'Wha's that ahin' ye?'
'Naebody's ahin' me,' answered Robert.
'Dinna lee.Wha's that ahin' the door?'
'Naebody.I never tell lees.'
'Whaur's Shargar? What for doesna he come till 's mither?'
'He's hynd awa' ower the seas--a captain o' sodgers.'
'It's a lee.He's an ill-faured scoonrel no to come till 's mither an' bid her gude-bye, an' her gaein' to hell.'
'Gin ye speir at Christ, he'll tak ye oot o' the verra mou' o' hell, wuman.'
'Christ! wha's that? Ow, ay! It's him 'at they preach aboot i' the kirks.Na, na.There's nae gude o' that.There's nae time to repent noo.I doobt sic repentance as mine wadna gang for muckle wi' the likes o' him.'
'The likes o' him 's no to be gotten.He cam to save the likes o'
you an' me.'
'The likes o' you an' me! said ye, laddie? There's no like atween you and me.He'll hae naething to say to me, but gang to hell wi'
ye for a *****.'
'He never said sic a word in 's life.He wad say, "Poor thing! she was ill-used.Ye maunna sin ony mair.Come, and I'll help ye." He wad say something like that.He'll save a body whan she wadna think it.'
'An' I hae gien my bonnie bairn to the deevil wi' my ain han's!
She'll come to hell efter me to girn at me, an' set them on me wi'
their reid het taings, and curse me.Och hone! och hone!'
'Hearken to me,' said Falconer, with as much authority as he could assume.But she rolled herself over again in the corner, and lay groaning.
'Tell me whaur she is,' said Falconer, 'and I'll tak her oot o'
their grup, whaever they be.'
She sat up again, and stared at him for a few moments without speaking.
'I left her wi' a wuman waur nor mysel',' she said at length.'God forgie me.'
'He will forgie ye, gin ye tell me whaur she is.'
'Do ye think he will? Eh, Maister Faukner! The wuman bides in a coort off o' Clare Market.I dinna min' upo' the name o' 't, though I cud gang till 't wi' my een steekit.Her name's Widow Walker--an auld rowdie--damn her sowl!'
'Na, na, ye maunna say that gin ye want to be forgien yersel'.I'll fin' her oot.An' I'm thinkin' it winna be lang or I hae a grup o'
her.I'm gaein' back to Lonnon in twa days or three.'
'Dinna gang till I'm deid.Bide an' haud the deevil aff o' me.He has a grup o' my hert noo, rivin' at it wi' his lang nails--as lang 's birds' nebs.'
'I'll bide wi' ye till we see what can be dune for ye.What's the maitter wi' ye? I'm a doctor noo.'
There was not a chair or box or stool on which to sit down.He therefore kneeled beside her.He felt her pulse, questioned her, and learned that she had long been suffering from an internal complaint, which had within the last week grown rapidly worse.He saw that there was no hope of her recovery, but while she lived he gave himself to her service as to that of a living soul capable of justice and love.The night was more than warm, but she had fits of shivering.He wrapped his coat round her, and wiped from the poor degraded face the damps of suffering.The woman-heart was alive still, for she took the hand that ministered to her and kissed it with a moan.When the morning came she fell asleep.He crept out and went to his grandmother's, where he roused Betty, and asked her to get him some peat and coals.Finding his grandmother awake, he told her all, and taking the coals and the peat, carried them to the hut, where he managed, with some difficulty, to light a fire on the hearth; after which he sat on the doorstep till Betty appeared with two men carrying a mattress and some bedding.The noise they made awoke her.
'Dinna tak me,' she cried.'I winna do 't again, an' I'm deein', Itell ye I'm deein', and that'll clear a' scores--o' this side ony gait,' she added.
