Part 7

And all things thus bade fair for the completion of the barter, when the men, and scarcely less the woman, were startled by a knock at the door, which having been opened, to the dismay of the purchasers there entered a person, dressed in a loose great-coat, with a broad bonnet on his head, and a thick cravat round his throat, so broad as to conceal a part of his face.

"Mrs Wilson is dead?" said the stranger, as he approached the bed.

"Ay," replied the woman, from whom even the whisky could not keep off an ague of fear.

"I am her nephew," continued the stranger, "and I am come to pay the last duties of affection to one who was kind to me when I was a boy. Can I see her?"

"Ay," said the woman; "she's no screwed doon yet."

Enough for "Merry-Andrew" and the "Spune." They were off, and up the wynd in a moment, followed by the stranger, who, for some reason that has not in the story yet appeared, gave them chase, only so much as to terrify them into a flight, but without being carried so far as to insure a seizure, which he did not seem inclined to achieve. Nor did he return to bury Mrs Wilson--a strange mystery to the unnatural nurse, who, however, did not lose all, for the three pounds had been left on the table, and were quickly appropriated without the least consideration.

The story next day went the round of the hall; and it was not until the woman was buried, that Merrylees and his friend were made aware that the same student who had played the principal performer at the head of the wynd was the stranger in a very well-assorted disguise.

Preying on each other

We are surprised when we find a man turn wicked all of a sudden, and seldom think that we are simply drawing a false conclusion, insomuch as the suddenness of the supposed change is a mere jump of development,--the consequence of a long train, dating perhaps from infancy. So true is it, that the increase of depravity is the progression of degrees, all according to that law of nature whereby God wills to act by the regular process of cause and effect, each change helping another, till matters come to a burst, when the often-split powers take new directions, to begin in new courses, and go on increasing as before. We have already seen the demon mammon obeying the law of increased power, spreading from a centre in Surgeon's Square among the people, and trying heart after heart, even to that core where he battled successfully with affections which God seems to have consecrated to Himself. Yes; and the demon was to go farther and farther,--even beyond the stage where we are sure to find him,--contesting even the breasts of the regular traders, the very centres of their natural affinities.

We have already noticed the use to which "Merry-Andrew" put that brown-black suit of his, the white neckcloth, the haggard cheeks, and the tears,--all so often the stage property in the melodrama of life, and as easily put off as the personation of the character, unless kept on by the adhesive effect of a good legacy. But as every man is once or twice in his life doomed to experience in reality that which he falsifies in theory, so our mourner over those he had never seen before was on one occasion, at least, placed in a position where it might have been expected he would experience something like a qualm about the thing which was in form, if not in consistency, a heart. It seems that Merrylees had a sister in Penicuik, with whom he had been brought up, and towards whom, before he had experienced the hardening process of mammon's manipulations, he had entertained something like affection. That sister happened to die; and, on a certain day, Merrylees appeared in the Square once more in the old suit which had so faithfully repaid its original cost twenty times over. He had sense enough--and the reason thereof may appear, on a little consideration of the character of his compeers--to keep the circumstance of the death to himself; and, accordingly, when the apparition appeared in the ominous suit, they anticipated another descent of grief upon the Infirmary.

This suspicion very soon passed away, for not only was there no sign of that puckering up of the lank muscles, not deserving the name of a look of vivacity, which preceded his lugubrious personation in the hospital, but the day passed without any aid being asked from the others to help to carry, or rather run, with the white coffin. The methodist "Spune" was the first to divine the real cause of the chief's melancholy; and whether it was, as was said,--for we are not certain of the fact,--that the two had had a quarrel some time before about the division of spoil, it was certain that the worsted competitor began to entertain some very dark thoughts about a visit to Penicuik church-yard, whereby he could not only remunerate himself in the shape of money, but achieve one of the most curious revenges that ever were enjoyed since Nemesis began to have her fiery eyes. So, taking Mowat to a side of the Square, the "Spune" began to look mysteriously into his face--a most unnecessary process, where there never was any change of expression since first nature squeezed the clay into solidity.

"I suspect Merrylees' sister's dead at last," said he; "isn't she as good as another?"

"Nae difference," was the answer, without any surprise.

"Yes, ye fule, some; and you're so stupid you don't see it."

"I can see nane,--a' is alike to me; ae worm's as gude's anither to the 'Moudiewart.'"

"Ay, but if a worm had bitten ye, man, wouldn't you squeeze it the harder?"

"Maybe."

"And have you forgotten the ten shillings in Blackfriars' Wynd?"

"I'll tak it oot o' his blude," was the surly reply.

"And why not out of his sister's?" said the "Spune," with another dark look as unnecessary as the former.

"Just as sune,--a' ane."

"And," continued the tempter, where no temptation was necessary, "I know where she lies, just in the southeast angle, where he told me his father was laid."

"Why no him?" replied Mowat; "a' ane."

"Rotten ten years ago, you idiot," said the other, getting impatient.

"Weel, the fresh ane then."

"Now you are sensible," continued the friendly counsellor; "we might have her here in the morning, with five pounds each in our pockets, and a laugh in our sleeves at Merrylees."

"I never saw you laugh," said Mowat, in perfect innocence.

"No more you did, nor any other person, 'cause its always in the sleeve. Doesn't do to laugh about these things--they're scientific."