Winter Evening Tales | Page 3

and power about him that was very attractive, as with a grave smile he lifted a book, and comfortably disposed himself in an easy chair by the window. For David knew better than begin the conversation; any advantages the defendant might have he determined to retain.
After a few minutes' silence his father said, "What are you reading, Davie? It ought to be a guid book that puts guid company in the background."
David leisurely turned to the title page. "'Selections from the Latin Poets,' father."
"A fool is never a great fool until he kens Latin. Adam Smith or some book o' commercial economics wad set ye better, Davie."
"Adam Smith is good company for them that are going his way, father: but there is no way a man may take and not find the humanities good road-fellows."
"Dinna beat around the bush, guidman; tell Davie at once that you want him to go 'prentice to Mammon. He kens well enough whether he can serve him or no."
"I want Davie to go 'prentice to your ain brither, guid wife--it's nane o' my doing if you ca' your ain kin ill names--and, Davie, your uncle maks you a fair offer, an' you'll just be a born fool to refuse it."
"What is it, father?"
"Twa years you are to serve him for ￡200 a year; and at the end, if both are satisfied, he will gie you sich a share in the business as I can buy you--and, Davie, I'se no be scrimping for such an end. It's the auldest bank in Soho, an' there's nane atween you and the head o' it. Dinna fling awa' good fortune--dinna do it, Davie, my dear lad. I hae look it to you for twenty years to finish what I hae begun--for twenty years I hae been telling mysel' 'my Davie will win again the bonnie braes o' Ellenmount.'"
There were tears in old Andrew's eyes, and David's heart thrilled and warmed to the old man's words; in that one flash of sympathy they came nearer to each other than they had ever done before.
And then spoke his mother: "Davie, my son, you'll no listen to ony sich temptation. My brither is my brither, and there are few folk o' the Gordon line a'thegither wrang, but Alexander Gordon is a dour man, and I trow weel you'll serve hard for ony share in his money bags. You'll just gang your ways back to college and tak' up your Greek and Hebrew and serve in the Lord's temple instead of Alexander Gordon's Soho Bank; and, Davie, if you'll do right in this matter you'll win my blessing and every plack and bawbee o' my money." Then, seeing no change in David's face, she made her last, great concession--"And, Davie, you may marry Mary Moir, an' it please you, and I'll like the lassie as weel as may be."
"Your mither, like a' women, has sought you wi' a bribe in her hand, Davie. You ken whether she has bid your price or not. When you hae served your twa years I'se buy you a ￡20,000 share in the Gordon Bank, and a man wi' ￡20,000 can pick and choose the wife he likes best. But I'm aboon bribing you--a fair offer isna a bribe."
The concession as to Mary Moir was the one which Davie had resolved to make his turning point, and now both father and mother had virtually granted it. He had told himself that no lot in life would be worth having without Mary, and that with her any lot would be happy. Now that he had been left free in this matter he knew his own mind as little as ever.
"The first step binds to the next," he answered, thoughtfully. "Mary may have something to say. Night brings counsel. I will e'en think over things until the morn."
A little later he was talking both offers over with Mary Moir, and though it took four hours to discuss them they did not find the subject tedious. It was very late when he returned home, but he knew by the light in the house-place that Janet was waiting up for him. Coming out of the wet, dark night, it was pleasant to see the blazing ingle, the white-sanded floor, and the little round table holding some cold moor-cock and the pastry that he particularly liked.
"Love is but cauldrife cheer, my lad," said Janet, "an' the breast o' a bird an' a raspberry tartlet will be nane out o' the way." David was of the same opinion. He was very willing to enjoy Janet's good things and the pleasant light and warmth. Besides, Janet was his oldest confidant and friend--a friend that had never failed him in any of his boyish troubles or youthful scrapes.
It gave her pleasure enough for a while to