LITMIR.BIZ

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she hesitated a little. Was it maidenliness in the waning woman of five-and-forty? It was, I believe; for how can a woman always remember how old she is? If ever there was a young soul in God’s world, it was Letty Napier. And the young man was tall and stately as a Scandinavian chief, with a look of command, tempered with patient endurance, in his eagle face, for he was more like an eagle than any other creature, and in his countenance signs of suffering. Miss Letty seeing this, was moved, and her heart swelled, and she grew conscious and shy, and turning to Robert, said,

      ‘Come up the stair wi’ ‘s, Robert; I may want ye.’

      Robert jumped to his feet. His heart too had been yearning towards the stranger.

      As if yielding to the inevitable, Ericson rose and followed Miss Letty. But when they had reached the room, and the door was shut behind them, and Miss Letty pointed to a chair beside which stood a little wooden tub full of hot water, saying, ‘Sit ye doon there, Mr. Ericson,’ he drew himself up, all but his graciously-bowed head, and said,

      ‘Ma’am, I must tell you that I followed the rest in here from the very stupidity of weariness. I have not a shilling in my pocket.’

      ‘God bless me!’ said Miss Letty—and God did bless her, I am sure—‘we maun see to the feet first. What wad ye du wi’ a shillin’ gin ye had it? Wad ye clap ane upo’ ilka blister?’

      Ericson burst out laughing, and sat down. But still he hesitated.

      ‘Aff wi’ yer shune, sir. Duv ye think I can wash yer feet throu ben’ leather?’ said Miss Letty, not disdaining to advance her fingers to a shoe-tie.

      ‘But I’m ashamed. My stockings are all in holes.’

      ‘Weel, ye s’ get a clean pair to put on the morn, an’ I’ll darn them ‘at ye hae on, gin they be worth darnin’, afore ye gang—an’ what are ye sae camstairie (unmanageable) for? A body wad think ye had a clo’en fit in ilk ane o’ thae bits o’ shune o’ yours. I winna promise to please yer mither wi’ my darnin’ though.’

      ‘I have no mother to find fault with it,’ said Ericson.

      ‘Weel, a sister’s waur.’

      ‘I have no sister, either.’

      This was too much for Miss Letty. She could keep up the bravado of humour no longer. She fairly burst out crying. In a moment more the shoes and stockings were off, and the blisters in the hot water. Miss Letty’s tears dropped into the tub, and the salt in them did not hurt the feet with which she busied herself, more than was necessary, to hide them.

      But no sooner had she recovered herself than she resumed her former tone.

      ‘A shillin’! said ye? An’ a’ thae greedy gleds (kites) o’ professors to pay, that live upo’ the verra blude and banes o’ sair-vroucht students! Hoo cud ye hae a shillin’ ower? Troth, it’s nae wonner ye haena ane left. An’ a’ the merchan’s there jist leevin’ upo’ ye! Lord hae a care o’ ‘s! sic bonnie feet!—Wi’ blisters I mean. I never saw sic a sicht o’ raw puddin’s in my life. Ye’re no fit to come doon the stair again.’

      All the time she was tenderly washing and bathing the weary feet. When she had dressed them and tied them up, she took the tub of water and carried it away, but turned at the door.

      ‘Ye’ll jist mak up yer min’ to bide a twa three days,’ she said; ‘for thae feet cudna bide to be carried, no to say to carry a weicht like you. There’s naebody to luik for ye, ye ken. An’ ye’re no to come doon the nicht. I’ll sen’ up yer supper. And Robert there ‘ll bide and keep ye company.’

      She vanished; and a moment after, Peggy appeared with a salamander—that is a huge poker, ending not in a point, but a red-hot ace of spades—which she thrust between the bars of the grate, into the heart of a nest of brushwood. Presently a cheerful fire illuminated the room.

      Ericson was seated on one chair, with his feet on another, his head sunk on his bosom, and his eyes thinking. There was something about him almost as powerfully attractive to Robert as it had been to Miss Letty. So he sat gazing at him, and longing for a chance of doing something for him. He had reverence already, and some love, but he had never felt at all as he felt towards this man. Nor was it as the Chinese puzzlers called Scotch metaphysicians, might have represented it—a combination of love and reverence. It was the recognition of the eternal brotherhood between him and one nobler than himself—hence a lovely eager worship.

      Seeing Ericson look about him as if he wanted something, Robert started to his feet.

      ‘Is there onything ye want, Mr. Ericson?’ he said, with service standing in his eyes.

      ‘A small bundle I think I brought up with me,’ replied the youth.

      It was not there. Robert rushed down-stairs, and returned with it—a nightshirt and a hairbrush or so, tied up in a blue cotton handkerchief. This was all that Robert was able to do for Ericson that evening.

      He went home and dreamed about him. He called at The Boar’s Head the next morning before going to school, but Ericson was not yet up. When he called again as soon as morning school was over, he found that they had persuaded him to keep his bed, but Miss Letty took him up to his room. He looked better, was pleased to see Robert, and spoke to him kindly. Twice yet Robert called to inquire after him that day, and once more he saw him, for he took his tea up to him.

      The next day Ericson was much better, received Robert with a smile, and went out with him for a stroll, for all his companions were gone, and of some students who had arrived since he did not know any. Robert took him to his grandmother, who received him with stately kindness. Then they went out again, and passed the windows of Captain Forsyth’s house. Mary St. John was playing. They stood for a moment, almost involuntarily, to listen. She ceased.

      ‘That’s the music of the spheres,’ said Ericson, in a low voice, as they moved on.

      ‘Will you tell me what that means?’ asked Robert. ‘I’ve come upon ‘t ower an’ ower in Milton.’

      Thereupon Ericson explained to him what Pythagoras had taught about the stars moving in their great orbits with sounds of awful harmony, too grandly loud for the human organ to vibrate in response to their music—hence unheard of men. And Ericson spoke as if he believed it. But after he had spoken, his face grew sadder than ever; and, as if to change the subject, he said, abruptly,

      ‘What a fine old lady your grandmother is, Robert!’

      ‘Is she?’ returned Robert.

      ‘I don’t mean to say she’s like Miss Letty,’ said Ericson. ‘She’s an angel!’

      A long pause followed. Robert’s thoughts went roaming in their usual haunts.

      ‘Do you think, Mr. Ericson,’ he said, at length, taking up the old question still floating unanswered in his mind, ‘do you think if a devil was to repent God would forgive him?’

      Ericson turned and looked at him. Their eyes met. The youth wondered at the boy. He had recognized in him a younger brother, one who had begun to ask questions, calling them out into the deaf and dumb abyss of the universe.

      ‘If God was as good as I would like him to be, the devils themselves would repent,’ he said, turning away.

      Then he turned again, and looking down upon Robert like a sorrowful eagle from a crag over its harried nest, said,

      ‘If I only knew that God was as good as—that woman, I should die content.’

      Robert heard words of blasphemy from the mouth of an angel, but his respect for Ericson compelled a reply.

      ‘What woman, Mr. Ericson?’ he asked.

      ‘I mean Miss Letty, of course.’

      ‘But surely ye dinna think God’s nae as guid as she is? Surely he’s as good as he can be. He is good, ye ken.’

      ‘Oh, yes. They say so. And then they tell you something about him that isn’t good, and go on calling him good all the same. But calling anybody good doesn’t

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