He listened in silence, his eyes fixed on him, his work on his lap, his hand with the awl hanging by his side. When he heard how Eppy had tricked Donal that night, leaving him to watch in vain, tears gathered in his old eyes. He wiped them away with the backs of his horny hands, and there came no more. Donal told him he had first thought he would say nothing to him about it all, he was so loath to trouble them, but neither his heart nor his conscience would let him be silent.
"Ye did richt to tell me," said Andrew, after a pause. "It's true we haena that muckle weicht wi' her, for it seems a law o' natur 'at the yoong 's no to be hauden doon by the experrience o' the auld--which can be experrience only to themsel's; but whan we pray to God, it puts it mair in his pooer to mak use o' 's for the carryin' oot o' the thing we pray for. It's no aye by words he gies us to say; wi' some fowk words gang for unco little; it may be whiles by a luik o' whilk ye ken naething, or it may be by a motion o' yer han', or a turn o' yer heid. Wha kens but ye may haud a divine pooer ower the hert ye hae 'maist gi'en up the houp o' ever winnin' at! Ye hae h'ard o' the convic' broucht to sorrow by seein' a bit o' the same mattin' he had been used to see i' the aisle o' the kirk his mither tuik him til! That was a stroke o' God's magic!
There's nae kennin' what God can do, nor yet what best o' rizzons he has for no doin' 't sooner! Whan we think he's lattin' the time gang, an' doin' naething, he may be jist doin' a' thing! No 'at I ever think like that noo; lat him do 'at he likes, what he does I'm sure o'. I'm o' his min' whether I ken his min' or no.--Eh, my lassie! my lassie! I could better win ower a hantle nor her giein' you the slip that gait, sir. It was sae dooble o' her! It's naething wrang in itsel' 'at a yoong lass sud be taen wi' the attentions o' a bonny lad like lord Forgue! That's na agen the natur 'at God made! But to preten' an' tak in!--to be cunnin' an' sly! that's evil. An' syne for the ither lad--eh, I doobt that's warst o' 'a! Only I kenna hoo far she had committit hersel' wi' him, for she was never open-hertit. Eh, sir! it's a fine thing to hae nae sacrets but sic as lie 'atween yersel' an' yer macker! I can but pray the Father o' a' to haud his e'e upon her, an' his airms aboot her, an' keep aff the hardenin' o' the hert 'at despises coonsel! I'm sair doobtin' we canna do muckle mair for her! She maun tak her ain gait, for we canna put a collar roon' her neck, an' lead her aboot whaurever we gang. She maun win her ain breid; an' gien she didna that, she wad be but the mair ta'en up wi' sic nonsense as the likes o' lord Forgue 's aye ready to say til ony bonny lass. An' I varily believe she's safer there wi' you an' the hoosekeeper nor whaur he could win at her easier, an' whaur they wud be readier to tak her character fra her upo' less offence, an' sen' her aboot her business. Fowk 's unco' jealous about their hoose 'at wad trouble themsel's little aboot a lass! Sae lang as it's no upo' their premises, she may do as she likes for them! Doory an' me, we'll jist lay oor cares i' the fine sicht an' 'afore the compassionate hert o' the Maister, an' see what he can do for 's!
Sic things aiven we can lea' to him! I houp there'll be nae mair bludeshed! He's a fine lad, Steenie Kennedy--come o' a fine stock!
His father was a God-fearin' man--some dour by natur, but wi' an unco clearin' up throuw grace. I wud wullin'ly hae seen oor Eppy his wife; he's an honest lad! I'm sorry he gied place to wrath, but he may hae repentit by the noo, an' troth, I canna blame him muckle at his time o' life! It's no as gien you or me did it, ye ken, sir!"
The chosen agonize after the light; stretch out their hands to God; stir up themselves to lay hold upon God! These are they who gather grace, as the mountain-tops the snow, to send down rivers of water to their fellows. The rest are the many called, of whom not a few have to be compelled. Alas for the one cast out!
As he was going home in the dark of a clouded moonlight, just as he reached the place where he found lord Forgue, Donal caught sight of the vague figure of a man apparently on the watch, and put himself a little on his guard as he went on. It was Kennedy. He came up to him in a hesitating way.
"Stephen," said Donal, for he seemed to wait for him to speak first, "you may thank God you are not now in hiding."
"I wad never hide, sir. Gien I had killed the man, I wad hae hauden my face til't. But it was a foolish thing to do, for it'll only gar the lass think the mair o' him: they aye side wi' the ane they tak to be ill-used!"
"I thought you said you would in any case have no more to do with her!" said Donal.
Kennedy was silent for a moment.
"A body may tear at their hert," he muttered, "but gien it winna come, what's the guid o' sweirin' oot it maun!"
"Well," returned Donal, "it may be some comfort to you to know that, for the present at least, and I hope for altogether, the thing is put a stop to. The housekeeper at the castle knows all about it, and she and I will do our best. Her grandparents know too. Eppie herself and lord Forgue have both of them promised there shall be no more of it. And I do believe, Kennedy, there has been nothing more than great silliness on either side. I hope you will not forget yourself again. You gave me a promise and broke it!"
"No i' the letter, sir--only i' the speerit!" rejoined Kennedy: "I gaedna near the castel!"
"'Only in the spirit!' did you say, Stephen? What matters the word but for the spirit? The Bible itself lets the word go any time for the spirit! Would it have been a breach of your promise if you had gone to the castle on some service to the man you almost murdered?
If ever you lay your hand on the lad again, I'll do my best to give you over to justice. But keep quiet, and I'll do all I can for you."
Kennedy promised to govern himself, and they parted friends.
