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I MAKE ACQUAINTANCE OF MY UNCLE
Presently there came a great
rattling of chains and
bolts, and the door was cautiously opened and shut to again behind me
as soon as
I had passed.
"Go into the kitchen and touch naething," said the voice; and while the person of the house set himself to replacing the defences of the door, I groped my way forward and entered the kitchen.
The fire had burned up fairly bright, and showed me the barest room I think I ever put my eyes on. Half-a-dozen dishes stood upon the shelves; the table was laid for supper with a bowl of porridge, a horn spoon, and a cup of small beer. Besides what I have named, there was not another thing in that great, stone-vaulted, empty chamber but lockfast chests arranged along the wall and a corner cupboard with a padlock.
As soon as the last chain was up,
the man rejoined
me. He was a mean,
narrow-shouldered, clay-faced creature; and his age might have been
between fifty and seventy. His
nightcap was of flannel, and so was the nightgown that he wore, instead
and waistcoat, over his ragged shirt.
was long unshaved; but what most distressed and even daunted me, he
neither take his eyes away from me nor look me fairly in the face.
What he was, whether by trade or birth, was more
than I could fathom; but
he seemed most like an old, unprofitable serving-man, who should have
in charge of that big house upon board wages.
"Are ye sharp-set?" he asked, glancing at about the level of my knee. "Ye can eat that drop parritch?"
I said I feared it was his own supper.
"O," said he, "I can do fine
it. I'll take the
ale, though, for
He drank the cup about half out, still keeping an
eye upon me as he
drank; and then suddenly held out his hand.
"Let's see the letter," said he.
I told him the letter was for Mr.
Balfour; not for
"And who do ye think I am?" says
"Give me Alexander's letter."
"You know my father's name?"
"It would be strange if I dinnae," he returned, "for he was my born brother; and little as ye seem to like either me or my house, or my good parritch, I'm your born uncle, Davie, my man, and you my born nephew. So give us the letter, and sit down and fill your kyte."
If I had been some years younger,
what with shame,
weariness, and disappointment, I believe I had burst into tears.
As it was, I could find no words, neither black nor
white, but handed him
the letter, and sat down to the porridge with as little appetite for
ever a young man had.
Meanwhile, my uncle, stooping over
the fire, turned
the letter over and over in his hands.
"Do ye ken what's in it?" he asked,
"You see for yourself, sir," said I, "that the seal has not been broken."
"Ay," said he, "but what brought
"To give the letter," said I.
"No," says he, cunningly, "but
have had some hopes, nae doubt?"
"I confess, sir," said I, "when I was told that I had kinsfolk well-to-do, I did indeed indulge the hope that they might help me in my life. But I am no beggar; I look for no favours at your hands, and I want none that are not freely given. For as poor as I appear, I have friends of my own that will be blithe to help me."
"Hoot-toot!" said Uncle Ebenezer,
"dinnae fly up in the snuff at me.
agree fine yet. And,
Davie, my man,
if you're done with that bit parritch, I could just take a sup of it
Ay," he continued, as soon as he had ousted me from the stool and
"they're fine, halesome food — they're grand food, parritch."
He murmured a little grace to himself and fell to.
"Your father was
very fond of his meat, I mind; he was a hearty, if not a great eater;
but as for
me, I could never do mair than pyke at food."
He took 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
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
only, when he had
ventured to look a little higher, our eyes met; and no thief taken with
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
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
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
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
"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
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
me out. He carried
me to the back
of the house, where was a draw-well, and told me to "wash my face
I wanted;" and when that was done, I made the best of my own way back
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
observed it; for he spoke up as if in answer to my thought, asking me
if I would
like to drink ale — for so he called it.
I told him such was my habit, but
not to put himself
"Na, na," said he; "I'll deny you
nothing in reason."
He fetched another cup from the
shelf; and then, to
my great surprise, instead of drawing more beer, he poured an accurate
one cup to the other. There
kind of nobleness in this that took my breath away; if my uncle was
miser, he was one of that thorough breed that goes near to make the
When we had made an end of our meal, my uncle Ebenezer unlocked a drawer, and drew out of it a clay pipe and a lump of tobacco, from which he cut one fill before he locked it up again. Then he sat down in the sun at one of the windows and silently smoked. From time to time his eyes came coasting round to me, and he shot out one of his questions. Once it was, "And your mother?" and when I had told him that she, too, was dead, "Ay, she was a bonnie lassie!" Then, after another long pause, "Whae were these friends o' yours?"
I told him they were different
gentlemen of the name
of Campbell; though, indeed, there was only one, and that the minister,
ever taken the least note of me; but I began to think my uncle made too
my position, and finding myself all alone with him, I did not wish him
suppose me helpless.
He seemed to turn this over in his
mind; and then,
"Davie, my man," said he, "ye've come to the right bit when ye
came to your uncle Ebenezer. I've
great notion of the family, and I mean to do the right by you; but
taking a bit think to mysel' of what's the best thing to put you to —
the law, or the meenistry, or maybe the army, whilk is what boys are
fondest of — I wouldnae like the Balfours to be humbled before a wheen Hieland
and I'll ask you to keep your tongue within your teeth.
Nae letters; nae messages; no kind of word to
onybody; or else — there's
"Uncle Ebenezer," said I, "I've no
manner of reason to suppose you mean anything but well by me.
For all that, I would have you to know that I have a
pride of my own.
It was by no will of mine that I came seeking you;
and if you show me
your door again, I'll take you at the word."
He seemed grievously put out.
"Hoots-toots," said he, "ca' cannie, man — ca'
Bide a day or two. I'm
to find a fortune for you in the bottom of a parritch bowl; but just
you give me
a day or two, and say naething to naebody, and as sure as sure, I'll do
right by you."
"Very well," said I, "enough said.
If you want to help me, there's no doubt but I'll be
glad of it, and none
but I'll be grateful."
It seemed to me (too soon, I dare
say) that I was
getting the upper hand of my uncle; and I began next to say that I must
bed and bedclothes aired and put to sun-dry; for nothing would make me
such a pickle.
"Is this my house or yours?" said he, in his keen voice, and then all of a sudden broke off. "Na, na," said he, "I didnae mean that. What's mine is yours, Davie, my man, and what's yours is mine. Blood's thicker than water; and there's naebody but you and me that ought the name." And then on he rambled about the family, and its ancient greatness, and his father that began to enlarge the house, and himself that stopped the building as a sinful waste; and this put it in my head to give him Jennet Clouston's message.
"The limmer!" he cried.
"Twelve hunner and fifteen — that's every day since
I had the
Dod, David, I'll have her roasted
on red peats before I'm by with it! A witch — a proclaimed witch! I'll
see the session clerk."
And with that he opened a chest,
and got out a very
old and well-preserved blue coat and waistcoat, and a good enough
both without lace. These
on any way, and taking a staff from the cupboard, locked all up again,
for setting out, when a thought arrested him.
"I cannae leave you by yoursel' in
house," said he. "I'll
have to lock you out."
The blood came to my face. "If you lock me out," I said, "it'll be the last you'll see of me in friendship."
He turned very pale, and sucked his mouth in.
"This is no the way" he said,
wickedly at a corner of the floor — "this is no the way to win my
"Sir," says I, "with a proper reverence for your age and our common blood, I do not value your favour at a boddle's purchase. I was brought up to have a good conceit of myself; and if you were all the uncle, and all the family, I had in the world ten times over, I wouldn't buy your liking at such prices."
Uncle Ebenezer went and looked out
of the window for
awhile. I could see
trembling and twitching, like a man with palsy. But when he turned
round, he had
a smile upon his face.
"Well, well," said he, "we must bear and forbear. I'll no go; that's all that's to be said of it."
"Uncle Ebenezer," I said, "I can make nothing out of this. You use me like a thief; you hate to have me in this house; you let me see it, every word and every minute: it's not possible that you can like me; and as for me, I've spoken to you as I never thought to speak to any man. Why do you seek to keep me, then? Let me gang back — let me gang back to the friends I have, and that like me!"
"Na, na; na, na," he said, very earnestly. "I like you fine; we'll agree fine yet; and for the honour of the house I couldnae let you leave the way ye came. Bide here quiet, there's a good lad; just you bide here quiet a bittie, and ye'll find that we agree."
"Well, sir," said I, after I had
the matter out in silence, "I'll stay awhile.
It's more just I should be helped by my own blood
strangers; and if we don't agree, I'll do my best it shall be through