"Ye dinna mind when our faither kept the fire o' devotion burning on sic an altar as I hae this night set up, but I mind it weel; and I mind, mairover, that God's fury is to be poured out on the families that call not on his name; so I hae made up my mind that, come what will, I will daily raise my voice in praise to God, to whom I owe every good thing I possess."
Jeannie, who had often in her hours of trouble turned her thoughts towards God, heartily assented to this arrangement. But Rab said to himself, "What is the need o' sic an ado?" He felt that the breath of piety in his home was a constant rebuke to his wilful course, and it vexed him. Truly, "the way of the transgressor is hard."
But Rab's resentment gradually wore away, and the little household had nearly regained its wonted cheerfulness when, in a few weeks, Rab was again absent.
"I wonder what is keeping Rab," said Jeannie, as they sat down to supper without him. Wullie was as anxious as herself; for when the demon of drink has once entered a household, one never knows at what moment shame, or a worse thing, may come to the door.
As the candle burned low, and the evening was far advanced, Wullie arose and took his bonnet and plaid. "The night is cold, and it is o'er late. I will go and seek Rab. Something has gone wrang, or he would be here."
"He said ye werena to come again," was sobbed out by Jeannie, rather than spoken.
"I canna bide this suspense, and it is my duty to go. We are each our brother's keeper."
It was a still, cold night. The stars shone brightly, and the crusted snow sparkled in the moonlight. Wullie drew his plaid closely about him and strode forth in the direction of Daft Jamie's. He knew by the remark that greeted his ear on the former occasion that his presence was not regarded as desirable, so he slipped in very quietly. There was Mrs. McAllister, who was anxious to shut up for the night, and Rab with his boon companion Donald McPherson. When Wullie entered, Donald was vainly endeavoring to induce Rab to go home.
"Hands off," said Wullie, coming quickly forward; "I'll tak care o' him mysel'. He has had mair o' your care than is gude for him." Then, turning to the landlady and addressing her, he said, "Ye s'ould be mair careful hoo ye deal oot your foul whiskey."