Here it occurred to me that, as the landlord was a man of that county, I might do well to make a friend of him. I offered him a share, as was much the custom in those days; but he was far too great a man to sit with such poor customers as Ransome and myself, and he was leaving the room, when I called him back to ask if he knew Mr. Rankeillor.
"Hoot ay," says he, "and a very honest man. And O, by the by," says he, "was it you that came in with Ebenezer?" And, when I had told him yes, "Ye'll be no friend of his?" he asked, meaning, in the Scottish way, that I would be no relative.
"I thought not," said he, "and yet ye have a kind of gliff[6] of Mr. Alexander."
I said it seemed that Ebenezer was ill-seen in the country.
"Nae doubt," said the landlord. "He's a wicked auld man, and there's many would like to see him girning in a tow:[7] Jennet Clouston and mony mair that he has harried out of house and hame. And yet he was ance a fine young fellow too. But that was before the sough[8] gaed abroad about Mr. Alexander; that was like the death of him."
"Ou, just that he had killed him," said the landlord. "Did ye never hear that?"
"And what would he kill him for?" said I.
"And what for, but just to get the place," said he.
"Ay, man?" said I. "Is that so? Was my--was Alexander the eldest son?"
"'Deed was he," said the landlord. "What else would he have killed him for?"
And with that he went away, as he had been impatient to do from the beginning.
Of course, I had guessed it a long while ago; but it is one thing to guess, another to know; and I sat stunned with my good fortune, and could scarce grow to believe that the same poor lad who had trudged in the dust from Ettrick Forest not two days ago, was now one of the rich of the earth, and had a house and broad lands, and might mount his horse to-morrow. All these pleasant things, and a thousand others, crowded into my mind, as I sat staring before me out of the inn window, and paying no heed to what I saw; only I remember that my eye lighted on Captain Hoseason down on the pier among his seamen and speaking with some authority. And presently he came marching back towards the house, with no mark of a sailor's clumsiness, but carrying his fine, tall figure with a manly bearing, and still with the same sober, grave expression on his face. I wondered if it was possible that Ransome's stories could be true, and half disbelieved them; they fitted so ill with the man's looks. But, indeed, he was neither so good as I supposed him, nor quite so bad as Ransome did; for, in fact, he was two men, and left the better one behind as soon as he set foot on board his vessel.