THE MAN WITH THE DEVIL'S PRAYER BOOK
"He would gamble on his father's tombstone and play banker with the
corpse."--A KINLOCHLEVEN PROVERB.
The middle of September was at hand, and a slight tinge of brown was
already showing on the leaves. We were now working on a farm where the
River Clyde broadens out to the waters of the deep ocean. One evening,
when supper was over, I went out alone to the fields and sat down on the
green sod and looked outwards to the grey horizon of the sea. Beside me
ran a long avenue of hazel bushes, and a thrush was singing on a near
bough, his amber and speckled bosom quivering with the passion of his
song. The sun had already disappeared, trailing its robe of carmine from
off the surface of the far water, and an early star was already keeping
its watch overhead. All at once the bushes of the hazel copse parted and
Norah Ryan stood before me.
"Is it here that ye are, Dermod, lookin' at the sea?"
"I was looking at the star above me," I replied.
Norah had discarded her working clothes, and now wore a soft grey tweed
dress that suited her well. Together we looked up at the star, and then
my eyes fell on the sweet face of my companion. In the shadow of her
hair I could see the white of her brow and the delicate and graceful
curve of her neck. Her brown tresses hung down her back even as far as
her waist, and the wind ruffled them ever so slightly. Somehow my
thoughts went back to the June seaweed rising and falling on the long
heaving waves of Trienna Bay. She noticed me looking at her, and she sat
down on the sod beside me.
"Why d'ye keep watchin' me?" she asked.
"I don't know," I answered in a lame sort of way, for I am not good at
making excuses. I was afraid to tell her that I liked the whiteness of
her brow, the softness of her hair, and the wonderful glance of her
eyes. No doubt she would have laughed at me if I did.
"Do you mind the night on the 'Derry boat?" I asked. "All that night
when you were asleep, I had your hand in mine."
"I mind it very well."
As she spoke she closed her fingers over mine and looked at me in the
eyes. The glance was one of a moment; our gaze met and the next instant
Norah's long lashes dropped slowly and modestly over the grey depths of
her eyes. There was something strange in that look of hers; it was the
glance of a soul which did not yet know itself, full of radiant
awakening and wonderful promise. In it was all the innocence of the
present and passion of the future; it was the glance both of a virgin
and a woman. We both trembled and looked up at the stars that came out
one by one into the broad expanse of heaven. The thrush had gone away,
and a little wind played amongst the branches of the trees. In the
distance we could hear the water breaking on the foreshore with a
murmurous plaint that was full of longing. We kept silence, for the
spell of the night was too holy to be broken by words. How long we
remained there I do not know, but when we returned to the byre all the
rest of the party were in bed. Next night I waited for her in the same
place and she came again, and for many nights afterwards we watched the
stars coming out while listening to the heart song of the sea.
One wet evening, early in October, when Norah and I were sitting by the
fire in the cart-shed that belonged to a farmer near Greenock, talking
to Micky's Jim about Glenmornan and the people at home, a strange man
came to the farmyard. Although a stranger to me, Micky's Jim knew the
fellow very well, for he belonged to a neighbouring village, was a noted
gambler, and visited the squad every year. He sat down and warmed his
hands at the fire while he looked critically at the members of the squad
who had come in to see him.
"Have ye the devil's prayer book with ye?" asked Jim.
"That I have," answered the man, drawing a pack of cards from his
pocket. "Will we have a bit o' the Gospel o' Chance?"
The body of a disused cart was turned upside down, and six or seven men
belonging to the squad sat around it and commenced to gamble for money
with the stranger. For a long while I watched the play, and at last put
a penny on a card and won. I put on another penny and another and won
again and again, for my luck was good. It was very interesting. We
gambled until five o'clock in the morning and at the finish of the game
I had profited to the extent of twenty-five shillings. During the game I
had eyes for nothing else; the women had gone to bed, but I never
noticed their departure, for my whole mind was given up to the play. All
day following I looked forward to the evening and the return of the man
with the devil's prayer book, and when he came I was one of the first to
give a hand to turn the disused cart upside down. The farmer's son, Alec
Morrison, a strong, well-knit youth, barely out of his teens, came in to
see the play and entered into conversation with Norah Ryan. He worked as
a bank clerk in Paisley, but spent every week-end at his father's farm.
He was a well-dressed youth; wore boots which were always clean, and a
gold ring with a blue stone in the centre of it shone on one of his
fingers. I took little heed of him, for my whole being was centred on
the game and my luck was good.
"Come Hallow E'en I'll have plenty of money to take home to Glenmornan,"
I said to myself, more than once, for on the second night I won over
thirty shillings.
The third night was against me--the third time, the gambler's own!--and
afterwards I lost money every night. But I could not resist the call of
the cards, the school fascinated me, and the sight of a winner's
upturned "flush" or "run" set my veins on fire. So I played night after
night and discussed the chances of the game day after day, until every
penny in my possession was in the hands of the man with the devil's
prayer book. Before I put my first penny on a card I had seven pounds in
gold, which I intended to take home to my people in Glenmornan. Now it
was all gone. Gourock Ellen offered me ten shillings to start afresh,
but I would not accept her money. Norah Ryan took no interest in the
game, her whole attention was now given up to the farmer's son, and it
was only when I had spent my last penny that I became aware of the fact.
He came in to see her every evening and passed hour after hour in her
company. I did not like this; I felt angry with her and with myself, and
I hated the farmer's son. I had many dreams of a future in which Norah
would play a prominent part, but now all my dreams were dashed to
pieces. Although outwardly I showed no trace of my feelings I felt very
miserable. Norah took no delight in my company any more, all her spare
time was given up to Alec Morrison. The cards did not interest me any
longer. I hated them, and considered that they were the cause of my
present misfortune. If I had left them alone and paid more attention to
Norah she would not have taken so much pleasure in the other man's
company.
I nursed my mood for a fortnight, then I turned to the cards again and
lost all the money in my possession. On the first week of November,
when the squad broke up, I had the sum of twopence in my pocket. On the
evening prior to the day of the squad's departure, I came suddenly round
the corner of the hayshed by the farmhouse and saw a very curious thing.
Norah was standing there with the farmer's son and he was kissing her. I
came on the two of them suddenly, and when Norah saw me she ran away
from the man.
I had never thought of kissing Norah when she was alone with me. It was
a very curious thing to do, and it never entered into my mind. Perhaps
if I had kissed her when we were together she would like me the more for
it. Why I should kiss her was beyond my reasoning. All I knew was that I
longed for Norah with a great longing. I was now discouraged and
despondent. I felt that I had nothing to live for in the world.
To-morrow the rest of the party would go away to their homes with their
earnings and I would be left alone. I could not think for a moment of
going home penniless. I would stay in Scotland until I earned plenty of
money, and go home a rich man. I had not given up thoughts of becoming
rich. A hundred pounds to me was a fortune, fifty pounds was a large
amount, and twenty pounds was a sum which I might yet possess. If I
lived long enough I might earn a whole twenty, or maybe fifty pounds. I
had heard of workers who had earned as much. For the whole season I had
only sent two pounds home to my own people, while I spent seven on the
cards. I played cards because I wanted to make a bigger pile. Now I had
but twopence left in my possession!
The squad broke up next day, and Norah Ryan had hardly a word to say to
me when bidding good-bye, but she had two hours to spare for
leave-taking with Morrison, who, although it was now the middle of the
week, a time when he should be at business in the bank, had come to
spend a day on the farm. No doubt he had come to bid Norah good-bye.
Micky's Jim was going home to Ireland, and Gourock Ellen and Annie said
that they were going to Glasgow to get drunk on their last week's pay.
It was afternoon when the party broke up and set out for the railway
station, and a heavy snow was lying on the ground. I got turned out of
the byre by the farmer when the rest went off, and I found myself in a
strange country, houseless, friendless, and alone.
The road lay behind me and before me, and where was I to turn? This was
the question that confronted me as I went out, ragged and shivering,
into the cold snow with nothing, save twopence, between me and the cold
chance charity of the world. A man can't get much for twopence. While
working there was byre or pig-sty for shelter; when idle I was not worth
the shelter of the meanest roof in the whole country. I walked along, my
mind confused with various thoughts, and certain only of one thing. I
must look for work. But God alone knew how long it would be until I got
a job! I was only a boy who thought that he was a man, and it was now
well into early winter. There was very little work to be done at that
season of the year on farms or, indeed, anywhere. A man might get a job;
a boy had very little chance of finding employment. My clothes were
threadbare, my boots were leaking, and the snow was on the ground. I
felt cold and lonely and a little bit tired of life.
Suddenly I met Gourock Ellen, and it came to me that I was travelling
towards the station. I thought that the woman was returning for
something which she had forgotten, but I was mistaken.
"I came back tae see you, Dermod," she said.
"Why?" I asked in surprise.
"I thought up tae the very last minute that you were goin' hame till
Ireland, but Jim Scanlon has tellt me at the station that you are goin'
tae stop here. He says that you have ower a pound in siller. Is that
so?"
"That's so," I lied, for I disliked to be questioned in such a manner. I
told Jim that I had a pound in my possession. Otherwise he would have
prevailed upon me to accept money from himself. But I am too proud to
accept a favour of that kind.
"I've been watchin' you at the cards, Dermod, and I know the kin' o'
luck you had," said Gourock Ellen. "Ye'll hardly have yin penny left at
this very minute. Six shillin's, half of my last week's pay, would d'you
no harm, if you'd care to take it."
"I don't want it," I said.
"Then you don't know what it is to fast for hours on end, to get turned
away from every door with kicks and curses, and to have the dogs of the
country put after your heels."
"I don't want your money," I said, for I could not accept money from
such a woman.
"I liked you from the first time I saw you, gin that I am a bad woman
itself," she said, as if divining my thoughts. "And I dinna like to see
you goin' out on the cauld roads with not a copper in your pockets. I'm
auld enough to be your----"
Her cheeks gave the faintest suspicion of a blush, and she stopped
speaking for just a second, leaving the last word, which no doubt she
intended to speak, unuttered on her tongue.
"You can have half of my money if you want it, and if you like you can
come with me tae Glesga, and I'll find you a bed and bite until you get
a job."
"I'm not going to Glasgow," I said, for it was not in my heart to go
into the one house with that woman. I could not explain my dislike for
her company, but I preferred the cold night and the snow to the bed and
bite which she promised me.
"Well, you can take the couple o' shillin's anyway," she persisted;
"they'll do you no ill."
"I don't want your money," I said for the third time.
"'Twas earned decently, anyway," she said. "I canna see why you'll no
take it. Will you bid me good-bye, Dermod?"
She put out her hand to me as she spoke, and I pressed it warmly, for in
truth I was glad to get rid of her. Suddenly she reached forward and
kissed me on the cheek; then hurried away, leaving me alone on the
roadway. The woman's kiss disconcerted me, and I suddenly felt ashamed
of my coldness towards her. She was kind-hearted and considerate, and I
was a brute. I looked after her. When she would turn round I would call
to her to stop, and I would go with her to Glasgow. The thought of
spending the night homeless on the bleak road frightened me. She reached
the corner of the road and went out of my sight without ever turning
round. I looked at the two coppers which I possessed, and wondered why I
hadn't taken the money which Gourock Ellen offered me. I also wondered
why she had kissed me.