Chapter 29

How fares the man on whom good men would look
With eyes where scorn and censure combated,
But that kind Christian love hath taught the lesson--
That they who merit most contempt and hate,
Do most deserve our pity.--
_Old Play_.

It might have seemed natural that the visit of John Christie should
have entirely diverted Nigel's attention from his slumbering
companion, and, for a time, such was the immediate effect of the chain
of new ideas which the incident introduced; yet, soon after the
injured man had departed, Lord Glenvarloch began to think it
extraordinary that the boy should have slept so soundly, while they
talked loudly in his vicinity. Yet he certainly did not appear to have
stirred. Was he well--was he only feigning sleep? He went close to him
to make his observations, and perceived that he had wept, and was
still weeping, though his eyes were closed. He touched him gently on
the shoulder--the boy shrunk from his touch, but did not awake. He
pulled him harder, and asked him if he was sleeping.

"Do they waken folk in your country to know whether they are asleep or
no?" said the boy, in a peevish tone.

"No, my young sir," answered Nigel; "but when they weep in the manner
you do in your sleep, they awaken them to see what ails them."

"It signifies little to any one what ails me," said the boy.

"True," replied Lord Glenvarloch; "but you knew before you went to
sleep how little I could assist you in your difficulties, and you
seemed disposed, notwithstanding, to put some confidence in me."

"If I did, I have changed my mind," said the lad.

"And what may have occasioned this change of mind, I trow?" said Lord
Glenvarloch. "Some men speak through their sleep--perhaps you have the
gift of hearing in it?"

"No, but the Patriarch Joseph never dreamt truer dreams than I do."

"Indeed!" said Lord Glenvarloch. "And, pray, what dream have you had
that has deprived me of your good opinion; for that, I think, seems
the moral of the matter?"

"You shall judge yourself," answered the boy. "I dreamed I was in a
wild forest, where there was a cry of hounds, and winding of horns,
exactly as I heard in Greenwich Park."

"That was because you were in the Park this morning, you simple
child," said Nigel.

"Stay, my lord," said the youth. "I went on in my dream, till, at the
top of a broad green alley, I saw a noble stag which had fallen into
the toils; and methought I knew that he was the very stag which the
whole party were hunting, and that if the chase came up, the dogs
would