"A light has come doon upon me frae heaven," she said, "and I canna."

"Light frae heaven!" said Merrylees indignantly. "Will that shew the doctors how to cut a cancer out o' ye, ye auld fule? But we'll sune put out that light," he whispered to his companion. "Awa' and bring in a half-mutchkin."

"Ay," replied the "Spune," as he got hold of a bottle, "we are only obeying the will o' G.o.d. 'Man's infirmities shall verily be cured by the light o' His wisdom.' I forget the text."

And the "Spune," proud of his biblical learning, went upon his mission. He was back in a few minutes; for where in Scotland is whisky not easily got?

Then Merrylees, (as he used to tell the story to some of the students, to which we cannot be expected to be strictly true as regards every act or word,) filling out a gla.s.s, handed it to the wavering witch.

"Tak' ye that," he said, "and it will drive the deevil out o' ye."

And finding that she easily complied, he filled out another, which went in the same direction with no less relish.

"And noo," said he, as he saw her scruples melting in the liquid fire, and took out a pound-note, which he held between her face and the candle, "look through that, ye auld deevil, and ye'll see some o' the real light o' heaven that will mak' your cats' een reel."

"But that's only ane," said the now-wavering merchant, "and ye ken ye promised three."

"And here they are," replied he, as he held before her the money to the amount of which she had only had an experience in her dreams, and which reduced her staggering reason to a vestige.

"Weel," she at length said, "ye may tak' her."

And all things thus bade fair for the completion of the barter, when the men, and scarcely less the woman, were startled by a knock at the door, which having been opened, to the dismay of the purchasers there entered a person, dressed in a loose great-coat, with a broad bonnet on his head, and a thick cravat round his throat, so broad as to conceal a part of his face.

"Mrs Wilson is dead?" said the stranger, as he approached the bed.

"Ay," replied the woman, from whom even the whisky could not keep off an ague of fear.

"I am her nephew," continued the stranger, "and I am come to pay the last duties of affection to one who was kind to me when I was a boy. Can I see her?"

"Ay," said the woman; "she's no screwed doon yet."

Enough for "Merry-Andrew" and the "Spune." They were off, and up the wynd in a moment, followed by the stranger, who, for some reason that has not in the story yet appeared, gave them chase, only so much as to terrify them into a flight, but without being carried so far as to insure a seizure, which he did not seem inclined to achieve. Nor did he return to bury Mrs Wilson--a strange mystery to the unnatural nurse, who, however, did not lose all, for the three pounds had been left on the table, and were quickly appropriated without the least consideration.

The story next day went the round of the hall; and it was not until the woman was buried, that Merrylees and his friend were made aware that the same student who had played the princ.i.p.al performer at the head of the wynd was the stranger in a very well-a.s.sorted disguise.

Preying on each other

We are surprised when we find a man turn wicked all of a sudden, and seldom think that we are simply drawing a false conclusion, insomuch as the suddenness of the supposed change is a mere jump of development,--the consequence of a long train, dating perhaps from infancy. So true is it, that the increase of depravity is the progression of degrees, all according to that law of nature whereby G.o.d wills to act by the regular process of cause and effect, each change helping another, till matters come to a burst, when the often-split powers take new directions, to begin in new courses, and go on increasing as before. We have already seen the demon mammon obeying the law of increased power, spreading from a centre in Surgeon's Square among the people, and trying heart after heart, even to that core where he battled successfully with affections which G.o.d seems to have consecrated to Himself. Yes; and the demon was to go farther and farther,--even beyond the stage where we are sure to find him,--contesting even the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the regular traders, the very centres of their natural affinities.

We have already noticed the use to which "Merry-Andrew" put that brown-black suit of his, the white neckcloth, the haggard cheeks, and the tears,--all so often the stage property in the melodrama of life, and as easily put off as the personation of the character, unless kept on by the adhesive effect of a good legacy. But as every man is once or twice in his life doomed to experience in reality that which he falsifies in theory, so our mourner over those he had never seen before was on one occasion, at least, placed in a position where it might have been expected he would experience something like a qualm about the thing which was in form, if not in consistency, a heart. It seems that Merrylees had a sister in Penicuik, with whom he had been brought up, and towards whom, before he had experienced the hardening process of mammon's manipulations, he had entertained something like affection. That sister happened to die; and, on a certain day, Merrylees appeared in the Square once more in the old suit which had so faithfully repaid its original cost twenty times over. He had sense enough--and the reason thereof may appear, on a little consideration of the character of his compeers--to keep the circ.u.mstance of the death to himself; and, accordingly, when the apparition appeared in the ominous suit, they antic.i.p.ated another descent of grief upon the Infirmary.

This suspicion very soon pa.s.sed away, for not only was there no sign of that puckering up of the lank muscles, not deserving the name of a look of vivacity, which preceded his lugubrious personation in the hospital, but the day pa.s.sed without any aid being asked from the others to help to carry, or rather run, with the white coffin. The methodist "Spune" was the first to divine the real cause of the chief's melancholy; and whether it was, as was said,--for we are not certain of the fact,--that the two had had a quarrel some time before about the division of spoil, it was certain that the worsted compet.i.tor began to entertain some very dark thoughts about a visit to Penicuik church-yard, whereby he could not only remunerate himself in the shape of money, but achieve one of the most curious revenges that ever were enjoyed since Nemesis began to have her fiery eyes. So, taking Mowat to a side of the Square, the "Spune" began to look mysteriously into his face--a most unnecessary process, where there never was any change of expression since first nature squeezed the clay into solidity.

"I suspect Merrylees' sister's dead at last," said he; "isn't she as good as another?"

"Nae difference," was the answer, without any surprise.

"Yes, ye fule, some; and you're so stupid you don't see it."

"I can see nane,--a' is alike to me; ae worm's as gude's anither to the 'Moudiewart.'"

"Ay, but if a worm had bitten ye, man, wouldn't you squeeze it the harder?"

"Maybe."

"And have you forgotten the ten shillings in Blackfriars' Wynd?"

"I'll tak it oot o' his blude," was the surly reply.

"And why not out of his sister's?" said the "Spune," with another dark look as unnecessary as the former.

"Just as sune,--a' ane."

"And," continued the tempter, where no temptation was necessary, "I know where she lies, just in the southeast angle, where he told me his father was laid."

"Why no him?" replied Mowat; "a' ane."

"Rotten ten years ago, you idiot," said the other, getting impatient.

"Weel, the fresh ane then."

"Now you are sensible," continued the friendly counsellor; "we might have her here in the morning, with five pounds each in our pockets, and a laugh in our sleeves at Merrylees."

"I never saw you laugh," said Mowat, in perfect innocence.

"No more you did, nor any other person, 'cause its always in the sleeve.

Doesn't do to laugh about these things--they're scientific."

"Umph! dinna understand that; but I'm ready when you like."

"That's right," replied the gratified "Spune." "Have Cameron's donkey and cart at the south end of Newington by ten o'clock. It's moonlight, I think."

"Dinna ken, but it's a' ane. I'll be there; but, mind, you stand the whisky this time."

And so (having indulged, perhaps, in our own way of putting this conversation--the _contenu_ being the same) the important enterprise was arranged with that zest on the part of the grave and precise princ.i.p.al which results from secrecy; for it was impossible to suppose that Merrylees could suspect that even they were capable of preying on their fellow-labourer, and robbing the nest of any affections that might hang about it.

At the appointed time the "Moudiewart" was at his post with the little cuddy and the cart, where he was soon joined by his friend. Away they went,--Mowat driving, and the "Spune" lying extended in the vehicle, in utter disregard of the poor animal, not much larger than himself. With such an object before them, comprehending within the success of its acquisition the gratification of two of the strongest pa.s.sions of degraded man, and no sensibility to admit of the feeling of a reaction in the quietness of the road and the increasing stillness of the hour, with, in addition, an auspicious moon, in whose face they could look only as a light-giving thing that makes gnomes out of head-stones, they might have been supposed to be merry. But no, there were no salient points in their natures from which could spring even that mirth which rides on the back of horrors. Mutely they drove along, with no sounds to break the silence, save the patter of the donkey's feet and the turns of the wheels. Very different this silent progress from those expeditions in which Merrylees formed a part, and where, if there was necessarily absent everything like the rational discourse of human beings, there was yet something to relieve the monotony in the shout after draining off a gla.s.s, the muscular contortions, and the _bizarres etourderies_ of their strange friend. It was the caravan without the fool, and even he, as a son of Momus and Angerona, or some such mongrels, was a droll against his will. Sad fate to him who, even in his efforts not to be the cause of mirth in others, could himself become the b.u.t.t of those whom, not more stupid, he could, in his self-protection, afford to despise. But Merrylees had at length fallen among his enemies, and must abide the issue of a terrible revenge.

By about the hour of half-past twelve they had reached a part of the road where, by the convenience of a slap, they could leave their equipage, with the donkey's neck fixed to a post, and his head within reach of some tempting provender. All this arranged to their satisfaction, they searched about for stray loungers, none of whom could be espied,--so straight they went to their destined work. As familiar with the burying-ground as they were with their own squalid dwellings, they were soon among the green hillocks, few of which, as they saw by the light of the moon, which came upon them in fitful gleams, making all these sombre things more like the productions of _feerie_ than of honest nature, held out any temptations to these lovers of new sod. But at length the "Spune" stopped at an elevation more recent than any around it.

"This is the grave of Merrylees' father anyhow," said the superior.

"Then out with him," said the stolid Mowat.