Warlock o' Glenwarlock by George MacDonald (reading women TXT) 📕

of a false God. The fear of man, the trust in man, the deference to the opinion of man, is the merest worship of a rag-stuffed idol. The man who SEEKS the judgment of God can well smile at the unsolicited approval or condemnation of self-styled Society. There IS a true societyquite another thing. Doubtless the judgment of the world is of even moral value to those capable of regarding it. To deprive a thief of the restraining influence of the code of thieves' honour, would be to do him irreparable wrong; so with the tradesman whose law is the custom of the trade; but God demands an honesty, a dignity, a beauty of being, altogether different from that demanded by man of his fellow; and he who is taught of God is set out of sight above such law as that of thieves' honour, trade-custom, or social recognitionall of the same qualitysubjected instead to a law which obeyed is liberty, disobeyed is a hell deeper than Society's attendant slums.

"Here is a woman," said Cosmo to himself, "who, with her earnings and her labour both, ministered to the very bodily life of my father and myself! She has been in the house the angel of Godthe noblest, truest of women! She has ten times as much genuine education as most men who have been to college! Her brain is second only to her heart!If it had but pleased God to make her my sister! But there is a way of pulling out the tongue of Slander!"

The evening was Mr. Simon's best time, and they therefore let the sun go down before they left the castle to visit him. On their way they had a right pleasant talk about old things, now the one now the other bringing some half faded event from the store-closet of memory.

"I doobt ye winna min' me takin' ye oot o' the Warlock ae day there was a gey bit o' a spait on?" said Agnes at length, looking up in Cosmo's face.

"Eh, I never h'ard o' that, Aggie!" replied Cosmo.

"I canna think to this day hoo it was ye fell in," she went on: "I hadna the chairge o' ye at the time. Ye maun hae run oot o' the hoose, an' me efter ye. I was verra near taen awa' wi' ye. Hoo we wan oot o' the watter I canna un'erstan'. A' 'at I ken is 'at whan I cam to mysel', we war lyin' grippit til ane anither upon a laich bit o' the bank."

"But hoo was't 'at naebody ever said a word aboot it efterhin'?" asked Cosmo. "I never tellt onybody, an' ye wasna auld eneuch no to forget a' aboot it."

"What for didna ye tell?"

"I was feart they wad think it my wite, an' no lat me tak chairge o' ye ony mair, whauras I kent ye was safer wi' me nor wi' ony ither aboot the place. Gien it had been my wite, I cudna hae hauden my tongue; but as it was, I didna see I was b'un' to tell."

"Hoo did ye hide it?"

"I ran wi' he hame to oor ain hoose. There was naebody there. I tuik aff yer weet claes, an' pat ye intil my bed till I got them dry."

"An' hoo did ye wi' yer ain?"

"By the time yours was dry, mine was dry tu."

When they arrived at the cottage, Dorty demurred, but her master heard Cosmo's voice and rang his bell.

"I little thought your father would have gone before me," said Mr. Simon. "I think I was aware of his death. I saw nothing, heard nothing, neither was I thinking about him at the moment; but he seemed to come to me, and I said to myself,'He is on his way home.' I shall have a talk with him by and by."

Agnes told him she had come to bid him good-bye; she was going after a place.

"Well," he answered, after a thoughtful pause, "so long as we obey the light in us, and that light is not darkness, we can't go wrong. If we should mistake, he will turn things round for us; and if we be to blame, he will let us see it."

He was weak, and they did not stay long.

"Don't judge my heart by my words, my dear scholars," he said. "My heart is right toward you, but I am too weary to show it. God bless you both. I may not see you again, Agnes, but I shall think of you there, and if I can do anything for you, be sure I will."

When they left the cottage, the twilight was halfway towards the night, and a vague softness in the east prophesied the moon. Cosmo led Agnes through the fields to the little hollow where she had so often gone to seek him. There they sat down in the grass, and waited for the moon. Cosmo pointed out the exact spot where she rose that night she looked at him through the legs of the cow.

"Ye min' Grizzle's rime," he said:

"'Whan the coo loups ower the mune, The reid gowd rains intil men's shune'?

"I believe Grizzie took the queer sicht for a guid omen. It's unco strange hoo fowk 'll mix up God an' chance, seein' there could hardly be twa mair contradictory ideas! I min' ance hearin' a man say,'It's almost a providence!'"

"I doobt wi' maist fowk," said Aggie, "it's only 'There's almost a God.' For my pairt I see nae room atween no believin' in him at a', an' believin' in him a' thegither an' lattin him du what he likes wi' 's."

"I'm o' your min' there, Aggie, oot an' oot," responded Cosmo.

As he spoke the moon came peering up, and, turning to Agnes to share the sight with her, he saw the yellow light reflected from tears. "Aggie! Aggie!" he said, in much concern, "what are ye greitin' for?"

She made no answer, but wiped away her tears, and tried to smile. After a little pause,

"Ony body wad think, Cosmo," she said, "'at gien I believed in a God, he maun be a sma' ane! What for sud onybody greit 'at has but a far awa' notion o' sic a God as you an' the laird an' Maister Simon believes in!"

"Ye may weel say that, Aggie!" rejoined Cosmoyet sighed as he said it, for he thought of Lady Joan. A long pause followed, and then he spoke again.

"Aggie," he said, "there canna weel be twa i' this warl' 'at ken ane anither better nor you an' me. We hae been bairns thegither; we hae been to the schuil thegither; we hae had the same maister; we hae come throu dour times thegitherI doobt we hae been hungry thegither, though ye saidna a word; we hae warstlet wi' poverty, an' maybe wi' unbelief; we loe the same fowk best; an' abune a' we set the wull o' God. It wad be sair upo' baith o' 's to pairtan' to me a vex forby 'at the first thing w'alth did for me sud be to tak you awa'. It wad 'maist brak my hert to think 'at her 'at cam throu the lan' o' drowth wi' meay, tuik me throu' 't' for, wantin' her, I wad hae fa'en to rise nae mair, sud gang on climmin' the dry hill-ro'd, an' me lyin' i' the bonny meadow-gerse at the fut o' 't. It canna be rizzon, Aggie! What for sud ye gang? Merry me, Aggie, an' bidebide an' ca' the castel yer ain."

"Hoots! wad ye merry yer mither!" cried Agnes, and to Cosmo's fresh dismay burst into laughter and tears together. I believe it was the sole time in her life she ever gave way to discordant emotion.

Cosmo stared speechless. It was as if an angel had made a poor human joke! He was much too bewildered to feel hurt, especially as he was aware of no committed absurdity.

But Aggie was not pleased with herself. She choked her tears, crushed down her laughter, and conquered. She took his hand in hers.

"I beg yer pardon, Cosmo," she said; "I shouldna hae lauchen. Lauchin', I'm sure,'s far eneuch frae my hert! I kenna hoo I cam to du 't. But ye're sic a bairn, Cosmo! Ye dinna ken what ye wad hae! An' bein' a kin' o' a mither to ye a' yer life, I maun lat ye see what ye're abootI wadna insist owersair upo' the years atween 's, though that's no a sma' maitter, but surely ye haena to be tellt at this time o' day,'at for fowk to merry 'at dinna loe ane anither, is little gien it be onything short o' a sin."

" I hae aye loed YOU, Aggie," said Cosmo, with some reproach in his tone.

"Weel du I ken that. An ill hert wad be mine gien it didna tell me that! But, Cosmo, whan ye said the word, didna YOUR hert tell ye ye meant by 't something no jist the verra same as ye inten' it me to un'erstan' by 't?"

"Aggie, Aggie!" sighed Cosmo, "I wad aye loe ye better an' better."

"Ay, ye wad, gien ye cud, Cosmo. But ye're ower honest to see throu' yersel'; an' I'm no sae honest but I can see throu' you. Ye wad merry me 'cause ye're no wullin' to pairt wi' me, likin' me better nor ony but ane, an' her ye canna get! Gien I was a leddy, Cosmo, maybe I michtna be ower prood to tak ye upo' thae terms, but no bein' what I am. It wad need love as roon's a sphere for that. Eh, but there micht come a time o' sair repentance! Ance merried upo' you, gien I war to tak it intil my heid 'at I was ae hair i' yer gait, or 'at ye was ae hair freer like wi me oot o' yer sicht, I wad be like to rin to the verra back-wa' o' creation! Na; it was weel eneuch as we hae been, but MERRIED! Ye wad be guid to me aye, I ken that, but I wad be aye wantin' to be deid,'at ye micht loe me a wee better. I say naething o' what the warl' wad say to the laird o' Glenwarlock merryin' his servan' lass; for ye care as little for the warl' as I du, an' we're baith some wiser nor it. But efter a', Cosmo, I wad be some oot o' my placewadna I noo? The hen-birds nae doobt are aye the soberer to luik at, an' haena the gran' colours nor the gran' w'ys wi' them 'at the cocks hae; but still there's a measur in a' thing: it wad ill set a common hen to hae a peacock for her man. My sowl, I ken, wad gang han' in han', in a heumble w'y, wi' yours, for I un'erstan' ye, Cosmo; an' the day may come whan I'll luik fitter for yer company nor I can the noo; but wha like me could help a sense o' unfitness, gien it war but gaein' to the kirk side by side wi' you? Luik at the twa o' 's noo i' the munelicht thegither! Dinna ye see 'at we dinna match?"

"A' that wad be naething gien ye loed me, Aggie."

"Gien YE loed ME, say, Cosmoloed me eneuch to be prood o' me! But that ye dinna. Exem' yer ain hert, an' ye'll see 'at ye dinna.An' what for sud ye!"

Here Aggie broke down. A burst of silent weeping, like that