ys--the nearest o' kin to ane anither
that death has spared. But, what I feel as strongly as a' the rest,
Eachen--we hae done meikle ill thegither. I can hardly think o' a past
sin without thinking o' you, an' thinking too, that, if a creature like
me may hope he has found pardon, you shouldna despair. Eachen, we maun
be friends."
The features of the stern old man relaxed. "You are perhaps right,
William," he at length replied; "but ye were aye a luckier man than
me--luckier for this world, I'm sure, an' maybe for the next. I had aye
to seek, an' aften without finding, the good that came in your gate o'
itsel. Now that age is coming upon us, ye get a snug rental frae the
little houses, an' I hae naething; an' ye hae character an' credit, but
wha would trust me, or cares for me? Ye hae been made an elder o' the
kirk, too, I hear, an' I am still a reprobate; but we were a' born to be
just what we are, an' sae maun submit. An' your son, too, shares in your
luck; he has heart an' hand, an' my whelps hae neither; an' the girl
Henry, that scouts that sot there, likes him--but what wonder o' that?
But you are right, William--we maun be friends. Pledge me." The little
cask was produced; and, filling the measures, he nodded to Earnest and
his father. They pledged him; when, as if seized by a sudden frenzy, he
filled his measure thrice in hasty succession, draining it each time to
the bottom, and then flung it down with a short hoarse laugh. His sons,
who would fain have joined with him, he repulsed with a firmness of
manner which he had not before exhibited. "No, whelps," he said--"get
sober as fast as ye can."
"We had better," whispered Earnest to his father, "not sleep in the cave
to-night."
"Let me hear now o' your quarrel, Earnest," said Eachen--"your father
was a more prudent man than you; and, however much he wronged me, did it
without quarrelling."
"The quarrel was none of my seeking," replied Earnest. "I was insulted
by your sons, and would have borne it for the sake of what they seemed
to forget; but there was another whom they also insulted, and that I
could not bear."
"The girl Henry--and what then?"
"Why, my cousins may tell the rest. They were mean enough to take odds
against me; and I just beat the two spiritless fellows that did so."
But why record the quarrels of this unfortunate evening? An hour or two
passed away in disagreeable bickerings, during which the patience of
even the old fisherman was
|