Fiction > Serialisations > London, 1893 - David Balfour

54°
THE LAST WORK.
Andie had scarce done when there befell a
mighty silly affair that had its consequence. Neil,
as I have said, was himself a great narrator. I
have heard since that he knew all the stories in
the Highlands ; and thought much of himself, and
was thought much of by others, on the strength of
it. Now Andie's tale reminded him of one he had
already heard.
"She would ken that story afore," he said.
"She was the story of Uistean More M'Gillie
Phadrig and the Gavar Vore."
" It is no sic a thing," cried Andie. " It is the
story of my faither (now wi' God) and Tod Lapraik.
And the same in your beard," says he ; "and keep
the tongue of ye inside your Hielant chafts ! "
In dealing with Highlanders it will be found, and
has been shown in history, how well it goes with
Lowland gentlefolk ; but the thing appears scarce
feasible for Lowland commons. I had already
remarked that Andie was continually on the point
of quarrelling with our three MacGregors, and now,
sure enough, it was to come.
"This will be no words to use to shentlemans,"
says Neil,
" Shentlemans ! " cried Andie. " Shentlemans,
ye Hielant stot ! If God would give ye the grace
to see yoursel' the way that ithers see ye, ye would
throw your denner up."
Then came some kind of Gaelic oath from
Neil, and the black knife was in his hand that
moment.
There was no time to think, and I caught the
Highlander by the leg and had him down, and
his armed hand pinned out, before I knew what I
was doing. His comrades sprang to rescue him.
Andie and I were without weapons, the Gregara
three to two. It seemed we were beyond salvation,
when Neil screamed in his own tongue, ordering
the others back, and made his submission to myself
in a manner the most abject, even giving me up
his knife, which (upon a repetition of his promises)
I returned to him on the morrow.
Two things I saw plain : the first, that I must
not build too high on Andie, who had shrunk
against the wall and stood there, as pale as death,
till the affair was over ; the second, the strength of
my own position with the Highlanders, who must
have received extraordinary charges to be tender of
my safety. But if I thought Andie came not very
well out in courage, I had no fault to find with him
upon the account of gratitude. It was not so
much that he troubled me with thanks, as that his
whole mind and manner appeared changed ; and
as he preserved ever after a great timidity of our
companions, he and I were yet more constantly
together.
{To be colli i lined.)
THE LAST WORK.
THE twilight deepens, and the quiet room
Grows darker to the old man's weary eyes-
Two wintry casements, dim with age, from which
His artist soul looks forth and bids farewell
To this, the last of all his many works.
The last — and is it so? His palsied hand
With one last effort grasps the falling brush.
His form unbends, the faded eyes grow bright,
A gleam of hope flits o'er his furrowed face
Like evening sunlight o'er a ploughed field ;
But, like the sunlight, all too quickly fades.
And leaves behind but deeper, sadder gloom.