d water, discomposing doubts rose upon
his clearing mental horizon. They were absurd, but still they were
unpleasant. It _could_ be only a dream that he had felled the man twice
his age, and half his size, who had once shed his blood for him. But
why did it look so like fact, if it was only a dream? Horrible thought!
Could it?--It could--It must be--It was a fact!

Haggard with horror as well as revelry, he rushed towards the stair,
but was met by Mrs Leslie, who stopped him and said:

"Mr Forbes, gin you and Mr Cupples gang on at this rate, I'll be forced
to gie ye baith warnin' to flit. I oucht to hae written to yer mither
afore noo. Ye'll brack her hert or a' be dune. Eh! it's a sair thing
whan young lads tak to drink, and turn reprobates in a jiffie
(moment)."

"I dinna gang to your kirk, and ye needna preach to me. What's the
maitter wi' Mr Cupples? He hasna ta'en to drink in a jiffie, has he?"

"Ye scorner! He cam hame last nicht bleedin' at the heid, and i' the
han's o' the watchman. Puir man! he cud hardly win up the stair. I
canna think hoo he cam' to fa' sae sair; for they say there's a special
Providence watches ower drunk men and bairns. He was an awfu' sicht,
honest man! A terrible mixter o' reid and white."

"What said he about it?" asked Alec, trembling.

"Ow, naething. He had naething till say. Ye maunna gang near him; for I
left him fest asleep. Gang awa benn to yer ain room, and I'll be in wi'
yer brakfast in ten minutes. Eh! but ye wad be a fine lad gin ye wad
only gie up the drink and the ill company."

Alec obeyed, ashamed and full of remorse. The only thing he could do
was to attend to Mr Cupples's business in the library, where he worked
at the catalogue till the afternoon lecture was over.

Nobody had seen Beauchamp, and the blinds of Kate's windows were drawn
down.

All day his heart was full of Mr Cupples; and as he went home he
recalled everything with perfect distinctness, and felt that his
conduct had been as vile as it was possible for conduct to be. Because
a girl could not love him, he had ceased to love his mother, had given
himself up to Satan, and had returned the devotion of his friend with a
murderous blow. Because he could not have a bed of roses, he had thrown
himself down in the pig-stye. He rushed into a public-house, and
swallowed two glasses of whisky. That done, he went straight home, and
ran up to Mr Cupples's room.

Mr Cupples was sitting before the fire, with hi