I know, indeed,
a good deal quite to the contrary. You are, it seems to me, something
less than charitable--"
M'Nab regarded him with an earnest, narrow, wintry look. "I would not
wish to deserve that epithet, Mr. Strickland. But the world is evil,
and Satan stands close at the ear of the young, both the poor and them
of place and world's gear! So I doubt not that he eats the husks. I
doubt not, either, that the Lord has a rod for him, as for us all,
that will drive him, willy-nilly, home. So I'll say good day, sir.
To-morrow I'll go again to the laird, and so every day until his
summons comes."
They parted at the manse door. The world was gray, the snow swiftening
its approach. Strickland, passing the kirk, kept on down the one
village street. All and any who were out of doors spoke to him, asking
how did the laird. Some asked if "the young laird" had come.
In the shop where he made his purchase the woman who sold would have
kept him talking an hour: "Wad the laird last the week? Wad he make
friends before he died with Mr. Touris of Black Hill with whom he had
the great quarrel three years since? Eh, sirs! and he never set foot
again in Touris House, nor Mr. Touris in his!--Wad Mr. Jamie gae now
to Edinburgh or on his travels, that had been at home sae lang
because the laird wadna part with him?--Wad Miss Alice, that was as
bonny as a rose and mair friendly than the gowans on a June lea, just
bide on at the house with her aunt, Mrs.
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