David went with rapid steps down the rocks to Pittenloch. How hateful the
place looked to him that afternoon! How dreary those few tossing boats!
How mean the cottages! How vulgar the women in their open doors! How
disagreeable the bare-footed children that recognized him and ran hither
and thither with the news of his arrival.
He was full of shame and anger. Where was his praise, where was his honor,
with this disgrace in his home? How could he show those newspapers
extolling his diligence and attainments, when Maggie had made his very
success a disgrace to him? Oh, how bitterly he felt toward her!
Mistress Caird met him at the door with her apron at her eyes: "Come in,
sir," she said, with a courtesy, "though it is a sorrowfu' house you come
to."
"Aunt Janet, you have been drinking. I smell the whiskey above everything.
Ah, there is the bottle!" His sharp eyes had seen it behind the tea caddy
on the mantelshelf. He took it and flung it upon the shingle as far as his
arm could send it.
"That is my ain whiskey, David; bought wi' my ain siller, and the gude ken
I need a wee drappie to keep my vera heart frae breaking wi' the sorrow I
hae had."
"Say, wi' the sorrow you hae made. Pack your trunk, Aunt Janet. I'll take
you to Dron Point in the morning."
He would talk no more to her. He let her rave and explain and scold, but
sat silent on his hearth, and would go and see none of his old friends.
But it did console him somewhat that they came crowding in to see him.
That reaction which sooner or later takes place in favor of the injured
had taken place in Maggie's favor since the minister's last visit.
Mistress Caird felt that she was leaving Pittenloch something like a
social criminal. No one came to bid her farewell. David and a boy he hired
took her silently to her old home. She had sacrificed every good feeling
and sentiment for popularity, and everyone spoke ill of her.
Getting near to Dron Point, she said to David, "You are a miserable set-up
bit o' a man; but you'll pay me the £4 10s. you are owing me, or I'll send
the constable and the sherra a' the way to Glasca' for it."
"I owe you nothing, woman."
"Woman, indeed! Maggie, the hizzy!--agreed to gie me five shillings weekly
if I wad say the gude word for her she ne'er deserved, and I havna been
paid for eighteen weeks. That mak's it £4 10s. Just hand o'er the siller
and be done wi' it."
"It is a theft, an extortion;" but he took a £5 note from his pocket-book
and gave her it. "That is a gratuity," he said, "a gratuity to help you
until you find employment. I do not owe you a penny."