Hearing the pitiful wailing of a child and the cough of a woman, as they went along a street bridge, they peeped over the parapet, and saw, upon the stair leading to the lower street, a woman, with a child asleep in her lap, trying to eat a piece of bread, and coughing as if in the last stage of consumption. On the next step below sat a man hushing in his bosom the baby whose cry they had heard. They stood for a moment, the minister pondering whether his profession required of him action, and Ginevra's gaze fixed on the head and shoulders of the foreshortened figure of the man, who vainly as patiently sought to soothe the child by gently rocking it to and fro. But when he began a strange humming song to it, which brought all Glashgar before her eyes, Ginevra knew beyond a doubt that it was Gibbie. At the sound the child ceased to wail, and presently the woman with difficulty rose, laying a hand for help on Gibbie's shoulder. Then Gibbie rose also, cradling the infant on his left arm, and making signs to the mother to place the child on his right. She did so, and turning, went feebly up the stair.
Gibbie followed with the two children, one lying on his arm, the other with his head on his shoulder, both wretched and pining, with gray cheeks, and dark hollows under their eyes. From the top of the stair they went slowly up the street, the poor woman coughing, and Gibbie crooning to the baby, who cried no more, but now and then moaned. Then Fergus said to the laird:
"Did you see that young man, sir? That is the so-called Sir Gilbert Galbraith we were talking of the other night. They say he has come into a good property, but you may judge for yourself whether he seems fit to manage it!"Ginevra withdrew her hand from his arm.
"Good God, Jenny!" exclaimed the laird, "you do not mean to tell me you have ever spoken to a young man like that?""I know him very well, papa," replied Ginevra, collectedly.
"You are incomprehensible, Jenny! If you know him, why do I not know him? If you had not known good reason to be ashamed of him, you would, one time or other, have mentioned his name in my hearing.--I ask you, and I demand an answer,"--here he stopped, and fronted her--"why have you concealed from me your acquaintance with this--this--person?""Because I thought it might be painful to you, papa," she answered, looking in his face.
"Painful to me! Why should it be painful to me--except indeed that it breaks my heart as often as I see you betray your invincible fondness for low company?""Do you desire me to tell you, papa, why I thought it might be painful to you to make that young man's acquaintance?""I do distinctly. I command you."
"Then I will: that young man, Sir Gilbert Galbraith,--""Nonsense, girl! there is no such Galbraith. It is the merest of scoffs."Ginevra did not care to argue with him this point. In truth she knew little more about it than he.
"Many years ago," she recommenced, "when I was a child,--Excuse me, Mr. Duff, but it is quite time I told my father what has been weighing upon my mind for so many years.""Sir Gilbert!" muttered her father contemptuously.
"One day," again she began, "Mr. Fergus Duff brought a ragged little boy to Glashruach--the most innocent and loving of creatures, who had committed no crime but that of doing good in secret. I saw Mr.
