“The Law! The gude Common Law o’ Scotland has the like o’ sic villains as Kinlock by the throat!” he said triumphantly. “He wad hae set the brute at my throat, if he hadna kent it wad put 279 a rope round his ain red neck. I hae got to my Scotch,” he remarked, “and that isna a good sign. I’ll be getting a headache next thing. I’ll awa’ to bed, and to sleep. Monday will be a new day. I’ll mebbe get some light then, on this iniquitous, unprecedented circumstance.”
CHAPTER XI
CHRISTINE MISTRESS OF RULESON COTTAGE
Now, therefore, keep thy sorrow to thyself and bear with a good courage that which hath befallen thee.—Esdras ii, ch. 10, v. 15.
Be not afraid, neither doubt, for God is your guide.—Esdras i, ch. 16, v. 75.
It was a cold winter day at the end of January, and a streak of white rain was flying across the black sea. Christine stood at the window, gazing at her brother’s old boat edging away to windward, under very small canvas. There was a wild carry overhead, out of the northeast, and she was hoping that Norman had noticed the tokens of the sky. Margot saw her look of anxiety, and said: “You needna worry yoursel’, Christine. Norman’s boat is an auld-warld Buckie skiff. They’re the auldest model on a’ our coasts, and they can fend in a sea that would founder a whole fishing fleet.”
“I noticed Norman had lowered his mainsail and hoisted the mizzen in its place, and that he was edging away to windward.”
“Ay, Norman kens what he must do, and he does it. That’s his way. Ye needna fash anent Norman, 281 he’ll tak’ his old Buckie skiff into a gale that yachts wi’ their lockers fu’ o’ prizes wouldna daur to venture.”
“But, Mither dear, there’s a wind from the north blowing in savage gusts, and the black seas tumble wild and high, and send clouds of spindrift to smother the auld boat.”
“Weel, weel! She’ll give to the squalls, and it’s vera near the turn o’ the tide, then the wind will gae down, as the sea rises. The bit storm will tak’ itsel’ off in a heavy mist and a thick smur, nae doubt o’ it.”