People tell us that if you commit a secret to a dweller in the city, and exact pledges of faithfulness, the confidence will be proclaimed on the housetops within twenty-four hours, and yet, that no charge of treachery can be brought against your friend. He has simply succumbed to the conflict between the habit of free trade in speech and the sudden embargo on one article. Secret was engraved on his face and oozed from the skirts of his garments, so that every conversational detective saw at a glance that the man was carrying treasure, and seized it at his will.
When one told a secret thing to his neighbour in Drumtochty, it did not make a ripple on the hearer's face, and it disappeared as into a deep well. “Ay, ay” was absolutely necessary as an assurance of attention, and the farthest expression of surprise did not go beyond, “That wesna chancy.” Whether a Drumrecesses of his mind, no one can tell, but when Jamie Soutar, after an hour's silence, one evening withdrew his pipe and said “Sall” with marked emphasis, it occurred to me that he may have been digesting an event. Perhaps the law of silence was never broken except once, but that was on a royal scale, when William Maclure indirectly let out the romance of Drumsheugh's love to Marget Howe, and afterwards was forgiven by his friend.
Marget had come to visit the doctor about a month before he died, bearing gifts, and after a while their conversation turned to George.
“Dinna speak aboot ma traivellin' tae see ye,” Marget said; “there's no a body in the Glen but is behaddit tae ye, an' a' can never forget what ye did for ma laddie yon lang summer-time.”
“A' did naethin,' an' nae man can dae muckle in that waesome tribble. It aye taks the cleverest laddies an' the bonniest lassies; but a' never hed a heavier hert than when a' saw tochty man ever turned over secrets in the Geordie's face that aifternoon. There's ane fechtin' decline.”
“Ye mak ower little o' yir help, doctor; it wes you 'at savit him frae pain an' keepit his mind clear. Withoot you he cudna workit on tae the end or seen his freends. A' the Glen cam up tae speir for him, and say a cheery word tae their scholar.
“Did a' ever tell ye that Posty wud gang roond a gude half mile oot o' his road gin he hed a letter for Geordie juist tae pit it in his hands himsel? and Posty 's a better man sin then; but wha div ye think wes kindest aifter Domsie an' yersel?”
“Wha wes't?” but Maclure lifted his head, as if he had already heard the name.
“Ay, ye 're richt,” answering the look of his friend, “Drumsheugh it wes, an' a' that simmer he wes sae gentle and thochtfu' the Glen wudna hae kent him in oor gairden.
“Ye've seen him there yersel, but wud ye believe't, he cam three times a week, and never empty-handed. Ae day it wud be some tasty bit frae Muirtown tae gar Geordie eat, another it wud be a buke the laddie had wantit tae buy at College, an' a month afore Geordie left us, if Drumsheugh didna come up ae Saturday wi' a parcel he had gotten a' the way frae London.