preparing；　Shargar　told　his　storyhow　having　heard　a　rumour　of
  apprenticeship　to　a　tailor；　he　had　the　same　night　dropped　from　the
  gable　window　to　the　ground；　and　with　three　halfpence　in　his　pocket
  had　wandered　and　begged　his　way　to　Aberdeen；　arriving　with　one
  halfpenny　left。
  'But　what　am　I　to　do　wi'　ye？'　said　Robert　once　more；　in　as　much
  perplexity　as　ever。
  'Bide　till　I　hae　tellt　ye；　as　I　said　I　wad；'　answered　Shargar。
  'Dinna　ye　think　I'm　the　haveless　（careless　and　therefore　helpless）
  crater　I　used　to　be。　　I　hae　been　in　Aberdeen　three　days！　　Ay；　an'　I
  hae　seen　you　ilka　day　in　yer　reid　goon；　an'　richt　braw　it　is。　　Luik
  ye　here！'
  He　put　his　hand　in　his　pocket　and　pulled　out　what　amounted　to　two　or
  three　shillings；　chiefly　in　coppers；　which　he　exposed　with　triumph
  on　the　table。
  'Whaur　got　ye　a'　that　siller；　man？'　asked　Robert。
  'Here　and　there；　I　kenna　whaur；　but　I　hae　gien　the　weicht　o'　't　for
  't　a'　the　samerinnin'　here　an'　rinnin'　there；　cairryin'　boxes　till
  an'　frae　the　smacks；　an'　doin'　a'thing　whether　they　bade　me　or　no。
  Yesterday　mornin'　I　got　thrippence　by　hingin'　aboot　the　Royal　afore
  the　coches　startit。　　I　luikit　a'　up　and　doon　the　street　till　I　saw
  somebody　hine　awa　wi'　a　porkmanty。　　Till　'im　I　ran；　an'　he　was　an
  auld　man；　an'　maist　at　the　last　gasp　wi'　the　weicht　o'　't；　an'　gae
  me　't　to　carry。　　An'　wha　duv　ye　think　gae　me　a　shillin'　the　verra
  first　nicht？Wha　but　my　brither　Sandy？'
  'Lord　Rothie？'
  'Ay；　faith。　　I　kent　him　weel　eneuch；　but　little　he　kent　me。　　There
  he　was　upo'　Black　Geordie。　　He's　turnin'　auld　noo。'
  'Yer　brither？'
  'Na。　He's　young　eneuch　for　ony　mischeef；　but　Black　Geordie。　　What　on
  earth　gars　him　gang　stravaguin'　aboot　upo'　that　deevil？　　I　doobt
  he's　a　kelpie；　or　a　hell…horse；　or　something　no　canny　o'　that　kin'；
  for　faith！　brither　Sandy's　no　ower　canny　himsel'；　I'm　thinkin'。　　But
  Geordiethe　aulder　the　waur　set　（inclined）。　　An'　sae　I'm　thinkin'
  wi'　his　maister。'
  'Did　ye　iver　see　yer　father；　Shargar？'
  'Na。　Nor　I　dinna　want　to　see　'im。　　I'm　upo'　my　mither's　side。　　But
  that's　naething　to　the　pint。　　A'　that　I　want　o'　you　's　to　lat　me
  come　hame　at　nicht；　an'　lie　upo'　the　flure　here。　　I　sweir　I'll　lie
  i'　the　street　gin　ye　dinna　lat　me。　　I'll　sleep　as　soun'　's　Peter
  MacInnes　whan　Maccleary's　preachin'。　　An'　I　winna　ate　muckleI　hae
  a　dreidfu'　pooer　o'　aitin'an'　a'　'at　I　gether　I'll　fess　hame　to
  you；　to　du　wi'　't　as　ye　like。Man；　I　cairriet　a　heap　o'　things　the
  day　till　the　skipper　o'　that　boat　'at　ye　gaed　intil　wi'　Maister
  Ericson　the　nicht。　　He's　a　fine　chiel'　that　skipper！'
  Robert　was　astonished　at　the　change　that　had　passed　upon　Shargar。
  His　departure　had　cast　him　upon　his　own　resources；　and　allowed　the
  individuality　repressed　by　every　event　of　his　history；　even　by　his
  worship　of　Robert；　to　begin　to　develop　itself。　　Miserable　for　a　few
  weeks；　he　had　revived　in　the　fancy　that　to　work　hard　at　school　would
  give　him　some　chance　of　rejoining　Robert。　　Thence；　too；　he　had
  watched　to　please　Mrs。　Falconer；　and　had　indeed　begun　to　buy　golden
  opinions　from　all　sorts　of　people。　　He　had　a　hope　in　prospect。　　But
  into　the　midst　fell　the　whisper　of　the　apprenticeship　like　a
  thunderbolt　out　of　a　clear　sky。　　He　fled　at　once。
  'Weel；　ye　can　hae　my　bed　the　nicht；'　said　Robert；　'for　I　maun　sit　up
  wi'　Mr。　Ericson。'
  ''Deed　I'll　hae　naething　o'　the　kin'。　　I'll　sleep　upo'　the　flure；　or
  else　upo'　the　door…stane。　　Man；　I'm　no　clean　eneuch　efter　what　I've
  come　throu　sin'　I　drappit　frae　the　window…sill　i'　the　ga'le…room。
  But　jist　len'　me　yer　plaid；　an'　I'll　sleep　upo'　the　rug　here　as　gin
  I　war　i'　Paradees。　　An'　faith；　sae　I　am；　Robert。　　Ye　maun　gang　to
  yer　bed　some　time　the　nicht　forby　（besides）；　or　ye　winna　be　fit　for
  yer　wark　the　morn。　　Ye　can　jist　gie　me　a　kick；　an'　I'll　be　up　afore
  ye　can　gie　me　anither。'
  Their　supper　arrived　from　below；　and；　each　on　one　side　of　the　fire；
  they　ate　the　porridge；　conversing　all　the　while　about　old　timesfor
  the　youngest　life　has　its　old　times；　its　golden　ageand　old
  adventures；Dooble　Sanny；　Betty；　&c。；　&c。　　There　were　but　two
  subjects　which　Robert　avoidedMiss　St。　John　and　the　Bonnie　Leddy。
  Shargar　was　at　length　deposited　upon　the　little　bit　of　hearthrug
  which　adorned　rather　than　enriched　the　room；　with　Robert's　plaid　of
  shepherd　tartan　around　him；　and　an　Ainsworth's　dictionary　under　his
  head　for　a　pillow。
  'Man；　I　fin'　mysel'　jist　like　a　muckle　colley　（sheep…dog）；'　he　said。
  'Whan　I　close　my　een；　I'm　no　sure　'at　I'm　no　i'　the　inside　o'　yer
  auld　luckie…daiddie's　kilt。　　The　Lord　preserve　me　frae　ever　sic　a
  fricht　again　as　yer　grannie　an'　Betty　gae　me　the　nicht　they　fand　me
  in　't！　　I　dinna　believe　it's　in　natur'　to　hae　sic　a　fricht　twise　in
  ae　lifetime。　　Sae　I'll　fa'　asleep　at　ance；　an'　say　nae　mairbut　as
  muckle　o'　my　prayers　as　I　can　min'　upo'　noo　'at　grannie's　no　at　my
  lug。'
  'Haud　yer　impidence；　an'　yer　tongue　thegither；'　said　Robert。　'Min'
  'at　my　grannie's　been　the　best　frien'　ye　ever　had。'
  ''Cep'　my　ain　mither；'　returned　Shargar；　with　a　sleepy　doggedness　in
  his　tone。
  During　their　conference；　Ericson　had　been　slumbering。　　Robert　had
  visited　him　from　time　to　time；　but　he　had　not　awaked。　　As　soon　as
  Shargar　was　disposed　of；　he　took　his　candle　and　sat　down　by　him。　　He
  grew　more　uneasy。　　Robert　guessed　that　the　candle　was　the　cause；　and
  put　it　out。　　Ericson　was　quieter。　　So　Robert　sat　in　the　dark。
  But　the　rain　had　now　ceased。　　Some　upper　wind　had　swept　the　clouds
  from　the　sky；　and　the　whole　world　of　stars　was　radiant　over　the
  earth　and　its　griefs。
  'O　God；　where　art　thou？'　he　said　in　his　heart；　and　went　to　his　own
  room　to　look　out。
  There　was　no　curtain；　and　the　blind　had　not　been　drawn　down；
  therefore　the　earth　looked　in　at　the　storm…window。　　The　sea　neither
  glimmered　nor　shone。　　It　lay　across　the　horizon　like　a　low　level
  cloud；　out　of　which　came　a　moaning。　　Was　this　moaning　all　of　the
  earth；　or　was　there　trouble　in　the　starry　places　too？　thought
  Robert；　as　if　already　he　had　begun　to　suspect　the　truth　from
  afarthat　save　in　the　secret　place　of　the　Most　High；　and　in　the
  heart　that　is　hid　with　the　Son　of　Man　in　the　bosom　of　the　Father；
  there　is　troublea　sacred　unresteverywherethe　moaning　of　a　tide
  setting　homewards；　even　towards　the　bosom　of　that　Father。
  CHAPTER　VIII。
  A　HUMAN　PROVIDENCE。
  Robert　kept　himself　thoroughly　awake　the　whole　night；　and　it　was
  well　that　he　had　not　to　attend　classes　in　the　morning。　　As　the　gray
  of　the　world's　reviving　consciousness　melted　in　at　the　window；　the
  things　around　and　within　him　looked　and　felt　ghastly。　　Nothing　is
  liker　the　gray　dawn　than　the　soul　of　one　who　has　been　watching　by　a
  sick　bed　all　the　long　hours　of　the　dark；　except；　indeed；　it　be　the
  first　glimmerings　of　truth　on　the　mind　lost　in　the　dark　of　a　godless
  life。
  Ericson　had　waked　often；　and　Robert　had　administered　his　medicine
  carefully。　　But　he　had　been　mostly　between　sleeping　and　waking；　and
  had　murmured　strange　words；　whose　passing　shadows　rather　than
  glimmers　roused　the　imagination　of　the　youth　as　with　messages　from
  regions　unknown。
  As　the　light　came　he　found　his　senses　going；　and　went　to　his　own
  room　again　to　get　a　book　that　he　might　keep　himself　awake　by　reading
  at　the　window。　　To　his　surprise　Shargar　was　gone；　and　for　a　moment
  he　doubted　whether　he　had　not　been　dreaming　all　that　had　passed
  between　them　the　night　before。　　His　plaid　was　folded　up　and　laid
  upon　a　chair；　as　if　it　had　been　there　all　night；　and　his　Ainsworth
  was　on　the　table。　　But　beside　it　was　the　money　Shargar　had　drawn
  from　his　pockets。
  About　nine　o'clock　Dr。　Anderson　arrived；　found　Ericson　not　so　much
  worse　as　he　had　expected；　comforted　Robert；　and　told　him　he　must　go
  to　bed。
  'But　I　cannot　leave　Mr。　Ericson；'　said　Robert。
  'Let　your　friendwhat's　his　odd　name？watch　him　during　the　day。'
  'Shargar；　you　mean；　sir。　　But　that's　his　nickname。　　His　rale　name
  they　say　his　mither　says；　is　George　Moraywi'　an　o　an'　no　a
  u…r。Do　you　see；　sir？'　concluded　Robert　significantly。
  'No；　I　don't；'　answered　the　doctor。
  'They　say　he's　a　son　o'　the　auld　Markis's；　that's　it。　　His　mither's
  a　randy　wife　'at　gangs　aboot　the　countrya　gipsy　they　say。　　There's
  nae　doobt　aboot　her。　　An'　by　a'　accoonts　the　father's　likly　eneuch。'
  'And　how　on　earth　did　you　come　to　have　such　a　questionable
  companion？'
  'Shargar's　as　fine　a　crater　as　ever　God　made；'　said　Robert　warmly。
  'Ye'll　alloo　'at　God　made　him；　doctor；　though　his　father　an'　mither
  thochtna　muckle　aboot　him　or　God　either　whan　they　got　him　atween
  them？　　An'　Shargar　couldna　help　it。　　It　micht　ha'　been　you　or　me　for
  that　maitter；　doctor。'
  'I　beg　your　pardon；　Robert；'　said　Dr。　Anderson　quietly；　although
  delighted　with　the　fervour　of　his　young　kinsman：　'I　only　wanted　to
  know　how　he　came　to　be　your　companion。'
  'I　beg　your　pardon；　doctorbut　I　thoucht　ye　was