I would gang mysel'," said
to himself the little kind-hearted guard, who had be-
friended Robert in the morning, and who now shut
the door and gave the signal for the train to start.

"I think so too," said Mr. William Turnbull, also
to himself, as he stood near his friend watching the
train depart,

tk<

JOH

CHAPTER XVI.

A friend in our need is a friend, auld wife,

Humble or proud though we be :
A mousie can nibble the strands o' a quibble.

And send a' our doubts up a tree, guid wife,

Our doubts and oursels up a tree.

The pawkiness of the guard's exclamation, though
not altogether inaudible, was altogether lost upon Mr.
Mowl)ray. Indeed, so engrossed was that young man
with the starting of the train and the passing away of
the railway carriage window, that was to him a setting
or frame-work within which shone the loveliest of
faces, that he did not notice his friend Turnbull stand-
ing near by, trying? to read for himself the romance of
the unattainable, in the light, perhaps, of his own sub-
jectivities. And not a word was said, when Robert
turned round to find himself, not without surprise, in
the presence of his friend — at least, not a word was
said that would lead in any way to immediate expla-
nations. Indeed, neither of the young men were at
all anxious at that moment to enter upon explanations
that were likely to interlink their thoughts and feel-
ings in a way that seemed all but sacrilege to speak
about. Men are always more or less inclined to turn
back^ even before they reach the threshold of a niys-

THE TRUTH O'T.

289

though
pon Mr.
ing man
away of
a setting
chest of
lU stand-
nance of
)wn sub-
Robert
prise, in
ord was
te expla-
were at
anations
nd feel-
to speak
to turn
f a mys-

tery; while there are few who do not feel more or less
alarmed in the presence of what can only be supposed
for the moment to be the solution of the mystery.

It nuist not be supposed, however, that, as the two
young men tlireaded their way bacl< to tlie Cilobe
Hotel, they continued for long to walk side by side in
silence. Such a course they both no doubt felt would
tend to make this mystery of theirs all the more mys-
terious, until perhaps he from whom the explanations
should come, would fail to find the courage to keep
his word, in making known to the other how he came
to have an appointment with Miss Glencairn at the
railway station. Mr. William Turnbull had known for
months that Mr. Robert Mowbray was engaged to
Miss Fannie Lockhead, and now he had just verified
a surmise of his that this same Robert Mowbray, to
put matters mildly, was deeply interested in the welfare
of another young lady; and as some kind of an expla-
nation from his friend had to be forthcoming, he felt
that it was not for him, or anybody else, to try to force
it. The difficulty in this instance, as in others, that
nuist meet his companion while keeping to the terms
of the bet they had taken, flashed through the mind
of Mr. William Turnbull, as it may have through the
mind of the reader, only, however, to be dismissed with
a half-condoning shrug of the shoulders.

"Speaking the truth be fiddled;" said he to himself.
" The man that attempts it on every occasion is an ass
for his pains. The thing is impossible."

And yet Mr. Turnbull, condoning or self-sacrificing
as his mood no doubt was, felt that his friend had to
come to an explanation, as he no doubt would. Why,

!P'

i . * i;

290

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

[iff

had not he himself voluntarily promised to do so ?

The conversation they indulged in was necessarily
a wry broken one, considering the stream of citizens
they had to strive against, and yet what there was of
it covered pretty well, in a general way, the course of
events in Mr. Robert Mowbray's history within the
twelve hours that had just passed over his head. The
events of years may be represented on the stage in a
couple of hours, and much in the same way this most
remarkable of all Mondays had witnessed a rush of
trials that might well fill a book in their recital. The
shortest day is long enough to bring any man's career
to a standstill; a man need not throw himself into the
^\'atcl to learn that a minute may become a lifetime.

Tiie, extremes of feeling have much the same effect
on the mind that the extremes of weather have on the
temperament, or the extremes of heat and cold on the
body. Indeed, what the physical frame of man can
stand by way of extremes of heat and cold is no more
marvellous than the power of the human soul to sus-
tain its ecjuilibrium when called upon to bear simul-
taneously the terror of abject misery and the exaltation
of the highest ecstacy of joy. Few people believe the
story of the man, who, standing naked within a baker's
oven, remained there until the steak in his hands had
been cooked; and yet there are stories of endurance
as marvellous as that. Nevertheless, the reaction has
to coiiiC, sooner or later; but it has to come; and it
is the reaction that is to be dreaded — the reaction as
it expresses itself on both soul and body.

For a whole day Robert Mowbray had been but as
a shuttlecock, between the extremes of human feeling.
The day's experience had been a memorable one. and

tup: truth o't.

291

if there was a little irrelevancy in his narrative, in his
(jucstions and answers, as he and Willie Turnbull
passed up this street and across another, on their way
to the Globe Hotel, the latter was either too preoccu-
pied in his mind, or too busy with his footsteps among
the crowd, to think that there was anything in his
friend's manner that could not be explained by the in-
conveniences of keeping up a conversation in the jolt-
ing thoroughfare. But when Robert let another cat
out of the bag by referring to his afifair with Macpher-
son McLean, whatever irrelevancy there was in tlie
conduct of the one was speedily transferred lo and
amplified in the conduct of the other. When Turnbull
heard that his friend Robert Mowbray had been dis-
missed from the firm of Macphcrson McLean & Co.
the surpri.S'; started, like an agony, out of every fea-
ture in the man's face.

" What, you dismissed from the firm of Macpherson
McLean & Co. ?" shouted the poor fellow, seizing
hold of Robert's arm and shaking it with a vehemence
that was painful to the owner of the ami, not to men-
tion the amazement it excited in everybody near them
on the street. As Robert was accustomed afterwards
to say, if the poor fellow did not actually swear he
certainly looked like the minister who had it in his
heart to swear, but happily had control enough over
himself not to swear.

" You surely do not mean to tell me, Robert Mow-
bray, that we two — you and I — are on a par at last —
two gentlemen at large with our fortune still to make,
with the world all before us and nothing but a blank
in the rear ?"

i«

1;.,. 'h;

292

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

I . I

" I mean to tell you that I am no longer the con-
fidential clerk of Macpherson McLean & Co.," Robert
replied.

" Then the whole thing is a — a — confounded shame,
that's what I have to say about it — a confounded
^ ime. I suppose this also was an outcome of that
miserable bet of ours, that confounded, foolhardy,
stupid, nonsensical, idiotic suggestion of mine. Why,
everybody knows that this speaking of the truth under
all circumst'^.nces is a confounded impossibility, and
the preaching about it a mere sham — the biggest sham
that ever was promulgated 1)y saint or heathen — the
most laughable of farces ever urged upon mankind.
Why, the keeping of the golden rule itself involves
the most shamefaced lying; and when you say that you
forgive your enemies, you are either lying or your
enemies be/. eve that you are lying, which amounts
very much to the same thing. What, you don't mean
to tell me, Ro1:)ert Mowbray, that you still believe that
speaking the truth is a possi])ility — you with your ex-
perience of the day crowding on you ? Then all I
have to sa^ is, that you are not only merely suspected
of being crazy, but that you are rea^^y crazy, and the
stakes are mine."

" No, sir; things have been too much for you. Yes,
sir, that bet is off, and don't you ever dare to mention
it to me again. Dear me, what a pair of fools we weie
to — at least what a fool I was to challenge you in the
way I did after that sermon last night — and all for the
sake of a dirty pound note or two. Ach, there is no
wonder that a judgment has fallen upon us. Yes,
Robert Mowbray, I am serious about this matter, and

THE TRUTH O'T.

203

he con-
Robert

I shame,
founded
of that
)olhardy,
;. Why,
th under
Uty, and
est shatn
hen— the
mankind,
involves
that you
or your
amounts
3n't mean
iheve that
your ex-
hen all I
suspected
I, and the

rou. Yes,
3 mention
s we were
^ou in the
all for the
lere is no
us. Yes,
latter, and

it is nothing less than a judgment that has fallen upon
us, you may say what you like."

" Well,perhaps I oughtn't to make all the bellowing.
I'm not the man that's gored the worst. Besides, I
haven't lieard all about the Macpherson McLean busi-
ness. I don't know all the facts of the case, and what
I am talking about. 1 1)elieve I am as crazy, as crazy —
I was going to say as crazy as }ourself, Robert, but I
won't. It is not the thing to call any man crazy. The
I'ible says that the man who calls his brother a fool
is in danger of the worst of punishments. I wish
somebody would punish me beforehand, for I believe
I am going a little crazy myself — just a trifle crazy
perhaps; but crazy or not crazy, I certainly feel in a
mood to condcnm all mankind in general as the cra-
ziest of fools, and Mr. Macpherson McLean as one
of the craziest of them. But I musn't do that; no, nor
I won't; there now; at least, not until I have the whole
facts of the case before me, as every cautious man
should have. No, Mr. Robert Mowbray, it's not you
that's crazy; it's me, Willie Turnbull, that's crazy. But
never mind, my man. Let us have the whole story
from you. Here's the Globe at last. Come on, Mac-
dufif, but never mind the rest of it. Come on with me.
I know the way. I have been here before often
enough. We can easily get one of their rooms for the
night, and make arrangements to suit ourselves. As
a distinguished poet has said :

" Hold to your luck, though things should -go amiss,
The rod that makes you wince stoop down and kiss."

And though we are neither going to wince nor humbly
fall down on our knees to do any kissing just yet, we

>:t i«

I'll'

3B9

294

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

may as well hold on to our luck and try to change
it, in the hope that there may be some kissing in it
or all is done. The bet is off, anyhow. That's settled.
This speaking of the truth is the veriest gammon that
was ever preached from pulpit or platform; and we are
not going to waste our time in further discussing it.
As an ethical problem it may illustrate Jcames's per-
fectibilities, but beyond that,, having nothing of the
practil)ilities about it we will drop it as a dead issue.
Just wait a moment and I will be with you in a sec-
ond," and with this the rambling, good-hearted fellow
hastened towards the office of the hotel to make ar-
rangements for the night.

When the young men had been settled in their
room, they continued to talk while the waiter brought
them something to eat. But the conversation be-
came little more of a conversation than a series of
monodies, even after the meal was over. During the
meal Robert gave Willie full particulars of the events
of the day, while Willie tried to produce some merri-
ment over the rush that the Kartdale worthies had
made on the bank when the Fairservice telegram, as
it was *^ver afterwards called, had got wind.

" Our friend of the session-house was hard to hold,"
said he, " when I met him in the crowd that had as-
sembled in the square to discuss the stability of the
bank. It seems that the institution has some of the
Kirk funds in its keeping, and Jeames was evidently
much concerned about their safety."

" I am no gaun to say that there is onything seri-
ously wrang either with the telegram or the institu-
tion until I hear mair about baith o' them," Jeames

THE TRUTH O'T.

295

:hange

r in it

settled

)n that

we are

sing it.

?'s per-
of the

1 issue.

. a sec-
fellow

ake ar-

n their
Drought
ion be-
rries of
ing, the
events
merri-
les had
ram, as

hold,"
lad as-
of the
of the
/idently

ig seri-
institu-
Jeames

is said to have exclaimed, according to Willie's ac-
count, " But nevertheless I think it would be wise
for our treasurer to see to the safety o' the Kirk's
temporalities. There can be nae hairm in withdrawin'
our bits o' funds for a! time at ony rate.

" And whatever the Kirk has done in the matter of
withdrawing its funds from the bank," conti-nied Wil-
lie, " I know that the townsfolk did not wait for
Jeames's shrewd suggestion, but at once made
a rush for the doors of the bank, as soon as the news
spread. There was quite a rush and tumble for a time.
With the crowd within and the crowd without, the
teller had a brisk run for it, while counting out the
gold in shovelfuls. What the end was going to be,
no one could tell, until Jamie Johnstone pushed his
way through the crowi^, vvith a large pocket-book in
his hand, and, shouting to the teller that he wanted
to make a deposit of a thousand pounds, brought
about the reaction, diat has made your name so un-
popular. His example was followed by others, while
many of the depositors before long were found plead-
ing with the teller to take their money back again.
When I came away, things were looking brighter and
brighter for the bank, though bluer and bluer as far
as your reputation is concerned. Had you been there,
my good man, I think you would have taken an oath
instanter, never to use the telegraph wires again."

In this way, Willie Turnbull, with a raciness of
speech all his own, continued to make every effort to
keep up the interest of his friend by a description of
affairs in Kartdale, but instead of arousing him to his
usual conversational activity — for Robert Mowbray

■i

< '1
I 'I

1 I

% :;il

>> '

■s ^

■■: fl

*T~

-."S*:

200

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

was always ready to lake his share of tlie conversation
— it seemed to have the opposite effect of depressing
his spirits. The troubles of the day had not seemed
to press upon him very severelv until now. Indeed,
he had borne up against them wonderfully, as he often
said afterwards. But the reaction had set in, and Wil-
lie Turnbull was not slow to see that the poor fellow
was beginning to contend more with a tr()ul)le within
than with the tr()ul)le about die l)ank or his loss of
employment. These explanations, if explanations were
to l)e made, would not now be long in coming, and
considering Willie's personal anxiety to have them
come, there was some excuse perhaps for his preci-
pitating them.

" It's rather a winchancie thing to make a reformer
of one's self, all of a sudden," said he (juietly, as if
speaking to himself, after a period of silence.

" Don't you mean an informer, Willie '. "

" Well, informer or reformer, I carenae which ; the
1)et of ours, I repeat, was a silly thing in itself, but to
think of taking it in earnest is a thing beyond my com-
prehension, as Jeames would say."

" Still harping on that bet.''

" Oh, never mind the bet; as I have told you already,
that's a thing of the past, never to be mentioned again.
But about this speaking of the truth at all times, you
surely do not now think that it is a practical thing ?"

" I thought you had given that question the ban,
too," said Robert rousing upi a bit. " But if I have
to answer your question, I must say that I certainly do
even now, more than' ever."

" After all you have gone through to-day ?"

THE TRUTH O'T.

297

sation
-essing
;eemed
ndecd,
e often
d Wil-
fellow
withiti
loss of
IS were
iig, and
e them
3 preci-

eformer
iy, as if

11 ; the
but to
nv com-

already,
d again,
nes, you
ing?
the ban,
I have
;ainly do

" Yes, after all that has happened to me, or is likely
to happen to me."

" And, bet or no bet, you intend to persevere in the
course that has brought upon you so many disasters,
within the last twelve hours or so ?"

" There have been worse things happening that I
m.ust answer for, than the disasters you are thinking
of. But, my dear fellow, come what may, I have made
up my mind to continue to speak the truth and only
the truth, as God may give me the power to do so."

"And yet you really now do not feel as if you were,
going crazy," said WilHe, witli the grimmest of smiles
at his own weird joke.

" Well, no, I can hardly say that I feel near that
stage yet," answered Robert, with a smile as grim, if
not as grotesque as Willie's.

" Then," said Turnbull, rising from his chair, "there's
nothing else for it. There is something wrong some-
where. Things are not as they were yesterday, and
there must be some cause for the change. The cause,
then, must be in me, in myself. The fact is, as I
said before, it's me that has gone crazy."

"That may be as you put it," continued Robert in
his quietest manner, "but crazy or not crazy, I am none
the less anxious to ask your advice about a certain
serious matter, yes, about perhaps the most serious of
all matters that can concern mortal men, and one
which, I may tell you, brings me face to face with the
first principle laid down in Mr. Thomson's sermon
which you continue to be so severe upon."

" Sit down and listen to me, like a good fellow."

" A crisis has this day come into my life, and I am
glad you have been good enough to come to Glasgow,

1:1

fi nail .

298

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

to see me to-day, for it seems that here we are as far
from Kartdale as if we were in America, and here I
feel the courage to tell you some things that perhap?
I would not be willing to speak about in Kartdale.
When one has made up his mind to speak the truth,
one must also act the truth, unless he. would wish tc
convict himself of hypocrisy ; and I am afraid that such
a charge is about to be urged against me, both by my-
self and others, unless, through your advice, I can
rescue myself from the dilemma in which I find mv-
self."

" No, I would rather you would not interrupt me
just yet," said Robert, holding up his hand. "This
thing must be considered in a serious mood. I told
you before we went to the railway station, that I had
an explanation to make about that appointment of
mine. Well, the explanation can be reduced to one
word, and never anything was more serious to me. I
love Grace Glencairn, as man never loved woman be-
fore."

And the pent up feelings of the young fellow fairly
took possession of him as he suddenly laid his head
upon his arms on the table, with something like a con-
vulsive throb in every part of his body. The reac-
tion had at last taken full possession of him. Was the
young man really going crazy ?

; as far
here I
;)erhap?
artdale.
e trutlj,
wish tc
lat such
. by my-
2, I can
find my-

rrupt me
" This
I told
nat I had
itment of
pd to one
o me. I
oman be-

low fairly

his head

ike a con-

The reac-

Was the

CHAPTER XVII.

When misery meets with its kind, auld wife,

There's peace in the grip o' its hand :
The mingling o' tears drives the cauld out o' tears,

And brings back the hope that was bann'd, guid wife.

The hope that a douce love had fanned.

The sympathy which Mr. Wilham TiirnbuU extend-
ed towards his friend as he stood over him near the
table, was a sympathy which the most of us are grateful
for in the hour of dire distress — the sympathy of sil-
ence — a friend near by who can enter into the feeling
of our infirmities witnout making a burlesque of our
emotions, by uttering the mock phrases of sympathy.
There is nothing seemingly serious in a young man
falling in love ; at least, very few of the third parties,
when they hear of it, ever do more than laugh over
it, unless it should unhappily involve a "mesalliance."
And those who knew young Turnbull, only from what
the gossips of Kartdale were accustomed to say of
him, would probably have been in no way surprised
had he burst out into one of his fits of flippancy, when
his friend had made his confession. But men are not
always, perhaps never are, what they seem. A weak-
ness is often only the veneer that hides the most ster-
ling qualities. The clown is a buffoon with a rnan
hiding behind the buffoonery. Flippancy, like froth,

Tllli CHRONICLES OK KAKTDALE.

never reaches to the bottom. And in Mr. William
Turnbull there were many sterling characteristics,
which the wise-acres of Kartdale had never thought of
crediting him with, as they continued to shake their
solemn heads over the companionship of the two young
men.

For several minutes Turnbull made no attempt to
disturb his friend. The distress he was witnessing
was too sacred to be burlesqued by any immediate ac-
tion of his. He even turned his head away from it.
A crisis had certainly come into the lives of both of
them.

There had been many confidences between them,
during the years of their companionship, and Willie
knew well enough that it was the manliness of his
friend that had driven him into a seeming weakness.
Robert Mowbray liad promised to marry Fannie Lock-
head, and was in love with Grace Glencairn, and he
knew that it was the integrity of the man that had
forced him to shudder, when brought face to face with
his future.

To the warm-hearted Willie, however, there was a
plot within a plot in this love affair, which his com-
panion was all unconscious of ; and it was from this
knowledge as a vantage ground that he proposed to
throw his sympathy into articulate speech.

" Faint heart never won fair lady," was the expres-
sion that came to his lips, but this he forbore from
uttering.

Indeed, he was not very sure how to find words that
would not give offence to the man who had wittingl\-
or unwittingly revealed to him the holy place of his
soul's worship.

TIIK TUUTII OT.

301

William
ristics,

ight of

e their

young

mpt U)
ncssing-
iiate ac-
from it.
both oi

11 them.
i WiUie
s of his
reakness.
lie Lock-
, and he
that had
face with

re was a
lis coni-

;rom this
:)Osed to

e expres-
ore from

/ords that
wittingly
ice of his

" There arc two sides to evtiy story, said he at last,
laying his hand on Robert's shoukler, "and when a
man has wit enough to seek the idtntificalion of seem-
ing contradictions he often finds a second story that
may be of service to him. It is wonderful how a man's
exi)ericnoe can tell on another man's experience. Yoii
are in trouble, Robert Mowbray, but you are not the
tirst man that has been in trouble. You are in love,
too, but you are not the first man that has loved a
woman. And because you think you cannot now
marry the woman you love as never man loved woman
before, you think your world has come to an end. You
must keep your Vvord with her to whom you have
given your troth. To do anything else would be to
sin against the dictates of your integrity, not to men-
tion your late vow to speak tlie truth and to act it, too.
Now you must not think that I am in this matter, the
flippant, fellow you sometimes have thought me to be.
I know how serious the situation has come to be to
you from your standpoint. There seems to be no pos-
sibility of co-ordination with respect to the two sides
of your story. But have you thought that the situa-
tion may be as serious to me, from my standpoint ?
You perhaps never thought that that harum-scarum
Willie Turnbull could have a love story of his own — a
love story that may be of service to you in your
trouble."

By the time that Turnbull had reached this part of
his monologue, the two young men were standing
with their elbows on the rnantel-piece looking at one
another, with increasing interest.

" Yes, Robert Mowbray, as there is a flavour of the

.S02

THE CHRONICLES OF KAKTDALE.

ninth comniandnient in the air, I may as well make a
clean breast of my trouble, too."

Here Tunil)ull paused for a moment ; but Robert
made.no attempt to si)eak just then, hardly knowing::
how to take his sympathizer's words.

" Can the man be in earnest ?" was the query that
passed through his mind, however.

"You would hardly think that a man like me has
ever been in love, Robin, my man. But I have been,
and am, and that with one of the best of little women
into whose nostrils God has ever breathed the breath
of a wholesome life. There, now, you have the whole
of it," and Mowbray at last saw that his companion
was in as serious a mood as he was himself. One was
hardly ever able to tell, of a certainty, when the good-
hearted fellow was in earnest, the satirical veneer of his
words being ever uppermost.

"Then it is only confidence for confidence," said
Robert.

" Yes, confidence for confidence, if it will be of any
benefit to you," exclaimed Willie. " You have been
worrying over the tact that there are two sides to my
story when you find it to be mixed up with one of the
sides of your story, and when you further find that it
may make short metre of that very side of your story
which has been worrying you."

" Your language gifts, my dear Turnbull, are not
always within my comprehension,' answered Robert,
this time with a returning smile. " You have been
thinking of me as being about to become crazy, and
now you want to send me completely crazy with your
enigmas."

THE TRUTH OT'.

'Mi

lake a

Robert
lowing

that

ine has
e been,
womeii
breath
e whole
ipanion
)ne was
e good-
ir of his

said

of any
ve been

to my
e of the

that it
Lir story

are not
Robert,
ve been
izy, and
th your

" Have I not told you that I am the j^arty tliat's
crazy ?" continued Willie, glad to see his comrade
roused at last.

"Then the stakes are mine," laughed Mowbray.

" But the bet is off ; besides, it wasn't I that took a
vow to speak the tnith."

" No, but while wishing it to be understood that you
are speaking the truth, you maintain that you are at
the same time crazy. If you cannot show that there
is no cause and effect about such a coahtion of circum-
stances, you are in the same box as I am myself."

" And isn't that just what I have been trying to con-
vince you of? Companions in misery are ever the
best of helpmates, are they not ?"

" So that is what you have been driving at ? Two
blacks make a white. I have told you that I love
Grace Glencaim, and you now tell me that you also
are in love. You think to be in love is to be miser-
able."

" No, sir, it is you who think that to be in love is
the height of all misery — a misery far above and be-
yond the loss of all friendships and worldly positions.
In this campaign of yours, in connection with the
speaking of the truth, you have been able to bear up
against every misfortune, but the misfortune of falling
in love."

"You mean the misfortune of loving ^nd yet ."

"Yes, I know what you would say," exclaimed
Willie, " but I have my reasons for not wishing to say
it again. I have often had to listen to your glowing
words in the days of the love v.iat is unattainable, and
I shall again become, I suppose, the most patient of

n04

THK CHRONICLES OF KARTDALli.

m. M

n ^«

listeners in the days to come, when the prospect de-
velops into a story that has only one side to it. Does
it appear to you to be the essence of all that is unsel-
fish, never to mention the name of the young- lady, yon
may possibly be induced to jilt."

" Who dares apply the name of jilt to me ?" and
Robert's face became a flaming fire.

" But you cannot marry two women," said Willie.

" No, sir, of course not."

" Then which of the two young ladies will your lord-
ship be pleased to lead to the altar ?"

" Come, come, you are growing too flippant altoge-
ther," said Robert in a rage, " I thought you said you
were going to be serious."

" And am I not serious ?"

" No, sir, you are not serious."

" Is it not serious enough for me to say that you
cannot marry two women ? "

" I know that as well as you do."

*' Then which will you marry ?"

" I will certainly carry out my pledge to the girl
whom I have promised to marry," answered Robert,
with emphasis on every word.

" I am sorry to hear you say so," said Willie, rue-
fully.

" Why should you be sorry to find that a man of
honor can keep his word ?"

" But you are in love with Miss Glencaim ?"

Roberts said nothing.

" And you would marry Miss Lockhead ?"

"Yes, certainly. But what am I saying? What
am I, an outcast on the face of the earth, saying ?

TlIK TRUTH OT.

305

)ect (Ic-

Docs

s unscl-

Lcly, yoii

?" and

Acinic.

)ur lonl-

t altoge-
said vou

that you

the girl
1 Robert,

illie, riie-

a man of

? What
, saying?

There is not much likelihood of my marrying Miss
LocUiiead, or anybody else, for many days to come."

" That is as ^'lacpherson McLean may possibly now
be thinking."

' That is as I myself am thinking," exclaimed Robert,
hardly knowing what he was saying, in his excited
r ood.

" Then it seems to me you are thinking a pack of
nonsense on both sides of the hedge," said Willie,
" You can't marry the two women, and yet you would
marry, when you are in a position to be married, the
one you are not in love with. There's human integ-
rity for you."

" I never said I did not love — "

" Take care, Robert Mowbray. You surely are not
going to confess that you are in love with two women.
I had some compunction a minute ago, in telling you
the state of my feelings, but, thi nk goodness, I am in
love with only one woman, though you have not had
the friendliness or good-breeding to ask the young
lady's name. But what does it matter ? We poor
shambling sinners have to adorn ourselves with a hu-
manity which "

" My dear fellow, I beg a thousand pardons. How
forgetful our own concerns make us "

" Especially when a man does not know which is
the right woman for him to marry."
" The right woman to marry ?"
" Yes, the right woman for him to marry,"
A new light seemed to come into Robert Mowbray's
eyes. No one is so blind as the person who wont
see, says the proverb. But the proverb might have

30G

THK CHRONICLES OF KAKTDALE.

included among the very blind the man who is in
love.

' Do you mean the right woman from your stand-
point or from mine ?" he asked, with the new light illu-
minating his face.

" From both," answered V/illie.

" Then may I ask, and I hope you will excuse me
for not having done so sooner, who this young lady
of yours is. Do I know, her personally ?"

" Yes, you know her personally ; but I do not think
she is the right woman for you to marry."

Robert looked at Willie steadily for several seconds.
Then he seized his hand.

" Can it be possible that you have been in love with
Fannie Lockhead, and would have married her but for

' Did you ever hear anybody say that but yourself,
Robert Mowbray ?" was all that Willie could answer,
with his e^ es on the ground.

" I never even suspected it until the present moment."

" And probably if you had suspected it a week ago
you would have called me out to mortal combat. Ah,
my dear fellow, the secret has at last passed from' me
to you ; it has not been a secret hard to keep, for no-
body in Kartdale ever could imagine Fannie Lock-
head throwing herself away on such a ne'er-do-weel
as Willie Turnbull, and but for this trouble which I
through my folly, have brought upon you, the* secret
would have died with me. We are both in an evil
plight, andl to »> ise your trouble I have been obliged
to tell you my own."

"You are a noble-hearted fellow, Turnbull," said

THE TRUTH O'T.

;i07

IS in

stand-
:ht illu-

use me
ig lady

>t think

econds.

ve with
but for

ourself,
answer.

Dment."
ek ago
. Ah,
om me
for no-

Lock-
io-weel
^hich I

secret
an evil
Dbliged

said

Robert, who had also to hang his head a little, while
grasping his friend's hand still more warmly.

"Though a citizen of little account," said the other.

"A noble-hearted fellow, sir!"

Then there came a pause.

" Who would ever have thought it ?"

Another long pause. Tlie two young men were
evidently examining themselves, and knew not what
the outcome of their thoughts was likely to be.

" Your friendship, my dear Willie, I will ever prize."

" Then my story has been of some service to you.
If two blacks do not make a white, they may brighten
up things wonderfully. Misery likes company."

" But"

"Yes, I was just waiting for it."

" Waiting for what ?"

"For the big 'BUT' that was to knock all things
to pieces again."

" And have we not always to consider the interest
of others ?"

" Of course we have, and are we not especially en-
joined to consider the interests of those of our own
household, eyen if it be as yet only a household that
is to be?" and Willie tried to excite a laugh at his
own fun.

But Robert did not even smile.

** This thing has not lost its serious phase for me.
Man is certainly a selfish animal, and at this moment
I feel myself to ht the most conceited of his kind. I
only vvish I knew what to do."

" There is, in my opinion, only one thing for both
of us tc do," said Willie.

308

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

" And what is that, pray ?"

"Let us only leave our affairs in the hands of Pro-
vidence, and let matters take their own course. None
of us is likely to be hanged or quartered, at the er\d of
such a line of action. If Grace Glencairn wont have
you because you have been at some time or other — "

" Oh, stop your nonsense, Willie."

"Well, then; if Fannie Lockhcad wont recognize in
me a relevant aspirant for her hand, and never intends
to accept me as her helpmate in life simply because, —
because"

"Well, out with your 'because,' you incorrigible."

" Oh, simply because I never had the cheek to ask
her"

" I think we both have cheek enough and to spare,"
said Robert, " sitting here discussing the fate, of others
as if the whole decision of their lives and loves lay
with us. I feel ashamed of myself. The Turkish
slave-market could hardly exaggerate our conduct."

" But you will follow my advice all the same, will
you not?" said Turnbull.

" To let matters take their course ?"

"Yes, and trust in Providence for the rest."

" I see nothing else for us to do."

" Then, as you are no more to forget the interests
c:f your own household that is, than your own house-
hold that is tc be, I thiidc we had better go out and
send a telegram to your uncle and aunt, that you will
not be home even by the late train. To use your own
words, I am afraid our own concerns make us forget-
ful even of those whom it is the basest of ingratitude
to forget."

of Pro-

Nonc

end of

nt have

)ther — "

jnize in

intends

:ause, —

rigible."
: to ask

' spare,"
»f others
Dves lay
Turkish
duct."
me, will

interests
house-
out and
^ou will
3ur own
forget-
ratitude

CHAPTER XVIII.

Surmises are rife in the town, auld wife,

But wliat need we care though they be :
As lang's we are right, their nebs folk may dight,

And to Jericho's wa's tliey may flee, guid wife.

As lang as our life's no a lee.

Our worl's within an' we mak it oursel," sings a
Kartdale poet, and his philosophy, perhaps, may as per-
tinently refer to a community as to the individual.
What seems to the outsid-"'- to be but a mere ripple
on the surface of village life is often a storm in which
some reputation or other is sure to suffer shipwreck.
The smallest event causes every social string to vibrate,
and the ethical partition between the mere "something
in the wind," and the "most awful scandal you ever
heard," is as thin as is the cerebral dividing-line be-
tween genius and lunacy. To develop the one from
the other, — the scandal that is most scandalous, from
the gentle half-poetic gossip of the street corner or
door-step — is the easiest of processes where the me-
dium of development is so pliable. During the pro-
cess of development the laws of comparison are sus-
pended. For a momentous moment the little becomes
greater than the great. In the twinkling of an in-
sidious rumor the national or international sinks to
insignificance in piesence of the oppidan.

310

THE CHRONICLES OF KAKTDALE.

^W& ft' -' ' 'J t'l

Kartdale's wcirld was a 'World as much as was the
world of any other sequestered community. Its weav-
ers and cotton spinners and machinists took the inter-
est in national and international affairs which the loyal
citizens of like communities usually take. The Prime
Minister and his policy, domestic or foreign, was never
utterly ignored in kirk-yard or market-place. But the
latest speech of the Prime Minister was seldom analyz-
ed with more critical zest that the minister's sermon
or the platform utterances of some village Hampden
or budding lecturer. The tournaments of Westmin-
ster had a never-failing interest on Kartdale's scjuare,
but even when subjected to the most exciting dialectic,
they were never more than matters of secondary im-
portance in the community that had a world of its own
and made it for itself.

The spinning of a story out of one day's occurrences
— a story even longer than this — was no unusual thing
in Kartdale. The physical operations or daily avoca-
tions of men are said to provoke mental apposites ;
and, if this be true, the spinners and weavers of Kart-
dale came honestly by their wonderful rhetoric. In-
deed, their ingenuity in discussing and declaiming was
everywhere as well known as their skill in producing
the finest of West of Scotland yarns. Perhaps the
greatest, if not the only, difference between their phy-
sical and mental experiences lay in the raw material
employed; for if thd gift of prophecy — the gift of let-
ting everybody know what they thought of things —
did come to them incidentally from the nature of their
daily calling, the material out of which they spun their
gossip-yarns had too often little of the tangibility of

THE TRUTH O'T.

311

wool or cotton.. Out of a "mere something in the
wind" a Kartdale gossip-spinner could woave ''the
most awful scandal you ever heard."

In the ambiguity of Robert Mowbray's conduct
there was a seeming meeting of the without and the
within of the Kartdale world. According to the tele-
gram he had sent to his uncle, there was financial ruin
hanging over more than the Kartdale folk, and, natur-
ally enough such a convcgence of interests made the
excitement all the more intense. The theories indulg-
ed in were as numerous as the conjectures that fill
the air when one premier goes out and another comes
in. What was the use of the fool sending a telegram ?
Why did he not take the train to Kartdale, and make
a clean breast of all the outs and ins of the afifair ?
His idea was to save his uncle's deposit, of course ; but
he need not have made fools of so many in Kartdale.
The bank safe ? Why, of course it's safe. Who would
dare to say it isn't safe after what has happened ?

And from the opinionative the shareholders and
customers soon found their way to the ratiocinative.
There was more in this thing than appeared on the
surface. There was in it the wrecking of a bank, and
the man who would wreck a bank was as much a cri-
minal as the man who would wreck a railway train.
The prosperity of a community depenas upon the sta-
bility of its institutions, and the man who would do
these institutions an injury was an offender against
the public interest — an offender almost as bad as the
worst of criminals. There must be a Glasgow wheel-
within-a-wheel working against the parent bank. A
bank, like a man, cannot escape making enemies, and

312

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

some enemy had been at work making use of young
Mowbray as a cat's-paw !

And as far as the ratiocinative and its conclusions
were concerned, the lower grades of the populace soon
found themselves in the current c^ blustering indigna-
tion. What right had that fellow iviowbray to send sic'
a telegram — a telegram that woull play the very
d-d-deuce wi' pay-day ? He was ay; a kind o' a sniv-
eller, anyhow, deil tak' him ! Thae session-house folk
are hardly ever to be trusted. The man is as meek as
Moses on Sunday and yet on a Monday he gangs fair
crazy wi' his whim-whams an' telegrams. It's a'most
time we were gie'n coons like that a taste o' the strap
that gars the youngest o' us girn. Dinnae ye think
sae, Callans o' Kartdale ?

In this development of village gossip into a scandal
of outlawry was to be traced Willie Turnbull's fore-
bodings. The development was of course only a pos-
sible one. Yet there is little of a gulf between a run
on a bank and a riot; and Willie knew, only too well,
what the so-called Callans o' Kartdale v/ere capable
of doing in their emeutes from Miner's Brae or Dimity
Place. He had seen them. in the Tattie riot, the Pawn-
broker's Paiking, and Tanimie Mann's rescue; and if
the excitement over the Commercial Bank could by
any possibility be made a handle of by the com-
panions of such as Souple Tam, everybody might
know that it would not be well for Robert Mowbray.
Therefore it was that Willie determined to start for
Glasgow in the interests of his friend. The bank had
seemingly weathered the storm, and hence it was all
the more necessary to keep Mowbray out of the way,

WMmm

THE TRUTH O'T,

313

in order that the plebiscite, balked of its prey, might
not record its vengeance against him. The dark side
of the question was the safest to contemplate in the
meantime; at least, so the impulsive Willie thought as
he paid for his ticket at the railway station.

But notwithstanding the fright into which the
run on the bank had driven Willie Turnbull
and the people of Kartdale, there were not a
few, who like Jeames of the session-house, stood
by Robert Mowbray. At the worst, the young
man had only been indiscreet, and the commit-
ting of an indiscretion was surely no hanging matter.
Perhaps he had not even been guilty of that much,
as the ultimate fate of the bank might tell. Who was
to say ? Banks were kittle cattle. Better be blate than
blatant. It was one thing to condemn a man, quite
another thing to show your grounds for his condem-
nation. In a word, till people could see how things
are going to turn out, they had better bide a wee.

The solicitude of Mr. Fairservice and his kind-
hearted helpmate was the solicitude of parents, who
were not far from believing that their son was not
doing what he ought to do.

"There is something wrang with our laddie," Mrs.
Fairweather was for ever saying to herself after the
scene of the breakfast-table. And when the telegram
about the bank came, poor old Mrs. Fairservice did
not know what to say,

" Do you think, guidwife, Robert could hae been

himsel' this morning ?" exclaimed the old man as he

and his wife read and re-read the telegram.

" Robert himsel' ?" replied Mrs. Fairservice, "I think
21

314

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

neither o' ye were yoursels when ye were argle-bar-
ghng about thae burgh matters. It's true, the puir
laddie was bothered about his tea, but that headache
o* his explained things, until ye began about the auld
radical and sic' trash, that sent baith o' ye aff the bank
a' flusterin' and fumin' like twa haiveril bantams."

" It may be right enough to ca' your ain man a
bantam, guidwife, but I think you're forgettin' that
plush o' the ministers wife. I wonder wha it was
that flustered and fumed in that maitter ?"

" We're no talkin' either about plush or ministers'
wives jist the noo," returned Robert's aunt. " We are
talkin' about a telegram."

"And what think ye of the laddie's message, guid-
wife ? Do ye think he can be sane to question the
stability o' the Commercial Bank ?"

" Sane or no sane, if I were you, I would tak' his
advice in the meantime. The boy is neither daft nor
stupid, at least I've never kenned him to be sae, and
siller is siller that's no to be thrawn awa.' "

" Your advice is then,that I should draw out a thou-
sand pounds frae the Commercial a' in ae day."

" An' what for no ?"

"The folk'll be speerin' questions."

" Weel then, let them speer."

" But what'll come o' Robert ?"

" O' our Robert ?"

" Yes, o' our Robert, gin the bank should be safe
and sound after a'."

" Oh, he'll tak care o' himsel'. Ne'er ye fear about
that. If Robert is no right, he's no far frae being
right."

THE TRUTH O'T.

315

"Then ye think he's no gaen daft."

" Alexander Fairservice !"

" Yes, ye may 'Alexander Fairservice' as muckle
as ye please, and yet the laddie's conduct is some-
thing I cannae explain except that he has had a whiff
o' the jiff-jaffs."

"The jiff-jaffs; dear me, what's that?"

'Oh, never mind, my lass; Fll lift the siller, come
what may. There's naething tangible to lose by dae-
in' sae, onyvvay; whaitever may befa' tlie puir callan
himsel' as far as the opinion o' the folks o' Kartdale
is concerned. Nae doubt he'll mak himsel' a' right
wi' them by and by. Sae, help me on wi' my coat;
Tin aft to the bank, guidwife, now or never."

Another household that was disturbed over Robert
Mowbray's telegram, as may reasonably be conjec-
tured, was the home of Miss Fanny Farnham. The
ferment that began to show itself in the town after Mr.
Fairservice had withdrawn his thousand pounds,
reached Mr. Lockhead's place of business, which was
near the bank, as quickly as it could reach any part
of the town, and from Mr. Lockhead's shop, as it was
called, to Mr. Lockhead's house, there was always a
ve.y ♦"liiTow gap for news to pass, as Kartdale people
knew. Indeed, as soon after the noonday meal as it
was prudent to go forth, Mrs. and Miss Lockhead were
on their way to call upon Mrs. Fairservice, to find out
all alxiut this telegram Robert had been sending from
Glasgow, and vhich was creating so much excitement
in Kartdale.

" Mr. Turnbull has just called upon us to say that
he vy-as going to Glasgow to see Mr. Mowbray,' said

it
b

-fr-

316

THE CIIRONICLlvS OF KAKTDALE.

k:h

lil

Miss Lockhead to Mrs. Fairservicc, after the usual
conventional greetings were over. " He told me, be-
fore he left, that there was something in Robert's — that
is, in Mr. Mowbray's conduct which he could not very
well understand. He had met him on his way to the
station in the morning, and there was something in
his manner that was unusual. Did you notice anything
of this, this morning, Mrs. Fairservicc ?"

" Well," said the honest old lady, " Robert and his
uncle had a bit o' a spat this morning about thae poli-
tics o' theirs. He had something o' a headache when
he cam down for breakfast, but whether that had ony-
thing to dae wi' the rippit he had wi' his uncle it's
hard to say. Ye mind o' that plush he brought hame
frae Glasgow for you, a week or twa gin; weel him
and me had a callieshangie about that. I threepit
that it was ae price atid he said it was anither. and
sae I couldnae mak him out very weel this morning.
But he gaed awa' to his train a' right. There was
really naething wrang wi' him when he left here for
Glasgow."

" Mr. Tumbull has been telling us," said Mrs. Lock-
head, possibly speaking for her daughter more than
for herself, "about some foolish kind o' a wager he
and Robert hae been haein' about speaking the truth.
The minister's sermon last Sunday night was a very
forcible ane, if ye remember, Mrs. Fairservicc, and it
seems it struck baith o' the young men sae forcibly
that they had a discussion about the maitter when the
kirk scaled, and Robert maintained that it was quite
possible for a man to speak the truth at a' times. May-
be that has had sometbin' to dae wi' this telegram o'
his."

EHia

THK TRUTH O'T.

"1 *T

" I kennae oclit about that," said Robert's aunt.
" But it makes my heart sair to think o' a' that has
come ower the laddie. Dear me, it's awful; and yet what
can ane dae but wait patiently until night comes ?"

And indeed there was really nothing for anybody
in Kartdale to do, nothing that anybody could do by
way of explanation until Robert Mowbray and night
did come. There was a Kartdale fama against him.
a fama that had found its way to the ears of those most
interested in his welfare, and he himself alone could
explain how far such reports had sprung from his
own conduct or from the conduct of others. And so,
like Wellington in his extremity praying for Blucher
or night to come, Mrs. Fairservice and her visitors
could only pray that the night train and Robert him-
self would explain all things satisfactorily.

** Mr. Tumbull was very much exercised over the
afifair when he called," said Miss Lockhead. " He said
he could not rest until he had gone to Glasgow to
find out from Robert — from Mr. Mowbray himself
the cause of all the trouble. What a nice thing it
must be to have a friend like that. I really believe
that Mr. TurnbuU thinks more of Robert than he does
of himself."

But even v/hen night did come there came no further
explanation; for Robert Mowbray, as we know, did
not return to Kartdale by the evening train. And as
Jeames and Robin Drum happened to meet on the
square, the whole story had to be gone over agciin,
though the deliberations of these two worthies, it is
needless lo say, brought no new light to the perplex-
mg subject, unless it was what both Robert and Willie

318

THE ClIKONICLKS OK KARTIMLE.

had said about the minister's sermon in the session-
house on the Sunday evening it had been delivered.

" Man," said Jeames, " it would be a peety if ony-
tliing s1io\i1d come in the way o' Robert Mowbray's
gettin* on in the worl'. I hae aye gaen in to the smed-
dum o' the chiel. As far as I can mak out, he's, aye
been a sensible lad, and if he has made a mistak at
this time about the bank, he'll hae explanations ex-
plicit enough to gie us, tak my word for it. Mind ye,
I'm no saying he has made a mistak. The bank may
be safe or the bank may not be safe, but ae thing I
dae ken. and that is, that Robert Mowbray is safe
enough in his opinion. He has had some sound reason
for sending that telegram."

"And yet some folk think that the young man has
ga'en cracked," said Robin Drum. " They sae that he
and that fellow Turnbull are weel matched."

" An' what dae ye ken beyond what's ordinar' about
Willie Turnbull, may I ask ?" retorted Jeames. " He's
a respectable young man, is he no, and a respectable
adherent o' our kirk, forbye ? What mair can ye ex-
pect that that ?"

"Some folk think that Robert Mowbray is nane the
better o' his company."

"And yet ye say they 're, weel matched. How can
you mak statements o' that kind agree ? The fact is
there's nae mair wrang in the company-keeping o'
Robert Mowbray and Willie Turnbull than there ia in
the company-keeping o' ony ither twa young men in
the parish. The fact is, could we only see the young
men advising wi' ane anither in Glasgow at this mo-

THE TRUTH O'T.

819

the

ment, we would maybe liae a different opinion o' baith
o' them.

" But what about that silly wager o' theirs ? asked
the simple-minded Robin.

" What wager ?"

" Dear me, did ye no hear o' it ?"

" No," replied Jeames.

" Why^ when they left us last night, Willie Turnbull
took a wager wi' Robert Mowbray, at least so I hae
been told, that naebody could speak the truth for a
day at a time without finding himsel' in Gartnavel."

" Took a wager on Sunday night ?"

"Yes, on Sunday night."

"Why, that beats everything," said Jeames, with a
sigh, as if the world was about to come to an end. " If
there was ony young person I could put my trust in
as being a conscientious. God-fearing man, it was
surely in Robert Mowbray. But to mak' a wager on
Sunday night ! Why, the thing is past my compre-
hension. The young man maun really hae gaun
crazy."

"And let me tell you, Jeames, you're no the only
man in the town that says sae," replied Robin Drum.

" Robert Mowbray crazy !" exclaimed the beadle.

"Yes, crazy," returned Robin.

" Weel, weel, that beats a'. There's surely some ex-
planation forbye that. I would maist as ready believe
that a' the folk o' Kartdale had gaen gyte, than that
Robert Mowbray had forgot himsel'."

But when the train on which Robert Mowbray
usually arrived brought no Robert nor Willie Turnbull

320

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

■ 1 1

either, Mr. Fairservice and his wife did not know
what to think.

*' Surely he doesnae mean to stay awa a' nicht," said
the old man. *' He has done sae afore, it is true, but
very seldom indeed. Maybe that Willie Tumbull has
advised him to spend the night wi' him."

Then came the telegram of the evening.

' Guid sakes !" said the uncle, " this telegram busi-
ness is becoming ower muckle for me. Here, wife,
ye had better open this ane for yoursel'. Is the young
man no coming hame ?"

Mrs. Fairservice opened the telegram.

"Will not be home to-night," it said; " do not
worrj. Home to-morrow."

" Sae far, sae guid," sighed Mrs. Fairservice.

" That's sae," corroborated Mr. Fairservice, " a tele-
gram is no aye bad news after a'."

" But what dae ye mak o' it, guidman ?" asked
Robert's aunt.

" Naething," replied her husband.

" And what dae ye mak o'it, guidwife ?"

" Naething," replied she.

" Then we maun jist hae patience," said he.

'' I'm awfu' sorry about that bit o' fuss we had this
morning. The puir chiel wasnae weel enough maybe
to argue wi' me. Then there was that headache o' Ms*
and the bother about ither things. Surely the ycTng
man cannae really hae gone crazy. What would I no
gie to ken whaur he is ! I think I would tak the twal
o'clock train and gang in for him mysel'."

*■ I'm glad he's no a' by himsel' onyway," said Mrs

THE TRUTH O'T.

321

Fair;- ervice, with a tear on her cheek, and something
else in her throat.

" Wha's wi' him ?"

" His friend, WilHe Turnbull."

" How do ye ken that ?"

'* Fannie I .ockhead telt me."

" Ah, then, we may as weel gang to our bed. In fact
there's naething else for us to dae. It's hard, but it
cannae be helped, guidwife ; surely to guidness, naething
I said this morning could hae made the laddie keep
awa frae us the night. Gin I thought sae, I dinnae
ken what I would do to mysel'

1' "

•. • V '' i. ' t"ie'm i

CHAPTER XIX.

a 'Tis baith dour and daftlike, ye say guidwife,

To rin your head up again' folk :
That's to say folk are mad, and ye maun get bad,
Or plant near their nettle a dock, guidwife :
Nor ever let on what's o'clock.

When Robert Mowbray and Willie Tunibull got up
from bed in the Globe Hotel on Tuesday morning, it
was arranged that they should leave Glasgow together
on an early train, the one to go to Brigton and the
other to Kartdale. Robert had to see Mr. Turner
before he left, and as Willie had nothing to do by way
of business of his own, he decided to wait until his
friend was ready to go.

" I shall, of course, have to come back with thei first
train," said Robert, "to see after the transfer of these
bonds.'

"And to mature, — but never mind the rest of it,"
returned Willie. "There's nothing like making a
pleasure of business or a business of pleasure, which
ever you like."

" There's nothing like having a flippant ne'er-do-weel
near by to exercise one's temper," retorted Mowbray.
■" Of all the men I ever knew,, you beat everything."

"Well, well," exclaimed Tumbull; "be off about

THE TRUTH O'T.

323

your business, as Macpherson McLean said to you yes-
terday. Be off, and make the best or the worst of
things. I'll wait until you come back. I have some
internal affairs of my own to settle here," said he, as he
tapped his forehead. " If we are to let matters mature
on their ain account we must be ready for every emer-
gency. Be off with you, then; I know well enough
you'll be no longer than you need be ; and I'm just as
impatient as you can be, to be on the train. An en-
gagement is an engagement whether it is to be broken
or kept. Yours is one to be broken and one to be
kept ; while, mine is only one to be kept. Get out of
this with you."

And Robert Mowbray did get out without further
retort, and had a final interview with his friend, Mr.
Turner. In his haste, he hardly took time to think of
Macpherson ^McLean & Co., as he hurried along
through the streets. In the meantime, there was a
fate for him, outside of the destiny of that firm.

When the two young men arrived at the railway
station, all necessary explanations had been made.
AVhile the one would make his way to Kartdale, and
do his best to give the true version of affairs, the other
would proceed to Brigton, and with or without Miss
Glencairn, return to Glasgow to see to the transfer of
her stock, and the final bestowal of that portmanteau
weighted with gold, and at present lying in the vault
of Turner Brothers.

When the train had started, Robert Mowbray again
became so busy with his own thoughts that he hardly
took time at first to observe those who had taken seats
in the same carriage with him. He could not help not-

324

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

} !

I t

icing, however, when he and his companion, had taken
their places, that every seat was occupied. And this
in itself was something of a disappointment. He had
not used his season ticket, but had taken a passage in
the first-class carriage, in order that he might be alone
with his friend who had a return ticket.

And as the rhythm of the train sounded in his ears,
while he lay back in his luxuriously upholstered arm-
chair, the chapters of his yesterday's experience began
to keep time with the rufify-ti-tufif, ti-tuff, ti-tufif of the
wheels underneath, as they met the hiatus of the rails.

" The whole thing seems to be in a bit of a muddle,
ever since Willie here hasi made that confession of his.
Would it not be better for me to stay over at Kartdale
and tell the little woman herself all about the course
things are likely to take ? She may think she has
the right to hear from me first and foremost ; for
Willie, I am afraid is all but sure to make a mess of
the whole story. Poor little woman ! She knows
nothing of all my troubles. Indeed, I havenae been
to see her for a whole week. It seems to me it would
be just as well for me to stop over at Kartdale and
nla1r^ my peace with' my friends before going further;'

"You'll do nothing of the kind," exclaimed Willie
Turnbull, as if interpreting Robert's thoughts.

" What's that ?"

" Oh, I was only telling my friend here that he need
not cut the cards for me," answered Turnbull, " I'm
not in much of a mood to play cards this morning."

And still the train marked time as it sped over the
rails; and again Robert Mowbray's thoughts kept time
with the rhythm of its rush and rumble.

! Ill

THE TRUTH O T.

325

need
"I'm

r the
time

It was hard to say what was the opuiion abroad
about this engagement of his with Fannie Lockhead.
Dir] the people of Kartdale know anything definite
about it ? Besides, could it really, after all, be con-
sidered in the light of an engagement ? His atten-
tions to her had no doubt been marked; for had he
not been accustomed to escort her from the church
and from places of public entertainment ? Was he
not her accepted lover as recoginzed by others ? Was
he not her accepted lover as recognized by himself ?
As for the attentions he had shown to her, there was
in them perhaps not so much to speak about. But
people would talk And yet why had they not talked
about Willie Turnbull in this connection ? Hadn't he
also shown the young lady attentions ? Was he not
as free and welcome in the Lockhead household as any
accepted lover could be ? And yet, though he was,
who was there in Kartdale that had ever hinted at a
match between hisi friend and Fannie Lockhead ?

And still the train kept time, as it dashed over ihis
culvert or over that bridge, within the twilight of this
subway or woodland, or into the utter darkness of
some Tartarean tunnel.

"And then, there's my aunt; how much she thinks
of Fannie and of her mother, too — of the mother-in-
law that was to be," and the young man could not
but quietly laugh at the thought of his ever having a
mother-in-law. " Why, just to think of the intimacy
there has been between the two families for years back !
Nothing ever happens in the Lockhead's house but my
.aunt is the first to hear of it, and vice versa. If the
aiame of Fannie Lockhead is ever on auntie's lips, my

326

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

*■ ':

fr I

i
. s

^1!

.1 1

own name, they say, is just as often on Mrs. Lock-
head's lips. And then there are the two old men !
When they meet of an evening over their toddy, what
winks and inuendos have passed between them about
the posterity possibilities of the future," — possibiHties
which, may it be said, were as mere suggestions, all but
apoplectic in tlieir effects, notwitlistanding the indigna-
tion with which the ladies always refused toi take them
into consideration.

And still the train kept up the hum of its own re-
currences in sympathy with Robert Mowbray's
thoughts.

Of course the kirk folk would have their own opin-
ion about him and his change of mind, if he should
really be allowed to change his mind. There was
Jeames and the minister and the minister's wife to con-
sider in this matter. He knew well enough that he
had always been in their good books, but how was he
going to keep out of their bad books, if this " change-
ment de sentiment" was allowed to take its course ?
There were queer folk in the * Shaws' and queer folk
in Kilmalcolm, but the queerest of all folk were the
folk of Kartdale kirk; and how was he going to make
his peace with them was a problem that he had not
been able to work out before the train had drawn up at
the second station.

" You havenae been watching the game, I think,"
whispered Robert's companion, just as the train began
to move once more. "The thing is going against
them so badly that I wish I had taken a hand myself."

The occupants of the compartment in which the two
friends had taken passage were four in number, be-

THE TRUTH O'T.

32:

sides themselves. Every seat in the compartment, as
has been said, had thus been taken possession of.
Three of their fellow travellers, to judge from what
they had said of themselves, were going as far as the
southern terminus of the line, where, as everybody
knew, from the flaming advertisements all over the
city and at every way station, the autumn meeting
of the Western Briton's Club was to be held. If their
looks aid not belie them, they were evidently on busi-
ness intent. They had the impress- of "the fancy" on
every feature, from the crowns of their heads to the
soles of their feet — velveteen, corduroys, white hats,
heavy jewellery, and all the rest of the regalia of the
crook of the racing course. The sixth passenger had
taken the remaining seat in the compartment just as
the train had left Glasgow; and though the two citi-
zens of Kartdale at once recognized in him the partner
of Snodgrass, Johnstone & Co., the great thread manu-
facturers of their native town, they were not sufficient-
ly acquainted with the millionaire to give him " the
time of day," or otherwise to show that they knew him.

After ^he train had left the first way-station, the
three sportsmen had become involved in a discussion
over what might be considered the most interesting
of the games that could be played with cards.

"W'y should we bother with discussing w'en we
'ave the means of deciding so near at 'and," exclaimed
the seemingly boldest of the three, as he produced
a pack of cards. "Wat shall it be— w'ist, catch-the-
ten, or euchre ?"

" All right, old fellow," shouted one of his associates.
"Let the documents decide for us. Diamonds, w'ist;

328

THE CHRONICLE.'

KARTDALE.

;r'('i

ill

'earts, catch-the-ten ; clul .-ire; spades, forty-fives."

" Euchre it is !" crie* three as clubs was turned

up by the man who haa produced the cards.

" I suppose you ain't got no hobjections to join us,
sir," said one of them to the Kartdale manufacturer.
" A Httle bit of a turn on the leaflets 'ill wile away the
time afore reaching the place w'ere we 'alt."

The partner of Snodgrass, Johnstone & Co, was
known all over the country-side as a sportsman of the
keenest scent. Some people were not slow to repeat
the legend that the first hundred pounds he had ever
made in his life had been made by cock-fighting, while
everybody in Kartdale knew by heart the stoiy of his
adventures on the race course. There being therefore
no objections to be raised on moral grounds, the game
of euchre was started, and by the time the third sta-
tion had been reached the Kartdale capitalist had be-
come the winnner of ten pounds.

And again the train rushed on its way, hardly afford-
ing time to the little kind-hearted guard to run nimbly
along the footboard and give greeting to young Mow-
bray.

"You're no very guid at choosing your company.
I'm thinking," said he, in a low tone and with that
twinkle in his eye that never seemed to be able to get
out of it. " If I were not in a hurry I might be advis-
ing you again this morning, and that would may-be
ance ower often."

Robert gave the guard greeting in return.

" Ance ower often," said he, " what do you mean ?"

"I mean that, if I were you, I would change my
seat though you had maybe better no dae't till you're

THE TRUTH O'T.

329

past Kartdale," and the little man niade to run away
as if to see after his own business.

" I'm not going to Kartdale this morning," said
Robeit.

" Oh then, that's a' right," and away the guard went,
with a look of satisfaction in his eye.

What tlie understanding was among the three gam-
blers, or how they had come to any agreement, was
known only to themselves. They were on their way to
the races and possibly had allowed the notion to seize
them that nearly everybody on the train was moving
in that direction also ; at least, they had evidently
made up their minds that Mr. Snodgrass was going
the whole way, for when the train began to slacken
speed as it approached Kartdale station, the Kartdale
manufacturer had become the winner of fifteen pounds.
The winning of the money may have arisen from the
prowess of their opponent; but, if this had been rhc
case, the gamblers would no doubt have been as in-
dignant at their fate before reaching Kartdale as they
were when the manufacturer suddenly left the train
as it drew up at the station.

"I must bid you good-day, gentlemen," said he, as
he turned round on leaving the carriage, " I hope you
will have a good time to-morrow. Ta-ta; I have no
doubt you will make it up before you come back."

Willie Turnbull had also to leave, and wishing
Robert, in his usually light-hearted way, the best of
good luck, followed the winner of the gamblers'
money.

Is it necessary to say that the three sports were livid
with passion when they saw that the game was up,

:)30

THE CMKONICLKS OK KARTDALK.

; I; ■ /

:.- V

it: I

and that they had fallen victims to him whom they
had expected to " clear out," as the saying is ? For
a time they were speechless with rage. And when the
train had started and they saw that Robert was the only
one going further, the three of them transfixed him
with a kind of demoniac look, as if the responsibility
of their loss rested on him and not upon themselves.

" The hinfernal scoundrel !" shouted one of the three
of them, shaking his fist at the retreating station. 'Oo
could 'ave imagined he'd not go the 'ole way !" and
the query was followed by a chorus of profanity that
seemed to leave a smell of sulphur in the air.

Robert felt as if it would have been better for him
to have left his seat at Kartdale notwithstanding the
half-and-half warning of the guard. To be alone with
such doubtful characters was to run a greater risk than
to be attacked by Lord Clay's sons.

" Did ye know that gent that 'as jist gone out :"
asked he who seemed to be the leader of the three,
turning to Robert with flashing eyes.

" That's the squib, Ben !" shouted the other two, one
after the other and sometimes together, with a like
murderous look flashing in the same direction. " 'Oo
is the hinfernal thief ? That's the query. Some-
body must know. 'Oo is he ? Wat's his name ?
It's a put up game on us, so 'elp me ; and, if it be, by
all the powers of the 'ere and 'ereafter, we'll 'ave our
revenge on the 'ole gang of them. D'ye think as that
nob there knows all about it ? Ye 'ad better ask 'im,
Ben."

Robert of course kept silent as long as the jumbling
violence of the gamblers among themselves protected

THE TRUTH O T.

him. He continued to look out of the window, as if the
quarrel was all their own. But when the leader, at
the request of the other two, addressed him directly,
he was obliged to turn round to answer, if he would
prevent a row. Bidding his companions keep quiet,
the gambler whom the others called Ben, again de-
manded from him if he knew the gentleman who had
just left the train; and of course Robert, who felt his
vow to speak the truth and nothing but the truth still
pressing upon him more than ever, was not inclined
to make anything but the most straightforward reply.
There was no need for him to reply at all, some one
may say; but would not silence on his part have been
taken up as an instant gage of battle; and, with the
constable possibly even now in his wake, was he not
to be justified in shunning a second breach of ihe
peace so soon after his escapade with the Clays ? He
at least waited long enough to give the gambler time
to put his question for the third time.

"D'ye know the nob that 'as jist left, or are ye
deaf ?"

" You mean the gentleman, I suppose, who has been
playing cards with you ?" said Robert.

The Brigton station was not very far away and in
trying to gain time there could be no infringement
of his vow. • •

"And 'oo the 'ell else d'ye think I'd mean ?" shouted
the gambler, passionately.

"You might possibly have meant my friend, Mr.
Turnbull," answered Robert, still giving the soft an-
swer that is expected to turn away wrath, though no
doubt, like other people, he knew how little it is to

332

TIIK CHRONICLES OK KAKTDALE.

;i ?

■r i

be depended upon when loss of property is the origin
of the vv ath.

" But ye see I don't mean him ; I mean the
t'other," and there was no diminution of rage in the
gambler's sarcastic tones, as the accompanying oaths
indicated.

The sarcasm having in it no query to answer, Robert
was glad of the pause. Would he have to fight for it
again ? Then he thought how pleasant it would be
if his friend the guard would come along and rescue
him, but there did not seem to be grounds for such a
hope with the train rushing along at full speed. The
train was still a ten minutes' run from Brigton, and
ten minutes is a century when affairs are approaching
a crisis.

" I believe he knows the villain as well as I know
you, Ben," shouted the two other gamblers, again
jumbling up their words in a tangle of the most hide-
ous oaths. " Ferret the 'ole thing out of 'im, Ben, or
break every bone in his body."

The expression struck poor Mowbray with the em-
phasis of history repeating itself. Were not these the
very words which one of the Clays had uttered when
he, Robert Mowbray, had been called upon to stand
up against them on the defensive ? And again the
throbbing nerve force of manly indignation tingled
through every muscle in his body.

" Can't ye tell us the name of the scoundrel '00 has
been a-robbing of us ?" agaia exclaimed the one they
had called Ben with another string of sulphurous
terms, as he moved to the seat opposite Mowbray.

" I see no reason why I should not tell you his name.

iiii,;.;,)i-it.i!j;y,;.;().,L.

Cfi'^ii,!,;;!;.

THE TRUTH O'T.

333

if it will do you any good, and if you will only give
me the opportunity," said Robert, just as quietly as
before. " The gentleman's name is Mr. Snodgrass.*'

" And 'oo is 'e for a Snodgrass ?"

" The gentleman that was playing cards with you ?"

The sarcasm was unintentional, as Robert after-
wards said, but it set the three men fairly wild with
rage as they crowded near him.

" But 'oo is he ?" shouted the three of them in a
chorus o' profanity.

" He is a Kartdale manufacturer."

" Oh, 'e i:,, is 'e ?" and they gnashed their teeth at
him. '* And ye knew 'im all along ?"

Robert said he had known Mr. Snodgrass for years.,
and this he did with the air of a man who would wil-
lingly enough shun a fight.

"And ye knew 'e was going to get off at Kartdale,
if that's w'at ye call the place ?"

Robert gained time by saying nothing. If oaths
are made of a cerebral vapor having some of the quali-
ties of steam, it always takes time to let even a little
of it escape, and there was by no means only a little
of it let off in presence of their victim's silence.

"Ye expected 'im to drop off at Kartdale, didn't
ye?"

Robert cooly remarked that it was none of his busi-
ness where Mr. Snodgrass or any other gentleman
got off the train.

" I don't think it wise to interfere with other people's
actions and I'm sure I haven't interfered with yours."

"But ye 'ad a hide?r 'e would get off there ?"

" Well, if I must tell you the whole truth, I can't see

334

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

* '

♦ ,

how I could miss having such an idea. And yet as
Mr. Snodgrass doesn't reside in Kartdale, he might
have been going further, for all I knew."

" That's all in my eye, Billy Jones. Ye knew pretty
well w'ere 'e was agoing to stop, didn't ye now, and
mind ye, no nonsense with me !"

" That's it, Ben ; go for 'im straight," interrupted
his accomplices.

" Didn't ye know all about 'im ?"

" I have already answered you," said Robert.

" And ye never gave us a 'int, never a word ; didn't
ye see 'e was a-robbing us, the hinfernal schemer ?"

" I saw he was winning."

*' And ye never as much as — "

" That's the p'int," interrupted one of the other gam-
blers.

" That's the p'int, Ben," shouted the remaining one.

" I'll bet ye 'e knows more'n he pretends to."

" Look at 'im and if he ain't a deep one, then I know
nothin' about cards."

The man they called B, i, raising his hand as if to
check these interruptions, finished his sentence.

"And ye never gave us the least sign or signal?"

" No, I didn't think it my business to interrupt your
game in any such way."

"Don't believe 'im, Ben."

" 'E's as big a thief as the t'other."

Again the man called Ben raised his hand against
the interruptions of his accomplices before turning
on Robert.

" D'ye know w'at, my fine fellow ? Ye're a very
honest man, with your way of it; but it would serve ye

THE TRUTH O'T.

335

right if we would only make you foot the deficit.
That nob ye call Snodgrass 'as gone ofif with fifteen
pounds of ours; and 'oo's to blame if ye're not; and
'oo's there to refund us if ye're not ? I suppose ye
play euchre ?"

No, Robert didn't play euchre; besides he was going
to leave them at thd next station.

" Then ye 'ad better 'urry up with the dust straight."
" What, do you mean to rob me ?"
"Ye may call it w'at ye like. But we ^.an't afiford
to lose fifteen pound on this 'ere trip, and we mean to
make good our loss, so 'elp me."
" That's the kind o' talk for 'im, Ben."
"There's no make believe 'bout that," and the two
gamblers poured foith a most horrible volley of pro-
fanity, as an endorsation of their fellow-gambler's sug-
gestion.

Robert saw that there was now no hope of escaping
a bodily attack, and braced himself for it.

" Do you know that what you threaten me with is
highway robbery ?"

" Ye may call it w'at ye like. If it be 'ighway rob-
bery, the sooner it's over the better," and, thus saying,
the leader of the ruffians rushed upon Mowbray and,
seizing him by the shoulder with one hand, attempted
to search his inner breast pocket with the other
And soon the melee was general.
Robert managed to throw the first gambler off for
a moment, and felt that he was match enough for him
if the other two were not pressing against him. But
in another instant the fellow called Ben had re-clutched
him, as if to hold him while the others rifled his

336

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

f ' .

'. ■(

■' i

I Si

pockets. With an effort which the Clays could speak
of with experience, Robert, however, managed to turn
his antagonist around and press the ruffian's back
against the door of the compartment, wdth the two
others crowding on them from behind.

" The door, damn you !'' shouted the villain who
was in Robert's embrace, " Stand back, you devils !
The door is giving way." But before the warning
words could take effect the gambler and his victim
had both shot forth from the carriage, with the train
rushing on towards Brigton at the rate of forty miles
an hour. As the bodies rebounded from the roadside
the two gamblers swung beyond the open door, and
with blanched faces saw how their fellow-gambler lay
motionless after the first rebound from the track, w^iile
that of the man they had attacked was thrown off with
a second rebound down the embankment.

Over and over rolled Robert Mowbray's body until
it reached the 'foot of the slope, over and over it rolled
a seeming inanimate mass. A thick cloud shrouded
his senses as soon as the two bodies — his own
and 'the gambler's — had made their first rebound.
Then the cloud seemed to lift a little as he rolled over
and over. As in a horrible dream, he had some idea
of where he was; at least so he used to say. The
retina h?.d no doubt taken a snap impression, like a
super-sensitive photographic plate.

What had happened to him ? Well, that he didn't
know. But where he was he knew perfectly well.
Didn't he know the tields where he had so often joined
in the game of " hounds and hares " with his youthful
playmates ? Didn't he know the burn yonder that ran

f-fT

■

THE TRUTH O'T.

337

through old Fiimerton's fields ? Why, he wasn't more
than a mile from Brigton station. There was the
great iron railway bridge under which he had stood
hundreds of times to hear the train thundering over-
head on its way to and from Glasgow. Yonder was
the old school-house which he had attended while his
mother and he were living in the country. There were
the policies of Frampton Hall and near by the hedge-
rows around the grounds of Middleton Lodge, the
home of Grace Glencaim. Grace Glencairn ! Ah,
if anything is going to happen to him, she will
surely befriend him. She expected him ? Why,
of course she did. iBut why did she expect
him ? Why, why, dear me, why ? and Robert
Mowbray, struggling with this, the most moment-
ous cjuery of his life perhaps, at last seemed to fall
asleep, with his bruised body lying lifeless near the
great culvert of the great railway bridge that spans the
highway between Kartdale and Brigton.

CHAPTER XX.

tiK".'. ■■■ i; i M It
. < f

Ye can preach what ye like, ye say, guidwife,
The best o' men laugh up their sleeve ;

Neither better nor worse, aye keen to rehearse
The story of Adam and Eve, guidwife :
The riggin' o' life and its reeve.

A story generally comes to an end when the hero
dies or is killed; and even when the friends of Mr.
Robert Mowbray learn that he survived the accident
which befell him on his way to Brigton station, they
will have no difficulty in making out what the finale
of such a tale as this is likely to be. As has been said,
this is no romance made up of mere " imagination
woof." The warp of the weaving is substantially his-
toric; and of a Sunday afternoon, some years ago, the
verifications of its incidents could readily enough have
been found within the precincts of the session-house
of Kartdale Kirk, where Jeames, the sexton and his as-
sociates were to be heard discussing the events of the
week as an outcome from the sermon the mmister had
preached on the previous Sunday.

" Man, it is sitnply marvellous," the old man is report-
ed as having said on the occasion ; "it is a' but miracu-
lous to see what a truly orthodox discourse can ac-
complish when addressed to the open-minded o' God's

B^^^^MiHiliillllWiWI

THE TRUTH O'T.

339

ain folk. Just think o' that sermon o' the minister's
last Sunday setting Robert Mowbray to dae what he
has done. How mony o' us, d'ye think, would hae
had the courage to face the deil as he has faced him.
This Icein' o' the times we leeve in is neither mair nor
less than the very squintin' o' the deil's e'e; and ^he
man that can turn his back on the leer that has ruined
sae mony, and face the laughter o' his neebours for
being seeming silly, deserves theJ highest credit we can
gi'e him. What's to be the upshot o' Robert Mow-
bray's truth-telling it is hard for ony o' us to say. Gin
a' stories be true, it's likely to be touch-and-go with
him. They carried him to Middleton's at first, that is
the Glencaim's place, and everything was done for
him that could be done by that bonnie lassie, Grace.
Afore the end o' the week, however, his auntie would
hae him at hame come what would, doctor's word or
nae doctor's word, and sae he is reported as mending.
They say that the thing is likely to gang to his head."

"They also say," remarked one of Jeames's hearers,
" that the thought o' his being at Middleton gaed to
somebody else's head."

" Sae I've heard mysel' as some auld wife's claivers,"
the sexton is said to have answered. " But an auld
wife's claivers are no to be classified wi' the Christian
compassionings o' a' Sunday afternoon. The worldly-
minded may discuss that phase o' the question the
morn's morning, when there's nae boundary line to
hear-say conversations. As for me, a' I can say is
that I fain hope that the young man 'ill soon be round
amang us again. Even though he has lost his place

340

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

-I • ;'

( i

in Glesca, puir man, he hasnae lost his place in the
estimation o' honest men. Exactly sae !"

" The trial of the three rapscallions who attacked
him is likely to be maist interesting," said Robin Drum,
venturing at last to put in his word.

" You mean the twa rapscallions, Mr. Drum," an-
swered Jeames, determined to keep the conversation
in his own hand. " Ane o' the scoundrels was killed
outright, as ye ken; and the ither twa were caught the
same day and ta'en to the county jail. The trial 'ill
be in Glesca, and, as ye say, will nae doubt be interest-
ing reading to the maist o' us. When the thing gets
into the Circuit Court there'll be nae hiding o' much ;
and yet I sometimes think it would be just as werl if
everything didnae come out, as niuckle for thd sake o'
Mr. Snodgrass as for the sake o' the young men them-
selves and their connections."

" What's that !" exclaimed Robin Drum, "D'ye really
ken the robbers, Jeames ?"

'* The robbers ! Wha's speaking about the rob-
bers ?"

" The gamblers, I mean," returned Robin abashed.

" And what about the gamblers ?"

" Werenae ye saying something about the young men
and their connections."

" I was that."

" And ye didnae mean the gamblers ?"

" No, Mr. Drum, ,' didnae mean the gamblers. What
would I mean the gamblers for ? Do you think to
ca' Mr, Snodgrass a gambler ? "

Mr. Robin Drum, who was an employee of the* firm
of Messrs. Snodgrass, Johnstone & Co., of course did

THE TRUTH O'T.

341

not mean to give his own employer a name so ugly as

that of gambler.

" Then what young men were you alluding to ?"
" Wha could I be alluding to but the man that was

nearly killed and his frien' and my frien', Mr. Willie

Turnbull."

" Oh, that's it, is it; no the robbers; no the gamblers,

but the twa rivals."

Robin Dunn was evidently nettled at Jeames's man-
ner towards him.

"Ye may ca' them what ye like, Mr. Drum; if they
hae become rivals, they hae ne'er been aught but the
best o' frien's m my recollection ; and gin what I hae
heard, nae langer gaen than yesterday, be true, they're
just as likely as no to continue frien's to the end o' the
chapter, though we are maybe verging on a kind o'
conversation that's hardly the proper kind o' talk for a
Sabbath afternoon."

Two subsequent scenes sealed the fate of the two
friends who had wagered about the truth; and at last
Willie TumbuU's bet was declared off by both parties.
When Robert Mowbray's convalescence had been as-
sured, the world had gone on apace, b'-^nging the young
man nearer his reward, which was to je found neither
in a prison nor in an asylum. By a process which
need not here be analyzed, the spirit of truth, like some
guardian angel, had seemingly taken charge of the for-
tunes of the four young people, who had for long been
crossing hands in alternate embrace, as if by way of

342

THE CHRONICLES OF KARTDALE.

M..

11' > f\

prophecy that a wedding, if not two, were about to take
place.

What part the guardian angel allowed Willie Turn-
bull to play in the development of the denouement it is
not for anyone to say. If Miss Fannie Lockhead had left
a record of the several interviews which that young
man had with her during the days Robert Mowbray was
lying insensible at Middleton, the steps taken, to pre-
vent the affairs of life for these young people from
going aglee, might have been set forth in this narrative
with some precision. That the said Willie Turnbull
had many whispering interviews of one kind or ano-
ther about his friend's affairs, was borne out by the
fact that everybody in Kartdale knew all the outs and
ins of the case before Robert Mowbray had returned to
consciousness; and how could gossips have been put
in possession of these outs and ins unless by Willie
Turnbull, the only man who, for the time being, knew
of them and could talk of them. Thanks to the good-
hearted fellow, the first interview which Robert had
with Miss Lockhead after his convalescence assumed
less of the ''frightful" than had been contemplated; and
when, weeks after, Willie was able to tell his friend
that Fannie and he had "kissed t- e book across the
water," Robert Mowbray found himself again in pres-
ence of the new heavens and the new earth, with the.
face of Grace Glen cairn looking out upon him from
the shrubbery of Middleton, as he wended his way up
the avenue to visit her for the first time after his sick-
ness. '■'

The Commercial Bank recovered itself for a time,
but in the end had to close its doors, bringing down

THE TRUTH O'T.

343

the firm of Macpherson McLean & Co., and many
others amid the general ruin. With the assistance ot
Mr. Providence Turner, Robert Mowbray was able to
find a secure place for Miss Glencairn's money, and
when he himself had found employment through the
same assistance, iii another of the great firms of the
great city, there came within the horizon of Mr. and
]\Irs. Fairservice the prospect of the best of things for
them and their nephew.

In less than a year after the preaching of the minis-
ter's famous sermon, two weddings took place in the
town of Kartdale, that seemed to bring a good deal of
satisfaction to our friend Jeames, the seer of the ses-
sion-house.

" That is just as it should be," he is said to have de-
clared after the double event had taken place. " They
are a' bairns o' our ain folk, and that is a guid kind o' a
prognostic. There's nae loss and there maun be a
gain. I hae kenn'd them a' since they were born, and
they a' come frae douce folk, and douce folk they'll a'
become, for if Robert Mowbray and Grace Glencairn
be weel matched, Fannie Lockhead and Willie Turn-
bull are belter matched, for what the tane wants the
tither has, and tak' my word for it, Willie 'ill mak' a
guid husband and a worthy citizen, gin a' be said and
done. As for Robert Mowbray and his guidwife, a'
that I hae to say about them is what everybody is say-
ing, ' God bless them !' Exactly sae !"