"What, my ain auld tappit hen!" exclaimed Mr Cupples, with a sudden reaction from the seriousness of his late mood; "Na, na, she shanna gang to the deil till we gang thegither. Eh! but we'll baith hae dry insides or we win frae him again, I doobt. That drouth's an awfu' thing to contemplate. But speyk o' giein' ower the drink! The verra attemp'—an' dinna ye think that I haena made it—aich! What for sud I gang to hell afore my time? The deils themselves compleen o' that. Na, na. Ance ye hae learned to drink, ye canna do wantin' 't. Man, dinna touch 't. For God's sake, for yer mither's sake, for ony sake, dinna lat a drap o' the hell-broth gang ower yer thrapple—or ye're damned like me for ever and ever. It's as guid's signin' awa' yer sowl wi' yer ain han' and yer ain blude."
Mr Cupples lifted his glass, emptied it, and, setting it down on the table with a gesture of hatred, proceeded to fill it yet again.
CHAPTER LXXI.
"I say, Forbes, you keep yourself all to yourself and old Cupples, away there in the new town. Come and take some supper with me to-night. It's my birthday, old boy."
"I don't do much in that way, you know, Gibby."
"Oh yes, I know. You're never jolly but amongst the shell-fish. At least that's what the Venall thinks of you. But for once in a way you might come."
"Well, I don't mind," said Alec, really not caring what came to him or of him, and glad of anything to occupy him with no-thinking. "When shall I come?"
"At seven. We'll have a night of it. To-morrow's Saturday."
It was hardly worth while to go home. He would not dine to-day. He would go and renew his grief by the ever-grieving sea. For his was a young love, and his sorrow was interesting to him: he embalmed his pangs in the amber of his consciousness. So he crossed the links to the desolate sandy shore; there let the sound of the waves enter the portals of his brain and fill all its hollow caves with their moaning; and then wandering back to the old city, stood at length over the keystone of the bridge, and looked down into the dark water below the Gothic arch.
He heard a footstep behind him on the bridge. Looking round he saw Beauchamp. Without reason or object, he walked up to him and barred his way. Beauchamp started, and drew back.