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CHAPTER XXXIII.
“It would be a great satisfaction to me,” said Lauderdale, “to have some understanding about their relations. There’s few folk so lonely in this world but what they have some kin, be they kind or not. It’s awfu’ to look at this poor bit thing, and think how forlorn she’ll be by and by, when——”

“When?” said Colin—“what do you mean? Meredith is not worse that I can see. Is that what you are thinking of?”

“It’s an awfu’ gradual descent,” said Lauderdale; “nae precipices there—and pitiful to behold; but he’s making progress on{261} his way. I’m no mistaken, callant; a man like me has seen such sights before. It looks as if it could go on for ever, and nae great difference perceptible from day to day; but the wheel’s aye turning and the thread spinning off, and nobody can say for certain what moment it may break, like glass, and the spinning come to an end. Ay, it’s an awfu’ mystery. You may break your heart thinking, but you’ll come to no solution. I’ve tried it as much as most men, and should ken;—but that’s no the matter under consideration. I would be glad to know something about their friends.”

“I don’t suppose they have any friends,” said Colin, who had by this time forgotten the suggestion of his English acquaintances. “He would never have brought his sister here with him if he had had anyone to leave her with—that is, if he believed, as he says he does, that he was going to die,” said the young man, with a pang of fellow-feeling and natural pity, “which are terrible words to say.”

“I’m no so sure about either of your propositions,” said Lauderdale; “I’ve very little objection to die, for my part. No to speak of hopes a man has as a Christian—though I maybe canna see them as clear as that poor callant thinks he does—it would be an awfu’ satisfaction to ken what was the meaning of it all, which is my grand difficulty in this life. And I cannot say I am satisfied, for that matter, that he brought his sister here for want of somebody to leave her with; she’s a kind of property that he wouldna like to leave behind. He was not thinking of her when they started, but of himsel’; nor can I see that his mind’s awakening to any thought of her even now, though he’s awfu’ anxious, no doubt, about her soul, and yours, and mine. Whisht! it’s temperament, callant. I’m no blaming the poor dying lad. It’s hard upon a man if he cannot be permitted to take some bit female creature that belongs to him as far as the grave’s mouth. She maun find her way back from there the best way she can. It’s human nature, Colin, for a’ you look like a glaring lion at me.”

“I prefer your ordinary manner of expounding human nature,” said Colin. “Don’t talk like this; if Miss Meredith is left so helpless and solitary, at all events, Lauderdale, she can rely on you and me.”

“Ay,” said the philosopher shortly; “and grand protectors we would be for the like of her. Two men no her equals in the eye of the world—I’m no heeding your indignant looks, my freend; I’m a better judge than you of some things—and one of{262} us no of an age to be over and above trusted. A lad like you can take care of a bit thing like her only in one way; and that’s out of the question under present circumstances—even if either of you were thinking of such vanities, of which I see no sign.”

“None whatever,” said Colin, with momentary heat. “She is not in my way; and, besides, she is greatly too much occupied to think of any such vanities, as you say.”

Lauderdale cast a half-amused, suspicious look at his companion, whose face was flushed a little. Colin was thinking only of Alice’s want of comprehension and sympathy on the previous night; but the touch of offence and mortification was as evident as if she had been unkind to him in more important particulars.

“Being agreed on that point, it’s easier to manage the rest,” Lauderdale resumed, with the ghost of a smile; “and I dinna pretend, for my own part, to be a fit guardian for a young leddy. It’s a’ very well for Telle-machus to wander about the world like this, but I’m no qualified to keep watch and ward over the princess. Poor thing!” said the philosopher, “it’s awfu’ early to begin her troubles; but I would be easy in my mind, comparatively, if we could find out about their friends. She’s no so very communicative in that particular; and she has her bit woman’s whiles, innocent as she looks. She’ll give me no satisfaction, though I’m awfu’ cunning in my questions. What was it yon silly woman said about some Meredith of some place? I’m no without suspicions in my own mind.”

“What sort of suspicions?” said Colin. “She said Meredith of Maltby. I wrote it down somewhere. There was a row about him in the papers—don’t you remember—a few years ago.”

“Oh ay, I remember,” said Lauderdale; “one of them that consume widows’ houses, and for a pretence make long prayers. The wonder to me is how this callant, if he should happen to be such a man’s son, did not take a sickening at religion altogether. That’s the consequence in a common mind. It gives me a higher notion of this poor lad. He has his faults, like most folk I ken,” said Lauderdale. “He’s awfu’ young, which is the chief of all, and it’s one that will never mend in his case in this life; but, if he’s yon man’s son, no to have abandoned a’ religion, no to have scorned the very name of preaching and prayer, is a clear token to me that the root of the matter’s in him; though he may be a wee unrighteous to his ain flesh and blood”—the philosopher went on philosophically—“that’s neither here nor there.{263}”

“If religion does not make us righteous to our own flesh and blood, what is the good of it?” said Colin. “To care for souls, as you say, but not to care for leaving his sister so helpless and desolate, would be to me as bad as his father’s wickedness. Bah! his father!—what am I saying? He is no more his father than the Duke is mine. It is only a coincidence of name.”

“I’m making no assertions,” said Lauderdale. “It may be or it may not be; I’m no saying: but you should aye bear in mind that there’s an awfu’ difference between practice and theory. To have a good theory—or, if ye like, a grand ideal—o’ existence, is about as much as a man can attain to in this world. To put it into full practice is reserved, let us aye hope, for the life to come. However, I wouldna say,” said Colin’s guardian, changing his tone, “but that kind of practical paradox might run in the blood. Our friend Arthur, poor man! has no meaning of neglect to his sister. Do no man injustice. Maybe the other had as little intention of cheating them that turned out his victims. An awfu’ practical accident like that might be accompanied by a beautiful theory. Just as in the case of his son—”

“Stuff!” said Colin, who thought his friend prosy. “Why will you insist on saying ‘his son?’ Meredith is not an uncommon name. You might as well say Owen Meredith was his brother.”

“There’s nothing more likely,” said the philosopher, composedly; “brothers aye take different roads, especially when they come out of such a nest; but listen now to what I’ve got to say——”

What Lauderdale had to say was still upon the subject of which Colin by this time had got tired—the supposed connexion of the brother and sister with the famous, or rather notorious Meredith of Maltby, who was one of the great leaders of that fashion of swindling so prevalent a few years ago, by means of which directors of banks and joint-stock companies brought so many people to ruin. Of these practitioners Mr. Meredith of Maltby had been one of the most successful. He had passed through one or two disagreeable examinations, it is true, in Insolvent Courts and elsewhere; but he had managed to steer clear of the law, and to retain a comfortable portion of his ill-gotten gains. He was a pious man, who subscribed to all the societies, and had, of course, since these unpleasant accidents occurred, been held up to public admiration by half the newspapers of Great Britain as an instance of the natural effect produced upon the human mind by an assumption of superior piety; and more{264} than one clever leading article, intended to prove that lavish subscriptions to benevolent purposes, and attendance at prayer meetings, were the natural evidences of a mind disposed to prey on its fellow-creatures, had been made pointed and emphatic by his name. Lauderdale’s “case” was subtle enough, and showed that he, at least, had not forgotten the hint given in the Pantheon. He told Colin that all his cunning inquiries could elicit no information ab............
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