'What's your will?' said Cecil, as if she did not quite comprehend me; though at the same time. I saw her redden deeply.
Thinking she had misunderstood me, I varied the terms of my question.
Cecil's eyes flashed fire. 'The poor's box!' said she, breathing short from the effort to suppress her indignation, 'Good troth, there's nobody needs even me to the like. The parish, indeed! No, no, we have come to much; but we have no come to that yet:' she paused, and tears rose to her eyes. 'My dear dog[2],' said she, caressing her little boy, 'ye shall want both house and hauld before your mother cast shame upon ye; and your father so far away.'
Confounded at the emotion which I had unwittingly occasioned, I apologised as well as I was able, assuring her that I had not the least intention to offend; and that in my country, persons of the most respectable character accounted it no discredit to accept of parish aid. At last I partly succeeded in pacifying my Highlander. 'To be sure,' said she, 'every place must have its oun fashion, and it may come easy enough to the like of them; but its no' to be thought that people that's come of respected gentles will go to demean themselves and all that belongs them.'
I was acknowledging my mistake, and endeavouring to excuse it upon the plea of a stranger's ignorance, when one of the crowd advanced to inform Cecil that her treasured web was then offering for sale; and, so far as I could understand the barbarous jargon of the speaker, seemed to urge the rightful owner to buy it back. Cecil's answer was rather more intelligible. 'Well, well,' said she, 'if it be ordained, mysel' shall lie in the bare boards; for that pound shall never be broken by me.'
'What pound?' enquired I.
'A note that Jemmy willed to his mother,' answered Cecil; 'and I never had convenience to send her yet.'
She spoke with perfect simplicity, as if wholly unconscious of the generous fidelity which her words implied.
I had so long been accustomed to riches that I could not always remember my poverty. In five minutes I had glided through the crowd, purchased Cecil's treasure, restored it to its owner, and recollected that, without doing her any real service, I had spent what I could ill afford to spare.
The time had been when I could have mistaken this impulse of constitutional good nature for an act of virtue; but I had learnt to bestow that title with more discrimination. I was more embarrassed than delighted by the blessings which Cecil, half in Gaelic, half in English, uttered with great solemnity. 'Is it enough,' asked conscience, 'to humour the prejudices of this poor creature, and leave her real wants unrelieved?'—'But can they,' replied selfishness, 'spare relief to the wants of others, who are themselves upon the brink of want?'—'She is like you, alone in the land of strangers,' whispered sympathy.—'She is the object,' said piety, 'of the same compassion to which you are indebted for life—life in its highest, noblest sense!'—'Is it right,' urged worldly-wisdom, 'to part with your only visible means of subsistence?'—'You have but little to give,' pleaded my better reason; 'seize then the opportunity which converts the mite into a treasure.' The issue of the debate was, that I purchased for poor Cecil the more indispensable articles of her furniture; secured for her a shelter till a milder season might permit her to travel more conveniently; and found my wealth diminished to a sum which, with economy, might support my existence for another week.