CHAPTER LXXV.

All the night during which Isie Constable lay dreaming of racks,
pincers, screws, and Alec Forbes, the snow was busy falling outside,
shrouding the world once more; so that next day the child could not
get out upon any pretense.  Had she succeeded in escaping from the
house, she might have been lost in the snow, or drowned in the
Glamour, over which there was as yet only a rude temporary bridge to
supply the place of that which had been swept away.  But although very
uneasy at the obstruction of her projects, she took good care to keep
her own counsel.--The snow was very obstinate to go.  At length, after
many days, she was allowed to go out with stockings over her shoes,
and play in the garden.  No sooner was she alone than she darted out
of the garden by the back-gate, and before her mother missed her, was
crossing the Glamour.  She had never been so far alone, and felt
frightened; but she pushed bravely forward.

Mrs. Forbes and Annie Anderson were sitting together when Mary put her
head in at the door and told her mistress that the daughter of Mr.
Constable, the clothier, wanted to see her.

"Why, she's a mere infant, Mary!" exclaimed Mrs. Forbes.

"'Deed is she, mem; but she's nane the less doon the stair i' the
kitchie.  Ye wad hae seen her come yersel' but she's ower wee.  Ye
cudna get a glimp o' her ower the edge o' the snaw i' the cuttin' doon
to the yett.  Hoo her fowk cud lat her oot!  She's a puir wee
white-faced elf o' a crater, but she's byous auld-farrand and
wise-like, and naething will do but she maun see yersel', mem."

"Bring her up, Mary.  Poor little thing!  What can she want?"

Presently Isie entered the room, looking timidly about her.

"Well, my dear, what do you want?"

"It's aboot Alec, mem," said Isie, glancing towards Annie.

"Well, what about him?" asked Mrs. Forbes, considerably bewildered,
but not fearing bad news from the mouth of such a messenger.

"Hae ye heard naething aboot him, mem?"

"Nothing particular.  I haven't heard from him for a fortnight."

"That's easy accoontit for, mem."

"What do you mean, my dear? Speak out."

"Weel, mem, the way I heard it was raither partic'lar, and I wadna
like a'body to ken."

Here she glanced again at Annie.

"You needn't be afraid of Annie Anderson," said Mrs. Forbes smiling.
"What is it?"

"Weel, mem, I didna richtly ken.  But they hae ta'en him intil a
dreidfu' place, and whether they hae left a haill inch o' skin upo' 's
body, is mair nor I can tell; but they hae rackit him, and pu'd o' 's
nails aff, maybe them a', and--"

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Mrs. Forbes, with a most unusual inclination
to hysterics, seeing something terrible peep from behind the grotesque
report of Isie, "what _do_ you mean, child?"

"I'm tellin' ye't as I heard it, mem.  I houp they haena brunt him
yet.  Ye maun gang and tak' him oot o' their han's."

"Whose hands, child? Who's doing all this to him?"

"They stan' aboot the corners o' the streets, mem, in muckle toons,
and they catch a haud o' young laads, and trail them awa' wi' them,
and they jist torment the life oot o' them.  They say they're women;
but I dinna believe that.  It's no possible.  They maun be men dressed
up in women's claes."

Was it a great relief to the mother's heart to find that the childish
understanding of Isie had misinterpreted and misrepresented? She rose
and left the room, and her troubled step went to and fro overhead.
And the spirit of Annie was troubled likewise.  How much she
understood, I can not determine; but I believe that a sense of vague
horror and pity overwhelmed her heart.  Yet the strength of her
kindness forced her to pay some attention to the innocent little
messenger of evil.

"Whaur heard ye a' that, Isie, dear?"

"I heard my father and my mither gaein' on lamentin' ower him efter I
was i' my bed, and they thocht I was asleep.  But gin Mistress Forbes
winna tak' him awa', I'll gang and tell a' the ministers in Glamerton,
and see whether they winna raise the toon."

Annie stared in amazement at the wee blue-eyed wizened creature before
her speaking with the decision of a minor prophet.

"Is the child here still?" said Mrs. Forbes with some asperity as she
re-entered the room.  "I must go by the mail this afternoon, Annie."

"That's richt, mem," said Isie.  "The suner the better, I'm sure.  He
mayna be deid yet."

"What a very odd child!" said Mrs. Forbes.

"Wouldn't it be better to write first, ma'am?" suggested Annie.

Before Mrs. Forbes could reply, the white mutch of Mrs. Constable
appeared over the top of the snow that walled the path.  She was in
hot pursuit of her child, whose footsteps she had traced.  When shown
into the dining-room, she rushed up to her, and caught her to her
bosom, crying,

"Ye ill-contrived smatchit!  What hae ye been aboot, rinnin' awa' this
gait? I wonner ye wasna droont i' the Glamour."

"I don't see what better you could expect of your own child, Mrs.
Constable, if you go spreading reports against other people's
children," said Mrs. Forbes bitterly.

"It's a lee whaever said sae," retorted Mrs. Constable fiercely.  "Wha
tell't ye that?"

"Where else could your child have heard such reports, then?"

"Isie! Isie! My poor wee bairn!  What hae ye been aboot to tak' awa'
yer mither's gude name?"

And she hugged the child closer yet.

Isie hung down her head, and began to have dim perceptions that she
might have been doing mischief with the best possible intentions.

"I only tell't Mistress Forbes hoo ill they war to Alec."

After a moment's reflection, Mrs. Constable turned with a subdued
manner to Mrs. Forbes.

"The bairn's a curious bairn, mem," she said.  "And she's overheard
her father and me speakin' thegither as gin't had been only ae body
thinkin'.  For gin ever twa was ane, that twa and that ane is Andrew
Constable and mysel'."

"But what right had you to talk about my son?"

"Weel, mem, that question gangs rather far.  What's already procleemed
frae the hoose-taps may surely be spoken i' the ear in closets--for
oor back-room is but a closet.  Gin ye think that fowk'll haud their
tongues about your bairn mair nor ony ither body's bairn ye're
mista'en, mem.  But never ane heard o' 't frae me, and I can tak' my
bodily aith for my man, for he's jist by ordinar' for haudin' his
tongue.  I cud hardly worm it oot o' 'm mysel'."

Mrs. Forbes saw that she had been too hasty.

"What does it all mean, Mrs. Constable?" she said, "for I am quite
ignorant."

"Ye may weel be that, mem.  And maybe there's no a word o' trouth i'
the story, for I'm doobtin' the win' that brocht it blew frae an ill
airt."

"I really don't understand you, Mrs. Constable.  What do they say
about him?"

"Ow, jist that he's consortin' wi' the warst o' ill company, mem.  But
as I said to Anerew, maybe he'll come oot o' their cluiks no that
muckle the waur, efter a'."

Mrs. Forbes sank on the sofa, and hid her face in her hands.  Annie
turned white as death, and left the room.  When Mrs. Forbes lifted her
head, Mrs. Constable and her strange child had vanished.

Mrs. Forbes and Annie wept together bitterly, in the shadow of death
which the loved one cast upon them across the white plains and hills.
Then the mother sat down and wrote, begging him to deny the terrible
charge; after which they both felt easier.  But when the return of
post had brought no reply, and the next day was likewise barren of
tidings, Mrs. Forbes resolved to go to the hateful city at once.