The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 19

by Robert Louis Stevenson

  CHAPTER VII

  ENTER MEPHISTOPHELES

  Two days later a gig from Crossmichael deposited Frank Innes at thedoors of Hermiston. Once in a way, during the past winter, Archie, insome acute phase of boredom, had written him a letter. It had containedsomething in the nature of an invitation, or a reference to aninvitation--precisely what, neither of them now remembered. When Inneshad received it, there had been nothing further from his mind than tobury himself in the moors with Archie; but not even the most acutepolitical heads are guided through the steps of life with unerringdirectness. That would require a gift of prophecy which has been deniedto man. For instance, who could have imagined that, not a month after hehad received the letter, and turned it into mockery, and put offanswering it, and in the end lost it, misfortunes of a gloomy castshould begin to thicken over Frank's career? His case may be brieflystated. His father, a small Morayshire laird with a large family, becamerecalcitrant and cut off the supplies; he had fitted himself out withthe beginnings of quite a good law library, which, upon some suddenlosses on the turf, he had been obliged to sell before they were paidfor; and his bookseller, hearing some rumour of the event, took out awarrant for his arrest. Innes had early word of it, and was able to takeprecautions. In this immediate welter of his affairs, with an unpleasantcharge hanging over him, he had judged it the part of prudence to be offinstantly, had written a fervid letter to his father at Inverauld, andput himself in the coach for Crossmichael. Any port in a storm! He wasmanfully turning his back on the Parliament House and its gay babble,on porter and oysters, the racecourse and the ring; and manfullyprepared, until these clouds should have blown by, to share a livinggrave with Archie Weir at Hermiston.

  To do him justice, he was no less surprised to be going than Archie wasto see him come; and he carried off his wonder with an infinitely bettergrace.

  "Well, here I am!" said he, as he alighted. "Pylades has come to Orestesat last. By the way, did you get my answer? No? How very provoking!Well, here I am to answer for myself, and that's better still."

  "I am very glad to see you, of course," said Archie. "I make youheartily welcome, of course. But you surely have not come to stay, withthe Courts still sitting; is that not most unwise?"

  "Damn the Courts!" says Frank. "What are the Courts to friendship and alittle fishing?"

  And so it was agreed that he was to stay, with no term to the visit butthe term which he had privily set to it himself--the day, namely, whenhis father should have come down with the dust, and he should be able topacify the bookseller. On such vague conditions there began for thesetwo young men (who were not even friends) a life of great familiarityand, as the days drew on, less and less intimacy. They were together atmeal-times, together o' nights when the hour had come for whisky-toddy;but it might have been noticed (had there been any one to pay heed) thatthey were rarely so much together by day. Archie had Hermiston to attendto, multifarious activities in the hills, in which he did not require,and had even refused, Frank's escort. He would be off sometimes in themorning and leave only a note on the breakfast-table to announce thefact; and sometimes with no notice at all, he would not return fordinner until the hour was long past. Innes groaned under thesedesertions; it required all his philosophy to sit down to a solitarybreakfast with composure and all his unaffected good-nature to be ableto greet Archie with friendliness on the more rare occasions when hecame home late for dinner.

  "I wonder what on earth he finds to do, Mrs. Elliott?" said he onemorning, after he had just read the hasty billet and sat down to table.

  "I suppose it will be business, sir," replied the housekeeper drily,measuring his distance off to him by an indicated curtsey.

  "But I can't imagine what business!" he reiterated.

  "I suppose it will be _his_ business," retorted the austere Kirstie.

  He turned to her with that happy brightness that made the charm of hisdisposition, and broke into a peal of healthy and natural laughter.

  "Well played, Mrs. Elliott!" he cried; and the housekeeper's facerelaxed into the shadow of an iron smile. "Well played indeed!" said he."But you must not be making a stranger of me like that. Why, Archie andI were at the High School together, and we've been to College together,and we were going to the Bar together, when--you know! Dear, dear me!what a pity that was! A life spoiled, a fine young fellow as good asburied here in the wilderness with rustics; and all for what? A frolic,silly, if you like, but no more. God, how good your scones are, Mrs.Elliott!"

  "They're no mines, it was the lassie made them," said Kirstie; "and,saving your presence, there's little sense in taking the Lord's name invain about idle vivers that you fill your kyte wi'."

  "I daresay you're perfectly right, ma'am," quoth the imperturbableFrank. "But as I was saying, this is a pitiable business, this aboutpoor Archie; and you and I might do worse than put our heads together,like a couple of sensible people, and bring it to an end. Let me tellyou, ma'am, that Archie is really quite a promising young man, and in myopinion he would do well at the Bar. As for his father, no one can denyhis ability, and I don't fancy any one would care to deny that he hasthe deil's own temper----"

  "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Innes, I think the lass is crying on me," saidKirstie, and flounced from the room.

  "The damned, cross-grained, old broom-stick!" ejaculated Innes.

  In the meantime, Kirstie had escaped into the kitchen, and before hervassal gave vent to her feelings.

  "Here, ettercap! Ye'll have to wait on yon Innes! I canna hand myselfin. 'Puir Erchie!' I'd 'puir Erchie' him, if I had my way! And Hermistonwith the deil's ain temper! God, let him take Hermiston's scones out ofhis mouth first. There's no a hair on ayther o' the Weirs that hasnamair spunk and dirdum to it than what he has in his hale dwaibly body!Settin' up his snash to me! Let him gang to the black toon where he'smebbe wantit--birling on a curricle--wi' pimatum on his heid--making amess o' himsel' wi' nesty hizzies--a fair disgrace!" It was impossibleto hear without admiration Kirstie's graduated disgust, as she broughtforth, one after another, these somewhat baseless charges. Then sheremembered her immediate purpose, and turned again on her fascinatedauditor. "Do ye no hear me, tawpie? Do ye no hear what I'm tellin' ye?Will I have to shoo ye into him? If I come to attend to ye, mistress!"And the maid fled the kitchen, which had become practically dangerous,to attend on Innes's wants in the front parlour.

  _Tantaene irae_? Has the reader perceived the reason? Since Frank'scoming there were no more hours of gossip over the supper-tray! All hisblandishments were in vain; he had started handicapped on the race forMrs. Elliott's favour.

  But it was a strange thing how misfortune dogged him in his efforts tobe genial. I must guard the reader against accepting Kirstie's epithetsas evidence; she was more concerned for their vigour than for theiraccuracy. Dwaibly, for instance; nothing could be more calumnious.Frank was the very picture of good looks, good humour, and manly youth.He had bright eyes with a sparkle and a dance to them, curly hair, acharming smile, brilliant teeth, an admirable carriage of the head, thelook of a gentleman, the address of one accustomed to please at firstsight and to improve the impression. And with all these advantages, hefailed with every one about Hermiston; with the silent shepherd, withthe obsequious grieve, with the groom who was also the ploughman, withthe gardener and the gardener's sister--a pious, down-hearted woman witha shawl over her ears--he failed equally and flatly. They did not likehim, and they showed it. The little maid, indeed, was an exception; sheadmired him devoutly, probably dreamed of him in her private hours; butshe was accustomed to play the part of silent auditor to Kirstie'stirades and silent recipient of Kirstie's buffets, and she had learnednot only to be a very capable girl of her years, but a very secret andprudent one besides. Frank was thus conscious that he had one ally andsympathiser in the midst of that general union of disfavour thatsurrounded, watched, and waited on him in the house of Hermiston; but hehad little comfort or society from that alliance, and the demure littlemaid (twelve on her last birthday) preser
ved her own counsel, andtripped on his service, brisk, dumbly responsive, but inexorablyunconversational. For the others, they were beyond hope and beyondendurance. Never had a young Apollo been cast among such rusticbarbarians. But perhaps the cause of his ill-success lay in one traitwhich was habitual and unconscious with him, yet diagnostic of the man.It was his practice to approach any one person at the expense of someone else. He offered you an alliance against the some one else; heflattered you by slighting him; you were drawn into a small intrigueagainst him before you knew how. Wonderful are the virtues of thisprocess generally; but Frank's mistake was in the choice of the some oneelse. He was not politic in that; he listened to the voice ofirritation. Archie had offended him at first by what he had felt to berather a dry reception, had offended him since by his frequent absences.He was besides the one figure continually present in Frank's eye; and itwas to his immediate dependants that Frank could offer the snare of hissympathy. Now the truth is that the Weirs, father and son, weresurrounded by a posse of strenuous loyalists. Of my lord they werevastly proud. It was a distinction in itself to be one of the vassals ofthe "Hanging Judge," and his gross, formidable joviality was far fromunpopular in the neighbourhood of his home. For Archie they had, one andall, a sensitive affection and respect which recoiled from a word ofbelittlement.

  Nor was Frank more successful when he went farther afield. To the FourBlack Brothers, for instance, he was antipathetic in the highest degree.Hob thought him too light, Gib too profane. Clem, who saw him but for aday or two before he went to Glasgow, wanted to know what the fule'sbusiness was, and whether he meant to stay here all session time! "Yon'sa drone," he pronounced. As for Dand, it will be enough to describetheir first meeting, when Frank had been whipping a river and the rusticcelebrity chanced to come along the path.

  "I'm told you're quite a poet," Frank had said.

  "Wha tell't ye that, mannie?" had been the unconciliating answer.

  "O, everybody!" says Frank.

  "God! Here's fame!" said the sardonic poet, and he had passed on hisway.

  Come to think of it, we have here perhaps a truer explanation of Frank'sfailures. Had he met Mr. Sheriff Scott, he could have turned a neatercompliment, because Mr. Scott would have been a friend worth making.Dand, on the other hand, he did not value sixpence, and he showed iteven while he tried to flatter. Condescension is an excellent thing, butit is strange how one-sided the pleasure of it is! He who goes fishingamong the Scots peasantry with condescension for a bait will have anempty basket by evening.

  In proof of this theory Frank made a great success of it at theCrossmichael Club, to which Archie took him immediately on his arrival;his own last appearance on that scene of gaiety. Frank was made welcomethere at once, continued to go regularly, and had attended a meeting (asthe members ever after loved to tell) on the evening before his death.Young Hay and young Pringle appeared again. There was another supper atWindielaws, another dinner at Driffel; and it resulted in Frank beingtaken to the bosom of the county people as unreservedly as he had beenrepudiated by the country folk. He occupied Hermiston after the mannerof an invader in a conquered capital. He was perpetually issuing fromit, as from a base, to toddy parties, fishing parties, and dinnerparties, to which Archie was not invited, or to which Archie would notgo. It was now that the name of The Recluse became general for the youngman. Some say that Innes invented it; Innes, at least, spread it abroad.

  "How's all with your Recluse to-day?" people would ask.

  "O, reclusing away!" Innes would declare, with his bright air of sayingsomething witty; and immediately interrupt the general laughter which hehad provoked much more by his air than his words, "Mind you, it's allvery well laughing, but I'm not very well pleased. Poor Archie is a goodfellow, an excellent fellow, a fellow I always liked. I think it smallof him to take his little disgrace so hard and shut himself up. 'Grantthat it is a ridiculous story, painfully ridiculous,' I keep tellinghim. 'Be a man! Live it down, man!' But not he. Of course it's justsolitude, and shame, and all that. But I confess I'm beginning to fearthe result. It would be all the pities in the world if a reallypromising fellow like Weir was to end ill. I'm seriously tempted towrite to Lord Hermiston, and put it plainly to him."

  "I would if I were you," some of his auditors would say, shaking thehead, sitting bewildered and confused at this new view of the matter,so deftly indicated by a single word. "A capital idea!" they would add,and wonder at the _aplomb_ and position of this young man, who talked asa matter of course of writing to Hermiston and correcting him upon hisprivate affairs.

  And Frank would proceed, sweetly confidential: "I'll give you an idea,now. He's actually sore about the way that I'm received and he's leftout in the county--actually jealous and sore. I've rallied him and I'vereasoned with him, told him that every one was most kindly inclinedtowards him, told him even that _I_ was received merely because I washis guest. But it's no use. He will neither accept the invitations hegets, nor stop brooding about the ones where he's left out. What I'mafraid of is that the wound's ulcerating. He had always one of thosedark, secret, angry natures--a little underhand and plenty of bile--youknow the sort. He must have inherited it from the Weirs, whom I suspectto have been a worthy family of weavers somewhere; what's the cantphrase?--sedentary occupation. It's precisely the kind of character togo wrong in a false position like what his father's made for him, orhe's making for himself, whichever you like to call it. And for my part,I think it a disgrace," Frank would say generously.

  Presently the sorrow and anxiety of this disinterested friend tookshape. He began in private, in conversations of two, to talk vaguely ofbad habits and low habits. "I must say I'm afraid he's going wrongaltogether," he would say. "I'll tell you plainly, and betweenourselves, I scarcely like to stay there any longer; only, man, I'mpositively afraid to leave him alone. You'll see, I shall be blamed forit later on. I'm staying at a great sacrifice. I'm hindering my chancesat the Bar, and I can't blind my eyes to it. And what I'm afraid of is,that I'm going to get kicked for it all round before all's done. Yousee, nobody believes in friendship nowadays."

  "Well, Innes," his interlocutor would reply, "it's very good of you, Imust say that. If there's any blame going, you'll always be sure of _my_good word, for one thing."

  "Well," Frank would continue, "candidly, I don't say it's pleasant. Hehas a very rough way with him; his father's son, you know. I don't sayhe's rude--of course, I couldn't be expected to stand that--but hesteers very near the wind. No, it's not pleasant; but I tell ye, man, inconscience I don't think it would be fair to leave him. Mind you, Idon't say there's anything actually wrong. What I say is that I don'tlike the looks of it, man!" and he would press the arm of his momentaryconfidant.

  In the early stages I am persuaded there was no malice. He talked butfor the pleasure of airing himself. He was essentially glib, as becomesthe young advocate, and essentially careless of the truth, which is themark of the young ass; and so he talked at random. There was noparticular bias, but that one which is indigenous and universal, toflatter himself and to please and interest the present friend. And bythus milling air out of his mouth, he had presently built up apresentation of Archie which was known and talked of in all corners ofthe county. Wherever there was a residential house and a walled garden,wherever there was a dwarfish castle and a park, wherever a quadruplecottage by the ruins of a peel-tower showed an old family going down,and wherever a handsome villa with a carriage approach and a shrubberymarked the coming up of a new one--probably on the wheels ofmachinery--Archie began to be regarded in the light of a dark, perhaps avicious mystery, and the future developments of his career to be lookedfor with uneasiness and confidential whispering. He had done somethingdisgraceful, my dear. What, was not precisely known, and that good kindyoung man, Mr. Innes, did his best to make light of it. But there itwas. And Mr. Innes was very anxious about him now; he was really uneasy,my dear; he was positively wrecking his own prospects because he darednot leave him alone. How wholly we all lie at the mercy
of a singleprater, not needfully with any malign purpose! And if a man but talksof himself in the right spirit, refers to his virtuous actions by theway, and never applies to them the name of virtue, how easily hisevidence is accepted in the court of public opinion!

  All this while, however, there was a more poisonous ferment at workbetween the two lads, which came late indeed to the surface, but hadmodified and magnified their dissensions from the first. To an idle,shallow, easy-going customer like Frank, the smell of a mystery wasattractive. It gave his mind something to play with, like a new toy to achild; and it took him on the weak side, for like many young men comingto the Bar, and before they have been tried and found wanting, heflattered himself he was a fellow of unusual quickness and penetration.They knew nothing of Sherlock Holmes in those days, but there was a gooddeal said of Talleyrand. And if you could have caught Frank off hisguard, he would have confessed with a smirk that, if he resembled anyone, it was the Marquis de Talleyrand-Perigord. It was on the occasionof Archie's first absence that this interest took root. It was vastlydeepened when Kirstie resented his curiosity at breakfast, and that sameafternoon there occurred another scene which clinched the business. Hewas fishing Swingleburn, Archie accompanying him, when the latter lookedat his watch.

  "Well, good-bye," said he. "I have something to do. See you at dinner."

  "Don't be in such a hurry," cries Frank. "Hold on till I get my rod up.I'll go with you; I'm sick of flogging this ditch."

  And he began to reel up his line.

  Archie stood speechless. He took a long while to recover his wits underthis direct attack; but by the time he was ready with his answer, andthe angle was almost packed up, he had become completely Weir, and thehanging face gloomed on his young shoulders. He spoke with a labouredcomposure, a laboured kindness even; but a child could see that his mindwas made up.

  "I beg your pardon, Innes; I don't want to be disagreeable, but let usunderstand one another from the beginning. When I want your company,I'll let you know."

  "O!" cries Frank, "you don't want my company, don't you?"

  "Apparently not just now," replied Archie. "I even indicated to you whenI did, if you'll remember--and that was at dinner. If we two fellows areto live together pleasantly--and I see no reason why we should not--itcan only be by respecting each other's privacy. If we beginintruding----"

  "O, come! I'll take this at no man's hands. Is this the way you treat aguest and an old friend?" cried Innes.

  "Just go home and think over what I said by yourself," continued Archie,"whether it's reasonable, or whether it's really offensive or not; andlet's meet at dinner as though nothing had happened. I'll put it thisway, if you like--that I know my own character, that I'm looking forward(with great pleasure, I assure you) to a long visit from you, and thatI'm taking precautions at the first. I see the thing that we--that I, ifyou like--might fall out upon, and I step in and _obsto principiis_. Iwager you five pounds you'll end by seeing that I mean friendliness, andI assure you, Francie, I do," he added, relenting.

  Bursting with anger, but incapable of speech, Innes shouldered his rod,made a gesture of farewell, and strode off down the burn-side. Archiewatched him go without moving. He was sorry, but quite unashamed. Hehated to be inhospitable, but in one thing he was his father's son. Hehad a strong sense that his house was his own and no man else's; and to,lie at a guest's mercy was what he refused. He hated to seem harsh. Butthat was Frank's look-out. If Frank had been commonly discreet, he wouldhave been decently courteous. And there was another consideration. Thesecret he was protecting was not his own merely; it was hers: itbelonged to that inexpressible she who was fast taking possession of hissoul, and whom he would soon have defended at the cost of burningcities. By the time he had watched Frank as far as the Swingleburnfoot,appearing and disappearing in the tarnished heather, still stalking at afierce gait, but already dwindled in the distance into less than thesmallness of Lilliput, he could afford to smile at the occurrence.Either Frank would go, and that would be a relief--or he would continueto stay, and his host must continue to endure him. And Archie was nowfree--by devious paths, behind hillocks and in the hollow of burns--tomake for the trysting-place where Kirstie, cried about by the curlew andthe plover, waited and burned for his coming by the Covenanter's Stone.

  Innes went off down-hill in a passion of resentment, easy to beunderstood, but which yielded progressively to the needs of hissituation. He cursed Archie for a cold-hearted, unfriendly, rude, rudedog; and himself still more passionately for a fool in having come toHermiston when he might have sought refuge in almost any other house inScotland. But the step, once taken, was practically irretrievable. Hehad no more ready money to go anywhere else; he would have to borrowfrom Archie the next club-night; and ill as he thought of his host'smanners, he was sure of his practical generosity. Frank's resemblance toTalleyrand strikes me as imaginary; but at least not Talleyrand himselfcould have more obediently taken his lesson from the facts. He metArchie at dinner without resentment, almost with cordiality. You musttake your friends as you find them, he would have said. Archie couldn'thelp being his father's son, or his grandfather's, the hypotheticalweaver's, grandson. The son of a hunks, he was still a hunks at heart,incapable of true generosity and consideration: but he had otherqualities with which Frank could divert himself in the meanwhile, and toenjoy which it was necessary that Frank should keep his temper.

  So excellently was it controlled that he awoke next morning with hishead full of a different, though a cognate subject. What was Archie'slittle game? Why did he shun Frank's company? What was he keepingsecret? Was he keeping tryst with somebody, and was it a woman? It wouldbe a good joke and a fair revenge to discover. To that task he sethimself with a great deal of patience, which might have surprised hisfriends, for he had been always credited not with patience so much asbrilliancy; and little by little, from one point to another, he at lastsucceeded in piecing out the situation. First he remarked that, althoughArchie set out in all the directions of the compass, he always came homeagain from some point between the south and west. From the study of amap, and in consideration of the great expanse of untenanted moorlandrunning in that direction towards the sources of the Clyde, he laid hisfinger on Cauldstaneslap and two other neighbouring farms, Kingsmuirsand Polintarf. But it was difficult to advance farther. With his rod fora pretext, he vainly visited each of them in turn; nothing was to beseen suspicious about this trinity of moorland settlements. He wouldhave tried to follow Archie, had it been the least possible, but thenature of the land precluded the idea. He did the next best, ensconcedhimself in a quiet corner, and pursued his movements with a telescope.It was equally in vain, and he soon wearied of his futile vigilance,left the telescope at home, and had almost given the matter up indespair, when, on the twenty-seventh day of his visit, he was suddenlyconfronted with the person whom he sought. The first Sunday Kirstie hadmanaged to stay away from kirk on some pretext of indisposition, whichwas more truly modesty; the pleasure of beholding Archie seeming toosacred, too vivid for that public place. On the two following, Frank hadhimself been absent on some of his excursions among the neighbouringfamilies. It was not until the fourth, accordingly, that Frank hadoccasion to set eyes on the enchantress. With the first look, allhesitation was over. She came with the Cauldstaneslap party; then shelived at Cauldstaneslap. Here was Archie's secret, here was the woman,and more than that--though I have need here of every manageableattenuation of language--with the first look, he had already enteredhimself as rival. It was a good deal in pique, it was a little inrevenge, it was much in genuine admiration: the devil may decide theproportions! I cannot, and it is very likely that Frank could not.

  "Mighty attractive milkmaid," he observed, on the way home.

  "Who?" said Archie.

  "O, the girl you're looking at--aren't you? Forward there on the road.She came attended by the rustic bard; presumably, therefore, belongs tohis exalted family. The single objection! for the Four Black Brothersare awkward customers. If a
nything were to go wrong, Gib would gibber,and Clem would prove inclement; and Dand fly in danders, and Hob blow upin gobbets. It would be a Helliott of a business!"

  "Very humorous, I am sure," said Archie.

  "Well, I am trying to be so," said Frank. "It's none too easy in thisplace, and with your solemn society, my dear fellow. But confess thatthe milkmaid has found favour in your eyes, or resign all claim to be aman of taste."

  "It is no matter," returned Archie.

  But the other continued to look at him, steadily and quizzically, andhis colour slowly rose and deepened under the glance, until notimpudence itself could have denied that he was blushing. And at thisArchie lost some of his control. He changed his stick from one hand tothe other, and--"O, for God's sake, don't be an ass!" he cried.

  "Ass? That's the retort delicate without doubt," says Frank. "Beware ofthe home-spun brothers, dear. If they come into the dance, you'll seewho's an ass. Think now, if they only applied (say) a quarter as muchtalent as I have applied to the question of what Mr. Archie does withhis evening hours, and why he is so unaffectedly nasty when thesubject's touched on----"

  "You are touching on it now," interrupted Archie, with a wince.

  "Thank you. That was all I wanted, an articulate confession," saidFrank.

  "I beg to remind you----" began Archie.

  But he was interrupted in turn. "My dear fellow, don't. It's quiteneedless. The subject's dead and buried."

  And Frank began to talk hastily on other matters, an art in which he wasan adept, for it was his gift to be fluent on anything or nothing. Butalthough Archie had the grace or the timidity to suffer him to rattleon, he was by no means done with the subject. When he came home todinner he was greeted with a sly demand, how things were looking"Cauldstaneslap ways." Frank took his first glass of port out afterdinner to the toast of Kirstie, and later in the evening he returned tothe charge again.

  "I say, Weir, you'll excuse me for returning again to this affair. I'vebeen thinking it over, and I wish to beg you very seriously to be morecareful. It's not a safe business. Not safe, my boy," said he.

  "What?" said Archie.

  "Well, it's your own fault if I must put a name on the thing; butreally, as a friend, I cannot stand by and see you rushing head downinto these dangers. My dear boy," said he, holding up a warning cigar,"consider! What is to be the end of it?"

  "The end of what?"--Archie, helpless with irritation, persisted in thisdangerous and ungracious guard.

  "Well, the end of the milkmaid; or, to speak more by the card, the endof Miss Christina Elliott of the Cauldstaneslap."

  "I assure you," Archie broke out, "this is all a figment of yourimagination. There is nothing to be said against that young lady; youhave no right to introduce her name into the conversation."

  "I'll make a note of it," said Frank. "She shall henceforth be nameless,nameless, nameless, Gregarach! I make a note besides of your valuabletestimony to her character. I only want to look at this thing as a manof the world. Admitted she's an angel--but, my good fellow, is she alady?"

  This was torture to Archie. "I beg your pardon," he said, struggling tobe composed, "but because you have wormed yourself into myconfidence----"

  "O, come!" cried Frank. "Your confidence? It was rosy but unconsenting.Your confidence, indeed? Now, look! This is what I must say, Weir, forit concerns your safety and good character, and therefore my honour asyour friend. You say I wormed myself into your confidence. Wormed isgood. But what have I done? I have put two and two together, just as theparish will be doing to-morrow, and the whole of Tweeddale in two weeks,and the Black Brothers--well, I won't put a date on that; it will be adark and stormy morning! Your secret, in other words, is poor Poll's.And I want to ask of you as a friend whether you like the prospect?There are two horns to your dilemma, and I must say for myself I shouldlook mighty ruefully on either. Do you see yourself explaining to theFour Black Brothers? or do you see yourself presenting the milkmaid topapa as the future lady of Hermiston? Do you? I tell you plainly, Idon't!"

  Archie rose. "I will hear no more of this," he said, in a tremblingvoice.

  But Frank again held up his cigar. "Tell me one thing first. Tell me ifthis is not a friend's part that I am playing?"

  "I believe you think it so," replied Archie. "I can go as far as that. Ican do so much justice to your motives. But I will hear no more of it. Iam going to bed."

  "That's right, Weir," said Frank heartily. "Go to bed and think over it;and I say, man, don't forget your prayers! I don't often do themoral--don't go in for that sort of thing--but when I do, there's onething sure, that I mean it."

  So Archie marched off to bed, and Frank sat alone by the table foranother hour or so, smiling to himself richly. There was nothingvindictive in his nature; but, if revenge came in his way, it might aswell be good, and the thought of Archie's pillow reflections that nightwas indescribably sweet to him. He felt a pleasant sense of power. Helooked down on Archie as on a very little boy whose strings hepulled--as on a horse whom he had backed and bridled by sheer power ofintelligence, and whom he might ride to glory or the grave at pleasure.Which was it to be? He lingered long, relishing the details of schemesthat he was too idle to pursue. Poor cork upon a torrent, he tasted thatnight the sweets of omnipotence, and brooded like a deity over thestrands of that intrigue which was to shatter him before the summerwaned.