Her trouble was echoed in dim pain from Gibbie's soul.That the prophetess who knew everything, the priestess who was at home in the very treasure-house of the great king, should be thus abandoned to dire perplexity, was a dreadful, a bewildering fact.But now first he understood the real state of the affair in the purport of the old man's absence; also how he was himself potently concerned in the business: if the offence had been committed against Gibbie, then with Gibbie lay the power, therefore the duty of forgiveness.But verily Gibbie's merit and his grace were in inverse ratio.Few things were easier to him than to love his enemies, and his merit in obeying the commandment was small indeed.No enemy had as yet done him, in his immediate person, the wrong he could even imagine it hard to forgive.No sooner had Janet ceased than he was on his way back to the cottage: on its floor lay one who had to be waited upon with forgiveness.
Wearied with futile struggles, Angus found himself compelled to abide his fate, and was lying quite still when Gibbie re-entered.
The boy thought he was asleep, but on the contrary he was watching his every motion, full of dread.Gibbie went hopping upon one foot to the hole in the wall where Janet kept the only knife she had.It was not there.He glanced round, but could not see it.There was no time to lose.Robert's returning steps might be heard any moment, and poor Angus might be hanged--only for shooting Gibbie!
He hopped up to him and examined the knots that tied his hands:
they were drawn so tight--in great measure by his own struggles--and so difficult to reach from their position, that he saw it would take him a long time to undo them.Angus thought, with fresh horror, he was examining them to make sure they would hold, and was so absorbed in watching his movements that he even forgot to curse, which was the only thing left him.Gibbie looked round again for a moment, as if in doubt, then darted upon the tongs--there was no poker--and thrust them into the fire, caught up the asthmatic old bellows, and began to blow the peats.Angus saw the first action, heard the second, and a hideous dismay clutched his very heart: the savage fool was about to take his revenge in pinches with the red hot tongs! He looked for no mercy--perhaps felt that he deserved none.
Manhood held him silent until he saw him take the implement of torture from the fire, glowing, not red but white hot, when he uttered such a terrific yell, that Gibbie dropped the tongs--happily not the hot ends--on his own bare foot, but caught them up again instantly, and made a great hop to Angus: if Janet had heard that yell and came in, all would be spoilt.But the faithless keeper began to struggle so fiercely, writhing with every contortion, and kicking with every inch, left possible to him, that Gibbie hardly dared attempt anything for dread of burning him, while he sent yell after yell "as fast as mill-wheels strike." With a sudden thought Gibbie sprang to the door and locked it, so that Janet should not get in, and Angus, hearing the bolt, was the more convinced that his purpose was cruel, and struggled and yelled, with his eyes fixed on the glowing tongs, now fast cooling in Gibbie's hand.If instead of glowering at the tongs, he had but lent one steadfast regard to the face of the boy whom he took for a demoniacal idiot, he would have seen his supposed devil smile the sweetest of human, troubled, pitiful smiles.Even then, I suspect, however, his eye being evil, he would have beheld in the smile only the joy of malice in the near prospect of a glut of revenge.
