lone in the country, and not lonely; had he lived in a green
quiet place, he might have learned the solace of nature for the wounded
when eve sheds her spiritual dews. But the mean pleasures to be found at
the Cross satisfied his nature, and stopped him midway to that soothing
beauty of the woods and streams which might have brought healing and a
wise quiescence. His success--such as it was--had gained him a
circle--such as it was--and the assertive nature proper to his father's
son gave him a kind of lead amongst them. Yet even his henchmen saw
through his swaggering. Swipey Broon turned on him one night, and
threatened to split his mouth, and he went as white as the wall behind
him.

Among his other follies, he assumed the pose of a man who could an he
would--who had it in him to do great things, if he would only set about
them. In this he was partly playing up to a foolish opinion of his more
ignorant associates; it was they who suggested the pose to him.
"Devilish clever!" he heard them whisper one night as he stood in the
door of a tavern; "he could do it if he liked, only he's too fond o' the
fun." Young Gourlay flushed where he stood in the darkness--flushed with
pleasure at the criticism of his character which was, nevertheless, a
compliment to his wits. He felt that he must play up at once to the
character assigned him. "Ho, ho, my lads!" he cried, entering with, a
splurge; "let's make a night o't. I should be working for my degree
to-night, but I suppose I can get it easy enough when the time comes."
"What did I tell ye?" said M'Craw, nudging an elbow; and Gourlay saw the
nudge. Here at last he had found the sweet seduction of a proper
pose--that of a _grand homme manque_, of a man who would be a genius
were it not for the excess of his qualities. Would he continue to appear
a genius, then he must continue to display that excess which--so he
wished them to believe--alone prevented his brilliant achievements. It
was all a curious, vicious inversion. "You could do great things if you
didn't drink," crooned the fools. "See how I drink," Gourlay seemed to
answer; "that is why I don't do great things. But, mind you, I could do
them were it not for this." Thus every glass he tossed off seemed to
hint in a roundabout way at the glorious heights he might attain if he
didn't drink it. His very roistering became a pose, and his vanity made
him roister the more, to make the pose more convincing.

FOOTNOTES:

[6] "_Ain