Kidnapped | Page 9

a pull at
the small beer, which probably reminded him of hospitable duties, for his next speech ran
thus: "If ye're dry ye'll find water behind the door."
To this I returned no answer, standing stiffly on my two feet, and looking down upon my
uncle with a mighty angry heart. He, on his part, continued to eat like a man under some
pressure of time, and to throw out little darting glances now at my shoes and now at my
home-spun stockings. Once only, when he had ventured to look a little higher, our eyes
met; and no thief taken with a hand in a man's pocket could have shown more lively
signals of distress. This set me in a muse, whether his timidity arose from too long a
disuse of any human company; and whether perhaps, upon a little trial, it might pass off,
and my uncle change into an altogether different man. From this I was awakened by his
sharp voice.
"Your father's been long dead?" he asked.
"Three weeks, sir," said I.
"He was a secret man, Alexander--a secret, silent man," he continued. "He never said
muckle when he was young. He'll never have spoken muckle of me?"
"I never knew, sir, till you told it me yourself, that he had any brother."
"Dear me, dear me!" said Ebenezer. "Nor yet of Shaws, I dare say?"
"Not so much as the name, sir," said I.

"To think o' that!" said he. "A strange nature of a man!" For all that, he seemed singularly
satisfied, but whether with himself, or me, or with this conduct of my father's, was more
than I could read. Certainly, however, he seemed to be outgrowing that distaste, or ill-will,
that he had conceived at first against my person; for presently he jumped up, came across
the room behind me, and hit me a smack upon the shoulder. "We'll agree fine yet!" he
cried. "I'm just as glad I let you in. And now come awa' to your bed."
To my surprise, he lit no lamp or candle, but set forth into the dark passage, groped his
way, breathing deeply, up a flight of steps, and paused before a door, which he unlocked.
I was close upon his heels, having stumbled after him as best I might; and then he bade
me go in, for that was my chamber. I did as he bid, but paused after a few steps, and
begged a light to go to bed with.
"Hoot-toot!" said Uncle Ebenezer, "there's a fine moon."
"Neither moon nor star, sir, and pit-mirk,"* said I. "I cannae see the bed."
* Dark as the pit.
"Hoot-toot, hoot-toot!" said he. "Lights in a house is a thing I dinnae agree with. I'm unco
feared of fires. Good-night to ye, Davie, my man." And before I had time to add a further
protest, he pulled the door to, and I heard him lock me in from the outside.
I did not know whether to laugh or cry. The room was as cold as a well, and the bed,
when I had found my way to it, as damp as a peat-hag; but by good fortune I had caught
up my bundle and my plaid, and rolling myself in the latter, I lay down upon the floor
under lee of the big bedstead, and fell speedily asleep.
With the first peep of day I opened my eyes, to find myself in a great chamber, hung with
stamped leather, furnished with fine embroidered furniture, and lit by three fair windows.
Ten years ago, or perhaps twenty, it must have been as pleasant a room to lie down or to
awake in as a man could wish; but damp, dirt, disuse, and the mice and spiders had done
their worst since then. Many of the window-panes, besides, were broken; and indeed this
was so common a feature in that house, that I believe my uncle must at some time have
stood a siege from his indignant neighbours--perhaps with Jennet Clouston at their head.
Meanwhile the sun was shining outside; and being very cold in that miserable room, I
knocked and shouted till my gaoler came and let me out. He carried me to the back of the
house, where was a draw-well, and told me to "wash my face there, if I wanted;" and
when that was done, I made the best of my own way back to the kitchen, where he had lit
the fire and was making the porridge. The table was laid with two bowls and two horn
spoons, but the same single measure of small beer. Perhaps my eye rested on this
particular with some surprise, and perhaps my uncle observed it; for he spoke up as if in
answer to my thought,