Fate and Fortune by Shirley McKay

him weakly. ‘You were right; it’s father’s death that has affected me. Giles is a good man. I should not begrudge him his play.’
    ‘I hope you may resolve your differences,’ Hew told her seriously, ‘for I am sad to have to leave you in this state.’
    ‘Are you going away?’ She looked up in alarm.
    ‘Aye, I must go south; but not for long. It is some business Father left. By the by, did you know he wrote a book?’
    ‘What sort of book?’
    ‘A book of his old cases. Very dull and dry. Perhaps he spoke of it to Giles?’
    ‘Aye, Perhaps he did.’ She had turned her attention back to the pot, as though the business held no interest after all. ‘You will find him in his tower. Go now, fetch him home. Tell him there is beef for dinner.’
     
     
    Hew walked briskly past the castle to the Swallowgait, turning left at Butt’s Wynd to the college of St Salvator. On the north street, west of the chapel, stood the provost’s lodging house, where Professor Locke kept on his rooms in clear and frank refusal of the married state. Hew climbed the stairway in the turret tower, rapping lightly when he reached the top.
    ‘Come in, come in!’ the doctor called out briskly. ‘Pray undress behind the screen, while I make warm my hands.’
    ‘I pray you, do make warm your hands,’ Hew answered pleasantly, ‘though, if it please you, I shall keep on my clothes.’ He pushed open the door and went in. The room had changed little, though a few more jars and bottles had appeared upon the shelves among the rows of curios, instruments and books.
    ‘Hew!’ The professional glance of welcome broke into a smile. ‘Ah, forgive me, I mistook you for a patient! But perhaps you are a patient, and have reconsidered?’ Giles ventured cautiously. ‘Then you need not be ashamed. It will only take a moment now, to set your mind at rest.’
    Hew flopped down on a cushion on the window ledge and groaned. ‘Peace, will you never give up? I have not come as a patient. Aye, and I will swear to you, that I will never loosen off my points to you, while I live and breathe.’
    ‘I take your point. You need not drive it home,’ said Giles, a little hurt. ‘Well, I am glad to see you, nonetheless. Have you been to the house?’
    ‘Aye,’ Hew admitted. ‘And there’s beef for dinner. But I found Meg in low spirits.’
    Giles, who had brightened at the start of this remark, looked a little thoughtful at its close. ‘She is a touch melancholic,’ he acknowledged. ‘That is to be expected, since your father died. I should perhaps have noticed it. I will prescribe her something. And, if she will have it, I will take her to the surgeon to be bled. I fear I have neglected her.’
    ‘You may be sure she will not have it,’ Hew replied severely. ‘And you have neglected her. It is your company she wants, and not your physic.’
    Giles appeared stricken. ‘What has she said?’
    ‘She thinks you do not care for her, since you spend so little time with her.’
    ‘She cannot think that! For the reverse is true.’
    ‘Then show it. For, in truth, it grieves me that I find her so despondent. What is the matter, Giles?’
    ‘You cannot doubt I love her,’ Giles retorted desperately. ‘It is this cursed sickness comes between us, Hew. I do confess, it vexes me.’
    ‘The falling sickness?’ echoed Hew. ‘Yet you were full willing when you wed …’
    ‘Ah, not that! I do not mean Meg! Peace, you must know, I do not mean Meg! You know full well, her sickness is no hindrance, save I am afraid …’ the doctor checked himself. ‘It is the wretched grandgore that distracts me.’
    ‘That I had noticed,’ Hew replied dryly. ‘But is it so bad?’
    ‘The pox runs rife throughout the town … like the very plague. In truth,’ Giles said earnestly, ‘it is worse than the plague, which terror strikes swift and kills quickly.’
    ‘The kirkmen say the virol targets the corrupt, and is the most discerning scourge of sin,’ Hew