CHAPTER XXII

LOVERS

NLY something terrible, Gavin thought,

could have brought Babbie to him at such
an hour; yet when he left his mother’s room it
was to stand motionless on the stair, waiting for
a silence in the manse that would not come. A
house is never still in darkness to those who
listen intently; there is a whispering in distant
chambers, an unearthly hand presses the snib of
the window, the latch rises. Ghosts were created
when the first man woke in the night.

Now Margaret slept. Two hours earlier, Jean,
sitting on the salt-bucket, had read the chapter
with which she always sent herself to bed. In
honour of the little minister she had begun her
Bible afresh when he came to Thrums, and was
progressing through it, a chapter at night, sigh-
ing, perhaps, on washing-days, at a long chapter,
such as Exodus twelfth, but never making two
of it. The kitchen wag-at-the-wall clock was
telling every room in the house that she had
neglected to shut her door. As Gavin felt his
way down the dark stair, awakening it into pro-
test at every step, he had a glimpse of the pendu-
lum’s shadow running back and forward on the
hearth ; he started back from another shadow on
the lobby wall, and then seeing it start, too, knew

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