Now he was not a very good reader, and, what with blindness and spectacles, and poor light, would sometimes lose his place. But it never troubled him, for he always knew the sense of what was coming, and being no idolater of the letter, used the word that first suggested itself, and so recovered his place without pausing. It reminded his sons and daughters of the time when he used to tell them Bible stories as they crowded about his knees; and sounding therefore merely like the substitution of a more familiar word to assist their comprehension, woke no surprise. And even now, the word supplied, being in the vernacular, was rather to the benefit than the disadvantage of his hearers. The word of Christ is spirit and life, and where the heart is aglow, the tongue will follow that spirit and life fearlessly, and will not err.
On this occasion he was reading of our Lord’s cure of the leper; and having read, “put forth his hand,” lost his place, and went straight on without it, from his memory of the facts.
“He put forth his han’—an’ grippit him, and said, Aw wull—be clean.”
After the reading followed a prayer, very solemn and devout. It was then only, when before God, with his wife by his side, and his family around him, that the old man became articulate. He would scarcely have been so then, and would have floundered greatly in the marshes of his mental chaos, but for the stepping-stones of certain theological forms and phrases, which were of endless service to him in that they helped him to utter what in him was far better, and so realise more to himself his own feelings. Those forms and phrases would have shocked any devout Christian who had not been brought up in the same school; but they did him little harm, for he saw only the good that was in them, and indeed did not understand them save in so far as they worded that lifting up of the heart after which he was ever striving.
By the time the prayer was over, Gibbie was fast asleep again. What it all meant he had not an idea; and the sound lulled him—a service often so rendered in lieu of that intended. When he woke next, from the aching of his stripes, the cottage was dark. The old people were fast asleep. A hairy thing lay by his side, which, without the least fear, he examined by palpation, and found to be a dog, whereupon he fell fast asleep again, if possible happier than ever. And while the cottage was thus quiet, the brothers and sisters were still tramping along the moonlight paths of Daurside. They had all set out together, but at one point after another there had been a parting, and now they were on six different roads, each drawing nearer to the labour of the new week.
CHAPTER XXIII.
MORE SCHOOLING.
The first opportunity Donal had, he questioned Fergus as to his share in the ill-usage of Gibbie. Fergus treated the inquiry as an impertinent interference, and mounted his high horse at once. What right had his father’s herd-boy to question him as to his conduct? He put it so to him and in nearly just as many words. Thereupon answered Donal—
“It’s this, ye see, Fergus: ye hae been unco guid to me, an’ I’m mair obligatit till ye nor I can say. But it wad be a scunnerfu’ thing to tak the len’ o’ buiks frae ye, an’ speir quest’ons at ye ’at I canna mak oot mysel’, an’ syne gang awa despisin’ ye i’ my hert for cruelty an’ wrang. What was the cratur punished for? Tell me that. Accordin’ till yer aunt’s ain accoont, he had ta’en naething, an’ had dune naething but guid.”
“Why didn’t he speak up then, and defend himself, and not be so damned obstinate?” returned Fergus. “He wouldn’t open his mouth to tell his name, or where he came from even. I couldn’t get him to utter a single word. As for his punishment, it was by the laird’s orders that Angus MacPholp took the whip to him. I had nothing to do with it.—” Fergus did not consider the punishment he had himself given him as worth mentioning—as indeed, except for honesty’s sake, it was not, beside the other.
“Weel, I’ll be a man some day, an’ Angus ’ll hae to sattle wi’ me!” said Donal through his clenched teeth. “Man, Fergus! the cratur’s as dumb ’s a worum. I dinna believe ’at ever he spak a word in ’s life.”