David Elginbrod | Page 7

or doubt of the propriety of accepting the offer, Hugh
could not conjecture. He stood for some moments looking after her,
and then retraced his steps towards the house.
It would have been something, in the monotony of one of the most
trying of positions, to meet one who snatched at the offered means of

spiritual growth, even if that disciple had not been a lovely girl, with
the woman waking in her eyes. He commenced the duties of the day
with considerably more of energy than he had yet brought to bear on
his uninteresting pupils; and this energy did not flag before its effects
upon the boys began to react in fresh impulse upon itself.

CHAPTER IV
.
THE COTTAGE.
O little Bethlem! poor in walls, But rich in furniture.
JOHN MASON'S Spiritual Songs.
There was one great alleviation to the various discomforts of
Sutherland's tutor-life. It was, that, except during school-hours, he was
expected to take no charge whatever of his pupils. They ran wild all
other times; which was far better, in every way, both for them and for
him. Consequently, he was entirely his own master beyond the fixed
margin of scholastic duties; and he soon found that his absence, even
from the table, was a matter of no interest to the family. To be sure, it
involved his own fasting till the next meal-time came round--for the
lady was quite a household martinet; but that was his own concern.
That very evening, he made his way to David's cottage, about the
country supper-time, when he thought he should most likely find him at
home. It was a clear, still, moonlit night, with just an air of frost. There
was light enough for him to see that the cottage was very neat and tidy,
looking, in the midst of its little forest, more like an English than a
Scotch habitation. He had had the advantage of a few months' residence
in a leafy region on the other side of the Tweed, and so was able to
make the comparison. But what a different leafage that was from this!
That was soft, floating, billowy; this hard, stiff, and straight-lined,
interfering so little with the skeleton form, that it needed not to be put
off in the wintry season of death, to make the trees in harmony with the
landscape. A light was burning in the cottage, visible through the inner
curtain of muslin, and the outer one of frost. As he approached the door,
he heard the sound of a voice; and from the even pitch of the tone, he
concluded at once that its owner was reading aloud. The measured
cadence soon convinced him that it was verse that was being read; and

the voice was evidently that of David, and not of Margaret. He knocked
at the door. The voice ceased, chairs were pushed back, and a heavy
step approached. David opened the door himself.
"Eh! Maister Sutherlan'," said he, "I thocht it micht aiblins be yersel.
Ye're welcome, sir. Come butt the hoose. Our place is but sma', but
ye'll no min' sitttin' doon wi' our ain sels. Janet, ooman, this is Maister
Sutherlan'. Maggy, my doo, he's a frien' o' yours, o' a day auld, already.
Ye're kindly welcome, Maister Sutherlan'. I'm sure it's verra kin' o' you
to come an' see the like o' huz."
As Hugh entered, he saw his own bright volume lying on the table,
evidently that from which David had just been reading.
Margaret had already placed for him a cushioned arm-chair, the only
comfortable one in the house; and presently, the table being drawn back,
they were all seated round the peat-fire on the hearth, the best sort for
keeping feet warm at least. On the crook, or hooked iron-chain
suspended within the chimney, hung a three-footed pot, in which
potatoes were boiling away merrily for supper. By the side of the wide
chimney, or more properly lum, hung an iron lamp, of an old classical
form common to the country, from the beak of which projected, almost
horizontally, the lighted wick--the pith of a rush. The light perched
upon it was small but clear, and by it David had been reading. Margaret
sat right under it, upon a creepie, or small three-legged wooden stool.
Sitting thus, with the light falling on her from above, Hugh could not
help thinking she looked very pretty. Almost the only object in the
distance from which the feeble light was reflected, was the patch-work
counterpane of a little bed filling a recess in the wall, fitted with doors
which stood open. It was probably Margaret's refuge for the night.
"Well," said the tutor, after they had been seated a few minutes, and
had had some talk about the weather--surely no