The Garret and the Garden | Page 7

kerb-stone so violently that she was rendered insensible. Seeing this, the man proceeded to take from her the poor trinkets she had about her, and would have succeeded in robbing her but for the sudden appearance on the scene of a lowland Scot clad in a homespun suit of shepherd's plaid--a strapping ruddy youth of powerful frame, fresh from the braes of Yarrow.
CHAPTER THREE.
A VISITOR FROM THE NORTH.
How that Lowland Scot came to the rescue just in the nick of time is soon told.
"Mither," said he one evening, striding into his father's dwelling--a simple cottage on a moor--and sitting down in front of a bright old woman in a black dress, whose head was adorned with that frilled and baggy affair which is called in Scotland a mutch, "I'm gawin' to Lun'on."
"Hoots! havers, David."
"It's no' havers, mither. Times are guid. We've saved a pickle siller. Faither can spare me for a wee while--sae I'm aff to Lun'on the morn's mornin'."
"An' what for?" demanded Mrs Laidlaw, letting her hands and the sock on which they were engaged drop on her lap, as she looked inquiringly into the grave countenance of her handsome son.
"To seek a wife, maybe," replied the youth, relaxing into that very slight smile with which grave and stern-featured men sometimes betray the presence of latent fun.
Mrs Laidlaw resumed her sock and needle with no further remark than "Hoots! ye're haverin'," for she knew that her son was only jesting in regard to the wife. Indeed nothing was further from that son's intention or thoughts at the time than marriage, so, allowing the ripple to pass from his naturally grave and earnest countenance, he continued--
"Ye see, mither, I'm twunty-three noo, an' I wad like to see something o' the warld afore I grow aulder an' settle doon to my wark. As I said, faither can spare me a while, so I'll jist tak' my fit in my haund an' awa' to see the Great Bawbylon."
"Ye speak o' gaun to see the warld, laddie, as if 'ee was a gentleman."
"Div 'ee think, mother, that the warld was made only for gentlemen to travel in?" demanded the youth, with the gentlest touch of scorn in his tone.
To this question the good woman made no reply; indeed her stalwart son evidently expected none, for he rose a few minutes later and proceeded to pack up his slender wardrobe in a shoulder-bag of huge size, which, however, was well suited to his own proportions.
Next day David Laidlaw took the road which so many men have taken before him--for good or ill. But, unlike most of his predecessors, he was borne towards it on the wings of steam, and found himself in Great Babylon early the following morning, with his mother's last caution ringing strangely in his ears.
"David," she had said, "I ken ye was only jokin', but dinna ye be ower sure o' yersel'. Although thae English lassies are a kine o' waux dolls, they have a sort o' way wi' them that might be dangerous to lads like you."
"H'm!" David had replied, in that short tone of self-sufficiency which conveys so much more than the syllable would seem to warrant.
The Scottish youth had neither kith nor kin in London, but he had one friend, an old school companion, who, several years before, had gone to seek his fortune in the great city, and whose address he knew. To this address he betook himself on the morning of his arrival, but found that his friend had changed his abode. The whole of that day did David spend in going about. He was sent from one place to another, in quest of his friend, and made diligent use of his long legs, but without success. Towards evening he was directed to a street on the Surrey side of the Thames, and it was while on his way thither that he chanced to enter the alley where poor Susan was assaulted.
Like most Scotsmen of his class and size David Laidlaw was somewhat leisurely and slow in his movements when not called to vigorous exertion, but when he heard the girl's shriek, and, a moment later, saw her fall, he sprang to her side with one lithe bound, like that of a Bengal tiger, and aimed a blow at her assailant, which, had it taken effect, would have interrupted for some time--if not terminated for ever--that rascal's career. But the thief, though drunk, was young, strong, and active. It is also probable that he was a professional pugilist for, instead of attempting to spring back from the blow--which he had not time to do--he merely put his head to one side and let it pass. At the same instant David received a stinging whack on the right eye, which although it failed to arrest his rush,