The repairs upon the Auld Hoose o' Galbraith were now nearly finished.In consequence of them, some of the tenants had had to leave, and Gibbie now gave them all notice to quit at their earliest convenience, taking care, however, to see them provided with fresh quarters, towards which he could himself do not a little, for several of the houses in the neighbourhood had been bought for him at the same time with the old mansion.As soon as it was empty, he set more men to work, and as its internal arrangements had never been altered, speedily, out of squalid neglect, caused not a little of old stateliness to reappear.He next proceeded to furnish at his leisure certain of the rooms, chiefly from the accumulations of his friend Mistress Murkison.By the time he had finished, his usual day for going home had arrived: while Janet lived, the cottage on Glashgar was home.Just as he was leaving, the minister told him that Glashruach was his.Mrs.Sclater was present, and read in his eyes what induced her instantly to make the remark: "How could that man deprive his daughter of the property he had to take her mother's name to get!""He had misfortunes," indicated Gibbie, "and could not help it, Isuppose."
"Yes indeed!" she returned, "--misfortunes so great that they amounted to little less than swindling.I wonder how many he has brought to grief besides himself! If he had Glashruach once more he would begin it all over again.""Then I'll give it to Ginevra," said Gibbie.
"And let her father coax her out of it, and do another world of mischief with it!" she rejoined.
Gibbie was silent.Mrs.Sclater was right! To give is not always to bless.He must think of some way.With plenty to occupy his powers of devising he set out.
He would gladly have seen Ginevra before he left, but had no chance.
He had gone to the North church every Sunday for a long time now, neither for love of Fergus, nor dislike to Mr.Sclater, but for the sake of seeing his lost friend: had he not lost her when she turned from Donal to Fergus? Did she not forsake him too when she forsook his Donal? His heart would rise into his throat at the thought, but only for a moment: he never pitied himself.Now and then he had from her a sweet sad smile, but no sign that he might go and see her.Whether he was to see Donal when he reached Daurside, he could not tell; he had heard nothing of him since he went; his mother never wrote letters.
"Na, na; I canna," she would say."It wad tak a' the pith oot o' me to vreet letters.A' 'at I hae to say I sen' the up-road; it's sure to win hame ear' or late."Notwithstanding his new power, it was hardly, therefore, with his usual elation, that he took his seat on the coach.But his reception was the same as ever.At his mother's persuasion, Donal, he found, instead of betaking himself again to bodily labours as he had purposed, had accepted a situation as tutor offered him by one of the professors.He had told his mother all his trouble.
"He'll be a' the better for 't i' the en'," she said, with a smile of the deepest sympathy, "though, bein' my ain, I canna help bein'
wae for 'im.But the Lord was i' the airthquak, an' the fire, an'
the win' that rave the rocks, though the prophet couldna see 'im.
Donal 'ill come oot o' this wi' mair room in's hert an' mair licht in's speerit."Gibbie took his slate from the crap o' the wa' and wrote."If money could do anything for him, I have plenty now.""I ken yer hert, my bairn," replied Janet; 'but na; siller's but a deid horse for onything 'at smacks o' salvation.Na; the puir fallow maun warstle oot o' the thicket o' deid roses as best he can--sair scrattit, nae doobt.Eh! it's a fearfu' an' won'erfu'
