Warlock o' Glenwarlock by George MacDonald (summer beach reads .TXT) 📖

free to work for the heart, Cosmo said to himself"What if the dying who seem thus divided from us, are but looking over the tops of insignificant earthly things? What if the heart within them is lying content in a closer contact with ours than our dull fears and too level outlook will allow us to share? One thing their apparent withdrawal meansthat we must go over to them; they cannot retrace, for that would be to retrograde. They have already begun to learn the language and ways of the old world, begun to be children there afresh, while we remain still the slaves of new, lowbred habits of unbelief and self-preservation, which already to them look as unwise as unlovely. But our turn will come, and we shall go after, and be taught of them. In the meantime let us so live that it may be the easier for us in dying to let the loved ones know that we are loving them all the time."

The laird ceased to eat, and spoke seldom, but would often smileonly there was in his smile too that far-off something which troubled his son. One word he often murmuredPEACE. Two or three times there came as it were a check in the drift seaward, and he spoke plainly. This is very near what he said on one of these occasions:

"Peace! peace! Cosmo, my son, ye dinna ken hoo strong it can be! Naebody can ken what it's like till it comes. I hae been troubled a' my life, an' noo the verra peace is 'maist ower muckle for me! It's like as gien the sun wad put oot the fire. I jist seem whiles to be lyin' here waitin' for ye to come intil my peace, an' be ane wi' me! But ye hae a lang this warl's life afore ye yet. Eh! winna it be gran' whan it's weel ower, an' ye come! You an' me an' yer mother an' God an' a'! But somehoo I dinna seem to be lea'in' ye aitherno half sae muckle as whan ye gaed awa' to the college, an' that although ye're ten times mair to me noo than ye war than. Deith canna weel be muckle like onything we think aboot it; but there maun surely be a heap o' fowk unco dreary an' fusionless i' the warl' deith taks us til; an' the mair I think aboot it, the mair likly it seems we'll hae a heap to du wi' thema sair wark tryin' to lat them ken what they are, an' whaur they cam frae, an' hoo they maun gang to win hamefor deith can no more be yer hame nor a sair fa' upo' the ro'd be yer bed. There may be mony ane there we ca'd auld here,'at we'll hae to tak like a bairn upo' oor knees an' bring up. I see na anither w'y o' 't. The Lord may ken a better, but I think he's shawn me this. For them 'at are Christ's maun hae wark like his to du, an' what for no the personal ministrations o' redemption to them 'at are deid, that they may come alive by kennin' him? Auld bairns as weel as yoong hae to be fed wi' the spune."

The day before that on which he went, he seemed to wake up suddenly, and said,

"Cosmo, I'm no inclined to mak a promise wi'regaird to ony possible communication wi' ye frae the ither warl', nor do I the least expec' to appear or speyk to ye. But ye needna for that conclude me awa' frae ye a' thegither. Fowk may hae a hantle o' communication ohn aither o' them kent it at the time, I'm thinkin'. Min' this ony gait: God's oor hame, an' gien ye be at hame an' I be at hame, we canna be far sun'ert!"

As the sun was going down, closing a lovely day of promise, the boat of sleep, with a gentle wind of life and birth filling its sail, bore, softly gliding, the old pilgrim across the faint border between this and that. It may be that then, for a time, like a babe new-born, he needed careful hands and gentle nursing; and if so, there was his wife, who must surely by now have had time to grow strong. Cosmo wept and was lonely, but not broken-hearted; for he was a live man with a mighty hope and great duties, each of them ready to become a great joy. Such a man I do not think even diamonds could hurt, although, where breathes no wind of life, those very crystals of light are amongst the worst in Beelzebub's army to fly-blow a soul into a thing of hate and horror.


CHAPTER LIX.

A BREAKING UP.


Things in the castle went on in the same quiet way as before for some time. Cosmo settled himself in his father's room, and read and wrote, and pondered and aspired. The household led the same homely simple life, only fared better. The housekeeping was in Grizzie's hands, and she was a liberal soula true BREAD-GIVER.

James Gracie did not linger long behind his friend. His last words were, "I won'er gien I hae a chance o' winnin' up wi' the laird!"

On the morning that followed his funeral, as soon as breakfast was over, Aggie sought Cosmo, where he sat in the garden with a book in his hand.

"Whaur are ye gaein', Aggie?" he said, as she approached prepared for walking.

"MY hoor's come," she answered. "It's time I was awa'."

"I dinna un'erstan' ye, Aggie," he returned.

"Hoo sud ye, sir? Ilka body kens, or sud ken, what lies to their ain han'. It lies to mine to gang. I'm no wantit langer. Ye wadna hae me ait the breid o' idleness?"

"But, Aggie," remonstrated Cosmo, "ye're ane o' the faimily! I wad as sune think o' seein' my ain sister, gien I had ane, gang fra hame for sic a nae rizzon at a'!"

The tears rose in her eyes, and her voice trembled:

"It canna be helpit; I maun gang," she said.

Cosmo was dumb for many moments; he had never thought of such a possibility; and Aggie stood silent before him.

"What hae ye i' yer heid, Aggie? What thoucht ye o' duin' wi' yersel'?" he asked at length, his heart swelling so that he could scarcely bring out the words.

"I'm gaein' to luik for a place."

"But, Aggie, gien it canna be helpit; and gang ye maun, YE ken I'm rich, an' I ken there's naebody i' the warl' wi' a better richt to share in what I hae: wadna ye like to gang til a ladies' school, an' learn a heap o' things?"

"Na, I wadna. It's hard wark I need to haud me i' the richt ro'd. I can aye learn what I hunger for, an' what ye dinna desire ye'll never learn. Thanks to yersel' an' Maister Simon, ye hae putten me i' the w'y o' that! It's no kennin' thingsit's kennin' things upo' the ro'd ye gang,'at 's o' consequence to ye. The lave I mak naething o'."

"But a time micht come whan ye wad want mony a thing ye micht hae learnt afore."

"Whan that time comes, I'll learn them than, wi' half the trouble, an' in half the time,no to mention the pleesur o' learnin' them. Noo, they wad but tak me frae the things I can an' maun mak use o'. Na, Cosmo, I'm b'un' to du something wi' what I hae, an' no bide till I get mair. I'll be aye gettin'."

"Weel, Aggie, I daurna temp' ye to bide gien ye oucht to gang; an' ye wad but despise me gien I was fule eneuch to try 't. But ye canna refuse to share wi' me. That wadna be like ane 'at had the same father an' the same maister. Tak a thoosan' poun' to begin wi', an' gang an'an' du onything ye like, only dinna work yersel' to deith wi' rouch wark. I canna bide to think o' 't."

"A thoosan' poun'! No ae baubee! Cosmo, I wad hae thoucht ye had mair sense! What wad baudrins (PUSSY-CAT) there du wi' a silk goon? Ye can gie me the twa poun' ten I gae to Grizzie to help haud the life in 's a'. A body maun hae something i' their pooch gien they can, an' gien they canna, they maun du wi' naething. It's won'erfu' hoo little 's railly wantit!"

Cosmo felt miserable.

"Ye winna surely gang ohn seein' Maister Simon!"

"I tried to see him last nicht, but auld Dorty wadna lat me near him. I WAD fain say fareweel til him."

"Weel, put aff gaein' awa' till the morn, an' we'll gang thegither the nicht an' see him. Dorty winna haud ME oot."

Aggie hesitated, thought, and consented. Leaving Cosmo more distressed than she knew, she went to the kitchen, took off her bonnet, and telling Grizzie she was not going till the morrow, sat down, and proceeded to pare the potatoes.

"Ance mair," said Grizzie, resuming an unclosed difference, "what for ye sud gang's clean 'ayont me. It's true the auld men are awa', but here's the auld wife left, an' she'll be a mither to ye, as weel's she kens hoo, an' a lass o' your sense is easy to mither. I' the name o' God I say't, the warl' micht as weel objec' to twa angels bidin' i' h'aven thegither as you an' the yoong laird in ae hoose! Say 'at they like, ye're but a servan' lass, an' here am I ower ye! Aggie, I'm grouin' auld, an' railly no fit to mak a bed my laneno to mention scoorin' the flure! It's no considerate o' ye, Aggie!jist 'cause yer fatherhoots, he was but yer gran'father! 's deid o' a guid auld age, an' gaithert til HIS fathers, to gang an' lea' me my lane! Whaur am I to get a body I cud bide to hae i' my sicht, an' you awa'you 'at's been like bane o' my bane to me! It's no guid o' ye, Aggie! There maun be temper intil 't! I'm sure I ken no cause ever I gae ye."

Aggie said not a word; she had said all she could say, over and over; so now she pared her potatoes, and was silent. Her heart was sore, but her mind was clear, and her will strong.

Up and down the little garden Cosmo walked, revolving many things. "What is this world and its ways," he said, "but a dream that dreams itself out and is gone!"

The majority of men, whether they think or not, worship solidity and fact: to such Cosmo's conclusion must seem both foolish and dangerousthough a dream may be filled with truth, and a fact be a mere shred for the winds of the limbo of vanities. Everything that CAN pass belongs to the same category with the dream. The question is whether the passing body leaves a live soul; whether the dream has been dreamed, the life lived aright. For there is a reality beyond all facts of suns and systems; solidity itself is but the shadow of a divine necessity; and there may be more truth in a fable than in a whole biography. Where life and truth are one, there is no passing, no dreaming more. To that waking all dreams truly dreamed are guiding the dreamer. But the last thingand this was the conclusion of Cosmo's meditationany dreamer needs regard, is the judgment of other dreamers upon his dreams. The all-pervading, ill-odoured phantom called Society is but the ghost