inexpressible desolation of a hundred human voices, united in a sudden, short anguished cry of
mingled agony and terror, fell upon his ears hideously, with the deathly fatality of a coronach. The walls of his compartment whirled about him and upon him, like a winding sheet, the floor rushed over his head. As he spun around, with a loud cry he too shouted, 'God help us!' then, faintly, the name 'Mary!'
Then the train with incredible speed, curving like a rocket, arched the darkness in a glittering parabola of light and plunged soundlessly into the black hell of water below, where, like a rocket, it was instantly extinguished forever obliterated! For the infinity of a second, as he hurtled through the air, Denis knew what had happened. He knew everything; then instantly he ceased to know. At the same instant as the first faint cry of his child ascended feebly in the byre at Levenford, his mutilated body hit the dark, raging water and lay dead, deep down upon the bed of the firth.
BOOK II
THE cutting cold of a March morning lay upon the High Street of Levenford. Large, dry snowflakes, floating as gently and softly as butterflies, insistently filled the air and lay deeply upon the frosted ground. The hard, delayed winter had been late of coming and was now tardy of passing, thought Brodie, as he stood in the doorway of his shop, looking up and down the quiet, empty street. Strangely, the quietness of the street consoled him, its emptiness gave him freer space to breathe. During the last three months it had been hard for him to face his fellow townsmen and the lack of stir about him came as a respite to his suffering, but unbroken pride. He could, for a moment, relax his inflexible front and admire his own indomitable will. Yes, his task had been difficult for the last three months but, by God, he had done it! The arrows they had launched at him had been many and had sunk deeply, but never by a word, never by a gesture had he betrayed the quivering of his wounded and outraged pride.
He had conquered. He pushed the square hat farther back upon his head, thrust his thumbs into the armholes of his waistcoat, and, with his blunt nostrils doggedly sniffing the keen air, gazed aggressively down the silent thoroughfare. In spite of the biting cold he wore no overcoat or scarf; his intense satisfaction in the hardihood of his physique was such that he disdained this sign of weakness. What would I do with a coat, with MY constitution? was his contemptuous attitude, despite the fact that this morning he had been obliged to
break a thin skin of ice upon the cold water in his ewer before he could sluice himself. The frigid weather suited his disposition. He revelled in the iron frost, filled his chest invigoratingly with the chilled air, whilst the suction of his breath drew the white, sailing snowflakes on to his tongue, where they lay like melting hosts, filling him with a new refreshing force.
Suddenly he saw a man approaching. Only Brodie's stimulated pride kept him at his door, for he recognised the figure as that of the glibbest, smoothest gossip in the Borough. 'Damn his sleekit tongue,' he muttered, as he heard the slow, muffled steps approach and saw the other deliberately cross the roadway. 'I would like to rive it from his mouth. Ay! he's comin' over. I thought he would.'
Up came Grierson, wrapped to his blue ears. As Brodie had anticipated, he stopped.
'Good morning to you, Mr. Brodie,' he began, stressing the 'you' with a nicety of accent that might have been interpreted as deferential, or merely as ironic.
'Morning,' said Brodie shortly. He had suffered acutely from the hidden venom of that tongue in the past and he distrusted it profoundly.
'The frost still holds firm, I fear,' continued the other. 'It's been a hard, hard winter, but, man, it doesna seem to affect you a bit. I believe you're made o' steel; you can thole anything.'
'The weather suits me weel enough,' growled Brodie, eyeing the other's blue nose contemptuously.
'The trouble is, though,' replied Grierson smoothly, 'that a' these hard frosts maun break some time. The ice has got to crack one day. There maun be a thaw, and the harder the frost the softer the thaw. There'll be a big change in the conditions here some day.' He raised a guileless glance towards the other.
Brodie fully understood the double significance of the words, but he was not clever enough to reply in kind.
'Is that so?' he said heavily, with a sneer. 'Man, you're clever, clever.'
'Na, na, Mr. Brodie. It's juist fair intuition! What the Romans ca'ed takin' the omens frae the weather.'
'Indeed! Ye're the scholar as weel, I see.'
'Man!' went on Grierson, unperturbed, 'this morning a wee robin redbreast flew into my house it was so perished like.' He shook his head. 'It must be awfu' weather for the birds and onybody that hasna got a home to go to.' Then, before Brodie could speak he added, 'How are all the family?'
Brodie forced himself to reply calmly, 'Quite well, thank ye.
Nessie's gettin' on grandly at school, as no doubt ye've heard. She'll be runnin' awa' with all the prizes again this year.' That's one for you, thought Brodie, with your big, stupid son that's always done out of first place by my clever lass.
'I hadna heard! But it's fine all the same.' Grierson paused, then in a soft voice, remarked, 'Have ye had ony word from the other daughter lately Mary, I mean?'
Brodie gritted his teeth, but he controlled himself and said slowly,
'I'll thank you not to mention that name again in my hearing.'
Grierson manifested a great show of concern.
' 'Deed, I'm sorry if I've upset you, Mr. Brodie, but I had aye a bit regard for that lass o' yours. I was gey upset at her lang illness, but I had heard tell the other day that she had gotten a post away in London, and I was wonderin' if it was through these folks in Darroch the Foyles, I mean. Still, I've nae doubt ye ken as little as me.'
He screwed up his eyes and glanced sideways at the other, as he continued:
'Ay, I took great notice o' the affair. In a human sort o' way, ye ken. I was real touched when the wee, bit bairn died in the hospital.'
Brodie eyed him stonily, but the torture continued.
'They say it was a real bonny wean and the doctor was much upset when it slipped through his fingers. He took a great interest in the mother's case. I'm no' surprised either; it was so unusual, with the complications o' pneumonia and all.' He shook his head mournfully.
'Man! What a calamity, though, that the father wasna' spared to make an honest woman o' ahem, ahem! Forgive me, Mr. Brodie! I clean forgot! I was just lettin' my silly tongue run away wi' me.'
Grierson was abjectly apologetic. He had rubbed Brodie on the raw, made him wince, and was clever enough to know when to withdraw.
Brodie looked right through the other. Inwardly he writhed, but in a low, strained Toice he said,
'Let your mealy-mouthed tongue run on like the Wellhall burn; it makes no odds to me.'
It was a mistaken attitude, for it immediately offered an opportunity to renew the baiting which Grierson was not slow to seize.
He laughed, with a soft, unctuous titter.
'That's richt, that's richt! That's the spirit that never flinches! I can't but admire ye, Mr. Brodie,' he went on, 'at the firm stand ye've taken amongst the disgrace o' it all. A man that had such an important standin' in the Borough might easily have been broken richt to bits by such a comedown, for there's no doubt that for months the whole town has been ringin' wi' it.'
'The gabble of the Cross is of no moment to me,' retorted Brodie, with a heaving breast. He could have killed the other with his glance, but he could, with dignity, use no other weapons, and his pride forbade him to retreat.
'Ay, ay,' replied Grierson speculatively, 'but it might shake up another man to be the butt o' a' these dirty divots, and the laughin' stock o' the place. Man!' he added, in a low tone, almost as an afterthought, 'it would be enough to drive an ordinary man to the drink for consolation.'
