He had never made a shilling in his life, he was the gentleman of the family, elected by the family to that position. In his boyhood he had been delicate, and quite unfit for the rough labor of the boats, but as he had developed an extraordinary love for books and learning, the minister had advised his dedication to the service of either the Law or the Gospel. To this proposal the whole household 10 cheerfully, even proudly, agreed. To have an educated man among the Rulesons pleased everyone. They spoke together of the great Scotch chancellors, and the great Scotch clergy, and looked upon Neil Ruleson, by special choice and election, as destined in the future to stand high among Scotland’s clergy or Scotland’s lawyers.
For this end, during eleven years, all had given their share without stint or holdback. That Neil had finally chosen to become a Lord of the Law, and to sit on the Bench, rather than stand in the Pulpit, was a great disappointment to his father, who had stubbornly hoped his son would get the call no man can innocently refuse to answer. His mother and brothers were satisfied. Norman Ruleson had once seen the Lords ride in civic pomp and splendid attire to Edinburgh Parliament House, and he was never weary of describing the majesty of the judges in their wigs and gowns, and the ceremonials that attended every step of the administration of justice.
“And the big salary coming to the judges!” Normany always added—“the salary, and the visible honors arena to be lightlied, or made little o’. Compared wi’ a minister’s stipend, a judge’s salary is stin-pen-dous! And they go wi’ the best i’ the land, and it isna anything o’ a wonder, when a judge is made a lord. There was Lord Chancellor Campbell, born in Fife itsel’, in the vera county town o’ Cupar. I have seen the house next the Bell Inn 11 where he was born, and his feyther was the minister o’ Cupar. About the year 18——”
“You needna fash either us, or yoursel’, Norman, wi’ names and dates; it will be time in plenty, when you can add our lad to the list.”
Margot at this hour was inclined to side with her husband. Margot believed in realities. She saw continually the honorable condition of the Scotch clergy; Norman’s story about the royal state and power of the judges was like something read out of a book. However, now that Neil was in his last year of study, and looking forward to the certificate which would place him among men in such a desirable condition, she would not darken his hopes, nor damp his ardor.
Neil’s classes in the Maraschal college at Aberdeen were just closed, but he was very busy preparing papers for their opening in September. This was to be his final term, and he expected to deliver a valedictory speech. The table in the best room, which he was permitted to occupy as a study, was covered with notes, which he wished copied—with books from which he was anxious to recite—with work of many kinds, which was waiting for Christine’s clear brain and fine penmanship.
It had been waiting an hour and Neil was distinctly angry.
“Mother! Where at all is Christine?” he asked.
“She went to your brither Norman’s cottage. His little lad isna as weel as he should be.”