‘Ah, but if it is so, that is just an incident in that past career of his which is quite dead and buried now; you see yourself how annoyed he was at your bringing it up against him. Of course, his conduct was inexcusable,’ he hastily added, suddenly remembering doubtless that he was my host, ‘but this vigour of resentment proves to my mind the genuineness of his repentance.’
It was hopeless to argue, so I turned the subject, inwardly resolving that I would leave on the morrow.
After supper that evening I went outside to smoke, and there lingered long, enjoying the soft, luminous northern twilight.
The murmur of the stream in the valley trembled amidst the silence of the night, as of some old monk telling his beads in the solitude of a vast cathedral. Suddenly a discordant singing sounded down the vale. ‘Some roysterer,’ thought I with disgust. ‘I suppose there must have been a wedding or some festivity of that sort.’
The sounds rose and fell fitfully, but grew gradually louder. It was evident someone was coming ‘up the wattor,’ and I waited to see who the disturber of our quiet could be.
The last corner had apparently been turned, for now I could hear the voice distinctly. ‘The protégé again, by Jove!’ I groaned.
I meditated instant flight, but a fit of laughter caught me, and I stayed. Out of the gray twilight a toper lurched up to the gate on which I leant, and, steadying himself, momentarily peered into my face.
‘No malish, little Wool-shack, eh?’ quoth he with a grin. Then, becoming confidential, he leant forward and whispered, ‘Drink ye for a “bar,” turn an’ turn about,’ producing as he spoke a most suspicious-looking black bottle.
‘Look here,’ said I, ‘why did you come to this place?’
‘It’s a free-sh country,’ replied my opposite solemnly, ‘an’ wanderin’s my trade, an’ the wee big bairn upstairs, he’s ta’en a sort o’ woman’s fancy for us. Noo, Wull Blythe’s like his ancient forbears, royal Wull Faa, an’ the lave, an’ he cannot say nae to a woman, though he’ll ne’er tak’ a look frae a man.’