he said frankly, and looking round with an expression of extreme disgust. 'Has it never occurred to you what poor preparation Miss Graham has had for the position you intend her to fill?'

'That's none of your business,' retorted the old man sharply. '_She_ doesn't need any preparation, I tell you. Cottage or palace are the same to her; she'll be a queen in either.'

This strange speech made the lawyer look at the old man intently. He perceived that underneath his brusque, forbidding exterior there burned the steady light of a great love for his brother's child, and here, surely, was the greatest marvel of all.

'I did not bring you here to make remarks on my niece,' he said peevishly. 'Read that over, see, and tell me if it's all right, if there's anything to be added or taken away. There's a clause I want added about the boy, Walter Hepburn. He's been with me a long time, and though he's a very firebrand, he's faithful and honest. He won't rue it.'

Mr. Fordyce adjusted his eyegla.s.s and spread out the will before him.

Up-stairs the two young beings, drawn close together by a common sorrow and a common need, tried to look into the future with hopeful eyes, not knowing that, in the room below, that very future was being a.s.sured for them in a way they knew not.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XIII.

THE LAST SUMMONS.

'You'll look after her, Mr. Fordyce, promise me that?' said the old man when they had gone over the contents of the will.

'Why, yes, I will, so far as I can,' answered the lawyer, without hesitation. 'She will not lack friends, you may rest a.s.sured. This,' he added, tapping the blue paper, 'will ensure her more friends than she may need.'

'Ay, it's from such I want you to guard her. I know how many sharks there are who would regard an unprotected girl like her as their lawful prey. She'll marry some day, I hope, and wisely. But it is in the interval she needs looking after.'

'How old is she?'

'Seventeen and a half, I think.'

'She looks her age--a remarkably calm and self-possessed young lady, I thought her to-day. And she has no idea of this, you say?'

'Positively none,' answered the old man, with something like a chuckle.

'Why, this very morning we spoke of what she would do when I'm away, but it doesn't seem to be worrying her much. I never saw a person, old or young, with greater powers of adapting themselves to any circ.u.mstances,--_any_ circ.u.mstances, mind you,--so you needn't be exercised about her future deportment. She'll astonish you, I promise you that.'

'You really believe, then, that you won't get better?'

'I know I won't; a man knows these things in spite of himself,' was the calm reply.

The lawyer looked at him keenly, almost wonderingly. He did not know him intimately. Only within recent years had he been engaged to manage his monetary affairs, and only six months before had drawn up the will, which, it may be said, had considerably surprised him. Looking at him just then, he wondered whether there might not be depths undreamed of under the crust of the miser's soul.

'You are behaving very generously to this young-fellow Hepburn,' he said then, leaving his deeper thoughts unspoken. 'He may consider himself very fortunate. Such a windfall comes to few in a position like his.'

'Ay, ay. I daresay it depends on how you look at it,' responded the old man indifferently. 'Well, I'm tired, and there's no more to talk about.

Everything is right and tight, is it? No possibility of a muddle at the end?'

'None,' answered Mr. Fordyce promptly, as he rose to his feet.

'Well, good-day to you. I have your promise to see that the girl doesn't fall into the hands of Philistines. I don't offer you any reward. You'll pay yourself for your lawful work, I know; and for the rest, well, I inquired well what I was doing, and though I'm not a Christian myself, I was not above putting myself into the hands of a Christian lawyer.'

A curious dry smile accompanied these words, but they were spoken with the utmost sincerity. They conveyed one of the highest tributes to his worth Tom Fordyce had ever received. He carefully gathered together the loose papers, and for a moment nothing was said. Then he bent his keen and kindly eye full on the old man's wan and withered face.

'Sir,' he said, 'if you are not a Christian, as you say, what is your hope for the next world?'

'I have none,' he answered calmly. 'I am no coward. If it be true, as they say, that a system of award and punishment prevails, then I'm ready to take my deserts.'

The lawyer could not reply to these sad words, because Gladys at the moment entered the kitchen.

'I have come,' she said brightly,'because I fear you are talking too much, uncle. Oh, are you going away, Mr. Fordyce? I am glad the business is all done. See, he is quite exhausted.'

She poured some stimulant into a gla.s.s and carried it to him, holding it to his lips with her own hand. The old man looked over her bent head significantly. The lawyer's eyes met his, and he gravely nodded, understanding that that mute sign asked a further promise.

Gladys accompanied him to the door, and the lawyer laid his hand on her shoulder with a fatherly touch.

'My dear, I am very sorry for you.'

'Do you, then, think him so very ill?' she asked breathlessly. 'He says he will die; but I have nursed my own father through much worse attacks.'

'He appears to have given up hope; but while life lasts we need not despair,' he said kindly. 'Good-bye. I shall come back perhaps to-morrow.'

He thought much of her all day, and when he returned to his happy home at night, told the story to his wife, and there is no doubt that the strong sympathy of these two kind hearts supported Gladys through the ordeal of that trying time.

In the evening Walter took himself off to Bridgeton, reluctant to go, yet anxious to hear further particulars regarding the flight of Liz. He arrived at the dreary house, to find his mother engaged with the weekly wash. Now, there was no reason why the washing should be done at night, seeing she had the whole day at her disposal; but it seemed to take these hours to rouse her up to sufficient energy. She was one of those unhappy creatures who have no method, no idea of planning, so that the greatest possible amount of work can be done in the shortest, and at the most fitting time. This habit of choosing unfavourable and unseasonable hours for work, which upsets the whole house, had, no doubt, in the first instance, helped to drive her husband outside for his company. She looked round from the tub, and gave her son a nod by way of greeting, but did not open her mouth. Her little kitchen was full of steam, the floor swimming in soapsuds, the whole appearance of the place suggestive of confusion and discomfort. Walter picked his way across the floor, and sat down on the window-box, his favourite seat.

'Always washing at night yet, mother?' he said discontentedly. 'Have you no time through the day?'

'No; it's meat-makin' frae mornin' till nicht. This is the only time there's a meenit's peace,' she answered stolidly.

'You'll have one less to cook for now, then,' he said gloomily. 'When did Liz go off? and have you any idea where she's gone?'

Mrs. Hepburn shook her head.

'I was oot a' Tuesday nicht, an' when I cam' in, on the back o' eleeven, she was aff, bag an' baggage. Mrs. Turnbull says she gaed doon the stair wi' her Sunday claes on, an' carryin' her tin box, a wee efter aicht.

"Are ye for jauntin', Liz?" says she; but Liz never gi'ed her an answer, guid or bad, an' that's a' I ken.'

'Did she never give a hint that she was thinking of going?' Walter asked.

'No' her. Liz was aye close, as close as yersel',' said his mother rather sarcastically. 'She's aff, onyhoo.'

'Do you think she has gone away with any one--a man, I mean?' asked Walter then, and his face flushed as he asked the question.

'I couldna say, I'm sure,' answered his mother, with a stolid indifference which astonished even him. 'Ye ken as muckle as me; but as she's made her bed she maun lie on't. I've washed my hands o' her.'

'It's long since you washed your hands of us both, mother, so far as interest or guidance goes,' the lad could not refrain from saying, with bitterness. But the reproach did not strike home.

'If it's news ye want, I'll tell ye where ye'll get it,' she said sourly. 'At Teen's. Eh, she's an ill hizzie. If Liz comes to grief, it's her wyte. I canna bide thon smooth-faced, pookit cat. She'll no' show her face here in a hurry.'

'I've a good mind to look in at Teen's, and ask. Where's the old man to-night?'