"Aggie," he called, still on the farther side of the bed--he called
gently, but trembled at the sound of his own voice--"did ye ever
hear--did Grannie mak mention o' a door 'at the auld captain gaed
oot at?"
"Whisht, whisht!" cried Aggie, in a loud hissing whisper, which
seemed to pierce the marrow of Cosmo's bones, "I rede ye say nae
thing aboot that i' this chaumer. Bide till we're oot o' 't: I hae
near dune. Syne we'll steek the door, an' lat the fire work. It'll
hae eneuch adu afore it mak the place warm; the cauld intil this
room's no a coamon ane. There's something by ord'nar intil 't."
Cosmo could no longer endure having the great, old, hearse-like bed
between him and Aggie. With a shiver in the very middle of his
body, he hastened to the other side: there lay the country of air,
and fire, and safe earthly homeliness: the side he left was the
dank region of the unknown, whose march-ditch was the grave.
They hurried with the rest of their work. Aggie insisted on being
at the farther side of the bed when they made it. Not another word
was spoken between them, till they were safe from the room, and had
closed its door behind them.
They went up to Cosmo's room, to make it something fitter for a
lady's bower. Opening a certain chest, they took from it--stored
there by his mother, Cosmo loved to think--another set of curtains,
clean blankets, fine sheets, and a counterpane of silk patchwork,
and put them all on the bed.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163