With some difficulty, for it was dark and the streets were ill paved, I betook me down the Vennel, and crossing the river made my way to my lodgings. My sleep was dreamless, and when I awoke in the morning a sparrow was twittering on the sill. I dressed quickly and went downstairs. In the kitchen, I found the old woman sitting at a well-scrubbed deal table. She had a pair of spectacles on her nose, and on the table beside her lay an open Bible. She did not raise her eyes at my approach, but continued to read in a sibilant whisper, keeping time to the words as she pronounced them by beating the air with her open hand. I waited patiently until her devotions were finished.
"A good morning to you, sir. Ha'e ye sleepit weel?" she asked.
"Thank you," I replied, "none better. I am sorry that I interrupted you in your religious duties."
"Oh, ye didna interrupt me," she said; "besides, readin' the Book is no' a releegious duty, it's a releegious privilege. Belike ye dinna ken the difference. Nae doot that comes frae bein' a frien' o' Hector's--Hector that is aye haverin' oot o' the auld heathen poets. If he kent as muckle aboot the psalms o' a guid Presbyterian like Dauvit as he lets on he kens aboot Horace, it wad, I'm thinkin', be a lot better for his sowl, the silly auld gommeril. Wantin' tae mairry a lassie a quarter o' a century younger than himsel'! Thank God she's got some o' the sense o' her mither. She winna ha'e him! Noo, lad, yer parritch is ready and I'll juist dish them for ye."
When my meal was over I entered into conversation with her again.
She had a caustic tongue and a good deal of quiet humour, and she reminded me in some ways of Jean at Daldowie; and with the thought of Daldowie came memories of my lost love. The mellow hand of the years upon them may impart to our sorrows a fragrance that mitigates their pain, but the wound in my heart was still a recent one, ready to bleed at a touch.
Almost unable to restrain myself, I picked up my bonnet and going out crossed the bridge and came down upon the Sands. Along their length was stretched a number of booths, and the Sands themselves were thronged with people. Apparently it was a market day. Leisurely, as I had nothing else to do, I joined the crowd--buirdly, well-clad farmers; robust looking farm-servants; sturdy farm wenches with large baskets of butter and eggs upon their arms.
On the outskirts of the crowd a sailor, with a bronzed face and great rings depending from his ears, was putting a monkey through a series of antics to the amusement of the young men and women who stood around him in open-mouthed amazement.
When I had grown tired of watching him I made my way to the Vennel Port, and then I walked leisurely through the main streets of the old town. When I came to its outskirts, just beside St. Michael's Church, I bought some food and making my way to the river-side I followed its course downwards. By and by I came to some rising ground, and climbing up made my way through a rocky gorge and sat down on the soft turf beneath an overhanging oak tree.
After a meal, I stretched myself upon my back, and pulling my bonnet over my eyes composed myself to sleep. When I awoke I remembered that I had promised to meet Hector at six o'clock. By the time I had retraced my steps the appointed hour would be at hand. So I descended to the river bank and made my way towards the Vennel Port.